Beneath the Surface (17 page)

‘We’re not far off!’

*****

At 9.30 a.m. the girls heard a car pull up outside the house.

‘She’s back!’ Hannah called as she went to the window to look out. ‘Oh my God, Lauren! You’ll never guess what she’s brought back with her.’

‘What?’ Lauren asked as she ran down the stairs.

‘Grandma.’

Hannah opened the door and watched Eleanor, who was holding onto the gate with one hand and gesticulating with the other. Their mum was gently pulling her mother’s right arm to remove her from the gate.

‘Come on, Mother,’ Kathryn urged. ‘You must remember the Bay? And our cottage?’

Lauren joined Hannah at the door. ‘What’s she playing at? There’s no way Grandma will remember it here.’

‘I can’t believe they let her out,’ Hannah whispered. ‘Do you think Mum stole her?’

‘No! Do you think she did?’ Lauren gasped. ‘Do you think we should call them?’

‘No, let’s see what she says … if they ever get in the house.’

Kathryn finally encouraged her mother up the path, Eleanor barely looking up as she walked past the girls into the living room, where Kathryn plumped up cushions in the armchair and made a fuss of settling her into it, turning the chair so she could look out of the window. The girls hovered by the door and waited for their mum to come out of the room.

‘Why’s Grandma here?’ Lauren asked, following her into the kitchen.

‘Because I thought she could do with a nice day out,’ Kathryn responded casually. She might as well have said,
I thought I would have Weetabix this morning.
‘Maybe we could take her to the beach later?’ she added.

‘But she hasn’t been out of the home for a year,’ Lauren continued.

‘I know that,’ Kathryn snapped, ‘and that’s why I thought it was time for a trip.’

‘Do they know she’s here?’ Hannah asked.

‘Of course they do.’

‘And they don’t mind?’

‘She is my mother,’ Kathryn said, raising her voice, before taking a deep breath and adding more calmly, ‘and if I want to take her out, then I will do.’

‘So, they do mind,’ Hannah muttered under her breath. She watched as her mother set about the kitchen, humming quietly as she made a pot of tea, arranging biscuits on a plate and reaching far into the cupboard for cups and saucers, laying it all on a tray. Hannah didn’t even recognise the white porcelain decorated with delicate blue birds her mum had produced. Kathryn was engrossed in the particulars of this little tea party charade, as if she believed that alone would solve all of their problems.

‘When is it lunchtime?’ Eleanor called from the living room.

‘Not yet, Mother,’ their mum sang out.

‘Did she bring a bag in?’ Hannah asked her sister once Kathryn had taken the tray through. ‘Do you think Mum plans to keep her here or do you reckon she’ll be going back tonight?’

*****

By 11 a.m. Kathryn was noticeably agitated by Eleanor’s relentless requests for lunch. ‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll make it now.’ Sandwiches were presented on the everyday plates from Marks & Spencer and they sat around the table in the garden. Eleanor silently ignored the lunch she had been offered, a fact that in turn Kathryn tried to ignore as she continued to spout everything that came into her head. Hannah had long since ducked out of the pantomime playing out in front of her. She wished she didn’t have to watch it unravel further. Her mum’s anguish was embarrassing.

By midday, their grandmother was back in the armchair, looking out to the lane she clearly had no memory of. Waiting. For what Hannah couldn’t tell. Probably to be taken back to the home; to see something or someone that meant something to her because sitting in their cottage in Mull Bay she looked completely out of her depth. Eleanor had worn the same confused expression on her face since they had first seen her at the gate.

‘I really think she wants to go back soon,’ Lauren said, pulling her mum to one side.

‘Nonsense, she’s having a lovely day.’

‘Mum, she’s got no idea where she is.’

‘Let’s go the beach. A little sea air does everyone the world of good.’

They watched as their mum coaxed Eleanor to stand up, struggling to put her cardigan on her. Every time Kathryn reached out to take hold of her mother’s arm, Eleanor batted it away as if swatting a fly. Kathryn’s patience was wavering. It seemed obvious to Hannah sea air was not what Eleanor wanted. Eventually the cardigan was slung back over the arm of the chair. Another pot of tea was made, this time served in mugs with tea spilling over the edge as it was placed heavily on the coffee table.

‘Fine,’ Kathryn said eventually. ‘I’ll take you back to the home.’

