‘I do. That’s the polite description for it.’
‘Is it even legal?’
‘I don’t think so. Probably not.’
‘Ahh well,’ said Maddie with a pious smile.
Doubler examined her closely. Only a moment ago, she had seemed so together, but now, as she gazed happily at him, he wondered just how coherent her thoughts were.
‘What are we going to do with you, Maddie?’
‘I don’t know. I’m desperate. I need to do something. I need to escape, but I don’t know how. The truth is, if it wasn’t for Thomas still being alive in that place, I’d top myself.’
Doubler had been pacing a little, but this stopped him in his tracks. ‘You mustn’t think that way!’
‘Why on earth not? My useful life is over and now it’s just a waiting game. I’d like to hurry it up.’ Maddie looked at Doubler and blinked slowly a couple of times. ‘I think about smothering Thomas with a pillow sometimes.’
Doubler rushed to her side once again. This time, he knelt down and took her hands in his. ‘Maddie, you must be careful. If people hear you say that, they really will lock you up.’
‘But we are both so hopeless, the two of us. If he died, I could die and I wouldn’t be forced to spend the rest of my days arguing with a sofa.’
Doubler looked at the silent sofa outside. It was drizzling slightly now and he wondered if a sofa had ever looked sadder. ‘Or a donkey?’ he asked, helpfully.
‘The donkey was certainly a better conversationalist than the sofa, I’ll say that for him.’
‘Lucky for old Percy, I reckon. Imagine what would have happened to him if he’d not given a good account of himself.’ Doubler nodded towards the glass doors and the sorry scene beyond. ‘But in all seriousness, we are going to have to do some very fast talking with social services, and your family perhaps.’
‘Oh, the boys won’t be any trouble. I’m here out of harm’s way. I can’t see them giving me any bother.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. They’re not bad people, I’m sure of that. But if they’re told they have to make full-time provision for your care, what happens next? It would not surprise me if you’ve drawn a bit of attention to yourself with this latest stunt. I’m going to have to think long and hard. In the meantime, don’t do anything. Don’t light a match, don’t top yourself, don’t smother your husband and don’t steal a donkey. You’ve got to promise me that you can behave. Give me twenty-four hours, but if anyone calls to see you, anyone at all, you’re to phone me immediately.’
Doubler scoured the room for a piece of paper and pen, eventually finding one in the kitchen next door. He wrote his home number down and tucked it under the telephone.
‘Immediately, you hear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Maddie grinned a little too cheerfully.
Chapter 27
‘I too have had a very productive morning, Mr Doubler.’
Doubler had recounted the tale of Maddie Mitchell to Mrs Millwood and he was now preparing to speculate upon any potential ramifications of this latest development. He had been anxious to update Mrs Millwood as he was confident that Mrs Millwood would have an opinion regarding Maddie’s mental state. But Mrs Millwood had her own news to share, so Doubler stopped trying to talk and listened instead.
‘Betty, who I had really become quite fond of, died this morning, Mr Doubler.’
‘Betty?’ asked Doubler, alarmed. ‘I’ve not heard of Betty. Who is Betty, and where does she fit in within your circle of friends?’
‘“Who was Betty?” don’t you mean? Betty was my neighbour, here at the hospital. And a good companion she was, too. She was a little older than me but was quite, quite determined to recover and live for another decade or so. Nobody could question her will to live, but whatever higher purpose decrees these things thought better of it and she just popped off.’
‘Well, I am very saddened to hear that, Mrs M. I am sorry you’ve lost your new friend just when you’d got to know her.’
Mrs Millwood sighed. ‘She was a lovely lady. Very gentle. I’m sorry too. I really came to know her quite well. That is to say, I knew enough to know I liked her and that I was unlikely to discover anything to make me change my mind.’
‘And have you got a new neighbour yet?’
‘Of course! Enshrinement is not built into the schedule around here, and quite right too – there are plenty of other lives to be saved.’ Mrs Millwood dropped her voice a little. ‘But as yet the curtains are still closed round the new incumbent, so it will be a while before we know if Betty has a worthy successor. This one will have a lot to live up to.’
