The House of Tides

by Hannah Richell

  What about all that rubbish Cassie had spouted a few years ago? What had happened to the sister who solemnly told her “It’s you and me against the world…we’ve got to stick together, haven’t we…it’s what sisters do.” What a load of crap. Her sister was full of it; the memory of those words made Dora’s blood boil even hotter, for it only served to remind her, once again, how alone she truly was. Dora wasn’t sure she would ever truly be able to forgive her sister for that.

  An eerie atmosphere descended on Clifftops like a thick winter fog rolling in off the sea. Things were painfully tense; Helen closeted herself away in her study while Richard seemed to come and go from the house at odd hours. Neither of them, it seemed, was much concerned with Dora’s whereabouts and so she found herself wandering the corridors of Clifftops like some ghostly orphan. She made her own meals, dug around in the laundry basket for clothes, and went up to bed each night watching her mother’s shadow moving at the gap beneath the closed study door.

  As the hours ticked slowly by, Dora struggled with the monumental loneliness. She considered calling Steven, wondering if it was too late to take him up on his offer of escape, but she could never quite bring herself to pick up the telephone. In the end, it was her mother she reached out to, daring to knock on her study door one morning before school.

  “Is everything okay?” Helen asked, eyeing her wearily from the door. “Did your father ring?”

  Dora shook her head. “I thought you might want this.”

  Helen looked down at the cup of tea Dora held in her outstretched hands as if it were a strange, unidentifiable object. “Oh, thanks.” She took it and placed it carefully behind her, on the edge of her desk.

  “I think the milk’s gone bad, sorry,” Dora added. Neither of them had thought to go shopping.

  Helen nodded. “You off to school?”

  “Yes.”

  Helen was clearly distracted. “Did you find something for your lunch?”

  Dora nodded. She’d rifled through the cupboards until she’d found some sultanas and an old packet of cereal bars.

  “Good.”

  They stared at each other for a moment and Dora could see the pain and worry etched in the violet shadows under her mother’s eyes. It was like looking in the mirror. She wanted to reach out and touch her, to be pulled into her mother’s embrace and feel the warmth of her arms around her, to breathe in her fresh, clean scent. At that moment, she would have given anything to be held by the woman who had comforted and soothed her as a little girl—the woman who had always chased away the nightmares and reassured her that everything would be all right. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and forced them back.

  Helen looked back at her desk. “Well, thanks for the tea…”

  “Mum…,” Dora tried, desperate to keep the communication open for a moment longer. “Cassie’ll be okay, won’t she? I mean, she’s eighteen, and tough. She can look out for herself, don’t you think?”

  Helen studied Dora for a moment. “Yes,” she agreed finally, “I suppose so. She’s not exactly a baby, is she?”

  Dora didn’t know if Helen had intended to reference Alfie but she recoiled at her mother’s words. Alfie. It was always going to be there, between them. Would they never move forward? Would she never let her in?

  Dora turned silently and headed down the corridor, hearing the gentlest of clicks as Helen closed the study door behind her.

  It was four the following afternoon when Richard burst through the back door.

  “Helen! Helen, are you here?” Then, seeing Dora emerge from the living room, “Dora, quick, where’s your mother?”

  “In her study, I think. What is it?”

  “Go and get her. Go!”

  Dora was turning on her heel as ordered when Helen appeared in the hall. “What is it? Have they found her?”

  Richard went straight to his wife and took her hands carefully in his. “You need to stay calm, okay?”

  “What is it, Richard? For God’s sake, just tell me.”

  “They’ve found her.”

  Dora felt her stomach plunge. It was obvious from her father’s face it wasn’t good news.

  “Tell me, Richard. You’re scaring me.”

  “She…she…” Richard seemed to struggle with the words.

  Dora noticed his hands were trembling. She swallowed.

  “She…she threw herself off a bridge,” he managed finally, “into the Thames.”

  “What?” Helen looked at him, aghast.

