Cover Your Eyes (9 page)

‘Bridie loves coming to school,' I said. ‘She was waiting by the door today, in her coat long before we had to set off.'

‘She's a pleasure to have in the class. People are fooled by her quietness, but she's often thinking, about stuff you wouldn't expect. I think she's a bit … overshadowed by Dee but deep down, I reckon she's got a good opinion of herself. Quietly confident.'

‘Thanks,' I said to him. ‘I don't know either of them very well, not yet.'

‘Well, Bridie's a bit of a dark horse. Dee's such a star and so I sometimes think that she gets kind of overlooked. Did you know she's learned her telephone numbers by heart? Her mother and father's and she'll soon have yours, no doubt. Tables are in her head already. Maths and Science are my subjects, so I try to make sure she's progressing at her own rate. It'd be a shame if she got bored and turned off … right?'

I nodded. He was smiling at me and for the first time since before I met Simon, I felt …
something
. A kindness coming from him. And I knew, because you can tell, that he was attracted to me. It was like moving into the range of a warm fire, after standing in the cold for a long time. As for me, I was pretty sure that his face wouldn't linger in my mind for too long after I'd gone home but I did know that I liked him.

‘Well, Ma? What do you think?'

Eva didn't know how to answer. The house Rowena and Conor had made an offer on, the house that they'd brought her to see, was elegant and attractive and just what they'd been looking for. And Eva hated it. She said, ‘It's a lovely house, really. I think … well, I can see that it will suit you perfectly. Very near Dee's school, too, didn't you say?'

‘It is. It's near both their schools. We pointed them out on the way.' Rowena's voice was tight.

‘I know,' Eva said. ‘I remember. But I wasn't paying too much attention. Still, it's a nice street.'

That was also true. There were trees planted at intervals in the pavement outside, which was more than could be said about a great many London streets. The house was tall and narrow. Four floors … she couldn't imagine a life in which she'd have to go up three flights of stairs to get to the sitting room, but if she agreed to live in the basement then that would be exactly where she'd be put.

‘You haven't seen the best bit yet,' said Rowena. ‘The granny flat. I've deliberately kept that for last. Conor, you don't have to come down with us.'

‘Give me a shout if you want me. I'm going to look at the garden.'

Transparent, thought Eva. She wants him out of the way for some reason. Maybe because he's more likely to sympathize with me if I make objections. She won't be able to bludgeon me so easily with her logical arguments.

‘Come on, then, Ma,' Rowena said. ‘Follow me down.'

Following Rowena involved holding on to the hand rail very tightly indeed. The staircase down to the flat was almost a spiral. The drop between each step was incredibly deep, much more so than Eva was used to. I'd never be able to relax. I'd have to be on my guard constantly in case I fell down them, she thought. She could manage now, just about, but what if she lived another ten years? More?

‘What do you think of the bedroom?' said Rowena. ‘See, you've got a window that lets in the light and you can see the railings on to the street. Plus, there's a little paved bit out here which we could turn into a kind of garden area for you, if you'd like that. Hang baskets up and things.'

‘Mmm,' Eva answered, so as not to have to say anything else. How odd, she thought. The ceilings in the rooms upstairs, because it was such a tall, skinny sort of house, were, if anything, too high. She'd felt a little lost in each one. Even the kitchen seemed a bit cavernous. This basement made up for it. The ceilings were depressingly low, the window was tiny and the light wasn't good. I'd have to have the light on during the day, she thought. What kind of electricity bills would that mean?

‘Come through and see the sitting room. And the bathroom. You've got a really lovely bathroom.'

‘Yes,' said Eva, wandering from the very small sitting room (with its very small window on to a yard-like space and some treacherous-looking stone steps leading up to the back garden and not a hand rail in sight) into the admittedly luxurious bathroom. With no bath.

‘There's only a shower here,' said Eva. ‘You know I hate showers. I have a bath every night.'

