A Keeper(46)

Your son? That didn’t sound promising.

‘Mom?’ It was Zach.

‘Yes …’ Elizabeth said the word tentatively, anxious about what might be coming next.

‘Don’t be mad, Mom.’

‘OK.’ If she was being honest, she was finding it hard to feel like a parent right now, sat as she was with a man in a car outside a pub, having an adolescent conversation about sex.

‘Just tell me, Zach.’

‘OK. Well, the thing is, I have some news …’ He was obviously playing for time.

‘Just tell me!’ she snapped.

Zach gave a tiny cough and then said quietly, ‘You are going to be a grandmother.’

It was as if she had stared into the centre of the sun. A hot white light seared into her brain. She had no words. There wasn’t a single reaction that she could articulate. She felt breathless. Finally Zach’s voice came from the speaker. ‘Mom?’

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment and then, trying to summon a calm voice, said, ‘I can’t speak to you right now.’ And hung up. She sat staring in disbelief at the screen of her phone.

Brian touched her arm, unsure of what had just happened.

‘Are you all right?’

Elizabeth turned to him and then they were kissing. A mad, hungry embrace that owed as much to despair as desire.





THEN


Staring up at the ceiling, or slowly tracing patterns on the wallpaper with her finger, Patricia could no longer name the days. Each morning the curtains were opened and sometimes the sun crept into the bedroom throwing warm pools of light on the threadbare carpet. Leaning forward, Patricia could catch a glimpse of blue sky.

The night sweats had stopped and every day she felt a little better. Mrs Foley continued to deliver trays of food and a banal commentary on the weather and life on the farm. Apparently some calves had been born. As Patricia grew stronger the bubble of rage inside her increased. She had done nothing wrong and she wanted to go home! Why was Edward so afraid of his mother? What was stopping him from just driving her to Buncarragh?

‘Mrs Foley, you know I have to go home? You understand that, don’t you?’

‘Oh child, of course I do, but you aren’t well enough to travel. I don’t think you realise how unwell you are.’

‘I’m well enough to sit in a car,’ Patricia replied angrily.

Mrs Foley’s nostrils flared indignantly. ‘Oh, and you think Teddy has time to drive you all the way up the country?’ She snorted with laughter. ‘That boy is busy, very busy, working all the hours that God sends. And what for? So that you can lie up here like some princess being waited upon, hand and foot! You have some nerve, young lady.’ And with that the old lady swept from the room, slamming the door behind her.

For the first time in what seemed like weeks Patricia felt more like her old self. If no one was going to help her then she would sort this out for herself.

She remembered that in her Enid Blyton books they were forever making ropes out of sheets. There were only two on her bed. She doubted they would reach the ground and even if they did would she have the strength to climb down them? It was unlikely. What if she just jumped? It was only the first floor after all. Looking down, though, the drop seemed much bigger than it did from the outside. What if she broke a leg, or even sprained an ankle? There would be no leaving Castle House for months.

An escape in the dead of night was another option. Patricia considered her chances of success. Would the noise of the stairs wake the old woman? And if she did manage to make it downstairs she didn’t know what she’d do if the doors were locked.

That night, after she had picked at her dinner of boiled ham and cabbage, the same as the first meal she had ever had in the house, she recalled, Edward came into her room with a single cup of tea.

Patricia sat up to take it and as he handed it to her Edward sat on the side of the bed.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Edward, I can’t. If you cared how I was feeling, you would let me go.’

‘I can’t do that. My mother wants you to stay.’

‘Speak to her!’ she implored, touching the sleeve of his jumper.

He sighed. ‘I have. I’ve told her we should let you go home.’

‘And?’

‘She’s scared you’ll go to the guards.’

Patricia felt so stupid. She had been so fixated on trying to leave and get back to Buncarragh, it had never crossed her mind that what was going on here was a crime. She could just phone the police. Her heart was beating faster. Something in her face must have betrayed what she was thinking, because Edward grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes.

‘You wouldn’t, would you? You’d never go to the guards?’ He tightened his grip.

‘You’re hurting me,’ she said, trying to squirm free.

‘It would finish her. She … please, I will sort this out. Please, if you can just be patient, I will get you out of here. She has been through so much and she just wanted this so badly. I’m sorry that it had to be like this.’ He dropped her arm and picked at the candlewick bedspread nervously.

‘Your mother is mental, Edward, she’s the one that needs locking up. She should be in a home!’

‘You don’t understand. She has been through so much.’