‘Well, I’d rather you didn’t get too attached to the comings and goings of your ward, Mrs M. I don’t want you settling in. You’re to get yourself home as quickly as possible, right as rain – that was the plan.’
‘I’m having to build a little bit of flexibility into the plan, Mr Doubler,’ answered Mrs Millwood, revealing nothing in her voice. ‘And while it isn’t wise to get attached to anything or anyone in this place, I might as well make the most of what I’m given.’
‘Of course, Mrs M. That’s something you’re extremely good at.’
Mrs Millwood continued with her news. ‘Betty has a sister, Mr Doubler. She arrived just after Betty had popped off. She’d visited every day and they were extremely close, so it’s a great shame that she arrived to find her sister had just gone. But I suppose we can never know when a conversation is to be our last. It’s a good reminder to always say something nice to the people you love when you say goodbye. You wouldn’t want any regrets in that area, would you?’
‘And did Betty and . . .’
‘Maureen.’
‘Did Betty and Maureen have any regrets?’
‘Not of the conversational sort. But nevertheless Maureen was inconsolable and she ended up sitting beside my bed and sobbing her heart out. My own visitors arrived and I had to send them off with barely a hello or a goodbye because poor Maureen was in such a state.’
‘She lost a sister she loved. She must have been heartbroken,’ Doubler mused, wondering if his two children would ever have such a close connection.
‘It was both more and less complex than that. It turns out that the two sisters were a bit of a double act. They had complementary skills. Maureen loved to knit, just like I do, but strangely, and this seems a bit bizarre to me, but who am I to judge . . . ?’
‘Not you, Mrs M.’
‘I try not to. The bizarre thing is that Maureen had never learnt to cast on.’
‘To do what?’ asked Doubler, his brain scanning for references to the term and drawing a blank.
‘Those are the first stitches you knit, Mr Doubler, when you start a new project. You use one knitting needle and your fingers to get the first stitches started. But for some reason, she’d never learnt for herself, and because she’d never had to do it, she’d come to believe that she didn’t have the knack. Everything she’d ever knitted, Betty had always cast on for her.’
‘And was that a regret, Mrs M?’
‘It was a huge regret. Maureen believed she’d never knit again, because how would she cast on without her sister? I wondered, for a while, whether this was the type of sadness that she might like to carry around with her for a while, but I had to weigh up the options quickly. After all, Maureen is getting on a bit and with time not on her side, it seemed very tragic to me that she might never knit again now her sister had died. But I showed her how.’
‘And did she have the knack?’
‘For the first couple of tries, she simply refused to believe she had the capability. But I think she was just being stubbornly loyal to the memory of her sister. We all like to think we’re indispensable, don’t we? And perhaps she felt she owed that to Betty.
‘But I explained to her, as kindly as I could, that knitting just isn’t a two-person job. Sometimes we need somebody to complete us – we don’t feel whole without them – and it is quite conceivable that Maur
een will never feel complete without Betty by her side, but that sort of companionship is more a spiritual requirement and much less about wool and needles.’
‘Were you able to teach her eventually?’
‘Not without quite considerable delving. It transpired that, despite her lack of skill in the knitting department, Maureen was more capable than Betty in all sorts of areas! Maureen was the much better cook, and Maureen could drive while Betty had never learnt. Once I knew this, I was able to explain to her that it had probably been very important to Betty that she believed Maureen couldn’t manage without her, but that now that Betty had gone, there was nothing to stop Maureen learning for herself. Maureen became really quite determined after that. In fact, she had such a grim look of resolve, she appeared to be possessed.’
‘And she learnt to cast on?’
‘Yes, like a demon! She was quite shocked at just how easy it was!’
‘That is interesting, Mrs Millwood. And what did you learn from that, do you suppose?’
‘I learnt that sometimes two people are necessary to complete each other but it might be more complex than at first glance. Maureen thought she needed Betty to cast on. But I think that more than that, Betty needed Maureen to need her.’