‘Don't worry, Ma! Of course we could put in a bath for you. That'll be no problem.'

Eva said nothing. I don't like it, she told herself. I don't want to live here, but if I say that now, if I tell Rowena that I'm not prepared to go up all those stairs and be crammed in a dark basement, she'll start on about sheltered housing and who knows if that would be better? Eva had two scenes in her head. In one, she was in among the rest of the old people in a beige sitting room with the television blaring because some of the ancients were a bit deaf. In another, she was in a room on her own, with no one visiting her and unable to go and talk to Rowena or the girls or Phyllis. Which would be worse: to be lonely, or to be among people you didn't know and might not particularly like if you did know them?

‘You're not saying anything, Ma. Does that mean you hate it?'

For a moment, Eva considered lying. Wouldn't everything be easier if she simply gave in? But then she'd have to come and spend the rest of her days in this basement and how could she bear that? ‘Yes,' she said finally. ‘I'm afraid it does. I can't live here, you know. I'm very sorry.'

‘But why? It's perfect. I don't think you're approaching this in a very positive spirit, honestly. You just said upstairs that it's an ideal house.'

‘For you it is. For you and Conor and the girls, I can see it is. But it isn't an ideal house for me.'

‘I don't see why not. You'd be completely independent and right with us at the very same time. How come that's not good enough for you?'

‘It's not that it's not good enough, Rowena. As far as it goes I can see it would be a very convenient arrangement. Of course I'd be happier living with my family than stuck by myself in a home or something but you
must
see that it's impossible. The stairs would kill me. I'd have to go up three flights if I wanted to sit with you. I'm fine at the moment, obviously, but I won't always be and this is not designed for someone old.'

‘Oh, come on, Ma! You've said it yourself. You're years and years from being like that, so don't go playing the old lady card now. You've still got the use of your legs. You drive. You're perfectly healthy. It's just that you're being stubborn about Salix House and you really can't afford to be. Luke Fielden might make an offer. He's coming round again later on this afternoon. We're going to sell the house at some point and whether it's to Luke, or someone else, we're going to accept it so you'd better get used to the idea.'

‘There's no need to be angry, Rowena. You asked me what I honestly thought and I've told you. I won't be able to live here. If you want to buy this place you're most welcome but I'll have to find somewhere else.'

‘Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. And you're right. I did say we'd find you a place you liked. I did say that.'

‘Have you got any more ideas?'

‘There are a couple of possibilities very close by. I'll arrange for us to go and see them soon. We'll find somewhere. You mustn't worry, Ma.'

‘I shan't worry,' Eva said, wondering whether it was true that as long as she hadn't found somewhere to live, they couldn't be evicted from Salix House, even if it was sold, either to this Luke person or someone else. She decided that for now, she would let Rowena do the worrying. Normally she was good at not letting unpleasant thoughts affect her, although recently she'd had difficulty in pushing them aside. Sometimes there was nothing she could do to stop them coming.

1938

This was what Eva knew: she was four years old. Her name was Eva Bergmann. She had to be good. She had to obey Angelika, who was older. She knew how to speak. Mama and Papa often called her a chatterbox. But now the words had gone suddenly, every one of them. She couldn't remember how to say anything. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, wanting to tell them what had happened and there was a great black space in her head and a silence filling her mouth. She knew she was tired. She felt sad and frightened but somehow she couldn't cry. She thought: Why can't I? What's happening to me? Where am I? Eva was burning hot and whenever she moved, it hurt all over her body.

She was in small room with a wooden floor. There was a rug with orange flowers on it. Someone was kneeling next to her. Holding her hands. Stroking her brow with cool fingers.

‘Eva Bergmann,' this person said. Eva nodded because that was her name. The woman, who was wearing a navy blue skirt and a pink blouse, kept on stroking her hand and smoothing her hair back from her forehead. She said something, but Eva couldn't understand. These words were different, just as Mama and Papa had told her they would be. She couldn't remember the name of this place, but she knew they'd been sent far away from home.
So that you'll be safe,
that's what Mama had told them. This must be where she meant. She'd warned Eva and Angelika about the funny words.
‘Maybe you'll be lucky,'
Mama said
‘and there'll be someone there who speaks German.'

