The Lost Child (7 page)

‘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.

Elaine suppressed a shudder and swallowed down the rising anxiety that was threatening to make her flee from the room. There was a terrifying familiarity about Esther’s demeanour, which was reminiscent of a hundred childish nightmares. The sensation of fear forced her to look away and focus on the rest of the room, as if by doing so she could pretend that the hostile, ravaged presence wasn’t there. Despite her best efforts to make small talk about the lovely painting above the mantel, or the charming Staffordshire dogs that adorned the hearth, she couldn’t escape her reaction to the old woman. The need to get out of the room became more pronounced with every minute.