by K. L. Slater
‘I’d rather think about it,’ I say lightly. ‘If that’s alright with you.’ Actually, I’m going to think about it, whether it’s alright with her or not.
‘Sorry?’ Her eyes widen slightly. I don’t think Mrs Marsden is used to people challenging her in any way.
‘I’ll need to think about the camera, I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of it.’ My heart is galloping but she won’t know that.
‘Very well,’ she says coldly. ‘But as I say, it’s for your own good entirely.’
And with that, she closes the door and I’m left in the entrance foyer with nothing left of her but a fragrant cloud of her trademark eau de parfum.
That, and a growing sense of unease.
19
When I get back up to the apartment and let myself in as quietly as I can, I’m relieved to find Skye hasn’t moved an inch. She’s still fast asleep and remains that way for another hour.
I can’t find the energy to unpack a box, so I sit in the chair and doze myself. A blissful hour of peace and quiet. It’s one of the things I love about this place already.
When Skye wakes up, she’s refreshed and a little brighter. I make us a sandwich and relent when she asks for a few crisps on the side.
‘We don’t want to fill up too much, do we? Don’t forget we’re off to Miss Brockley’s for tea and cake this afternoon.’
She beams and nods happily without speaking, her mouth full of bread, cheese, and tomato.
At precisely three o’clock, we stand outside Miss Brockley’s door and I tap discreetly on the polished wood just beneath the gleaming brass number.
I look down at my daughter and smile. She is quite taken with the idea of afternoon tea and cake and, before we came downstairs, insisted on changing out of her leggings and T-shirt into a pretty yellow summer dress with a matching pink-and-yellow hair slide to hold her fine blonde hair out of her eyes.
The door to apartment four opens and Lily’s soft, lined face breaks into a wide smile.
‘Goodness me, what lovely guests I have visiting today. And what a delightful dress, Skye, to go with that beautiful name of yours. Please do come through ladies.’
Skye beams and glances up at me, shy flushed cheeks making her look happy and glowing with no trace of tiredness now. Sadly, I don’t think I look quite as bright eyed and bushy tailed.
‘It’s so kind of you to ask us over,’ I say, slipping off my shoes and stepping into the dim but spacious hallway. As we walk towards the light at the end of the hall, I see that it’s a big apartment, just like Dr Marsden’s, and there is a lot of traditional wood panelling in here.
I look up at the ceiling near the entrance and see there is no security camera located there.
We file through the door at the end and step into a bright, light lounge at least twice the width of the one we have upstairs. I realise our own lounge must be directly above here, but only for about a third of the width. The other space must be taken up by the apartment next to us.
‘This one is much bigger than ours, too,’ Skye remarks crossly.
‘What’s that, dear?’ Lily asks, plumping cushions and indicating for us to take a seat.
‘Skye isn’t impressed that we appear to have the smallest apartment in Adder House.’ I grin. ‘But trust me, we’re delighted to be here and very, very grateful.’
I wonder if the other residents know about my ‘special’ agreement with Dr Marsden. Paying a fraction of the going rent because we are deemed a ‘good fit’. I find myself hoping that they don’t know. It makes me feel guilty if we’re getting the place cheaper than everyone else, and I don’t want them to resent us being here, Lily Brockley included.
‘Well you see, Skye, I have lived here at Adder House for many years now. Perhaps when you and your mummy have been here for a long time, you might move into one of the bigger apartments, too.’
Skye considers this and nods, seemingly satisfied with her response.
‘You’ve furnished this room so beautifully,’ I compliment Lily as I take in the muted Laura Ashley wallpaper and soft furnishings. The large picture windows that span an entire wall have the dramatic effect of bringing the garden inside. Here on the second floor, there’s a sense of being even closer to the leafy trees.
As we watch, a squirrel scampers up the same oak tree our breakfast blackbird favours.
Although it’s pretty, I wouldn’t necessarily want to live with so much floral busyness myself, but I do think it seems perfect for Lily.