  Dora suddenly felt as though she had slipped into some other world; the day had taken on a surreal, shimmering quality.

  “Is she…?”

  He shook his head. “No, she’s alive. At a hospital.”

  Helen gave a small sigh of relief. Dora thought she looked as though she might collapse.

  “Oh thank God.”

  Silence filled the room as they all processed the enormity of Richard’s words.

  “What do you mean, threw herself off?” Helen asked finally. “You mean…”

  Richard nodded. “Yes…she tried to kill herself.” His face was white and Dora could see how hard it had been for him to even say the words out loud.

  Helen shook her head. “No, it’s not possible. Cassie would never do that.” She bit her lip. “No. It must have been an accident. Perhaps she fell?”

  As the three of them stood in silence once more, an image of Cassie’s ravaged arms swam before Dora’s eyes.

  “No, it’s true,” Richard continued. “Someone saw her jump—thank God—and they were able to pull her out just in time. They took her to St. Thomas’. She was resuscitated and treated for pneumonia. She picked up a nasty waterborne infection too. They’ve kept her in all this time. Seems she gave a false name. That’s why it’s taken us so long to track her down.” He ran his hands through his hair. “The investigator I hired just called me with the news. I’m going to head up there right away and meet with him.”

  “I’ll come too,” said Helen immediately.

  “No, love,” Richard urged gently, “I think you should stay here.” Dora saw the meaningful nod in her direction. “Anyway, this chap has suggested we take things slow with Cassie and for what it’s worth, I think he’s right. We don’t want to overwhelm her. He seems to know what he’s talking about. I’ll try and see her tomorrow, have a gentle chat with her then and convince her to come back with me.”

  Helen shook her head. “This just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know, love.”

  “You’ll bring her home?”

  “Yes,” said Richard.

  “Good, she should be here with us, at least until she’s feeling well again.” Helen seemed to think for a moment. “I’ll call the university. I’m sure they’ll keep her place on hold. We can bring her home, get her strong again, and then take her up there ourselves in a few days. She shouldn’t miss too much of the first term.”

  Dora stared in disbelief at her mother. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. It seemed her father couldn’t either.

  “Helen, do you understand what I just told you?” He seemed visibly shaken. “Cassie has tried to commit suicide. I hardly think a place at university is the priority right now, do you?”

  “Well she can’t just throw away this opportunity, can she?” Dora winced, but Helen was oblivious to the sad irony of her words and carried on. “We need to get her back on her feet. This is no time for self-pity or silly stunts. She’s got a future and a career to think of.”

  “Silly stunts?” The color was flooding back into Richard’s face. “I hardly think throwing yourself off a bridge into the Thames can be classified as a ‘stunt,’ do you?”

  “What else is it?”

  “I’d say it’s a cry for help…or worse…a sign that she doesn’t think life is worth living anymore.” Richard ran his hands through his hair again. “I just don’t understand how we could have missed this. Certainly she’s been quiet…more withdrawn since Alfie…bu
t I really thought she was doing okay. I just didn’t see what was going on…” He shook his head in anger. “How could I have been so blind?”

  “This isn’t about you, Richard,” Helen spat. “This is about Cassie. And I just want her home. I think I should come up to London too. If we caught the evening train—”

  But Richard cut her off. “No, stay here with Dora. I can handle it.”

  Helen shook her head again. “What on earth was she thinking? I’ve been going out of my mind with worry…”

  “I know,” said Richard, “me too. At least we’ve found her now. I’ll bring her home, I promise. This will all be over by the weekend.”

  Dora listened to their conversation with a creeping doubt. Surely they knew by now that nothing that involved Cassie was ever that easy.

