The Wife Before Me(25)
Today, an elderly man stands on the grassy ridge. The carnations he has spread out in a fan shape are just about to open. Elena recognises him as one of her nearest neighbours; he lives in a secluded dormer bungalow and she has seen him working in his front garden as she passes his gate.
He lifts his cap in a salute when he sees her and steps down onto the path. ‘Well, Elena, we meet at last,’ he says. ‘I’m Billy Tobin. Congratulations on the new arrival.’ He leans over the pram. ‘A little girl, I see. What a beauty. Does she have a name?’
‘Grace.’
‘A sweet name. I hope she has many graces throughout her life.’ He peers at Elena from under the brim of his hat. ‘How are you settling into Woodbine?’
‘Very well. It’s a beautiful house.’ She points towards the carnations. ‘Why don’t you put them into a vase? They won’t last long without water.’
‘They won’t last long, period.’ His genial expression hardens. ‘Vases break easily, as I’ve discovered. This is the best way.’
‘Did someone die here?’
‘You haven’t heard about the accident?’ He stands a little straighter. ‘Surely Nicholas told you about it?’
‘Told me what?’
‘Amelia’s father died here. A hit-and-run.’
‘How terrible.’ She blushes, embarrassed before his frank gaze. ‘I didn’t know. Did the gardai ever find out who caused the accident?’
‘No. His case is probably closed by now. It was a long time ago.’
‘You must have known Amelia very well?’
‘She was a lovely young woman in the prime of life.’ He nods, vigorously. ‘Such a tragedy. Her father was my best friend. But it’s a nice summer’s day and not the time to dwell on the past. Would you like to walk back to my house with me and have tea?’
‘Thank you for inviting me but I can’t today. I need to feed Grace.’ Her daughter is awake, little fists raised and a frown that suggests she is about to give vent to her hunger. ‘I’d love to have tea with you another time.’
‘I’ll look forward to it. Don’t be a stranger when you pass by.’
As she walks back to Woodbine, she wonders why Nicholas has never mentioned Amelia’s father. Is she supposed to peel away his past life layer by painful layer?
At dinner that evening, she mentions her encounter with Billy Tobin. ‘He seems like a nice man,’ she says. ‘He invited me in for tea but Grace was hungry―’
‘Billy Tobin is no friend of mine.’ Abruptly, he interrupts her. ‘You are to have nothing to do with him.’
‘Why ever not? What’s the matter with him?’
‘He wanted to pick your brains about me. That’s the only reason he invited you into his house.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘You spoke to this man for five minutes today and you’re prepared to discount what I’m telling you.’
‘That’s not what I mean,’ she protests. ‘He never asked about you, apart from being surprised that you hadn’t told me about Amelia’s father’s accident.’
‘There you go again.’ He smashes his fist off the table and rises, his meal untouched. ‘You keep talking about her, even though you know how much it upsets me.’
She crosses her hands on her chest, shielding herself against his anger. ‘I’m not trying to upset you. All I said was―’
He will never find out what she intended to say. On the floor, trying to crawl away from him, she loses a little bit more of herself and wonders if she will ever be whole again.
* * *
The carnations are missing from the roadside shrine the following day. Someone, she has to assume it was Billy, has left a spray of purple dahlias in their place. The low growl of his lawn mower reaches her when she passes his house and the heady smell of cut grass sweetens the air. She walks swiftly past before he sees her. Once past his house, she turns the buggy around the corner and into a narrow side lane. Devoid of traffic and pedestrians, it stretches before her, as empty as the days she must endure until her bruises fade.
Twelve
It’s two o’clock in the morning and Nicholas remains sleeping as Elena slips from his side. He is a heavy sleeper but she, aware of the risk she is taking, holds her breath as she rifles through the pockets of his jacket. She has searched every drawer in the house for a key to Amelia’s bedroom and now, acting decisively, she grasps the keyring and moves soundlessly across the landing towards Amelia’s room.
Only two of the keys on the ring look as if they could fit into the lock. Both fail to work. Struck by a sudden thought, she stands back and studies the casing that surrounds the door. It curves outwards in an ornate sweep and allows just enough space for her to run her fingers along the gap between the edges and the wall. She finds the key hanging from a hood near the top of the casing. Finally, she will be able to open the door to this mesmerising room. She touches the key for reassurance, then, terrified in case Grace cries and awakens Nicholas, she returns to the bedroom and replaces the keyring in his pocket. He stirs but does not awaken as she eases back into bed beside him.
The following day, her first reaction when she enters the bedroom is one of disappointment. The room she shares with Nicholas is modern and bright; by contrast, this one looks as if it has been used by many generations. The old-fashioned furnishings have a highly polished sheen that suggests care and attention. The bed is covered by an eiderdown that, she suspects, was once a treasured possession of Nicholas’s. He would have caressed Amelia on that bed and loved her as he will never love Elena. Now, adrift without her, he has turned into a monster and she stands in the centre of his tortured path.