‘Thank you, dear. I do like to surround myself with beautiful things. There’s so much ugliness in the world, don’t you think? So much distrust and focus on negative events, rather than on making peaceful progress so that the world is a better, more informed place for our future generations.’
‘I agree,’ I say, surprised at the strength of her feelings on the matter.
‘Now, bear with me a few minutes and I’ll get our tea. Skye, could I trouble you to help me to carry in the cake?’
Skye nods with no hint of shyness. Compared to her cautiousness around Audrey, she seems more than pleased to be involved in helping Lily.
The two of them disappear into the kitchen, and I close my eyes for a few moments, savouring the peace and tranquillity. Although I can hear the hum of their voices and the odd clink of china in the kitchen, it feels so relaxing here. I can almost imagine Lily being my grandmother and Skye’s great-grandmother. How it must feel to have a—
‘Ta-dah!’ Skye appears in front of me carrying a most impressive homemade lemon drizzle cake on a floral china platter.
‘Goodness,’ I exclaim. ‘You baked that really quickly!’
‘I haven’t made it, silly.’ Skye giggles. ‘Lily has.’
She places it carefully on the coffee table and stands back as Lily comes in with a tray loaded with a china teapot, cups, and saucers. She sets everything down and begins to pour the tea.
‘So. Have you met the other residents yet?’
‘We’ve met Dr and Mrs Marsden. And I’ve met Mr and Mrs Woodings.’
‘Ahh, you’ve had the pleasure then.’ Her eyes twinkle. ‘Milk?’
‘Yes, please.’ I smile as Skye hands me a slice of lemon cake on a china plate, a look of pure concentration on her face as she focuses on keeping the crockery level.
Miss Brockley serves my tea in a delicate bone-china cup and saucer.
‘I don’t know what your initial impression of them is, but try not to tar us all with the same brush,’ she says candidly. ‘I’m sure the residents here can seem a bit strange to a newcomer, but most of them are quite harmless.’
Most of them? Sounds a bit ominous.
Lily keeps her voice perfectly pleasant but I get the feeling she’s thinking something quite different. I’m not sure how to ask for the meaning behind her comment without sounding rude, and I don’t want to spoil the ambience of our afternoon.
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ I sip my tea. ‘Everyone seems very nice.’
Miss Brockley’s pale-blue eyes settle on me. ‘You’re very polite, Freya, but you don’t need to be. Not with me, anyhow. They’re harmless enough, but don’t let them get to you with their strange ways. That’s all I’m saying.’
Here’s my chance to ask a few questions. I take a breath.
‘The Marsdens do seem a bit obsessed with security,’ I begin. ‘They want to install a camera inside my apartment, but I’ve said I want to think about it. I’ve already decided I don’t want it though.’
She looks surprised. ‘Really . . . a camera?’
‘Yes. They said it was for my own security, so they could monitor the entrance to my flat.’ I put my cup and saucer down on the coffee table. ‘Seems an odd thing to do.’
‘Indeed.’ Lily looks thoughtful. ‘You did right standing your ground like that. Make sure you put them in their place.’
She doesn’t offer an opinion on whether she thinks they are obsessed with security, but seems to approve of my reacti
on.
‘They said all the apartments have them installed,’ I remark lightly.
‘Well, mine certainly doesn’t,’ Lily says bluntly. ‘Like you, I wouldn’t entertain it.’
‘Dr Marsden said a couple of the apartments are empty because the residents have gone travelling.’
She pauses before answering. ‘That’s true. I don’t know when they’ll be back. You might think me rude but I say good riddance. The place is better without them.’
I’m just trying to get a handle on this house, the people in it, how they work together.
I’m hoping Lily might give me a bit of extra information that helps me make sense of the setup here.
Right now, Adder House seems like one of those expensive but intriguing chrome-and-wood puzzles that look attractive enough to put on display. Only when you get closer, you see something about it is just a little off-kilter, making it almost impossible to solve.
