The Wife Before Me(70)
She notices a black, serrated line in the distance. Drawing nearer, the colour changes to the green sheen of conifers. The density of the trees shelters a grey-stone cottage with high, double gates. The name Clearwater is etched on the gatepost. Spiky red hot pokers add a blaze of colour to the garden, as does the red-belled fuchsia bushes.
Elena enters. No car in the driveway. It would be impossible to survive here without one. Elena swallows and bends forward to ease a stitch in her side. The garden is carefully maintained. No weeds grow among the plants and the soil under one of the conifers has been turned recently.
She studies the home of Annie Ross and realises it was originally two cottages that have been joined together. That explains its breadth; it is much wider than the ruins she passed on her way up. She sits down on a bench by the front window and steadies her breathing. Her phone rings. Rosemary – she recognises her number and, unwilling to lie to her, cancels the call. The ocean has a perpetual rhythm as it beats off the cliff and prevents her hearing a Land Rover until it has almost reached the cottage. The engine stops and a little girl with black braids runs to unlatch the gate. She stops, surprised to see it open, and notices Elena. The child – Elena reckons she must be about five years old – walks slowly towards her.
‘Are you a visitor?’ she asks.
Elena stands, suddenly uncertain as the words she had rehearsed so carefully desert her. ‘I guess I am,’ she replies. ‘I came to talk to your mother.’
‘She’s in the jeep.’ The child turns as the woman at the wheel enters and brakes a short distance away. When she steps down from the jeep, the wind instantly flails her long hair around her face. She, as well as the child, is wearing jodhpurs. They have obviously come from a riding stable.
She walks slowly towards Elena. Sunglasses cover her eyes and reflect Elena’s terse face back at her. Is that how she appears to this woman? Wild and flushed, her features starkly outlined. Impossible to tell by her expression – but Elena has recognised her from the photograph she found in the ice house. There’s no mistaking that cascade of unruly white-blonde tresses.
‘Can I help you?’ she asks. Unlike Lily Howe with her rich Kerry accent, she speaks with a slight drawl that suggests she has lived for some time in the States.
‘Are you Annie Ross?’
The woman nods and waits for Elena to continue.
‘Are you also called Leanne Rossiter? I’m searching for someone by that name and am hoping I’ve come to the right house.’
‘I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. I don’t know anyone by that name.’ Her tone is definite, a hard snap of denial that causes Elena to step backwards.
‘I’m so hungry, Mammy.’ The little girl, anxious to go inside, pulls at her mother’s hand. ‘You said we could have toasties.’
‘So we shall, Kayla. Now, go and change into your jeans and trainers. I’ll be in to you in a moment.’ She unlocks the front door and her daughter runs inside, the coloured beads on her braids clattering. Annie Ross returns her attention to Elena. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to feed my daughter.’
She is lying. Behind her glasses her eyes must be glittering with deceit.
‘Please, I desperately need your help.’ If Elena has to plead on her knees, she will do so. ‘Did you know Amelia Madison?’
The woman raises her hand to settle her unruly hair, then lets it fall to her side. ‘Amelia who?’
‘Madison. She was from Wicklow.’
‘I’ve never heard of her. What makes you think I should know either of those women?’
‘It was a hunch. I thought your name might be short for Leanne.’
‘And Ross short for Rossiter, I suppose?’ She sounds amused but remains unsmiling. ‘Don’t you think that’s a massive assumption to make?’
‘I came a long way to find Leanne. It was worth taking a chance.’
‘Well, I’m sorry your chance didn’t work out. You’ve had a wasted journey, I’m afraid.’
Elena wants to rip the sunglasses from her eyes and scream, ‘Liar – liar!,’ into her face. ‘Amelia Madison received a letter in this envelope and I desperately need to find her. Please look at the handwriting.’
‘I told you already, I’m―’
‘Please.’ She holds the envelope towards the woman, who barely glances at it before shaking her head.
‘Why are you lying to me?’ Elena cries. ‘I know you were friends with her. I found photographs of the two of you in the ice house.’
‘I’ve no idea why you think you know me or what you are talking about.’ She whips off her sunglasses and stares unflinchingly at Elena. Her eyes glitter, anger intensifying their dark-green hue. ‘You’ve made a mistake and I won’t stand for being harassed on my own property. If you don’t leave immediately, I’m calling the police.’
‘Mammy, can I have my toastie? I’m starving.’ The child’s plaintive wail comes from inside the cottage.
‘Coming, sweetheart.’ She pulls a mobile phone from her jacket pocket and swipes the screen. ‘Just because I live in isolation doesn’t mean I’m beyond help. A squad car will be here shortly, so I’d advise you to start walking now.’ Her mouth has stretched into a hard, defiant line.