  Dora was in the living room flicking through the dismal Saturday-night television schedules, bouncing haphazardly between an old Bond movie and a wildlife documentary, when her father’s car headlights swung up the driveway. She’d been determined to act offhand about Cassie’s return—she wasn’t going to give her sister the satisfaction of knowing how much trouble she’d caused, or how much she’d been missed—but when the moment came, she found herself standing on the top step of the porch, next to Helen, peering anxiously into the darkness for a sign of her sister’s fair head. She had so much she wanted to say to her.

  The driver’s door opened, a car light came on, and Richard appeared in the darkness. He slunk out of the seat, slammed the car door, and stomped wearily up to the front door. Dora craned her head but there was no sign of her sister behind him.

  “Where is she?” Helen asked, a high note of panic in her voice.

  Richard reached the floodlit porch and looked up at them both. Dora could see the dark shadows under his eyes and was surprised to note how old he looked.

  “She wouldn’t come.”

  Helen gave a start. “What do you mean, ‘She wouldn’t come’?”

  “Just that. I tried my best but she insisted on staying in London. I couldn’t exactly force her.”

  “But I thought she’d been discharged!”

  Richard nodded. “She was, but it seems she wants to stay in London. It’s not as if I could drag her back to us kicking and screaming, is it?” he added quietly.

  “Why not? She should be here, with us. Not in London doing God knows what. Where is she staying? What is she doing for money? You said you’d bring her home. She’s not well, for God’s sake!” The panic in Helen’s voice had shifted to accusation. Dora slid backward into the shadows slightly. “I knew I should have gone myself.”

  “Helen, I honestly don’t think it would have made any difference if you had been there. In fact, it might have made things worse. Cassie was adamant. She wants to stay in London. She doesn’t want to come home. She wouldn’t say very much, but she did say she couldn’t face…well…any of us right now. She just wants some time and space.”

  “Space from what?”

  Richard stared at Helen for a moment; he seemed to be about to say something and then changed his mind. “She says she needs to figure out who she is and what she wants from life.” Richard ran his hands through his hair.

  “Who she is? What she wants?” Helen shook her head. “So she’s just going to chuck away a perfectly good place at university?”

  Richard shrugged.

  “I hope you told her what a mistake she’s making?”

  “Helen, she’s eighteen. I couldn’t force her. I did my best.”

  “Your best? You did your best?” Helen spat the words. “You promised you’d bring her home with you. Cassie’s going to wreck her life, throw it all away…just like I did!” Helen let out a sob.

  Richard eyed his wife carefully. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  “Oh forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Richard gave an irritated shake of his head. “You could at least try me.” He paused for a moment. When he next spoke it was with more control. “I did what I thought was best. She’s our daughter. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “The right thing? You just left her there to fend for herself!” She shook her head. “It’s pathetic really. You’re weak. Did you even try to change her mind, or did you just roll over and let her do whatever she wants? And how do we know she won’t be jumping off the very next bridge she finds?” She shook her head again. “I knew I should have gone with you.”

  Dora swallowed and watched as her father pushed wordlessly past them both, disappearing into the hallway. Helen spun on her heel and followed after him, leaving Dora alone on the doorstep. She looked into the house and then up at the dark sky. There was a crisp, autumnal smell on the night air that carried with it the promise of falling leaves and bonfires. She could see a slither of moon shining its pale light from behind a high veil of cloud but for the most part the garden was cast in darkness. She couldn’t even see as far as the gates at the end of the driveway.

  More angry shouts reverberated behind her. Dora knew she couldn’t take much more. Choosing the lesser of two evils, she tripped down the stone steps onto the driveway and headed out into the darkness.

  Halfway down the lane it struck Dora that it was much colder out than she’d first thought. She squashed a pang for the warm coat hanging by the back door and pressed on, ignoring the goose bumps prickling on her skin. She didn’t care what her parents thought; she doubted they’d even notice she’d gone, but if they did so be it. First Alfie, then Cassie; they had both disappeared and yet it was she who felt invisible. Let her parents worry about her for a change.

