скачать книгу бесплатно
Alone in the cottage, all thoughts of the tasks Elaine had in mind disintegrated. Burned by unimportance, they fluttered away like ashes on the wind and she was left wondering what to do with herself. Brodie’s observations had made her brave and she took the decision to go upstairs and establish what all the fuss was about.
In front of a black pocked mirror in the bathroom she unwound the scarf and looked, for the first time in a long time, at the ragged scar that punctuated her skin like a Rubicon of angry lava. It ran from the left side of her neck along her collarbone and terminated at the top of her left breast. It was her brand, the mark that divided her from the concept of normal and set her apart from others. Jean had hated it and had forced the habit of keeping it covered. When she’d been a child it had been polo neck sweaters and stiff lace collars and she’d had the constant sense that she was being slowly suffocated. Her face twisted with anguish at the memory and she reached once more for her scarf. Concluding that she was better off with the devil she knew, she carefully wound the fabric around her neck and patted it into place. The motion dislodged a few grains of Jean, which had collected in the folds of fabric. They fell, seeding the room with smouldering discontent.
Chapter Four (#ulink_9f562aef-8109-5ef0-92b2-78c5e7ff8841)
Rosemary Tyler looked up from her washing up and peered out of the window. She could see Derry bouncing about at the end of the garden like an overexcited puppy. He was with someone. Ire rising, she strained up to see who was goading her brother now. She saw a woman talking to him. A young woman, who Rosemary didn’t recognise. At first.
Grabbing up a tea towel she strode to the door and marched down the overgrown path, grinding her wet hands into the fabric as she went. ‘Oi, Derry. Inside, now!’
Derry straightened at the sound of his sister’s voice and like a well trained dog he immediately scuttled inside the house. He shied away from Rosemary as he passed, as if expecting a vicious flick from the wet fabric that she held in her hands.
Rosemary saw, with a glimmer of satisfaction, that the stranger was wrong-footed by this. She planted herself behind the gate, folded her arms and said, ‘Can I help you?’ in a tone that conveyed that she had no intention of doing any such thing.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, I’m looking for the house where Ruby Tyler used to live. The lady in the post office told me it was along here, but I can’t seem to find it.’
Rosemary appraised the woman before her. She seemed the timid type, the type that apologised for breathing. ‘This is it, I’m Ruby’s daughter. What’s your business here?’
The woman swallowed, ‘I’m Elaine Ellis, Joan’s daughter?’
‘Am I supposed to know who you’re talking about?’ Rosemary was already impatient with this wilting violet, she had made up her mind to be the minute she had clapped eyes on her.
‘Ruby was my mother’s aunt.’ Elaine explained feebly. She took a step back.
Rosemary wrinkled her brow, the gears of her memory engaging and grinding back the years – she needed to play this cautiously, you never knew what people might be after. ‘Do you mean Jean Burroughs? Jean that moved away?’
‘Yes, sorry, Burroughs was her maiden name.’ Elaine nodded with relief.
‘Bloody hell, I haven’t seen Jean in thirty odd years. No great loss, we weren’t close.’ Rosemary delivered the words with the addition of a dismissive flick of her tea towel. ‘Anyway, what brings you here? If she’s hoping my mum left her any money she’s barking up the wrong tree, all we got was this shit hole and a pile of debts,’ she laughed and indicated the ramshackle building that stood behind her.
‘Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just that she died not long ago, and she sometimes talked about Ruby and here and I was hoping to scatter her ashes in Ruby’s garden…’ Elaine trailed off as both women surveyed the scrubby land that had been used for years as a laissez faire scrapyard. The rusted hulk of an old car nestled among the weeds whilst scrawny chickens pecked and scratched in the dirt. A pair of ageing German Shepherds eyed them lazily from where they lay chained to a post.
Rosemary raised an eyebrow and stared at Elaine with amused scorn. Then she laughed, so much that she had to bend down and brace her hands on her knees in order to catch her next wheezing breath. Rising, she flapped the tea towel at Elaine, ‘Sorry love, but you really do have to see the funny side.’
Elaine looked down at the plastic wrapped urn she carried in her hands then back up at the wasteland of the garden. It certainly wasn’t the bluebell and foxglove paradise she had envisioned. The thought of those grizzled bantams pecking at her mother’s grainy remains and pooping them out amongst the weeds struck a chord within her too, and much to her shame she found it hilarious.