A man did come who said things Eva could understand. He was a doctor. She had been taken ill, he said. He told her the lady's name: Agnes. He explained that Eva would be living with Agnes. Eva didn't care. She didn't care about anything. She was tired. She wanted to do nothing but sleep and sleep.

Eva was ill for a long time. It was only much later, once she'd learned those strange words, that she realized quite how long. She lay in bed and there were bad dreams which she tried to forget when she was awake. This was hard. The worst bits clung to the edges of her thoughts and she spent the time when she wasn't asleep looking at the room she was in. There was a big window. There was a chest-of-drawers with a mirror on it and you could see tree branches and bits of sky in the glass and Eva liked looking at it. When she heard Agnes moving about downstairs, in the kitchen, banging saucepans, Eva tiptoed from her bed and looked out of the window at the garden. A big square of grass. Sometimes the grass was frosty. Trees were black and spiky and Eva wondered what had happened to the leaves. There was no music. Eva longed for the sound of Mama playing the piano. She longed for Mama. And Papa. She tried to remember what their faces were like and it was hard to picture them and this made Eva cry. She tried hard not to think about Angelika because when she did, it was difficult for her to breathe and Eva's heart began to thump too hard, so hard that it hurt her and she wanted to vomit and sometimes she did and that was horrible and stinky, so she stopped. Whenever her sister came into her head, Eva would close her eyes and hold her breath and push her to the very edges of her mind and then she'd fade away and be forgotten till night time. There were bad dreams then, but during the day, Eva began, bit by bit, to stop thinking about what had happened.

Eva refused to speak. For weeks not a word had passed her lips, even after she began to feel better, less tired, less hot. Even after she'd grown used to Agnes looking after her, even after she was allowed out of bed and downstairs.

Then one day Agnes came into the kitchen, carrying a basket. Eva was at the table, being looked after by Mrs Gregg from next door.

‘Look, Eva dear,' said Agnes, opening the basket. ‘I've brought us a sweet little kitty.'

She picked the kitten up and held her out to show Eva. The cat was white and ginger with a tiny pink nose and was so small that she fitted easily into Agnes's cupped hands. Eva looked at the creature, who suddenly leaped out of the basket and landed on her lap. Amazingly, the kitten settled down at once and fell asleep. Eva thought: she knows I love her. I haven't said a word and yet she knows I love her. The almost imperceptible weight of the kitten on her legs had warmed her, and she stroked the pale fur with one hand. Then, without even thinking about it, she repeated Agnes's last word:
Kitty.

‘That's right, Eva,' Agnes's voice shook. ‘Kitty. Good girl. Kitty. This is a cat. Can you say cat?'

Eva said, obediently: ‘Cat.'

That was the beginning. Agnes said, ‘Oh Eva, darling. This is so exciting. You're
speaking
again! You'll soon be able to say everything. Anything you like. You'll see.'

Kitty grew into a plump ginger-and-white cat. It was taken for granted that Eva loved her, but no one knew exactly how much. Nor exactly why. Telling would have been embarrassing and others wouldn't have understood that she was more than a mere animal. She'd been Eva's way back to life, back to normality, from the dark place in which she'd found herself when she first came to Agnes Conway's house.

I was getting out of the car outside the girls' school when my phone rang. I scrabbled in my bag and fished it out as I crossed the playground. I would have left it to go to voicemail but it was Rowena so I answered it.

‘Hello?'

‘Oh, Megan, so glad I've got hold of you. You must be at school, right? Sorry to ring now but I've got a massive favour to ask you. We're stuck in traffic on the way home … driving in London is a complete nightmare … and I'm not sure I'll be there in time. Could you possibly see to him without me? Just give him a cup of tea or something and tell him I won't be long, okay? Only I said five and it's not going to be five.'

