Three Things About Elsie(27)

Still nothing.

‘If this carries on,’ I said, ‘I’m going to have to have a word with Miss Ambrose.’

The girl carried on rubbing Pledge into the sideboard.

‘Or even Miss Bissell.’

The girl’s duster became very still. ‘Why don’t we make you a nice pot of tea, Miss Claybourne, and we’ll have another look.’

I knew the mention of Miss Bissell would rouse the troops. I have my routines. I read my Radio Times by the window, and my book in the armchair. I buy one pint of milk on a Monday, and it lasts me five days. I live my life around habits. When your days are small, routine is the only scaffolding that holds you together.

I could hear the girl filling the kettle and rummaging around in a drawer.

‘Put everything back where you found it,’ I shouted. ‘I know where it’s all supposed to be.’

I heard her open the fridge.

‘There’s three quarters of a pint left in there.’ I could hear my voice tremble, even though where it came from felt firm. ‘And don’t think I don’t know it.’

The refrigerator door didn’t close.

‘And shut the door properly,’ I said. ‘Or we’ll have an operation on our hands.’

The door still didn’t close, and after a few minutes, the girl walked back into the sitting room.

‘Is this your book, Miss Claybourne?’ she said very quietly.

I took it from her. It felt cold.

I made them change the locks. There was such a performance. They were two hours trying to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t be budged.

I just said, ‘Security,’ when they asked why. I didn’t mention Ronnie, but only because Elsie spent the whole morning explaining to me why I shouldn’t.

‘I’m as frightened as you are,’ she said, ‘but I’m also frightened he’s going to get us sent to Greenbank. One of us has got to stay calm.’

‘You don’t care. You don’t care what he’s doing.’ I must have pulled the cushions off the settee, because when I looked, they were all across the floor. ‘No one ever cares about me,’ I said.

‘It was my sister, remember? It was my sister, not yours.’

Elsie shouted. Elsie never shouts. I stopped worrying about the cushions and looked at her instead, and then I began to shake. When she held me, I felt smaller somehow. As though all her kindness made me shrink.

‘Let’s just leave, Elsie,’ I whispered into her cardigan. It smelled of wool and reassurance. ‘Let’s go. Let’s go somewhere he’ll never find us.’

We stood together, and our beige life slotted around us. It was a holding place. A waiting room. ‘Where would we go, Florence?’ she said. ‘We have nowhere to run to.’

‘Then what are we going to do?’ It was me who shouted then, but the room was so small, there was nowhere for the shouting to go.

She stepped back, and took hold of my shoulders. ‘We’re going to do what we have always done, and we are going to stand firm,’ she said. ‘Don’t let him win. It’s a game.’

‘I’m not sure I even know how to play.’

Her grip tightened, until she held the very bones of me. ‘Don’t let him know you’re afraid. Don’t give him the satisfaction.’

‘But I am,’ I said. ‘And I don’t care who knows it.’

She looked right into my eyes. ‘Why do you think he’s doing this to you, Florence? What happened that you’re not telling me?’

I started to answer, but the words fell into a thought, and disappeared.

Jack arrived, and all of us waited together for the locksmith. When Jack was in the room, it seemed to help, even if he didn’t say a word. He drew the curtains and switched on the lamp, and he put a cup of tea on the table next to me. Every so often, he looked over and reminded me to drink it.

‘They’ll be here soon,’ he said. ‘The locksmiths. We won’t have to wait long.’

‘I wish we could all be as calm as you, Jack,’ Elsie said.

I looked over at him. ‘It must be the army. Old soldiers are always unflustered.’

He looked back. ‘I expect so. Although I had my moments.’

‘At least you returned,’ I said.

‘I almost didn’t.’

We both heard the full stop.

‘You could see it at the town-hall dance,’ I said. ‘All the missing men. We used to have to partner each other, me and Elsie.’

Elsie looked over at me. It was true. Like Elsie’s father, young men were disappeared by the war, and instead of choosing between a foxtrot and a tango, they were carved into cool stone in a park memorial, and serenaded by the music of other people’s lives. I wondered how many stopped to read their names.

We walked through the park one day, Elsie and I. It was not long after the war, and we stood in front of the memorial in a faded light. ‘Do you think they felt brave?’ I said.

‘Bravery means you have a choice, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘It means you could have turned away but you chose not to.’

I looked at the names. There were so many, we had to lift our heads to see the people at the top.

‘I don’t think any of these men had a choice,’ she said.