Daria's Daughter

by Linda Huber

  The cats were all miaowing around downstairs, and Evie filled their food bowls and gave them some fresh water. Mammy came in before she was finished.

  ‘You lot would waken the dead, you would.’

  She put the kettle on and started making toast, so she wasn’t cross.

  Evie sat up to eat her toast. ‘Can I play in the garden after breakfast?’

  ‘I should think so. But you’re not to go out of our garden, hear? No trailing over next door. I’ll be watching.’

  Mammy stirred her lemon medicine and brought it to the table. She hadn’t made any toast for herself.

  ‘Aren’t you having breakfast?’

  ‘I’m going for a lie-down first. But I’ll be listening for you, all right? I’ll hear if you do anything you shouldn’t.’

  She wheezed her way back upstairs. Evie finished her milk and toast and wiped her hands. It was easier without the bandage. She opened the back door, and cold air hit her face – brrr! The grass was still wet, but the dandelions were all standing with their faces turned up to the sun. She’d pick some for Mammy later. It didn’t matter here if she got brown on her hands. Was Frith out already too?

  Evie stood on the doorstep where you could see most of the house at the bottom of the garden. Oh – Frith was at her window upstairs! Evie waved, jumping up and down, and Frith waved back before vanishing. They both arrived at the fence at the same time, and giggled.

  Frith leaned over a broken bit of fence. ‘Has Tabitha had her kitties yet? Shall we play in my den?’

  Evie shook her head. ‘I’m not allowed to go out of the garden. You can come here – we can make another den. I’ve got some big boxes, they can be our beds – or boats!’

  ‘Ooh, yes – or caravans! The cats can be horses!’

  Frith squashed through the fence and joined Evie. They found a good bush for the new den; it didn’t have yellow flowers, but there were some tiny bluey-purply ones growing beside the leaves. Evie rushed inside for some big boxes, and Socks and Topsy joined them in the den.

  ‘Is this Tabitha?’ Frith sat down in a box, cuddling Topsy.

  ‘No, she’s inside. She’s the little stripy one with the fat tummy.’

  ‘Can we go in and look at her? Pleea–se?’

  Evie put her head on one side. It would be nice to do something Frith wanted. But what would Mammy say? She stood up. ‘Mammy’s gone for a lie-down. I’ll see if she’s asleep, then we can go in.’

  Tallulah was lying on the sunny step at the back door. Evie took a big high step over her. Tabitha wasn’t the only puss who’d scratch you quick as quick if she got cross.

  She didn’t need to go upstairs to know that Mammy was asleep, because loud snores were coming all the way down to the kitchen. Evie jumped over Tallulah again and raced back to Frith in the den.

  ‘Mammy’s asleep upstairs. We can go and see if Tabitha’s in the living room.’

  They ran back to the house, Frith giggling behind her, and Evie pushed the back door open. Tallulah had shifted from the step so it was easier to get inside.

  Evie put a finger to her lips. ‘If Mammy wakes up, she’ll be cross.’

  Frith stood in the back doorway, frowning into the kitchen. ‘It’s messy here.’

  ‘Mammy’s not well, that’s why. Shh!’

  Evie led the way to the living room, Frith close behind her. And oh, lucky – Tabitha was lying on the sofa, fast asleep.

  Evie knelt on the floor beside her. ‘This is Tabitha. Be careful, she scratches.’

  Frith stepped back. ‘Oh. She does look fat, doesn’t she? Can I have one of the kitties?’

  Evie gave Tabitha’s head a little pat. For once, she was more in charge than Frith. ‘I’ll ask Mammy. Let’s go back outside.’ If Mammy heard them, they would get into trouble.

  Frith walked over to the TV. ‘Is that a television? Does it work?’

  ‘It’s broken. I plugged it in once and it nearly went on fire.’

  Frith jerked back the hand that was about to touch the TV, and went over to the coffee table. She picked up the photos Evie and Mammy had been looking at yesterday. ‘Who are these people – is that the beach at Largs?’

  ‘No, that’s Ireland. Mammy tells me stories about when we used to live there. That’s Aiden and Sammy, and that’s Maeve. It’s at Bantry Bay.’

  ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘Mammy says the boys are over the sea and far away, and I don’t remember about Maeve. Come on!’

  Back outside, Evie relaxed. It was better when Mammy wasn’t cross.

  Frith skipped back to the den. ‘You do have a funny old house. We’re getting a new kitchen and bathroom soon. Hey, Mummy’s taking me to the story club at the library next week. Why don’t you and your mammy come too?

  Evie pondered. Story club – Mummy had taken her there too. It was nice. But Mammy never took her anywhere. ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘I’ll ask Mummy to ask your mammy. She went to say hello already but you weren’t at home.’

  Dismay thudded into Evie’s middle. Mammy didn’t answer the door, did she? When would Mummy be home from Spain? But then, she didn’t want to go home before Tabitha had her kitties.

  They played at going to the beach until Frith’s mummy shouted her to come for lunch. Evie wandered back inside too – she was hungry.

  Mammy wasn’t snoring any more. Evie tiptoed upstairs and put her head into the bedroom. It was empty, but then the toilet flushed and Mammy came out and got back into bed.

  ‘Give me another hour, maid.’

  ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘Have a piece of bread. I’ll make you some soup in a while.’ She rolled onto her side, and a minute later she was snoring all over again.

  Evie went back to the kitchen. She didn’t want bread, but soup would be nice – she could make some for Mammy, couldn’t she? She rootled around in the cupboard for a tin – tomato, good! She and Mammy both liked it best.

  The pan was still all beans juice, so she gave it a wash, then tried to get the ring-pull off the can of soup. It was too tight, but she’d try what Mummy did once when she had a cut finger. Evie tiptoed upstairs for the wooden spoon, then she levered the ring pull up with a teaspoon, slid the handle of the wooden spoon through it and pulled the top up. She couldn’t get it right off, but it opened enough for her to pour the soup into the pan. There! Now to light the gas.

  The gas lighter was a bit scary. Evie hefted it, then made up her mind. She’d seen Mammy do it hundreds of times. A quick try without the gas – good, the sparky thing was working. She turned on the gas until it was hissing like it did when Mammy lit it, and pressed the lighter twice. Plop! It came on so fast she got a fright, but it was lit. Now she had to turn it down to a baby flame – there! Evie kneeled up on a kitchen chair, stirring slowly with the wooden spoon until little bubbles showed in the soup.

  ‘What on earth are you doing, child?’

  Evie jumped. ‘I’m making you some soup. I think it’s ready.’

  Mammy took the wooden spoon from her. ‘Yes, it is. But don’t you do this again, you hear? You’re not big enough to light the gas.’

  She gave Evie’s head a little rub, so she wasn’t really cross. Evie got the bread out while Mammy poured the soup into two bowls, then they sat up at the table and had lunch. Mammy didn’t eat much of hers, though.

  Evie watched miserably as Mammy went to make more lemon medicine. It might be better not to ask about the story club yet.

  Day Twenty-Five – Monday 11th May

  Chapter 28

  Nothing had changed; it was the same slap in the face every morning. The alarm would go off, Noah would crawl out of bed and into the bathroom, and Daria would lie there, weak with relief that he was gone from her bed, taking with him the silent accusation that came in a never-ceasing stream from every pore of his body. Your fault, your fault. Would it have made so much difference if she’d taken the car seat with her? They’d never know.

  She lay s
till until the flat door banged shut behind him, then sat up and reached for her crutches. Her three-week check-up at the hospital was at eleven-thirty.

  Daria ordered a taxi, then made coffee and sat on the sofa with her laptop and a gaping hole in the morning to fill before she had to leave. Clinic visits always brought the accident back to centre stage in her life, and Daria’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. She’d never searched online for newspaper reports or articles about the accident. Imagine what they’d have said about it in the gutter press: Four-year-old perishes in horror crash. Or: Evie, 4, dead at scene. No, no. It was bad enough without reading sensationalist junk about it. Daria banged the laptop shut again.

