By the door to the garden: If you want to go outside, please take me with you.
They were everywhere. They were so, so beautiful. And here, on a corkboard, was an actual drawing. And it hurt to look, because it was a stick-figure man with ‘Jack’ written above in the same handwriting as the post-its. He was holding hands with a stick-figure woman, ‘Mary’, and underneath were four more stick figures with names scrawled above their heads – ‘Caroline, Steve, Katie, Chris’.
Here was Katie’s family drawn by a dead man and here was Dad holding hands with Mum and it was all so perfect, like reading a really romantic book or watching a movie. Katie pulled the picture from the board and rammed it in her pocket. She grabbed the biscuits and went into the lounge. Mum could find the medicine. Mum could make the tea.
Chris was clearly disobeying instructions too, since Wolf Mountain was plugged in and fully operative. Plastic wolves with blue metallic eyes stood on a plateau. Lights glistened in the snow at their feet. Their white fur stood up in frozen peaks. Chris bent his ear to them, listening.
‘Hear them howl?’ Mary said. ‘They’re guarding things, that’s why.’
Chris nodded. ‘I’ll put them in the suitcase.’
‘That’s it. Bring the wolves.’
Katie hoped they weren’t serious. Mum would hate having anything electrical from Mary’s house in the flat. She’d think it would start a fire or, at the very least, blow all the fuses.
‘Here,’ Katie said, hoping to distract Chris, ‘biscuits.’
He took the packet with a grin, but it didn’t deter him. He placed the wolves carefully in the case. ‘Aren’t they great?’
‘Lovely,’ Katie said, as she ran a finger through the glass beads of the chandelier and watched rainbows shimmer across the room.
‘These are Jack’s souvenir smoking pipes,’ Mary said, waggling a handful at Katie. ‘Wherever we went he’d pick a new one up. This one is from Austria and splits into three. I always rather liked the Tyrolean picture.’
‘She really did see him through the window,’ Chris said, pointing to one of the chairs with the biscuits. ‘He was sitting right there.’
‘I see him all the time,’ Mary said. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Chris eyed her curiously. ‘Does he ever look dangerously hungry?’
Katie frowned at him, but he took no notice. If he wanted to scare himself thinking Jack was a zombie, that was fair enough, but he should leave Mary out of it. She didn’t need reminding Jack was dead. Mum had already upset her with it.
‘Jack was a great collector of things,’ Mary said, holding out what looked like a bunch of sticks. ‘These are porcupine quills. He used them for fishing.’
She showed them a miniature sailing boat made from a Dutch clog, with golden thread for rigging and parchment sails, some nautical coasters, a rotring pen set, a perfume bottle with a black balloon pump.
‘All the way from Paris.’ Mary gave the pump a delighted squeeze against her throat. ‘It’s hand-cut lead crystal with a silver tassel for added elegance.’
How could she snap out the names for things so readily? How could she remember what they were for and the places she’d got them? Maybe it was something to do with being here, in the home she’d shared with Jack. Maybe memories came back if she was in the right place for long enough?
‘I’m sure he’d like you both to take something as a gift,’ she told them. ‘What would you like? What about this shoehorn? You want this? Always useful to have a shoehorn. This one’s from Freeman’s, celebrated purveyor of footwear in Lavender Hill. Have you ever been to London?’
Chris shook his head. ‘We haven’t been anywhere, not even abroad. Mum’s scared of flying.’
‘Is she? Shame. There’s so much to see. Still, you’re young. There’s plenty of time.’
She smiled happily as she passed more things to put in the case. Still nothing useful by the look of it, but it was lovely the three of them looking through her stuff together. The curtains billowed like white summer dresses in and out of the windows as all the detail spilled from Mary’s lips – a Sparklets soda syphon, a resin rocket lamp, a sun clock by Ainsley and Wilson, a Meakin coffee set. Mary was like a presenter on Antiques Roadshow teaching them about ancient objects.