The sudden outburst of shared laughter softened Rosemary’s judgement and she found herself extending a hand, ‘Rosemary Tyler, come on in and have a cuppa. You can leave your mother on the doorstep,’ she added with a wink.
Elaine took the warm, work-hardened hand and shook it, basking in the relief that Rosemary had seemed to cease hostilities. Following her into the cottage she spied Derry peering at her from the gloom of the sitting room. She smiled at him, which had the effect of sending him scurrying into the shadows.
‘That’s our Derry, you mustn’t mind him, he’s a bit simple but he’s harmless – despite what you might have been told.’ Rosemary explained with a sour note.
‘I can’t say anyone’s mentioned him’ Elaine said.
Rosemary shook the kettle and, satisfied that it was full enough, switched it on. ‘You surprise me, round here you’d think Derry was responsible for bloody global warming. Anything goes wrong and they point the finger. Poor sod, wouldn’t harm a fly. You know that kid that went missing? They blamed him, as if a bloke like him would hurt a kid! All these years later and there’s still some that think it. I know, I see the way they look at him,’ she plonked tea bags into mugs with bristling high dudgeon. ‘Oi, Derry, come in here and say hello to Elaine – she’s your cousin.’
Elaine waited patiently as the coy giant of a man lumbered to the kitchen doorway and gave her a cautious smile.
‘Look at the size of him, you wouldn’t think he was starved of oxygen as a baby would you?’ Rosemary quipped. ‘Fetch me the milk out of the fridge, you great lump.’ She belied her words with a fond smile.
‘Nice to meet you properly, Derry’ Elaine said, noting the blush that saturated the big man’s cheeks. ‘I didn’t know I had family here, so you’re a nice surprise,’ she added. The compliment caused him to giggle and turn away from her.
‘You didn’t? Well, I must say it’s news to me that we have too. I never knew Jean had kids. Like I said she moved away when we were young. I know she came back to see Mum from time to time, but I didn’t see much of her, she was a bit up herself to be honest.’ Rosemary said, checking for Elaine’s reaction ‘Sorry, but I always call a spade a spade,’ she added by way of explanation for her blunt judgement.
Elaine was inclined to agree, but didn’t really feel able to say so.
‘So, are there more of you, brothers, sisters? Are you all going to turn up on the doorstep?’ Rosemary asked.
‘No, just me. My father died not long after I was born, so I was the only one.’ Elaine accepted a chipped and grubby mug of tea from Rosemary.
‘Hmmm, I remember him. Funny little bloke, bit like you, a bit too milky and weak for my liking. No match for Jean anyway.’
Elaine wasn’t sure how to take that, so sipped at the hot tea, which was a bit too milky and weak for her liking. ‘I never knew him, I don’t know what he was like. She didn’t talk about him much.’
‘No love lost there then eh? So what did she die of?’
Elaine placed the mug down, hoping she would have a chance to surreptitiously dump it if Rosemary left the room. ‘Cancer. She had breast cancer. But she hid it for a long time. She didn’t like doctors, or hospitals, so by the time we found out it was too late.’ Elaine tried not to recall the image of her mother’s suppurating, stinking breast – so rotten by the time she had admitted something was wrong that there wasn’t a doctor in the world who could have intervened. It had been appalling. ‘She was a great believer that all ills could be treated at home with a bit of Germolene and a stiff upper lip.’ Elaine explained, her hand going to her neck and hovering over the lumpy scar. Though she couldn’t remember how she’d got the injury, she still remembered the abject terror she had felt every time the antiseptic cream came out. Even now the thought made the scar tingle with remembered pain.
Rosemary snorted. ‘Sounds like Jean, once she was set on something that was it. Wild horses couldn’t shift her from a stupid idea. God knows why Mum had such a soft spot for her, couldn’t stand her myself. Still, I’m sorry she’s gone, for your sake.’ There was a nonchalant resignation in her choice of words. ‘Anyway, as for the ashes, you might want to find somewhere else, I can’t see Jean resting in peace around here,’ she waved her arm at the garden, which could be glimpsed through the dingy kitchen window. ‘Mum kept it nice, but I don’t have the time or the inclination. Takes me half my time to run around after that daft bugger,’ she said, pointing at Derry with her mug. ‘It would help if I could keep him off the estate, if I get one more phone call from that old bitch up there I will swing for someone! Apparently he frightens the guests.’
Elaine was reminded of her experience the day before at the ruined chapel, and Brodie’s assertion that someone was lurking in the trees. Now that she had met Derry she could see that there was no harm in him, but having recently experienced the shock of her life it was hard not to see both sides. ‘I haven’t met them yet.’