  There was still so much she didn’t know – it was frustrating. Noah had taken over all the paperwork, and he always managed to duck out of giving precise details. The procurator fiscal report, for instance. It would be good to know how long that would take. Presumably, they’d have to wait until it came before they could collect and scatter Evie’s ashes. How very much easier this would be if she and Noah were working as a team and helping each other. Daria wilted into the sofa, her arms limp by her sides. Every day this situation lasted between her and Noah brought them one day closer to what might be the end of their marriage. It wasn’t what she wanted.

  The fracture clinic was quiet. After a ten-minute wait, Daria was ushered in to see the doctor – not the one who’d operated, nor any of those she’d met as an inpatient. Two to three more weeks using the crutches while gradually increasing weightbearing was his advice, and Daria was glad to hear it. This was the only part of the disaster that was going according to plan.

  She strapped on her boot and stood up to leave, an idea hovering in her mind. ‘I don’t suppose you know which doctor saw my daughter at the Children’s Hospital, do you?’ Impossible to ask who had certified her girl dead, but if anyone could give details of Evie’s injuries and death, that person could.

  The doctor swiped around on his tablet, a shifty expression on his face. He hadn’t mentioned Evie, so possibly he didn’t even know about her.

  ‘Sorry, no. Do you want me to…?’

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll go over and ask in Children’s A&E while I’m here.’

  Daria swung her way to the main door and across to the adjacent Children’s Hospital. Passing through the entrance hallway here reminded her of Frith and Liane – another disaster in her life. She’d messed up there and no mistake; it was understandable that Liane had been so upset.

  A long queue of people was waiting in front of an information stand at the back of the entrance hall, and Daria grabbed a seat round the corner to wait for a quieter moment. Come to think of it, something to drink would be an idea. She hadn’t eaten since last night.

  The nearby machine gave her a packet of cheese and pickle sandwiches and a bottle of water. Daria stuffed both into her bag and swung back to her chair. Oh, for the day when she didn’t need both hands as well as her feet to walk around with.

  Sandwich finished, she got up to check the queue again, but it was longer than ever, and anyway, she couldn’t possibly ask about Evie’s doctor with a queue of people – some of them children – listening in behind her. Daria stood still. This possibly wasn’t the best idea.

  ‘Are you all right? Can I help with anything?’

  An elderly priest was standing behind her, complete with clerical collar and black robe. Help, you’d think they’d wear more cheerful, child-friendly clothes here. But it was kind of him to ask.

  ‘I wanted to speak to someone about, um, when my daughter came in a few weeks ago. We were in an accident, but I was taken next door so I don’t know who saw her.’

  It sounded odd as she said it; he must be wondering why on earth she didn’t know. His expression didn’t change, though.

  ‘Has she been discharged?’

  ‘She died before she ever arrived here. I don’t know exactly where they took her.’ Damn Noah. Tears spilled over, and she didn’t have a hand free to wipe them away.

  His face creased in sympathy, and he gripped her elbow. ‘How terrible for you. Come and sit down in my office. I’ll find someone to help you.’

  It was easiest to do as he said; she couldn’t stand in the middle of the hall with tears running down her face. Daria followed him into a small room halfway along a short corridor. The priest introduced himself as Father Morgan, asked for Evie’s name and the date of the accident, and gave Daria a glass of water before leaving her alone.

  Daria mopped her eyes. This was a mistake – another mistake – but at least she had a moment to pull herself together.

  It was quarter of an hour before Father Morgan returned with a thirty-something woman in green scrubs, and introduced her as Mrs Anderson, consultant in the Paediatric Trauma unit. To Daria’s relief, he left her alone with the woman, who pulled up a chair and put her tablet on the desk.

  Daria explained again, and if this woman thought it was peculiar, she said nothing, merely nodding and lifting the tablet.

  A few moments of swiping and tapping later, she frowned up at Daria. Oh, no – what was coming now? Daria pressed one hand to her chest.

  ‘Mrs, um, Daria – is Evie’s father here too – are you together?’

  ‘We’re – no. I mean yes. We’re having problems.’ What did this have to do with Evie’s injuries?