Mum came striding in with an armful of clothes. ‘I’ve found blouses and skirts and underwear. I couldn’t find any vests or socks and I wasn’t sure about these trousers.’ She held them up to show Mary. ‘They’ve still got the label on. If I bring them, will you actually wear them?’
Mary shrugged, told Mum to ask Jack, who she thought was probably upstairs.
Mum gave an exasperated sigh and turned to the suitcase. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Stuff we’re bringing,’ Chris said.
‘No, no, absolutely not.’ Mum put the clothes on a chair. ‘We can’t take all this.’ She reached down to the case. ‘Why the heck do you need a plastic pineapple?’
Mary scowled at her. ‘That’s an ice bucket! What are you doing? Put that back!’
‘Maybe the clock,’ Mum said, ‘but not newspapers or ornaments.’ She reached down again. ‘What’s this? A pipe?’
Mary snatched it back. ‘These aren’t your things! You think you can rootle through them? Who said you could do that?’ She put the pipe back in the suitcase, added a stack of what looked like old theatrical programmes and put her hand out to Mum. ‘Give me the pineapple.’
Mum passed it over. She looked furious as she turned back to the clothes. ‘Well, these will have to squash on top, so don’t blame me when they’re creased!’
Katie glanced at Chris. He was busy eating a biscuit and pretending not to notice, which meant he probably felt as guilty as she did. They hadn’t stopped Mary being ridiculous with her packing and now trouble was brewing again. There’d been a similar encounter the previous evening when Mary had wanted to go for a walk after supper. Mum had patiently explained that it was late, that the streets were dangerous at night, that it was nearly time for bed, but Mary’d put her coat on and insisted. Katie had offered to take her for a stroll round the block because she wanted a break from revision, but Mum had said she wasn’t risking both of them and locked the door and put the key in her pocket. Mary had stood in the hallway demanding to be let out. She couldn’t stand locked doors. Was this a jail? Was Mum going to slam them all in the coal hole?
Mum had insisted they didn’t have a coal hole and no one was being slammed anywhere, but she wasn’t going to unlock the door because it was dark outside. Mary’d lost her temper, ‘How about unlocking your heart?’ she’d yelled rather spectacularly before stomping off to the balcony to smoke a furious cigarette.
Now, a whole new day had arrived and Mary was in trouble again. Different house, different argument. Same impasse.
Mum squashed the clothes in the case and rammed the lid shut. ‘No more,’ she said. ‘I was imagining photos or a couple of Jack’s things, not all this. You can’t bring everything.’
Mary shook her head. ‘Open that case. I haven’t checked upstairs yet.’
‘What do you need from up there?’
‘My shoes. My dresses and things.’
‘I’ve collected your clothes already and you’ve got shoes on your feet. There’s no point bringing more.’
‘My father bought me reams of glorious silk,’ Mary said airily, ‘and my sister made it into a dress. Every time I wore it, I got kissed. I’m not going anywhere without it.’
‘There isn’t room.’ Mum said, desperately zipping the case. ‘We’ll have a much clearer idea of how long you’ll be with us after seeing the doctor. But until then, all your other things need to stay here.’
‘Doctor?’ Mary said. ‘What doctor?’
‘The one we discussed yesterday.’
Mary folded her arms. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t recall any such discussion and I’m afraid I have plans tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow’s Sunday. The appointment’s
on Tuesday.’
‘Unfortunately, I have plans on Tuesday as well.’
Mum turned suddenly from the suitcase. She looked furious, strange and determined. ‘We discussed this. You agreed to see the doctor and so I made an appointment. Your plans will have to wait.’
Mary stepped forward to challenge her, gripping the edge of the sofa for support. ‘I don’t think so.’
Mum was exasperated now, her face flushed with it. ‘You’re not well. We won’t get any support from social services until you’re in the system and no support means no specialist help.’
‘Specialist help?’ Mary hissed. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘A nursing home,’ Chris told her through a mouthful of biscuit.
Mum turned on him. ‘For goodness sake, Chris! Would you just stay out of this?’