Eleanor almost sprang from the chair she’d been cocooned in all day, wobbling only slightly as she pulled her cardigan over her shoulders and announced she needed the bathroom.

‘Do you want us to come with you to the home?’ Lauren asked her mum as they waited in the hallway.

Hannah threw her sister a look and Lauren shrugged in return.

‘I just wanted it to be a special day for her,’ Kathryn said, leaning against the bathroom door. ‘I wanted her to see the Bay. I was sure she always liked it here, I thought she’d remember the cottage.’

‘Mum, it was a sweet idea.’ Lauren took hold of her mum’s arm. ‘I’m sure she still enjoyed herself.’

‘I thought if she was back here, she might start remembering more. I could turn back time.’

‘Well, you don’t know how much she’s taken in,’ Lauren tried. ‘It might have helped more than you think.’

As Kathryn grabbed hold of Lauren’s arm, a determined look flashed across her face. ‘I think that home is repressing her,’ she said, leaning in close for fear of Eleanor hearing. ‘I’ve been thinking maybe I should move her in with us.’

‘Mum, you can’t,’ Hannah gasped.

‘Why not? You think I can’t look after my own mother? I could do a better job than they’re doing. I don’t trust those nurses.’

The bathroom door opened and Eleanor shuffled out. In that moment it struck Hannah, watching her grandmother struggle to pull the light cord, how she was a shell of the woman she had once been. Her mum might not see it, or perhaps she didn’t want to, but despite the way Eleanor had been it was still a sad thing to see. It wasn’t possible for her to dictate anyone else’s life anymore, she couldn’t even control her own; her words no longer meant anything.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing Mum had done that day
, she thought.
All she had wanted was for her own mother to see a piece of the life she’d once enjoyed
.

Eleanor had stopped and was clutching the bannister at the bottom of the stairs, looking intently at Hannah. Her eyebrows were arched in concentration as she stared at her granddaughter, but for once Hannah no longer felt frightened by her.

‘Is everything all right, Grandma?’ she asked.

‘What are you doing here?’ Eleanor asked, her long bony fingers curling and uncurling over the wooden post.

‘I live here.’

Eleanor shook her head, and Hannah could feel the stillness around her. Everyone had stopped what they were doing; the air was heavy with anticipation, each of them waiting to hear what Eleanor was going to say next. The moment of tenderness she had felt towards the old woman was passing.

‘And what have you been up to this time?’ her voice rose. ‘No good, I expect. Thinking you can come in here with those ideas of yours, ruining things for everyone.’

Hannah squirmed and turned to look at her mum, her gaze imploring her to come to the rescue. But Kathryn was rooted to the spot, frozen in the moment, her mouth hanging open in shock.

‘Mum?’ Hannah whispered. ‘What’s going on?’ It was clear her grandma didn’t know what she was talking about but it was unnerving, and she was desperate for Kathryn to step in.

‘Well, I won’t let you, girl! Do you hear me?’ Eleanor was saying, leaning in closer.

‘Grandma, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Hannah said. Eleanor seemed to believe so powerfully in what she was saying, even though it made no sense to anyone else.

‘Mum,’ Lauren said from behind her. ‘Say something, what’s Grandma talking about?’

But still Kathryn didn’t answer.

‘I’ll make sure you don’t ever breathe a word of it,’ Eleanor continued, stooping forward and looking Hannah directly in the eye.

‘That’s enough!’ Kathryn finally snapped to. ‘We’re going back to the home now, Mother.’ She pushed Hannah out of the way and reached past her to grab Eleanor’s arm, dragging her towards the door as quickly as her frail legs could take her. Ushering her mother down the path, Kathryn didn’t look back at the girls standing in the doorway, both confused but relieved their grandmother was leaving.

They had reached the gate when Eleanor turned to look back at them.

‘Abigail,’ she said nodding, as if the name had just come back to her. ‘That’s who you are.’

‘Abigail?’ Lauren asked. ‘Who’s she talking about, Mum?’

But Kathryn, who had by then manoeuvred her mother through the gate and onto the lane, didn’t bother answering.

‘What was all that about?’ Lauren said, turning to Hannah, who was still watching them clamber into the car.

