The Insect Rosary (11 page)

Then

Donn did make tea, kind of. Ham sandwiches weren't quite the same as what we normally ate, and I wondered what Bruce would eat if there were no leftovers. He looked quite pleased with himself until he got the phone call about six o'clock from my mother.

‘She says the baby is taking ages and you all have to put each other to bed.'

‘Are you sure she didn't say you should put us to bed?' I asked.

‘No.' Donn was a terrible liar. ‘Youse two have to put the wee one to bed, and then Nancy has to put you to bed.'

‘Mum would never say that, not in a million years!'

Nancy smugly agreed with him. ‘We can do that.'

‘And who puts Nancy to bed?' I demanded.

‘Your mammy says she's quite old enough.'

‘That is completely unfair.' I stamped as I jumped off the chair and folded my arms.

‘Shall I call her back?' asked Donn.

‘At the hospital? You can't.'

‘Oh yes I can, because I forgot to ask whether I was allowed to smack anyone who was really naughty.'

I examined his face. Sometimes he lied so badly it was almost like he was telling the truth.

‘Fine!' I waited for Nancy to give me my instructions. I would memorise them and tell Mum exactly what she'd told me to do, and what I'd had to think of myself. Like brushing Florence's teeth. I hoped she'd forget that, and then I'd be the best. ‘Now what?'

‘Nancy is in charge,' said Donn.

I mimicked him, ‘Pantsy is in charge.'

He held a finger towards me and mimed a smack. Nancy glowed, then grabbed Florence by her arms and said, ‘Bedtime.'

She looked surprised, and started to follow her but Nancy stopped at the door.

She spoke hesitantly, ‘Who is going to change Florence's nappy?'

‘You're in charge, Nancy,' said Donn.

I hugged myself. ‘I'll make sure she cleans her teeth.'

Upstairs she tried every bribe she knew, names, birthday money, sweets, but none of it was worth it. I knew her. I'd be pooey, stinky, nappy hand Bernadette. She knew it and I knew it. My trump was that I could promise not to tell anyone about it.

She did the nappy, I had to do teeth, pyjamas and stories. It was worth it.

When Florence was in bed, not asleep, but in bed, we had a quick root around in the drawers of the dressing table. Usually when we started to do this our mum or an aunt would walk in and tell us to get out and stop being so nosy.

The last time we'd just found some sanitary towels and neither of us knew we shouldn't be flapping them in the air. Now Nancy had started her periods she treated them with proper reverence. Behind them were some things with American flags on, from the siblings who'd gone to America, and some with Australian flags from the other sibling.

We vaguely remembered those lost siblings. Really we remembered how there was suddenly more space in the beds as the aunts left, and less of a feet smell by the fire when the uncles left. There were books as well, bad books. Nancy had taken
Jaws
out before and hidden it under her pillow, but someone found and replaced it. She didn't really want to read it, I think, just show me the cover and then watch me run back from the sea to Mum. I did think I might have seen a fin, but it was a bit too small to be a man-eater, probably.

After we'd had a good, thorough look, we gave the NB dire threats of punishment, and went downstairs, like the grown-ups.

‘You don't have to put me to bed until Donn tells you, really.'

She tossed her hair back. ‘I'm not sure that's what he meant, Bernadette. He said that I was in charge, so it's my decision.'

I knew I was quite safe. However much Nancy was desperate to send me to bed, I was more fun than Donn. I saw her struggle a bit with the choice though. She settled on bossing me about.

‘You can stay up five more minutes if you get me a biscuit. Ten minutes if you manage a slice of cake.'

Beth's cake that she'd brought round for the afternoon hadn't been finished yet. Donn wouldn't have put it away, so it would have been easier, really, than finding where Sister Agatha had hidden the biscuits this time. That just meant getting around Donn. I assumed he was in the kitchen. It was very quiet, though.

‘Nancy, do you think Donn knows he can't go out and leave us on us own? You don't think that, when he said you were in charge, that you were really in charge, do you?'

‘Oh, God! Did you hear him go out?'

‘No, I can't hear anything. I'm scared to go in the kitchen by myself.'

‘Don't be silly,' she said, but her hand was near her mouth like she didn't want to scream too loud.

I said, ‘If you want some cake you have to come with me.'

She nodded and we crept towards the parlour door. As my fingers touched the handle we heard the lobby door to the parlour close and Donn's voice. I breathed out in relief.

‘Who's he speaking to?' asked Nancy.

We waited for Donn to stop talking so the other one would speak.

Donn said, ‘Just the girls.'

Another voice said, ‘Those bitches definitely in bed?'

Tommy's footsteps came towards the door and we had no chance to run away. He opened it and looked down at us.

Nancy gabbled, ‘We were just coming to tell Donn that we're going to bed too. Florence is asleep.'

‘And how are you, Nancy?'

She looked at me and then back. ‘Fine.'