  A thicker bank of clouds moved across the moon and Dora struggled to adjust her night vision. Something rustled in the bushes next to her; far off she heard the plaintive shriek of a fox. She steeled her nerves. It was terrifying being out in the pitch black all on her own, but she wouldn’t turn back. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t bear to be in the house a moment longer, with all its arguments and recriminations. She had been holding out for Cassie’s return and now even that had been denied her.

  Bloody Cassie. It was always all about her. Her moods. Her tantrums. Her needs. And now she had trumped them all. No matter which way she looked at it, Dora struggled to get her head round it all. She knew that Cassie had been upset. She knew she was still grieving for Alfie…they all were. But she’d had a place at university. She’d had somewhere legitimate to run to. Why would she want to end it all? What could have possibly driven her to hurl herself off a bridge? It just didn’t make sense.

  As Dora stomped on through the darkness, tripping and stumbling down the side roads, she turned it all over and over in her mind.

  It was the lights that eventually drew her. They flashed orange between the dark waving branches of the trees until she got closer still and saw Betty Dryden at the window of the cottage, her gray head bent over a sink of dishes. Bill was in the background, sitting at a table reading the paper. It was such a cozy, contented scene that Dora stood in the darkness of the lane for a moment watching the elderly couple as they performed their nightly ritual.

  Betty turned to say something to her husband and Dora saw Bill look up from the table and give a gentle chuckle. She could almost hear the low, musical hum of it where she stood on the grass verge. Why couldn’t her family’s life be simple, like that? When was the last time she had heard her parents speak to each other with kind, warm words?

  Betty had just rinsed the last of the plates and shuffled across to the kettle when Dora took a few steps farther down the lane and a security light flooded her in a sudden and dazzling white beam. She froze awkwardly as Betty’s head swung up with a start and peered out into the dark night, embarrassed to see the recognition pass over the old woman’s face as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and saw Dora’s static form. Damn.

  Betty disappeared from view. Unsure what to do next, Dora jammed her hands into her jean pockets and began to beat a hasty retreat up the lane.


  “Dora? Is that you?” It was Betty, calling out to her from the front door.

  Dora spun around, mortified. “Yes, I’m so sorry, Betty.” The old lady stood on the doorstep of the cottage, peering out at her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just out walking.”

  Betty nodded and Dora was grateful she didn’t seem to need any further explanation.

  “Would you like to come in? It’s cold out there and I’ve just put the kettle on.” The old lady shivered and pulled her wool cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

  Dora hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude, but she also knew she really didn’t want to return home either.

  “Come on,” Betty urged. “Have a cup of tea with me. I could do with the company. Bill’s got his head buried in the newspaper. I made flapjacks earlier…”

  That swung it. She turned and skulked back toward the cottage, following Betty through the low wooden doorway and into the warm interior of the flint cottage. She had to bend slightly as she entered the kitchen.

  “Hullo there, Dora.” Bill greeted her with a warm smile. “What brings you to our doorstep on such a cold autumnal night?”

  “I…er…was just passing. I fancied getting out for a bit. You know, some fresh air…”

  Dora saw Betty throw her husband a warning glance. “Yes,” he agreed with an easy smile, “it’s as good a night as any for a walk, eh?”

  Dora nodded, grateful she didn’t have to explain further, and Bill folded his paper and stood up from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a gardening show on the telly I wouldn’t mind catching. I think I’ll leave you ladies to your tea and chatter.”

  “Yes, be gone with you,” teased Betty. “Never let it be said I kept you from your composting worms and hardy perennials.”

  Bill left the room and while Betty busied herself for a moment with teacups and a biscuit tin, Dora took the opportunity to look around the kitchen. It was small but perfectly formed, with exposed stone walls, a large hearth, and a hanging pot rack dangling with shiny copper pans. A pretty arrangement of dried flowers stood in a vase on the windowsill and Bill’s muddy boots stood drying on an old sheet of newspaper by the radiator. On the table a folder of Betty’s prized recipes lay open, ready for her next culinary foray.