‘Search me,’ she replied, but Hannah was shaken. There was something about her grandmother’s tone, something in the way she had looked at her. Whoever Eleanor thought she’d seen in that moment, she truly believed it was someone called Abigail.

Abigail
, Hannah rolled the name around in her mouth.
Ab-Gail.
She knew the name, she was sure of it.

Kathryn tried keeping her mind on the road ahead because getting her mother safely back to the home was something tangible she could focus on. On the one hand she wanted it to be over as soon as possible, but on the other she had an hour with her mother to herself and talking to her had been the main reason behind bringing Eleanor back to the Bay. She had hoped that a change of scenery, a place that might trigger memories, would relax her mother into opening up to her. But then Eleanor had thrown Abigail’s name into the pot and now Kathryn could feel herself slipping deeper, much deeper, into the hole in which she had been sinking these past few weeks, and she knew she would have to pull herself out fast if she was going to confront her mother.

Eleanor’s shoulders were scrunched forward, and her face screwed so tightly it made her look as if she were deep in contemplation.
Oh, to be inside her head
, Kathryn thought, and to know how her brain was functioning. She could be anywhere right now, miles away from the storm she had just stirred up for Kathryn back home.

Think
.
What was it she had set out for that morning? Peter
. She needed her mother’s help so she could stop the girls finding Peter. She needed to know what she knew about him, how much Eleanor really had to do with their marriage, because she had a feeling she didn’t know the half of it.

Why did Peter suddenly leave me, Mother?
That was what she would ask.

Why were you so intent on bringing him into my life but were happy for him to duck out when things got really tough?

And why did you just say Abigail’s name?

‘Peter,’ she blurted before she could stop herself. However much Kathryn wished she could shut her eyes and blank out everything around her, she knew the journey would come to an end soon. This had to be done.

Eleanor lifted her head slightly, her gaze now focused on the road rather than her lap.

‘Do you remember Peter?’ Kathryn asked tentatively.

‘Of course I remember Peter,’ Eleanor answered sharply. Yes, perhaps she was remembering a lot more today, which was good. Maybe this was all going to be OK.

‘The girls want to see him again, Mother. And I don’t want them to. When we moved to the Bay, you told me he was out of our lives. Do you remember?’

Eleanor didn’t answer, and so Kathryn carried on. ‘I really don’t know why you introduced him to me in the first place. You must have known he wasn’t my type.’

Eleanor made a small noise, resembling a grunt.

‘What was that, Mother?’

Eleanor said nothing, but turned away from Kathryn to look out of the window to her left.

‘He wasn’t exactly Robert,’ she tested, taking a deep breath to quell the swirly feeling starting up in her stomach. Kathryn hadn’t wanted another husband, especially not Peter. Yet she had gone along with it, swept up in her mother’s desire to find what she described as a suitable husband for her daughter.

‘Peter had good prospects,’ Eleanor murmured, almost making Kathryn jump. ‘Big plans.’ She nodded. ‘Your father was getting older. He didn’t have a son to pass it on to.’ She almost spat out the word ‘son’.

‘But you knew I didn’t love him.’

Eleanor shrugged, a gesture Kathryn chose to ignore.

‘He wanted to leave me, just before I got pregnant,’ she went on. It was something she had always wondered about. Not the leaving but rather what in the end made him stay. Peter had come home from work to find Kathryn making the bed. Without taking off his suit jacket, he had walked into the bedroom and told her, ‘I can’t do this anymore, Kathryn. I’ve had enough and I don’t want to be with you any longer.’

Kathryn had stared at him as he pulled a suitcase off the top of the wardrobe, throwing it open on the bed she was trying to make.

‘I don’t care what happens, I’m not happy,’ he went on.

‘Where are you going?’ she’d asked, looking from him to the suitcase and then back at his face.

‘I’ve, erm … I’ll get a hotel room.’

‘Is there someone else?’

He’d shaken his head, mildly. But she didn’t believe him. She knew he probably had another woman, yet she really didn’t care. Instead she watched Peter open the wardrobe doors and pull starched white shirts off their hangers, throwing them into the case, avoiding her stare. And as she watched, she considered that his leaving might not be a bad idea after all.

When the doorbell rang, he stopped abruptly.

‘Who’s that?’ he’d snapped.

‘Probably my parents. They’re coming for dinner tonight. Daddy was meeting some other MPs at the club in London today. Had you forgotten?’