The Visitors(18)

How was it possible that years could flit by so quickly, robbing people of their happiest times?

She felt the keen passing of her own life, the division between the girl she had been before and the woman she had turned into.

Effectively she was betraying Cora’s trust by sneaking in here. That wasn’t the person she wanted to be.

She asked herself the question: would she want someone snooping through her room and rifling through her personal items? Most definitely not, came the uninvited reply.

Yet something in her demanded she take the opportunity to look around. That way, she had less chance of being fooled as she had been before. She might get a measure of who the real Cora was.

In the past, she had fallen far too easily into believing that people were who they said they were. It was a mistake that had cost her dearly; that might have already ruined her future and robbed her of the love of her life.

And she couldn’t quite believe that the old lady really had nobody in her life. No children of her own and therefore no grandchildren; not even any elderly friends to go and play bingo with, or whatever it was that old people liked to do these days.

It was quite sad, yet she couldn’t help thinking that Cora and Harold had obviously kept themselves purposely isolated all these years, and now Harold was long gone and Cora found herself alone.

Maybe she wasn’t quite the frail old lady she liked to pretend to be… People could surprise you.

Holly inched open the drawers one by one. After nearly asphyxiating herself with the smell of mothballs, she came across a large, tattered brown envelope in the last but one drawer from the bottom.

She slid it out and peeked inside. More photographs and a few papers. She was about to replace it when something caught her eye at the top of one of the letters.

Her heart lurched when she read the lines beneath.

It seemed that she’d been right. Cora had a secret of her own.





Chapter Thirteen





Cora





As Cora moved slowly up and down the supermarket aisles wondering what Holly might like for tea, she felt she had turned a corner in what had become a mundane, uneventful existence.

Holly had left the house earlier to go into town and find herself a job, apparently. Although Cora had assured her there was no rush to pay rent or anything of that sort, at least for a few weeks, Holly had been insistent. It was rather a shame, just when they were getting to know each other; and Cora thought of her very much as a visitor, rather than a temporary lodger.

She selected a two-pint carton of semi-skimmed milk and laid it in the rickety trolley with a wonky wheel that she was having trouble pushing in a straight line.

Still, who’d have thought things could turn around so completely in a single afternoon, and so out of the blue like that?

Cora had been standing at the end of a short queue in the post office, waiting to purchase a book of stamps. That had been her sole reason for leaving the house that day, as she only sorted out the bank business twice a week. She’d needed to post a couple of cheques for bills and realised she’d run out of stamps.

She didn’t like all this online banking business, nor the thought of direct debit payments that gave the energy companies cash before she’d even received the full quarter’s service.

What was the world coming to? What had happened to paying the correct amount for a service actually received and used? Harold had always refused to give out his bank details to companies.

‘Blighters can take what they like once I grant them access to my funds,’ he would roar upon receiving a letter informing him he could save money by paying in regular monthly instalments.

My funds. He’d always referred to it as his money, and she’d had to ask for every penny she needed.

She’d never in a million years have been able to take a person like Holly in if Harold had still been around. Even completely bed-bound – as he was for the best part of a year before he died – he’d have caused a big fuss if Cora had brought someone in need back home, even if it was to stay with them just temporarily.

He’d even forbidden Cora from giving loose change to that poor homeless chap and his dog who sat on the corner of the high street in all weathers, for goodness’ sake. Harold had always maintained that ‘homelessness is a lifestyle choice’. What utter nonsense.

Sadly, against her better judgement, Cora had allowed him to get away with his dictatorial manner for all of their married life, and it was only really once he’d gone that her anger had surfaced. She had finally realised the impact his bigoted attitudes had had on her own life. Nobody had ever wanted to befriend them; people preferred to stay away.

It had to be said that when Harold died, there had been a welcome new sense of freedom that Cora had never experienced before.

Harold had cleverly always insisted he only imposed certain measures and precautions to keep her safe.

‘You’re too gullible to be out on your own, love,’ he’d say. ‘I’ll come with you, make sure nobody tries anything on.’

As a young, newly married woman, Cora had initially been flattered, but of course it soon dawned on her that her husband was controlling her for his own selfish reasons. He wanted to ensure she was there just for him; he didn’t want to share her with anyone else: friends, acquaintances, even children. Harold had never wanted children.