Later, when we get back upstairs after visiting Lily, I make sure the latch has engaged behind us. I glance down and see a piece of paper on the floor that’s clearly been pushed under the door.
I pick it up and turn it over and read the spidery black handwriting.
Skye may visit St Benjamin Monks at 10:30 tomorrow morning. Meet me in the foyer at 10:10 a.m.
Regards, Audrey
I marvel at the speed of this result after pleading with the school office myself and getting precisely nowhere.
It seems Mrs Audrey Marsden has quite a powerful reach around these parts.
20
Later, when I’ve put Skye to bed, I pour myself a gin and tonic and sit listening to a chill-out playlist on low volume.
It feels decadent with everything I’ve still got to do, but slowly, I feel the tension begin to seep from my bones.
This afternoon, for the first time in a long time, I saw my daughter forget her troubles for an hour or so, and become an ordinary little girl again with no worries.
Lily seems to have this way with her that just puts Skye at ease. There was no clinging to me nor snuggling shyly into my side. Lily brought out some beautifully illustrated bird books and the two of them sat together, leafing through the colourful images.
Lily pointed to a bird, and nine times out of ten, Skye identified it correctly within a second or two. Lily seemed genuinely impressed at Skye’s knowledge, and I prickled with pride as I watched them.
I’d never known my own parents and obviously had zero interest in making contact again with any of the families I’d had to endure growing up, so Skye had no grandparents from my side. Lewis’s dad died when he was a teenager, which only left June, his mother.
When Skye was around three years old, we noticed worrying behaviour from June. She’d constantly repeat herself when chatting and forget where she’d put important things like her purse and diabetes medication.
There had been a big move in the media to raise dementia awareness, and one day, when June had collected her pension in cash from the post office and called us in distress because she’d put it ‘somewhere safe’ and couldn’t recall where, Lewis and I just looked at each other and we knew.
The sad thing was, dementia had sunk its horrifying claws in but hadn’t got a real foothold yet. June still had periods of lucidity and would often realise she’d repeated herself or forgotten what she’d popped into Tesco for.
It was so cruel to witness.
Between us, we visited June twice a day and she came to stay with us for part of the week. Then, within a couple of months after leaving home, Lewis had inexplicably taken the decision to put June into a care home specialising in dementia.
I was heartbroken for her and tried to discuss it with Lewis, but he wouldn’t entertain the idea of bringing her back home.
‘Nothing to do with you, Freya,’ he said shortly when I tried to raise it. ‘Like Janine says, it’s for her own good.’
June died a few months later.
Still, it was so nice to see Skye enjoying that kind of grandmother-type connection today, with Lily.
I close my eyes and take a sip of gin, enjoying the delicate clink of the ice cubes as the liquid sloshes them together.
I suppose seeing the cold, unfeeling way my husband treated his own mother, I should have been prepared for what came next. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, he shocked me to my core.
When Lewis first moved in with Janine, about eighteen months ago now, we agreed to preserve certain boundaries when he came to pick up Skye for the weekend. He agreed he would ring the buzzer and wait outside until I gathered her things and brought her to the door.
We also agreed that when he brought her back home on Sundays, he’d text me to say they were outside, and I’d go out to bring her safely inside.
It might sound a bit of a rigmarole, but I was really struggling. I knew if he constantly came in to wait and sat in his regular armchair like nothing had happened, it would totally screw me up. So I asked him for his key and made it crystal clear that under no circumstances did I want Janine anywhere near the house again, and grudgingly, he agreed.
So when the door buzzer sounded early one Sunday evening just a few weeks after he’d moved in down the road with Janine, I was somewhat surprised to see Lewis’s broad shoulders and his face pressed up to the glass.
He’d taken Skye for the weekend and it was only four o’clock; they weren’t due home for another couple of hours. As I approached, he knocked impatiently and loudly announced he needed to come inside.
