A Keeper(43)

‘Happy? Oh, my God. Was this the plan all along? Those letters, Edward, those letters!’ She threw herself back on the mattress; the effort of speaking was agony.

Edward knelt by the bed and took her hand. ‘This should never have happened. My mother was just helping me.’ He paused and looked up at the ceiling as if asking a higher power what he should say to this woman lying before him. ‘We needed you, she said so, and she was right. My mother writing the letters seemed simple, it was only after we met that I realised how wrong the whole thing was. I liked you and those letters, they made you like me.’

Patricia turned away from him and groaned.

Edward squeezed her hand tighter. ‘I can’t. You know I don’t have the words. I can’t explain. I don’t know how to tell you.’

‘How did you manage to never learn to read or write? You weren’t a child when you left school, were you?’

Edward pulled at his collar. ‘I just … when they were teaching it back in infants and first class, I just didn’t get the hang of it and then the teacher, old Mrs Cassidy, gave up on me. She knew I was only going to work on the farm, so what did it matter? When I got to secondary there was talk of getting me special help but then, well, then I had to leave.’

Patricia looked at him. His face crumpled by frustration at his own shortcomings. This man wished her no harm. She trusted him.

‘Edward, you can put an end to all of this. You can make this stop.’ She leaned forward so that their faces were almost touching. She hoped he could see the desperation in her eyes.

‘I can’t!’ Edward spat the words at her as if it was her own stupidity that prevented her from understanding why he couldn’t help her. He pulled himself to his feet, unnerved by his own outburst.

‘I’ll go. Get well.’ The click of the door as it closed. Patricia squeezed her eyes shut. She had no idea what was going on in Castle House or what would happen to her, but in that moment, without him, she found she missed Edward. Her Edward.





NOW


A skeletal, needle-free Christmas tree leaned against the hedge, a few strands of forgotten tinsel fluttering in the breeze. Elizabeth sighed. Her accommodation for the night didn’t seem promising.

Brian had picked her up from Abbey Court and taken her back to her car in Muirinish. She had asked him about Edward’s marital history but Brian knew nothing. Perhaps his aunt would know more. She followed him in her own car the four or five miles along the coast road till they came to a small cluster of houses. There were two street lights but no sign giving the place an actual name. Brian told her that it was just known locally as Coakley’s Cross but it lacked the pub or shop or chapel that might have elevated it to the status of an actual village.

He led her from the cars to a gate that two houses shared. One was brightly lit and looked freshly painted, while the other was a nondescript bungalow that had seen much better days. Above the abandoned Christmas tree, hanging baskets of dead plants were hung from either side of the shallow porch. Of course this house turned out to be the one belonging to his aunt.

‘Brian!’ The old lady at the door seemed surprised to see her nephew.

‘Auntie Eileen, this is Elizabeth, the woman I told you about.’

Hands were wiped on an apron and then a thin bony paw was held out to be shaken.

‘Nice to meet you, I’m sure.’ Her pale eyes were magnified by her thick glasses so that every blink was like a camera shutter closing. Elizabeth was mesmerised by her.

‘Thanks so much for taking me in.’

Eileen held her head back to get a better look at her visitor through her bifocals. Then she turned and gave her nephew a quizzical glance.

‘I rang earlier.’ Brian was speaking very slowly and clearly. ‘I explained that Elizabeth needed a bed for the night. You said she could stay. Remember?’

The old woman bristled with indignation.

‘Of course I remember! Come in out of the cold. You are very welcome …’ Her voice trailed away.

‘Elizabeth.’

‘Of course, of course. Come in.’

Elizabeth took a step forward but realised that Brian was staying where he was. She turned to him.

‘Thanks, then.’

‘You’re very welcome. Nice to meet you. Sleep well and safe travels.’

‘Thanks. Take care.’

They both hesitated. Was this the moment for a handshake, a hug, a peck on the cheek? It seemed that none of those felt exactly right, as Brian gave an apologetic shrug and started to walk back to his car.

Elizabeth’s heart sank. She did not relish the thought of her night ahead with only Auntie Eileen for company.

‘Close the door. Keep the heat in!’ a voice from within commanded. Elizabeth painted a smile on her face and strode forward. A hall the size of a phone box forced her through the only open door into a dimly lit sitting room. A single bar on an electric heater glowed orange while above it a coal-effect fire moved in slow waves. In the corner of the room the light from a silent television spilled over the small two-seater sofa and a low coffee table, with a half-finished crossword abandoned on it.

‘In here!’ Eileen’s voice called from the door at the other end of the room. Elizabeth was momentarily blinded when she stepped into the bright glare of the kitchen. It was a narrow room but down one wall was a large aquarium. It hummed and the blue-green light spilling from it gave Auntie Eileen the pallor of a Halloween ghoul.