‘Not hearing anything you shouldn't?'

She shook her head too hard. I saw her cheeks start to redden.

‘No bogey stories to keep you up, no?'

His eyes had moved to me now and I felt the blush heat my own cheeks.

‘That's enough teasing, Tommy,' said Donn.

Tommy stood to the side for Donn to talk to us.

‘Good girls. I'll see you in the morning.'

Tommy said nothing more to us, but closed the door hard. We knew he hadn't moved away. He was listening for us to go upstairs. We trod on each step as heavily as we could and sat at the foot of our bed without getting undressed. The massive picture of Jesus, with his red heart hovering outside his body, hung above our bed. The heart had a cross stuck right through the middle of it. There was a golden halo around his head and he looked up to heaven without lifting his head, so there was lots of white in his eyes. I wondered whether Sister Agatha had put it here, and the statue of Mary on the bedside table and the cross on the mantelpiece, just for us, or if they were here before her.

We got into bed without brushing our teeth because we didn't want to get caught on the landing. My teeth felt furry and I knew Mum would be cross if she found out. I promised myself to brush twice as long in the morning. I wished she was back. The sheets felt uncomfortable and I spent ages trying to straighten out the wrinkled blankets on top. I lay down but couldn't settle. I turned towards Nancy but she didn't look at me.

‘You won't ever, ever tell him that I said anything, will you?'

She shook her head.

‘Do you really think Ryan is okay?'

She closed her eyes and faced away from me. I turned the other way and looked at the fireless fireplace. I wished there was a fire now, but there had never been any fires upstairs. If I could watch the flames I might go to sleep. I thought about the way Father Christmas always knew how to find us even though we didn't really live here. It always amazed me, but Nancy wouldn't talk about him anymore. She just smirked when I said anything.

Neither of us said anything now. We were too busy listening and waiting for Tommy to leave.

‘Stay awake, won't you Bernie?' whispered Nancy.

I nodded. She went to sleep before me, her head angled up against my back.

Now

‘I heard from Agatha today. Well, she mentioned me in a note to Donn. She wanted me to give you her address.'

‘Yes, Beth gave it to me too.' Her mother sighed. ‘That means she wants letters, doesn't it? I can't remember how to write a letter any more. Can't you tell her just to go on Facebook?'

Nancy laughed feebly and rubbed her temple. ‘Yeah, right.'

‘Have you . . . Has . . .' She heard her mother inhale, ‘How's things?'

‘Difficult.' Nancy lifted the phone base from the table, sat on the floor and placed it next to her.

‘Is it Bernadette?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is she there?'

Nancy looked up to the landing, checked the doors off the hall were all closed. ‘Somewhere. Around.' She lowered her voice, ‘She's pretty much avoiding me. I didn't say what she wanted, it seems.'

Her mother didn't say anything. She heard her moving things, the slide and click of something hundreds of miles away. There were birds in the background. Her mother could have the window in the front room open, or maybe she was in the garden. The joys of a cordless phone. What she wasn't doing was squatting by the stairs in a dark hallway. The meagre glow from the skylight was sickly.

Her mother cleared her throat. ‘This is your only chance to ever sort it out. You'll go back over there, she'll come back over here and this opportunity will be lost forever.'

‘Mum, what does she need to hear? Do you know?'

‘No, I don't know for sure. You know her, she's had a lot of odd ideas over the years.'

Nancy didn't believe her. There was something strained in her tone.

‘Just try, Nancy. Try to make it all right.'

‘I don't know if I can, Mum. I think she really hates me. I can't work out what I need to say and she won't forgive me until I do. It's an impossible situation. I can't win.'

Nancy heard a sob.

‘I want all three daughters at my funeral, Nancy. I've given up on hoping that I'll see you all at a birthday or a wedding. I've given up hoping that your father will see all of his grandchildren –'

‘We'll visit –'

Her strained voice was high, ‘You have to sort it out.'

The phone call went dead. Nancy held the handset and imagined her mother crying in her front room or the garden, just quickly, before wiping her eyes and pushing it all back down again. That's what she'd seen before she left, that's what she'd seen in her mind during every phone call.

She heard a voice and put the phone back to her ear.

‘The other person has cleared. The other person has cleared. The other person has cleared.'

Nancy put the phone back and placed it back on the table next to the same oriental vase with the same silk flowers and peacock feathers next to the same grey phone and small lamp that had always been there. The Bakelite door handles and finger-plates, white on the hall side and black on the room side. Empty locks with swinging covers to stop spying eyes, all the keys lost except the one for the best room. The same house that it had always been. And different.

She pushed up from the floor, leaned back against the stairs and looked up at the skylight. She saw the thick banisters and could almost hear small footsteps avoiding the squeaky boards, hugging the dark corners. Bernadette had been the braver, had never said no to anything. Nancy had been egged on by this knowledge time and again to try harder, do more, fear less. She could follow in her path and Bernie would still think that Nancy was the leader. Surely it had been both of them together giving each other the confidence to try everything? But now Bernie and her mother were making it entirely Nancy's responsibility.