  Mrs Anderson put the tablet down and took her hand. ‘I’m so sorry – Evie wasn’t brought here after the accident. One of the vehicles involved was a petrol tanker, and there was an explosion shortly after the crash. No bodies were ever recovered.’

  Daria clapped her hands over her mouth as the headlights from the lorry that afternoon swept in front of her eyes again. Someone had said it was a tanker, and tankers held petrol. Oil. But – an explosion? No. Why had nobody told her? She’d been thrown onto the ground and then removed from the place where flames and heat had enveloped a living, breathing, beautiful child, her child, incinerating Evie’s small body and sending particles and ash swirling into the skies. Particles of Evie. This was why no one had known what to say to her when she’d come round in the hospital. Her child was already cremated.

  Heat was coursing through Daria; her cheeks were burning. Why hadn’t Noah told her this? He must know. And Millie and Roger – and her parents – they must all have known, yet they’d let her believe Evie’d come here to hospital, been cremated. Oh, they’d been trying to spare her the anguish, she saw that, but she should have been told.

  The doctor reached out a hand and took one of Daria’s. ‘I imagine they had to evacuate the area very quickly. Believe me, if they could have saved Evie, they would have.’

  ‘Did they see her? The paramedics, the police?’

  ‘I don’t know. This is dreadful for you.’

  Daria bit her lip and tasted blood. She’d never know what happened, would she? Evie could have been hurled through the windscreen to hit God knows what, and lie hurting and broken before she was pulverised and blown away on the wind. Bile rose in Daria's throat. No wonder Noah wouldn’t talk to her.

  Back home, she lifted the pile of mail behind the door and flung it on the kitchen table. First thing was to get hold of Noah; they were going to talk this through no matter what he thought. She tapped his number and sat drumming her fingers on the table. Now she was the one with cold anger, but in her case, it was justified. Noah would think his anger was justified too, mind you, and possibly it was.

  His voice was clipped. ‘Daria?’

  ‘I’d like you to come home straightaway, please. We need to discuss something I found out at the hospital this morning.’

  ‘What? Are you all right?’

  At least he’d asked. ‘Yes. Just come home now, please. I’m not talking about this on the phone.’ She ended the call. What would she do if he didn’t come?

  His key jabbed into the lock less than half an hour later, though, and Daria wiped clammy palms on her trousers.

  Noah strode into the kitchen
and flung himself into a chair. ‘Surely this could have waited until tonight, Daria, if there’s nothing wrong with you.’

  Everything was wrong with her. ‘I went into the Children’s Hospital after my clinic appointment today. Why didn’t you tell me about the explosion?’

  His face flushed fiery red, and he slammed both hands on the tabletop. ‘The explosion that killed our daughter, you mean? Because no way would she have stayed put on the back seat, Daria. She’d have gone straight through the windscreen. It was the last few minutes of her life and they were ten times more painful for her than they need have been.’

  He thumped the table again, tear-filled eyes looking everywhere but at her.

  They were back to the lack of a car seat. Daria struggled for words. ‘You should have told me. I—’

  ‘Oh, believe me, I didn’t keep quiet for your sake. Your parents decided there was no need for you to know about sordid details like their granddaughter being ripped apart in a bloody inferno. Mine agreed with them. “We’ll keep it to ourselves as long as possible,” that was the idea. And if you have any mercy in you, you won’t tell them you know about it. Leave them what little peace of mind they still have.’

  Daria flinched. Of all the things he’d said and not said since the accident, that hurt the most.

  ‘Noah – what’s happened to us? This is so unfair. You’d have made the same decision about the taxi.’ Daria clenched her fists under the table.

  ‘I wouldn’t. Not once have I taken her in the car and not put her in a child seat appropriate for her age. I can’t do this, Daria. I can’t cope with losing Evie and what you did.’ He pushed his chair back and left the room.

  Daria remained motionless, thoughts racing. She might be the only person involved in the accident left alive for him to blame, but she wasn’t going to put up with this. What they needed was time alone to – to get used to what had happened to them. Mum and Dad were too far away to flee to, but… Daria reached for her phone. Kit had a spare room, didn’t she?