Rosemary scoffed, ‘Well there’s a bonus for you. If you think your mother was a snob just wait until you meet Miss high-and-mighty Gardiner-Hallow. Put it this way, she thinks hers smells of roses if you get my drift,’ she added with a knowing nod.
Elaine allowed herself a small smile to acknowledge the comparison. ‘I kind of feel sorry for people like that.’
Rosemary gave a derisive snort, ‘I bloody don’t! Rich as Croesus and still they’re not happy, carping about this that and the other like they’re still the lords and we’re the riff raff. Bitch-face Gardner would have us all back in serfdom if she could, grubbing about in the soil to feed her table. Look at the way she treats that Miriam, that woman must be seventy if she’s a day and she’s still at their beck and call. Still, Esther hung on madam’s coat tails like a bad smell, and what did she get? A crummy cottage and a few quid. You know she started work in that house when she was fourteen, never married, never had a life. Madness if you ask me.’
‘I thought she’d had a stroke.’ Elaine was surprised at the vehemence of Rosemary’s observations.
‘She did, couple of years back.’ Rosemary said as a sly grin stole over her face. ‘That shut her up all right, never one for holding back was Esther. Cor, I’d hate to be a fly on the wall in that woman’s head, the things she must be bottling up! If you think I’m blunt, Esther would have wiped the floor with you.’
Elaine was inclined to think that she was glad that she hadn’t met Esther. Someone more abrasive than Rosemary would be hard to contemplate.
‘Did you know they’ve got that kid there now, her and Miriam? As if either of them know how to look after a kid, especially one with troubles. I was told that the mother went loopy and is in the funny farm. Still, not surprising after what happened I suppose – though you’d think she would have got past it by now wouldn’t you? I mean, it’s been a long time. Still people don’t forget do they, they still think Derry took her. Found her cardigan in his den. Mind you, I think the police took one look at him and knew they couldn’t make it stick, but they were still bastards. Do you know they kept him locked up for weeks? Not sure he ever got over it really. And who was left to pick up the pieces, eh? Muggins of course. Anyway, like I was saying – they’ve got that kid there, staying with them bold as brass. I wonder what she makes of it all eh? Being dumped off here after everything that happened. That mother should be ashamed of herself, ought to have pulled herself together and got over it by now. If she’d been looking after the kid properly it would never have happened. Anyway, it’s ancient history now, leave it dead and buried, that’s what I say.’
Elaine patiently withstood this tirade, buoyed by the irony of Rosemary’s convictions. However, she felt a need to defend Brodie. ‘I’ve met the girl, she’s a nice kid. I feel for her. After all, the past isn’t her fault and it’s a shame some people can’t see that.’ Her words were pointed, but missed their target by a mile.
‘Well, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Those who are innocent carry the burden, don’t they?’ Rosemary stated sagely.
Elaine felt defeated, Rosemary was a wearing woman. It seemed as if the trait had run in the family, a thought that reminded her of Jean languishing on the doorstep. ‘True enough. Anyway, I ought to get going, it’s been lovely to meet you both. I’ll um, think of somewhere else for Mum.’
Rosemary gave her a look that said she doubted it had been lovely at all. She followed Elaine down the hallway to the door, ‘Well, nice to meet you I suppose, but don’t be expecting a Christmas card or anything, I’m not the type,’ she said as she leaned in the doorway, arms folded across her chest – looking like the archetype of a battle-axe landlady.
Elaine looked around for Derry, eager to say goodbye to the shy giant, but he was nowhere to be seen.
It was only when she got back to the cottage that she realised that she had left Jean on the Tylers’ doorstep as if she was as unimportant as an umbrella on a sunny day. Her intention to go back immediately and retrieve the urn was interrupted by Miriam, who arrived at the cottage bearing fresh sheets and towels. ‘Just popping in to do your change.’ she said, bustling past breathlessly.
‘That’s OK Miriam, leave it there, I can do it. You’ve got enough to do already.’ Elaine erroneously thought that she would be doing the woman a favour.
Miriam bristled, ‘Certainly not, you are a paying guest and will have the same service as everyone else. Besides, you’ve been very good to Brodie and I don’t want you to think we don’t appreciate it.’
Elaine conceded and made room for Miriam to move past her towards the stairs, ‘It’s not a problem, I’m very fond of Brodie.’
Miriam paused, ‘Well, you’re a brave one I must say, she’s such a prickly little thing usually, but she certainly likes you. All I hear is “Elaine this, Elaine that”.’
