A Keeper(4)
2
The warm light of the lamp was still glowing through the peach silk shade when she woke. Glancing over at the window she could see no hint of daylight. She looked at her watch. Six, but what six? Had she changed her watch? She couldn’t remember. Shoving her hand into her jeans pocket she retrieved her phone. Six in the morning. Knowing that she probably wouldn’t fall back to sleep she padded across the landing to brush her teeth and go to the toilet. Everywhere she looked there were ‘things’. Pointless stuff lined every surface. Turning her head as she scrubbed at her teeth she could see bottles of No More Tears shampoo and Matey the Sailor bubble bath that must have been there since she was a girl. She opened the mirrored door of the cabinet above the sink. Packed. Every prescription from the last forty years appeared to be crammed onto its shelves.
Back in the bedroom there was less obvious clutter, but Elizabeth knew what lurked inside the large rosewood wardrobe and the matching chest of drawers. Why had she decided to do this herself? Was there a single thing in this house she actually wanted or had missed in the last twenty years? She should have just let a house clearance company loose on the place or allowed Noelle and Aunt Gillian free rein to scavenge whatever they wanted.
Tentatively, she opened the door of the wardrobe. The first thing that confronted her was a full-length reflection of herself. God, she looked awful. She examined her face, which certain girlfriends said gave her boyish good looks. Odd that those women were usually button-nosed, plump-lipped beauties. She wondered how they would have coped with her square jaw and long straightish nose? Even in this light her normally ruddy complexion looked pale and drawn. Her bright hazel eyes peered at her from puffy eyelids and heavy bags. Oh God – had that stain been on her top the whole journey or was it just the soup from last night? Her hair had a strange ridge across the left side of her head. She smoothed it down but to no effect. Turning her attention to the inside of the wardrobe, she managed a small grin. Yes, it was stuffed to bursting, but running her hand along the rail of coats and dresses was like visiting a museum of her memories. The blue tweed of that coat her mother had worn standing stiffly at the school gates, the slim fitting dresses bought for a lifetime of christenings and weddings, including the knitted navy blue two-piece that she had worn when Elizabeth had married Elliot in Ann Arbor. Her poor mother. The warmest March anyone could remember Michigan having. The red sweaty face peered out from every wedding photograph. Elliot’s mother standing beside her looking like she’d been carved from marble. Elizabeth shuddered at the memory of the day. The way both mothers had come up to her with an expression of concern and suspicion. ‘No champagne for you?’
She glanced up at the shelf above the hanging rail. One side was full of folded jumpers and cardigans. The other half seemed to contain nothing but a rolled-up yellowing duvet. Elizabeth thought it might be useful if the heating didn’t come on, so she pulled it forward. It spilled out into a large soft pile at her feet. With the duvet gone she could see a dark wooden box shoved right to the back of the wardrobe. She couldn’t remember ever having seen it before and reached in to retrieve it. Disappointingly, it didn’t feel very heavy. She placed the box on the floor and knelt in front of it. Wiping the dust from the lid, the dark sheen of the wood was revealed. Walnut? The corners were protected by small inlays of brass. She hoped it wasn’t locked. No, the lid lifted easily. Peering in, the contents were a bit of an anti-climax: a tiny yellow knitted baby booty and beneath that a thin pile of letters held together by an ancient cream ribbon. Elizabeth slipped the first letter from the pile and began to read.
*
Castle House,
Muirinish,
West Cork
30 November 1973
Dear Lonely Leinster Lady,
I’m not really sure how to begin. I have never replied to one of these ads before. I suppose I should just tell you a bit about myself and you can see if you like the sound of me!
I’m forty-one, so well below your cut-off age of fifty! I’m six feet tall and I still have most of my hair. I enclose a photograph so you can decide if I am decent-looking or not! I’m a farmer, which you specified you were looking for. The farm is near Muirinish in West Cork. It is one hundred and twenty acres but if I’m being honest only eighty are any good, the rest being a sea marsh. It’s a dairy farm, which I enjoy even though it’s a bit of a tie.
So why is this great catch on the shelf? Well, things haven’t been easy at home. My brother was running the farm after my father died but then when I was seventeen he was killed in an accident so I had to take it over and help my mother as much as I could. It meant I have found it very hard to get out to meet anyone and to be honest it has also made me a bit shy. Time has a way of slipping by and I felt I had to do something about finding a wife before it was too late.
Because of milking it would be difficult for me to get up to see you but I would be happy to meet you in Cork city for lunch or even a cup of tea. If you wanted me to send you the train fare I’m sure that could be arranged. I don’t want to sound rude but it would be good if you could also send me a photograph so I can see if you are as lovely as you sound!
I hope to get a letter back but if I don’t then I wish you happiness in your life.
With every good wish,
Edward Foley
*
Castle House,
Muirinish,
West Cork
15 December 1973