She heard movement in the lobby and the parlour and ran upstairs. Her hand was on the handle to her bedroom when she noticed Bernie's door was open and the room quiet. She looked around and then went in there instead. She wouldn't be long. Someone was bound to come up soon.

From the way clothes were thrown on the floor and beds it was clear Adrian was sleeping in the single, Bernie and the girls in the double bed. She was pleased by this. It was still a bed for girls to whisper in at night and make unsuitable plans.

Nancy saw that Jesus with the glowing heart was still hanging above the headrest, solemn Mary was still on the mantelpiece. She'd imagined that Bernie would have hidden them somewhere out of sight. She walked to the fireplace and sat on the bed. This had been Bernie's side and she had envied it during the day, and then been grateful at night that she was that little bit further away to the gaping hole in the wall, the shadowy chimney. One night a bird had become stuck inside and sent soot ghosting around the room. Nancy had screamed. Bernie had covered her mouth and frozen upright. Nancy had teased Bernie about it later, about how it was a banshee trying to get in, even though they'd both seen Agatha pull the dead bird out in the morning, her arm blackened and her dress made grey by the ash. Nancy didn't look but Bernie did, and it was only then that she cried. She'd got into Florence's bed for a few nights after that until Nancy refused to go to bed at all because she didn't want to be closest to the chimney and whatever might come down it.

Nancy looked at the single bed. Bernie had often ended up with Florence when she was upset or scared. She'd always thought of her and Bernie being much closer than Bernie and Florence, but when it came down to it she suspected Florence was Bernie's favourite. And Bernie was Mum's favourite as a child, with her blue eyes and infectious laugh that triggered something in everyone, except Agatha. And there, behind her, Nancy had been pushing her, provoking her to create new boundaries and new levels of naughtiness that she could hide behind.

She stood up and noticed the small enamel pot still on the mantelpiece beside Mary. She lifted the lid to see half a dozen tiny shells, the ones that Bernie was so good at finding. She lifted one out but couldn't tell if they'd been found last week or thirty years ago. Some things didn't age.

She touched the bell push on the wall next to the fireplace and turned to leave. Bernie made her jump.

‘What are you doing?'

Nancy thought of the shells, the bird, the nights of whispering.

‘I don't know really. Thinking about what things were like, before.'

Bernie closed the door, ‘Before what?'

Nancy walked to the window. ‘Before. When we were small. This room is one of my strongest memories but we can't have spent that much time in here. We were always outside.' She looked down the drive. ‘I still expect to see Bruce.'

Bernie sat on the end of the single bed and said nothing.

‘Remember how we'd feed him Sugar Puffs in the parlour? That must have been terrible for his teeth. And he stank, greasy like a sheep, but it didn't bother us at all.' Nancy rubbed her hands, thinking of how she could roll off his dirt in ribbons, but not the smell.

Bernie pointed down. ‘Why do you let Hurley out by himself?'

‘He's fourteen. He can't walk around where we live. There's nowhere to walk to and he hasn't got any friends to visit. I like it that he wants to.'

‘There are murderers here, bodies right here.'

Nancy watched her rub her hands against each other. What would happen if Bernie fell into madness again? Would Adrian wait for her or take her children?

‘Bern, everything's fine. Hurley's quite safe.'

‘He got away with it again and again because no-one listened and no-one saw and no-one said.'

‘Bern, Dad didn't do anything. You have to accept that.'

Bernie snapped round. ‘Not him. Tommy.'

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both jump. Erin and Maeve ran in, slammed the door open and then stopped when they saw Nancy. Nancy looked at Bernie. Her face had changed, become relaxed and normal.

‘Everything all right, girls?'

Nancy walked past the girls and noticed them edge away from her. She started shaking as she got to her bedroom. She lay down and stared at the ceiling. She felt around Tommy's image, dark hair and blue eyes, always in dark blue jeans. He'd been kind to Nancy, but she remembered being anxious around him too. But then, she usually had been anxious around boys she fancied. He was older, too old than would be normal now to be spending time with a girl of eleven, twelve, but not a murderer. Not him.

Elian came in and closed the door. Nancy bolted upright.

‘Jesus! Don't creep up on me.'

He looked confused. ‘I didn't.'

‘Sorry.' She covered her face. ‘Sorry.'

‘What's the matter?'

‘I think Bernie might be having another breakdown. She's talking about bodies. She's going to start accusing someone else, of murder this time. I don't know what to do. Should I phone someone?'

‘Just talk to Adrian. If anyone will know she's in trouble, it's him.'

She nodded. ‘You're right.'

But she knew she couldn't talk to Adrian about it.