Elaine felt uncommonly pleased by this and rewarded the compliment with one of her rare smiles.
‘She tells me you’re an artist.’ Miriam said as she trundled up the stairs on heavy, swollen feet. Elaine suspected that she was a martyr to those feet.
In order to answer she was forced to follow. Trailing in Miriam’s wake awkwardly, as people do when they’re not used to being waited on. ‘Well, yes. I’m an illustrator – books, posters that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, how lovely.’ Miriam was clearly none the wiser. ‘Can’t draw a pair of legs with a ruler myself, still, God finds a use for all of us I suppose,’ she added, hauling the quilt off the bed and fighting with the cover. It was a laborious thing to watch, the quilt was twice the size of the woman and Elaine had no choice but to wade in and help. As they wrestled with the quilt Elaine pondered what God’s plan was for her, if her only purpose was to concoct twee pictures for children’s books. Not that that was the only thing she did, but it was her bread-and-butter work.
‘I met Rosemary Tyler today,’ she said as they were fitting the sheet, Miriam huffing with effort as she manhandled the fitted corners around the mattress.
‘Really? And how was that? Did she set the dogs on you?’ Miriam’s questions were delivered without humour.
‘No, she didn’t, but she’s so fierce herself I doubt she’d need the dogs.’
Miriam chortled at this, ‘Ha, you’re not wrong there. Not known for her warm welcome is our Rosemary. Every village has a termagant, and she’s ours. Ruby was the same, an absolute bitch of a woman. I don’t think there was a person in the village that didn’t feel the sharp edge of her tongue at least once. Still, I suppose they both had their cross to bear what with Derry,’ she said, beating a pillow into smooth submission.
‘I met him too, he seems harmless enough though.’
Miriam paused in what she was doing and regarded Elaine as if debating how much she should say. ‘Well, I’d agree. I don’t think there’s much harm in him, but he can be a handful. He’s a bit obsessive, he can get fixated on things and I think that scares people. He loves little kids see, I suppose they don’t treat him any different. That’s why he got into so much trouble when the little one went missing – people knew he liked kids and when they found the poor little mite’s cardigan in his hut, all covered in blood, well you can imagine. Two and two got put together and that was that. Even though there was no proof and no other evidence, and they had to let him go, people said there was no smoke without fire and the poor sod has been hounded ever since. So I suppose I don’t blame Rosemary for being the way she is, she’s had her cross to bear.’
‘That whole incident still seems very fresh for people, doesn’t it? Yet I’m told it happened thirty years ago.’ Elaine said, glad that Miriam had brought the subject up.
Miriam sighed, and eased her padded frame onto the bed. She perched on the corner like a roosting hen. ‘Sorry love, got to take the weight off for a minute, my bloody feet will be the death of me.’ She gave Elaine a tired smile. ‘As for the other, I think if her body had ever been found it would have been different. Everyone would have moved on, even our Shirley – she’s Brodie’s mum. She might have come to terms and had a life. As it is I don’t think there’s a farmer in the district that doesn’t think that one day he’ll be digging a ditch or ploughing a field and a pile of little bones will turn up. Doesn’t bear thinking about really.’
Elaine sat down on the opposite corner of the bed, ‘What actually happened? People have mentioned the story but I’m not clear on the details.’
Miriam closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. ‘I blame myself really, and so does Shirley if the truth be told. She left the kids with me that day. She had an appointment at the hospital and didn’t want the kids fussing around her, so I said I would keep an eye on them – she often left them with me back then. It was the summer holidays and they all loved it here, plenty of room to play I suppose. They weren’t bad kids, Fern was a typical teenager, it was all boys and girls’ magazines for her. Tony was a decent lad, still is – he’s the only one who keeps in touch. Shirley hasn’t spoken a word to me from that day to this…’ Miriam tailed off wistfully. ‘Anyway, they were all here – Fern, Tony and little Mandy – only I got called up to the house to help with Mr Gardiner-Hallow. He’d had one of his funny turns and for some reason he would always respond to me, so off I went. Course I had to take the kids with me, I couldn’t leave them on their own could I? I mean Fern was fourteen, but she was a feckless sort even then. Well, young Alex was home for the summer, he’s the Gardiner-Hallow’s nephew, quite famous now, you might even get to meet him while you’re here. Anyway me and Esther, she was the housekeeper then, we packed the kids off into the gardens and tried to sort Albert out. And that was that, next thing we knew Mandy was gone, disappeared into thin air. We searched the garden, we searched the house, we looked everywhere. When the police came we had the whole village and half the town out looking but we never found a thing. Except the cardigan, that was all that was left of her. It was a terrible, terrible thing, tore poor Shirley apart. See, Mandy was her only one, –Tony and Fern are her step-kids. I got the shock of my life when I found out she had Brodie, she must have been forty if she was a day, and her on her own by then too! Course I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with them by then because she blamed me, I was in charge.’