Still achingly raw every time I saw him, I opened the front door with a strained smile and wide arms to greet Skye. My smile soon faded when I saw Janine hovering just behind him on the doorstep.
Skye dashed past me into the house, giving me a super-quick hug on the way. ‘I’ve got to go and get something, Mummy,’ she said breathlessly, before disappearing up to her bedroom.
‘Sorry to spring a visit on you like this,’ Lewis began. At least he had the decency to look a little bashful while Janine glowered behind him, clearly unrepentant. ‘I wondered if . . . if we could just have a quick word?’
I took a breath, ready to square up to Lewis, to say that Janine wouldn’t be setting foot inside the house; but I felt mindful of my daughter despite the guidelines we’d agreed to.
I didn’t make a scene about Janine coming in. Instead, I took a few steps back into the hallway to give them both room to come inside. It was important to set an example, to be civil and tolerant.
Lewis looked around, as if he’d completely forgotten the fact that he’d recently lived there.
Janine, on the other hand, gave a cursory sweeping glance at the slightly shabby hallway together with a disparaging sniff.
Lewis’s eyes met mine and I instantly recognised the ‘silent pleading’ look he’d always favoured using when trying to urge me not to kick off in company. This unnerved me a little, made me wonder exactly what was coming.
But I didn’t ask. I simply folded my arms and waited.
Those nights in the weeks before he left, Lewis would be continually late home, and I’d spend hours watching the clock worrying. Then I’d start repeatedly calling him when he still hadn’t arrived home from work at nine o’clock at night, and his phone repeatedly went through to voicemail.
Like a fool, I’d feel sick with worry that he’d had an accident. He told me he spent a ludicrous number of hours driving around the country.
Little did I know he was just down the road, screwing my posh new best friend.
Janine closed the front door behind her and Lewis shifted his weight, one foot to the other. It all felt painfully drawn out, but I wasn’t in the mood for playing the perfect hostess.
‘Could we . . . just go through for a moment?’ Lewis nodded to the lounge door. ‘It won’t take long, but I want to explain everything to you properly, make sure you understand.’
Understand what, exactly?
A slow grinding started in my lower abdomen, but I didn’t let on I felt worried
. ‘You’d better come through,’ I said in my best snooty voice, and I led them into the lounge.
21
You are delighted the child will be moving schools earlier than expected. It will be so much easier to monitor the reactions of the mother and child.
They’re trying very hard to be happy, anyone can see that. The woman has a toughness about her, a shell she’s clearly built around her in reaction to her environment.
She has also got an air of entitlement to her, as if she has claimed a better life and nothing can stop her self-proclaimed ‘fresh start’.
She likes to listen to music, to enjoy a drink on her own at night. She is more alone in the world than anyone you’ve ever met.
She could not be more perfect for what you have in mind, but everything will be ruined if you rush. Slowly does it.
You put on the gloves, open Beatrice’s old journal, and begin to read.
Leaving via the front entrance of the hospital, I pull my coat closer, glad of my hat because the fine day had gradually become cooler until now, at the end of the late shift, I am positively chilly.
I long to get home, where my sister, Dorothy, minds little Douglas until I finish my shift.
‘I’ll make us some cocoa,’ Dorothy says when I get home. ‘Douglas is sleeping.’
I slip off my coat and look in on my beloved Douglas, fast asleep on the bed we share. His thumb is in his mouth and his face belongs to an angel. I lean forward and kiss his blond head, relishing his sleepy warmth.
I love my boy, I only want the best for him. The professor is an intelligent man, a respected academic. As Rosalie says, I must not worry, he is entirely proper and professional in his intentions.
When I come out of the room, I see that Dorothy is watching me. ‘You look troubled, Bea. What’s wrong?’
I quickly alter my expression, I was not aware I have been wearing my concern so blatantly.
Dorothy has a muscle-wasting disease that is getting rapidly worse. Soon she will be forced to give up her job as a housemaid and my wages will need to support us all.