‘Sure, ‘I said. ‘No probs. Only you haven't told me who's coming. Who am I meant to be looking after?'

‘Sorry, sorry. Luke. Luke Fielden. I should've said. He does seem keen on Salix House so I want to encourage him as much as possible.'

‘Okay, not a problem. Best get on; the girls'll be out in a moment.'

‘Thanks so much, Megan.'

I sighed. I really didn't relish the thought of this. Would it be okay to give him a cup of tea and leave him in the sitting room by himself? Probably not. Just thinking about someone other than Eva owning Salix House made me feel sad for her, so I didn't imagine I was going to have too much fun hearing how much he was looking forward to moving in.

Dee came running out to find me.

‘Megan, can you come? Bridie's crying in the cloakroom.'

I set off after her. ‘Why's she crying?' I asked.

‘She's lost her hat. Mr Shoreley's helping her look for it.'

Mr Shoreley and Bridie were waiting for us.

‘Found it!' Bridie said, happily. She ran up to me and hugged me. ‘I was very sad. I thought it was lost.'

‘Even if it was lost,' I said, hugging her back, ‘it wouldn't have been a disaster. We'd have got you another hat, Bridie.'

‘But I like this one. Granny made it.'

She pulled it on to her head and I saw what she meant. It was only a simple knitted hat, but the pretty pink flower stitched to the side of it did make it special.

I turned to Mr Shoreley. ‘It was kind of you to help look for it.'

He smiled. ‘I'm good at looking. I've got X-ray eyes.'

‘He hasn't really got X-ray eyes,' Bridie explained. ‘That's a joke. He's always joking.'

I laughed and said, ‘Well, X-ray eyes or not, thanks very much, Mr Shoreley. It would have been a shame to lose this nice hat.'

‘Tom,' he said. ‘Please call me Tom.'

‘Right,' I said. ‘And I'm Megan. Now, let's get home, girls. We've got a visitor coming in a while.'

‘Okay,' said Dee. ‘Bye, Mr Shoreley.'

A chorus of goodbyes went on then. Dee and Bridie to Mr Shoreley … Tom … and him to them and me to him and him to me. At last we were in the playground. Dee was skipping.

When we got back to Salix House, I gave the girls a glass of milk and a biscuit each while Phyllis cooked supper, and put them in front of the television in the sitting room. Just before five, I went upstairs to comb my hair and put on a bit of make-up ready for Luke Fielden's visit. You could go to the downstairs loo, I told myself, but I knew that I wasn't going to step into that room if I didn't absolutely have to.

The doorbell rang as I was crossing the hall. I went to open the door and there he was, smiling. To be fair, the smile didn't leave his face when he saw that I was neither Rowena nor Phyllis.

‘Hello, Mr Fielden, do come in,' I said, stepping back into the hall. He was tall, I noticed.

‘Oh …' He only hesitated for a moment. Then: ‘It's you. You very kindly moved your car for me.'

‘That's right. I'm Megan Pritchard. I'm working here now, I look after the girls.' As we walked towards the sitting room I said, ‘Rowena's been delayed in traffic but do sit down in here, she won't be long. I'll get you a cup of tea.'

‘That's okay. A cup of tea would be great. Can I help?'

‘No, thanks, that's fine. I won't be a moment.'

He sat down and I went to the kitchen. I'd just got everything together when my phone pinged to announce a text message.

‘May be further delayed. Do show LF round yourself if he doesn't mind. He wants to go over house once more before offer. Thanx.'

*

They left the London house in Conor's car. Eva hated being driven, she much preferred being in the driver's seat but the firmness and determination with which both Rowena and Conor had insisted on the big car indicated to Eva that they didn't really trust her behind the wheel. Perhaps they thought she was too old to drive but that was nonsense. Her eyesight was excellent and so were her reactions. Still, if she was insisting that the stairs in this London house were going to be beyond her, then she'd better also accept that she'd be demoted to a mere passenger.