Elaine didn’t know what to say to make the old woman feel better, ‘You can’t watch kids all the time, you mustn’t blame yourself,’ she said gently.
Miriam sighed and shook her head, ‘It’s a good job I never had any of my own, lord knows what would have happened. I’d have liked to though, still… it wasn’t to be.’
‘Did you ever marry?’ Elaine seized the chance to steer the conversation into more comfortable waters.
Miriam hauled herself up, groaning with the effort, ‘Nearly, once. I was engaged, lovely chap he was. Peter Handley’ she said, a beatific smile smoothing the creases of her face, making her look almost young again. ‘But he broke it off the week before the wedding.’
Elaine was saddened by this. Miriam struck her as a woman who would have thrived on a diet of marriage and motherhood. ‘That’s terrible, did you ever find out why?’
Miriam paused, a single snow-white towel in her hand, which she stroked thoughtfully. ‘I did. Esther decided that it was her Christian duty to tell him that I wasn’t pure – he was getting damaged goods.’
Elaine was profoundly shocked, she was aware that all this had happened a long time ago but surely that kind of Victorian high morality had waned by then. ‘That’s awful, why would she do such a thing?’
Miriam looked away, busily picking up the rest of the towels. ‘It was different back then, people were different back then, especially here in the country. Esther was a very proud woman, a good woman… but she didn’t understand too much about how people tick.’ Miriam paused and let out a weary sigh, ‘I suppose she thought she was doing the right thing’
Elaine couldn’t accept that, surely ruining another’s prospects was never the right thing. She thought about making a case for Esther’s guilt but the look on Miriam’s face told her that she would be better off holding her tongue.
They stood in silence for a moment, all actions interrupted, all movement suspended by their thoughts.
Miriam shook her head, snapping herself out of her reverie. ‘Anyway, I must get on. By the way, what happened to the mantel clock? I came in to dust earlier and it’s gone.’
Elaine felt a sudden flush of embarrassment, ‘Oh, sorry, don’t worry I haven’t broken it. It’s just that the ticking and the chimes get on my nerves so I put it in the cupboard under the stairs. Sorry.’
‘Oh, I like a loud tick on a clock, very soothing I find, oh well never mind. I’ll put it back when you’ve gone otherwise her ladyship will think you stole it!’ she laughed.
Elaine lingered in the bedroom long after Miriam had gone, her hand resting on the crisp white linen that adorned the bed. She inhaled, drawing in the aroma of wind, sun and good fresh air that mingled with the soap that Miriam had diligently sealed into the fabric with a hot iron. It was the smell of hard work and pride, of devotion to duty, of living a small life and finding satisfaction in the little things.
*
Miriam made her way back to her own cottage, carrying in her arms the linen from Elaine’s bed and trailing the dirty linen of the past in her wake. The girl’s questions had stirred old and painful memories. It had never been Miriam’s fault that lads had preferred her to Esther, and it hadn’t been her fault that she’d failed to grasp the facts of life. Even at the age she was now she had never quite grasped what birds and bees had to with it and why no one had told her at sixteen that babies didn’t come by stork. They came by fear, pain and shame. She didn’t want to dwell on that, there were some rocks that were better never turned, and what crawled beneath that one didn’t bear thinking about.
The pain of Peter’s rejection had never left her but had become a familiar ache. Sometimes it was almost comforting, an indication that she had once been loved. Esther had said that she did what she did as an act of love, that truth was love. Miriam had never quite believed it. Esther’s idea of love had always been such a strident thing and too black and white for the real world. Miriam had often wondered if Esther’s sensibilities were founded more in jealousy and possession than in love.
Esther could never have married; she would have seen the expectation of intimacy, the mutual need, as an affront. Even now, trapped in her dysfunctional body, she resented need. Miriam could see it and feel it, coming off her sister in waves of discontent. Esther had always done the right thing, as she saw it, and was bitter that God had seen fit to reward her by incarcerating her in a flesh and bone prison. She had never said that, but it was what Miriam saw every time she looked into Esther’s eyes – fear and resentment.