Doubler thought about his lunches with Mrs Millwood and how much he needed her at the table to feel complete. He very much hoped that theirs was a spiritual connection and not the wool-and-needles type.
‘And what did you learn from your conversation with Maddie Mitchell today, Mr Doubler?’ asked Mrs Millwood, echoing Doubler’s question.
‘Maddie Mitchell needs her husband to complete her, Mrs M. And everything else in her life is just a reminder of that fact. She’s not mad. She’s not cruel. She’s just lonely.’
Mrs Millwood’s response was quiet, almost a whisper. ‘I am proud of you, Mr Doubler. We’ve both learnt a lot today.’
Chapter 28
Small pale buds, easily mistaken for droplets of water, were poised on the bare branches that marked his path. Beneath his feet, the heads of hopeful bluebells jostled for space with the earlier, feistier narcissi. Doubler walked the boundaries of the western fields and marvelled at the many signs of spring that competed for his attention. It was still cold, but there was no longer the threat of something still colder in the air. In fact, the only promises being made to him were of warmer, longer days and of the green growth that would soon fill his fecund fields with a whole new generation of life.
Doubler knew that he had not been able to see very clearly for a number of years. There had been darkness behind his eyes that obscured his perception. This cloak ranged from the pitch-black of coal to a dense grey fog depending upon his mood, but it was always there, narrowing his field of vision and forcing him to squint closely at the things he felt he could control – those subjects he understood with absolute clarity.
But in recent weeks, the veil had gradually risen, and while it hadn’t been banished completely, it had at least been replaced by something less opaque through which he could see further into the future and beyond his own immediate horizons.
Today, Doubler was experiencing a lucidity that now made all the answers obvious, even those to questions he hadn’t meant to ask. He could see a clear path to his happiness, and this was as easy to pick out as his own chalk drive in the winter moonlight.
As soon as he returned to the farm from his rounds, he called Maddie Mitchell. The conversation was an unwavering, one-sided affair. Not so much a discourse as a set of easy-to-follow instructions.
‘It’s a beautiful day, Maddie. We’re going on an outing. Get your glad rags on.’ He smiled as he listened to the barrage of questions fired down the line. ‘Half an hour tops, Maddie.’
He knew this was another, quite different version of himself. This was neither pre-Marie nor post-Marie. This was Doubler today and he felt determined to enjoy himself enormously.
He left Mirth Farm with an impish look of resolution etched on his face. He had his cap pulled down low to give him a little protection from the elements, and as he climbed into the Land Rover and gunned it into life, he repeated little mantras over and over to himself.
The truth was, he felt courageous. He was leaving his house yet again and he felt increasingly confident that he wouldn’t be letting anyone down if he failed to return. He knew, rather, that he’d be letting people down if he didn’t leave his home, and it was with this sense of purpose that he drove down the steep hill, taking each bend in his stride as he left his property to head first for the new housing development that was Mrs Mitchell’s unwanted home.
He drove quickly to Maddie’s road, driving past row upon row of characterful homes he had barely noticed in his hurry last time. He rounded the corner into Laurel Drive and drove slowly down the cul-de-sac. He did a quick calculation in his head as he passed a road called Sunrise Avenue, rather hoping it faced east but somehow doubting it. Looking for Maddie’s home, he peered at each of the house names as he drove slowly by. The pristine homes were called Brookview and Lakeside, Meadow Charm and Oakdene. Doubler supposed that the homes were built on meadowland, surrounded by oaks, and perhaps there was once a lake, fed by a babbling brook. But the names seemed wistful and full of longing rather than celebrating a glorious past. Doubler refused to allow this to make him downcast and wondered if the irony of his own farm’s name had been noticed by Mrs Millwood in Doubler’s darkest days.
Soon he found Mrs Mitchell’s neat house, and coming to a jerking stop outside it, he felt that his ancient Land Rover with its rugged, expedition-ready tyres seemed entirely the right vehicle for the outing he had planned. He leant on his horn and Mrs Mitchell appeared at her door almost immediately, sporting a bright wave and a worried frown.
