“We got burgled,” I recalled. “Grandma was so scared she came and slept here for a week. I wanted to make it better, wanted to find the man so that she could come home and make me shepherd’s pie again.”
“You’re on the other side of the fence is all now. You’re helping other people’s grandma’s, even if you know that the man who burgled you did so to get money for his kid’s shoes or summit. Two sides to every story. You just have to make sure you’re aware of it, is all.”
I rest my head on her shoulder, feeling her calloused hand patting me fondly on the head. Elsie was generally so sympathetic. She was more of the tough love, stiff upper lip, to the surf type of person. I wasn’t sure if it was her being ill that had softened her, or maybe I looked more pathetic than I realised, but I wasn’t about to start objecting.
“You’ve had these doubts for a while now, haven’t you?” She asked me quietly.
“Every now and then,” I answered, feeling better for every little piece of the doubtful thoughts I admitted.
“For every burglar, there’s a granny,” she reminded me pointedly. And for every Freya, there was a Billie. I thought about Edward’s parents too. There would be no getting their son back, and his memory would be forever altered when the truth about Stella came to light, but at least they could rest, knowing their son’s killer wasn’t traipsing around the city anymore. The thought soothed me for now, and I sat up with a slight groan, my knee cracking.
“Eugh,” Elsie swatted my arm, “take your noisy joints away, boy. I can’t stand it.”
“I can’t help it,” I protested, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “Can I do anything else before I leave?”
“No, pet. You’re alright. Elinor will be around tomorrow. I think I’ll get to help me out into the garden, take a little stroll around.”
“Make sure you layer up,” I warned her, “it’s going to be a cold one.”
She sniffed at me. “Don’t start mothering me, Max Thatcher. I’ll box you round the ear when I can reach you again.”
I grinned, setting everything back onto the tray. “Now, once more,” I said, “would you like me to bring the telly up?”
Elsie debated for a moment. She’d hate to have it up here, would think it a great horror, but I knew she’d get bored in that bed with only a few books and sudokus at hand.
“Fine,” she said. “Just so that I can watch the news,” she added smartly.
“I see. No DVD player then?” I asked, hefting the tray up into my arms.
“Better bring it,” she said, fussing with her blankets so that she didn’t have to meet my eyes. “It’ll save you from doing that plugging and unplugging later.”
I rolled my eyes and gave her a little bow as I ducked from the room, taking the tray back through to the kitchen before heading into the living room. The telly was small, fairly ancient, and it wasn’t much effort to carry it up the tiny stairs, setting it on the large wooden trunk at the end of her bed. I got it set up, handed her a few of her favourite box sets and the remote and kissed her on the cheek.
“Should be all good until I next come back,” I said.
“I’ll be up and about by the time you next come back,” she replied, brandishing the remote. “It’ll be me mothering you that time around, just you mark my words.”
“Consider them marked. Don’t rush yourself, though, Elsie.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted quickly. I laughed and walked towards the door.
“See you soon, Elsie. My love to Elinor.”
“Bye, Max. You take care of yourself for me.”
I made sure she’d have everything she needed before pottering downstairs and letting myself out, checking that the latch closed behind me with a firm click, then I stopped and stood on the front path for a moment.
It was already cold outside, growing dark without the light of the city to brighten up the place. A few windows in the surrounding cottages offered hopeful glimmers of warm orange light, moths bouncing off the glass. I pulled my coat on, buttoning it up tightly, my breath fogging in front of my face. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I walked across the road to the coaching house and stood outside it, looking up. The windows would be replaced next week, and then it would be airtight again. Just the inside to do. I felt, strangely sad, to think that it would be finished soon, felt that there was still more I needed to do.
I walked around the side, through the iron gate into the back garden. Now, this needed work. The weedy grass grew up to my shins, wildflowers, late-blooming, hanging about in the last few days of warmth. I ended up at the oak tree, the last place I had spoken to her. Argued with her. I could still picture her, standing under the long branch that she’d tied a swing to for me as I boy, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she glared up at me. I was taller by her at that age, but she still managed to look down her nose at me when she needed to. It had been cold then as well, and she hadn’t been wearing a coat. I wanted to kick myself now. Grab my young self by the ear and give him a kick, lead her inside and get her warm, get her healthy.
I didn’t stop the tear that ran down my face, turning again to the house. I had wondered if it would be enough to assuage my guilt, and back at the very start when it was little more than an ivy-covered shell, that had seemed entirely possible. Now, I wasn’t so sure. There was more for me to do, more for me to make up for, no matter what Elsie or Sally said. Guilt, I thought, the same kind that had lived with Billie for so long. If I heard her talking about herself like this, I’d give her a piece of my mind. The irony was not lost on me, but nor did it help. I walked towards the tree, pressing my hand against the trunk and closed my eyes briefly, then turned and strode back through the garden to where I’d parked my car and slid into the warmth.
No point in dwelling on it now, I thought to myself. Something new would come up soon to take my mind off of it all, some horrid new case that made me question all my life decisions and make me consider moving out here and start breeding pigs or something. It was always a possibility, I reminded myself as I started the engine, one that I knew would bore me in the long run. I’d end up showing up outside of Sharp’s office, an old retiree looking for something to get my teeth stuck into. I could only imagine the look on her face at such a prospect, and it made me laugh lightly as I pulled onto the road and made my way back through the sleepy village towards the city.
I felt better for talking to Elsie, felt that a great weight had been taken from my shoulders, and now, and for seeing her looking so much better, I was ready for some dinner and a night in with my girlfriend before the next case landed in front of me.
A Message from the Author
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Special thanks and credit to Moonstruck Covers Design & Photography, the studio responsible for this book’s cover!
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Guilty Conscious Page 24