When she looked back, Miriam was sure that’s what had made Esther send Peter away, that and an over-entitled sense of morality. Fear that she would have to relinquish control over her sister in favour of a man, and resentment that she would never have a similar choice. Miriam had enduring faith in the premise that the mills of God would grind slow, but they would grind sure. There was no room for bitterness, only duty. Miriam’s duty to care for her sister was a cold dish, served with every bit of sisterly love she could muster. It was Miriam’s pleasure to offer her care, and Esther’s detestation to receive it.
*
At six o’clock Elaine heard a noise outside the door, a slight shuffling as if someone was hovering and hesitating. Knowing it couldn’t be Brodie or Miriam – who would both have just knocked and walked in – she waited a moment, reluctant to open the door to someone unknown. When she was certain that no one was lurking, she opened the door and discovered to her revulsion that her stealthy visitor had left a dead rabbit on her doorstep. Had Jean’s ashes not accompanied the corpse she would have felt deeply afraid. An anonymous gift of carrion was hardly likely to be a good thing, but the presence of the urn reassured her that this was Derry’s idea of a favour.
‘The gift of death’ she said aloud as she put Jean on a shelf in the porch.
Using a carrier bag turned inside out as a glove, she bent to retrieve the rabbit. Her lip curled at the feel of its cold flesh through the plastic and with a shudder of revulsion she picked it up. Holding it before her, the bag swinging from the very tips of her fingers, she walked over to Miriam’s cottage and knocked on the kitchen door. Miriam struck her as a woman who would know exactly what to do with the thing.
*
Miriam seemed pleased with the donation, even offering to demonstrate how the animal could be skinned and prepared for cooking. An offer which Elaine emphatically declined on the grounds that it would be knowledge that she would never use. She much preferred to receive her meat already butchered into nice, neat anonymous chunks. While Miriam busied herself hanging the rabbit in the shed ready for the next day, Elaine was left alone in the quiet, cluttered kitchen.
It was a room that told its history in the paraphernalia which it held. Copper jelly moulds adorned the walls and heavy pans hung on butcher’s hooks from a rickety laundry rack suspended from the ceiling by a system of ropes and pulleys.
Miriam had left her sitting at a scrubbed pine table from which a faint tang of carbolic soap rose to tingle in her nose. It was a smell that conjured images of childhood and Jean’s obsession that cleanliness was next to Godliness; it wasn’t an aroma which brokered happy memories for Elaine. The kitchen formed a tableau that interior designers would have died for and purveyors of retro chic would have drooled over – it was a haven of vintage style that had cost Miriam nothing but a lifetime of utility and frugality. Yet it resonated the warmth of her personality in a way that no designer could replicate and no money could buy. Everything about the room smacked of Miriam’s matronly country charm, with just enough chaos to make it interesting. Elaine tried to picture a black clad, brooding Brodie at the table and had to smile at the incongruity of the image. She was still smiling when Miriam returned.
‘Well, that’s that then.’ Miriam said wiping her hands on her ever-present apron. ‘Would you like a cuppa now that you’re here? I’ve just made one.’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely. Where’s Brodie? I thought she would have been round this afternoon.’ Elaine watched Miriam wield the enormous brown teapot in one capable hand whilst balancing a delicate silver tea strainer in the other.
‘Oh she took herself off a couple of hours ago, said she had something she wanted to look at. As long as she’s out from under my feet and not causing any trouble!’ Miriam said with a laugh. ‘Come on through, you can meet Esther, she likes a bit of company.’
Elaine followed her through towards the lounge, hovering in the doorway whilst Miriam prepared Esther for company.
‘We’ve got a visitor.’ Miriam plumped cushions behind the figure of Esther who Elaine was unable to see, obscured as she was by her sister’s bulk. ‘It’s Elaine. You know, I told you about her, she’s staying in the rental cottage for a couple of weeks.’
Elaine could hear a guttural, grunting sound emanating from the chair; it felt like her cue to enter. ‘Hello Esther, it’s very nice to meet you at last.’ She said it with a pleasantry that she didn’t quite feel. With all that she had heard about Esther this wasn’t a meeting she’d been relishing. As Miriam moved away she got her first look at the woman in the chair. With a fixed smile she took in the spare, pinched features of the woman whose eyes bore into her with malignant curiosity. Esther’s one good hand clenched briefly then resumed poking and scratching at the arm of her chair as she looked away from her visitor.