‘Well done. You’re all ready for me, then?’
‘Oh yes, this is quite the adventure. I’ve been fretting since you called. I’m not used to going out to visit, but here I am, in your hands.’ She clambered up into the Land Rover beside Doubler.
‘Good, good. We haven’t got a long journey but make yourself comfy.’
Doubler, now in the role of carer and custodian, felt a further surge of confidence, and as he swung the old car out from the relative calm of the housing estate into the bustle of the town’s one-way system, he felt something akin to joy. He chatted to the car under his breath and coaxed it up hills and round sharp bends, making noises of encouragement, while Maddie Mitchell clung to her seat, bolt upright, unsure whether to scold Doubler for his sudden recklessness or admire him for the hitherto unexpressed bonhomie.
‘Nearly there!’ Doubler shouted above the roar of the engine. He pulled into the rugged track of Grove Farm, saying to the car, ‘This is what you’re made for, old girl.’
Maddie Mitchell, recognizing the drive, squealed at Doubler.
‘You’re bringing me to see Percy? Is that what this is all about? A trip to see the blasted donkey? Can’t say I’m thrilled, Doubler. Can’t say I’m thrilled.’
‘Oh, you can say hello to Percy if you must, but let’s not rush that, shall we? You’ve got a little work to do to regain his trust, but as it happens, we’re not here for the donkey. There’s somebody else I’d like you to meet.’
Doubler stopped outside the farmhouse and helped Maddie down from the car.
‘Are you expecting us?’ he asked Olive as the front door swung open.
‘Of course. Let’s put the kettle on, shall we?’
Doubler held the door open for Maddie and followed her towards the kitchen. He kept up his cheerful patter, aiming to put the two women at ease and dismissing entirely his own tendency towards anxiety in the company of most people. ‘The house smells lovely! Have you been baking, Olive? Olive, this is Maddie Mitchell. I expect you know each other, don’t you?’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Olive, turning as she reached the kitchen to extend her hand.
Maddie returned the handshake briefly and with the lightest of touches. She was anxious, wrapp
ing her cardigan closer round her in a bid to find comfort and protection in this unknown environment. While a little suspicious of Olive, she was intrigued by the farmhouse, a building she had seen many times but had never dreamt of entering. She looked around, taking in the detail in much the same way Olive had shown an appreciative interest in Mirth Farm.
Olive chatted companionably, putting everyone at ease. ‘Funnily enough, I don’t think we’ve ever met, have we, my dear? I don’t know how not, really, two farmers’ wives in this small community. Should have bumped into each other on plenty of occasions. But I don’t think we did, did we?’
Although Maddie might have struggled to articulate the sentiment, she had felt defensive and inadequate, even a little awed by the moment, but being folded so neatly into an identical pair with the words ‘two farmers’ wives’ had reset the balance, making her feel the equal of this woman. She answered curiously, deciding to admit that she knew of Grove Farm and its farmers. ‘Other side of town, two different schools for our children. Yours were St Joseph kids, were they?’
Olive nodded. ‘That explains it. Different schools, different churches, different pubs, too.’
‘And ours was just a small concern. Not on your scale.’
‘Ah, but they’d have known each other anyway, wouldn’t they, your Thomas and my Don? They’d have met, no doubt. The farm folk always tended to stick together; regardless of size, they always seemed to lend a hand to each other. They had their own network, their own community, didn’t they? Bound by the butchers and the feed merchants they shared, no doubt.’
Doubler let Olive fill the silence with her chatter and enjoyed watching Maddie thaw as she got her bearings and began to settle down.
They sat round the small kitchen table and Olive poured tea, still talking, still filling the silence.
‘Yours was a smallholding, was it, Maddie dear? I suppose there wasn’t much call for our men to meet if your Thomas wasn’t off to the farmers’ market. That’s where my Don could be found most weekends. But still, a smallholding shares all the same challenges, doesn’t it?’
Mr Doubler Begins Again Page 24