Eva closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly. She had no intention of continuing her argument with Rowena on the way back, and the best way to avoid arguments in a car was to go to sleep. If you couldn't really fall asleep, because you were churned up by what you'd been doing all day long, then you pretended and no one was any the wiser. Rowena and Conor wouldn't mind. They began to talk about the house. They were excited about it. They won't discuss what to do with me, Eva told herself, even if they do believe I'm truly asleep. It occurred to her that they probably knew she was putting it on as a kind of avoidance strategy. Maybe she wasn't as good an actress as she thought she was, or perhaps they could tell from her breathing that she was simply opting out of conversation.

The rhythm of the car must have lulled her properly to sleep because after a while she felt herself jolting awake and Rowena was saying, ‘Are you okay, Ma? You were talking. I couldn't understand what you were saying … you must have been dreaming.'

‘I'm fine,' Eva said. ‘Just dozed off for a minute.'

Forcing her eyes to stay open, Eva looked out at the autumn landscape sliding past the windows at high speed. I can't even enjoy the trees, she thought. The dream is still there. She didn't have to make much effort to recall it because she'd been having the same dream, on and off and in one form or another, for as long as she could remember.

There was always a space. A wide, dark space. It had a vaulted wooden roof. A grey floor stretched out in front of her for yards and yards. In the early days of the dream, Eva didn't know where it was but then there was a train somewhere, so she assumed it was a railway depot of some kind. She knew the train was there, even though she couldn't see it. The floor was grey concrete. Darkness surrounded her, and rose into the roof. The strange light, bright and white, came from round lamps, like the headlights of a car. Bitter, deadening cold. Eva was squashed in somewhere. The space above her head was nothing but black. She reached out her hand and felt rough wood. Then she curled herself up behind something, some kind of crate. She hated the scratchiness when her fingers touched the wood. She wanted to cry but knew she mustn't. She heard words and they sounded funny. They were in her ear, whispering, but they came from far away, too. Eva had forgotten most of the German she'd known as a child and she'd been careful about never relearning it. During the War, it had been a form of self-defence: if you didn't know any German words, no one could say you were German, could they? No one could even
think
you had anything to do with the enemy. Still, she knew what the words in the dream meant. She remembered the voice clearly. A girl's voice saying:
Deck deine Augen.
Cover your eyes, that meant. Each time she heard it the phrase went to her heart and settled there.
Cover your eyes
, the voice from far away always said to her.
Zähl bis hundert
. Count to a hundred. In the dream, she thought, we were playing hide-and-seek.

*

We'd had a cup of tea together in the sitting room and I did try to be as friendly as I could. I couldn't say I liked Luke any better than I had the first time we'd met. There was something about him that made me feel on edge in some way: uncomfortable. I suppose he couldn't help how he looked (as though the rest of the world was somehow failing to meet his expectations) but his voice and manner made it worse. He seemed impatient at being kept waiting and obviously would have rather Rowena was the one showing him round. Well, I thought, that makes two of us. He drank his tea quite quickly, I noticed, so I thought, okay, you've made it clear you don't want to sit and chit-chat with the hired help, so I'll offer to speed things up.

‘Rowena just texted me,' I said. ‘She's asked me to show you round, if you don't mind.'

‘Would you? Really? Only it'd be a tremendous help to me. I'm in a bit of a rush.'

‘Okay, that's fine. We can start whenever you're ready.'

He stood up. ‘That's great.'

‘I'm happy to take you round, of course, but I've only been here a very short time so I don't know much of the history of the house or anything.'

‘That's no problem. Tell me about yourself instead. Rowena told me you were a journalist. Hadn't you written something about Mrs Conway?'

It sounded funny, hearing Eva called that. Did I want to tell him about myself? He was at least being polite, asking me questions about myself. I said, ‘I used to work at a fashion magazine, but I was only an editorial assistant. I've left there now.'