Chris shrugged. ‘I’m only saying what you told me.’
‘Well, don’t!’
Mary looked horrified. ‘You’re making me leave?’
‘No one’s making anyone do anything,’ Mum said. ‘Not until we’ve seen the doctor.’
‘I don’t want that to happen,’ Mary said, fumbling at her pockets. ‘I don’t like the sound of that at all.’
Mum unhooked Mary’s handbag from the back of a chair and passed it to her. ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
‘Thank you,’ Mary said. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a smoke.’
Katie held her breath as Mary left the lounge, waiting for a door to slam, waiting for a yell over the shoulder, but neither came. Instead, Katie heard the kitchen door open and gently close again. Then silence.
Chris helped himself to another biscuit. ‘She’ll hate it in a home,’ he said. ‘Even if it’s a nice one.’
Mum gave him a fierce look. ‘No, she won’t.’
‘What if she does?’
‘Well, she can’t stay here, can she? This place is a death trap.’ Mum flapped her arms to show them all the deadly things. It included the lounge and everything in it, all the rooms upstairs, Katie, Chris, Mum and everything beyond the window. ‘She’ll be happier in a home. It’s the best way I can care for her.’
‘But you won’t be there,’ Chris said.
‘That’s right.’ Mum nodded her head very slowly at him. ‘You’re going to have to trust me on this one, Chris.’ She turned back to the suitcase and yanked it upright.
‘I like having her around,’ Chris said. ‘She makes me laugh.’
‘Well, I’m very glad about that,’ Mum said, ‘but perhaps that’s because you don’t have to do any of the work.’
Eight
The intoxicating sound of a gull brought Mary to stillness. She sat on a handy bench opposite a church and watched the bird dip and soar, its white wings outstretched. She experienced a moment of such unadulterated pleasure that she imagined she really may have been happier than she’d ever been before. But almost as soon as she thought that, a whiff of hot pastry caught her nostrils and she realized she could be happier still if she had something warm and delicious to eat. Like a magic trick, there was the girl. Today, despite the heat, she was wearing trousers and a jumper. Foolish child. However, she was also holding out a brown paper bag from which the delicious smell was coming.
‘Here you go, Mrs Runaway,’ she said. ‘One microwaved croissant.’
Mary took the bag and pointed to the sky with it. ‘Seagull,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ the girl agreed, sitting down beside her. ‘It must be lost.’
The cake was delicious. Mary crammed it into her mouth in only four bites, could really have done with another one besides. She licked the butter from her fingers and wiped them on her skirt.
‘When I was young,’ she told the girl, ‘I could fit five cherries in my mouth at once. I’d burst them with my tongue and spit the stones across the garden.’
The girl laughed, then leaned over and patted Mary’s hand. ‘I’ll buy you a big bag of cherries on the way back from my exam this afternoon. We’ll get Mum to pay. She won’t mind. She’ll be feeling guilty about getting cross at us. You wait and see.’
‘Cross?’ Mary said. ‘Was she? I don’t remember.’
‘She’s mad at me for chatting with you instead of revising, she’s mad at Chris for talking about Dad, and mad at you for listing your boyfriends at the breakfast table.’
Mary felt the stirring of panic that came with a blank memory. ‘I did that? I’m usually very discreet. Why did I do that?’
‘Chris wanted to know who Mum’s father is.’
‘Did I know?’
The girl pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. ‘Robert Gibson, you said. Is that right?’
‘Ah, Robert.’ Mary pressed a hand to her cheek. ‘Oh, he was marvellous.’
The girl smiled. ‘Yes, that’s what you told us. Anyway, Mum went crazy. Mostly because Chris got it into his head that she should let us see our dad now she had one of her own. She won’t though, cause Dad’s living with his girlfriend in our old house and they’ve had a baby, which is a pretty unforgiveable offence.’
‘I don’t remember anyone going crazy.’
‘Well, it’s all relative, I guess. She doesn’t really do yelling. More quiet fury, you know?’
‘And I was there? Are you sure?’