Would he want to know why? I was already framing a reply when he said, ‘Do you come from round here?'

‘I'm from Northampton.'

‘Do you get to go back very often?'

‘Not that much, any more. Actually, my mother died quite recently and my dad lives in New Zealand.'

We were already walking around, and although he'd seemed preoccupied with what he was looking at and appeared not to be paying attention to what I was saying, he stopped when I said that and turned to look at me. ‘I'm sorry to hear that,' he said and for a moment his light brown eyes looked kinder in the long, rather forbidding face.

We moved on to the next room and I was glad he didn't ask me any other questions. He was busy now examining everything. Tops of doors. Corners of floors where they met the walls. I must have seemed a bit bemused because he said: ‘I've got some experience of looking at property. You'd be amazed how few people notice things like the slant of a floor. The fact that door frames aren't straight. That sort of stuff.'

‘Are you a surveyor or something?'

‘Used to be. Run a property development company now.'

What I said next came out before I could think about what I was saying. ‘Are you going to develop Salix House?'

‘I certainly am, if I buy it. I reckon it'd make a really interesting and unusual small hotel and spa. Or a really wonderful private house. I can see all sorts of possibilities. What do you think?'

I couldn't tell him what I thought. I said, ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you in the first place. It's not my business.'

He smiled at me and said, ‘Shall we go upstairs now? I'm sorry if you don't approve but I fell in love with this place the moment I saw it. I intend to improve it, you know. I'm not a vandal. Also, please call me Luke.'

‘Right. I'm Megan.' I shut up after that. We went from room to room, speaking very little. It felt rather personal, showing him the bedrooms. I'd never been in some of them myself. Eva's was decorated in shades of olive and rose. Her mirror was hung with so many scarves and necklaces that you couldn't see the glass. Rowena and Conor's room was mostly cream and grey with touches of dark red. Luckily my own room was tidy. When we'd been round every room on the first floor, he started down the corridor towards the stairs leading up to the dress room. Of course, I told myself. He's got to see that too. There's nowhere in this house that's out of bounds.

I knew that the cupboards were full of Eva's dresses. She'd brought me up here the first time I came to see her and shown me some of them, taking the hangers carefully off their rails, hooking some on to the open doors and draping others over the chaise longue which stood against one wall. A long mirror on a stand near the door had been covered with a sheet then and was still covered, I noticed. I sat down on the chaise longue and waited as Luke walked about, thinking that for someone in as much of a rush as he'd said he was, he was taking his time.

‘I should go back down,' I said. ‘The girls'll be wondering what's happened to me.'

‘Okay, I'm sorry. Let's go. I've seen what I needed to see.'

He went out first. On his way out, he must have caught his foot on the edge of the dustsheet covering the mirror and it slid down to the floor.

‘Let me fix that,' he said.

‘It's fine. I'll do it. You go down,' I told him. I'd already picked up the thick, chilly sheet in my arms and I turned away from him, ready to drape it over the mirror again. What must have been his reflection, as he left the room, moved across the glass and I rushed to cover it. I had the sensation of muffling something with the cloth. That's ridiculous, I told myself as I followed him out of the room, making sure to turn off the light. I don't know what made me look behind me, but it seemed, as I glanced over my shoulder, that the mirror and the sheet flung over it were glowing a little in the dark, as if the tall, white-draped rectangle was itself a source of light.
You're off your rocker
, I told myself, but all the way downstairs, I felt unsettled. Scared.
Pull yourself together
, I told myself.
What you're thinking is impossible. Completely ridiculous
. By the time I got to the hall, I'd almost convinced myself that what I'd really seen was light from the corridor shining on the dustsheet. But I didn't seem able to shake the feeling that I'd been stifling or somehow silencing something when I placed the dustsheet over the glass. It was as though there was energy there, some kind of life or movement in the mirror, and the sheet was there to hide it; to cover something up.