The girl looked awkward and … was that pity in her eyes? ‘Sorry, shouldn’t I remind you of these things.’
It was like walking the edge of a precipice. No, it was like waking up and discovering a toe had come off in the night, or a finger was missing. She had no recollection of an argument at all. Essential parts of her were falling away and not coming back. What was it that doctor had told her the other day? ‘I’m suspecting you have tangles in your brain, Mrs Todd.’ Stupid bloody woman. Why couldn’t that be a blank memory? Why did she get no choice in what she remembered and what she forgot?
‘People can only do their best,’ she whispered to the girl beside her.
‘Yes,’ the girl agreed.
‘We should try not to judge them too harshly.’
‘Are you talking about you and Mum?’
‘I’m talking about everyone I ever knew.’
The girl looked at her unblinking. ‘Why did you and Mum fall out, do you remember?’
‘Perhaps you could ask her?’
‘I have. She won’t talk about it. Pat’s a saint and you’re a sinner and that’s all we’re getting. But nothing’s ever that simple, is it? I mean, you lived with each other in London when Mum was a teenager, didn’t you? Was it terrible? Did you hate each other?’
‘That’s a lot of questions.’
‘I want to understand.’
‘Well, if you ever find out, would you be kind enough to let me know?’
The girl laughed. ‘Maybe we should hire that detective after all?’
This girl was young and lovely and clearly trying her best and all Mary could do was smile as she tried to push the panic back down. She wanted to say, I’m forgetting so much. Please help me. I think my heart is breaking.
But what she actually said was, ‘Why are we sitting here?’
‘Because you ran away again.’
A thrill filled her. ‘Did I get far?’
‘Every morning you get a bit further. You really would make an excellent escape artist.’
Mary chuckled. ‘I wonder where I’m going?’
Something about the weather being mild, was it? Or something about needing to fetch something? See someone? Whatever it was that had brought her to this bench, she was glad of it. She sat, her hands slack in her lap and let the sun warm her face.
‘Vitamin D is absorbed through the eyelids,’ she told the girl. ‘Did you know?’
The girl didn’t reply.
‘Did you hear me?’
It wasn’t often that Mary attempted to impart wisdom, but when she did, surely the child could have the courtesy of listening?
‘I’m talking to you, Copper
Top!’
But the girl was looking away across the road, biting her lip. A terrible habit that only showed the world you were afraid and was generally to be avoided at all costs. What was she gawping at? Mary shaded her eyes and strained to see. A group of girls had appeared over there outside a shop. They were all legs and bare arms, tapping into their gadgets and jabbering nonsense far too loudly.
The girl said, ‘Can we go now?’
‘Because of them?’
‘Not really.’
Mmm, well, you never find out anything from the young if you go at them directly. She knew that from her years evading Pat’s rules. She surveyed the young women and tried to assess the possibilities. They were clearly confident sorts, taking up lots of room on the pavement, wanting people to notice.
‘Do you know them?’ Mary asked.
‘I know her.’ She nodded towards one of the girls. ‘I used to be friends with her.’
The girl she referred to was blonde, her hair laced with sunshine.
‘I bet they’re buying booze,’ the girl said. ‘Some people have got their last exam today, so they’ll be planning something for later.’
‘They didn’t invite you?’
‘Esme used to get me invited to stuff, but not any more.’
‘Did you have a row?’ Mary asked.
‘Kind of.’
‘Why don’t you go over and make it up?’
‘Not when the others are there.’ The girl turned to her, eyes shining. ‘They think I’m a freak.’
Mary was shocked to feel a sudden rush of love. Why did this child move her so much? Perhaps because she was capable of putting her heart on a plate for the world to see. ‘Some things are worth pursuing.’
‘They’ll say stuff.’
‘So what if they do? Words never killed anyone.’ Mary crept her hand onto the girl’s knee. ‘Don’t be like Pat, always hiding away, thinking you’re never enough.’
The girl looked at her with serious eyes. ‘I didn’t know Pat was like that.’