Healer of My Heart

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  That girl has problems, he thought as he walked away. But he had achieved his objective. Now no one could say he didn’t have enough staff attending. The Hooley was on!

  The store opened off the classroom, and Robyn had already made a start when he arrived. He had discarded his tie and opened his collar. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbow. She organised him briskly, wanting the job done. When her instructions were clear, some kind of conversation seemed necessary. She asked him about his other subjects.

  “I’m doing RE and Geography as well as English lit.” He lifted a pile of Shakespeares. “But literature’s really a lot of other subjects put together anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re really studying people, aren’t you? It’s about human psychology.” He searched for an example. “Trace Lear’s journey to self-awareness.” He shuffled some books along. “Or Lord of the Flies. Is Golding right that that would happen in that particular set of circumstances?”

  Immediately she took his meaning. “Yes – or should Catherine Earnshaw have followed her head or her heart?”

  He pointed to a pile of texts. “Do you want those over here?”

  “Yes, but further up towards the corner.”

  “She should have followed her heart.”

  “Why?”

  He landed the first pile of books with a thud. “Because Heathcliff loved her.”

  “And Edgar Linton didn’t?”

  “Linton loved possessing her. Heathcliff just loved her. And that’s better.”

  “Move them a bit further up… yes, that’s fine. But Edgar gave her so much. She had a comfortable life and the devotion of a good man.”

  With the side of his fist he thumped a stack into neater order. “If that’s all she wanted then maybe she did do the right thing. But she settled for black and white when she could have had colour.”

  After a moment Robyn said, “Well, at least she had the choice.” He looked puzzled. “Between black and white and colour, I mean. Sometimes colour isn’t an option.”

  His face creased around a grin. “Oh, there’s always colour! We find it or mix it ourselves.”

  They worked on in silence. Robyn slid books onto the ledge above the storage cupboards and David put them where she wanted. She could sense through his quick movements that his thoughts were still bubbling. The chameleon was sociable today. She waited, wanting him to say more. When he didn’t, she prompted.

  “Where do we look for it?”

  His eyes skipped to her, rested briefly. Then: “There’s colour in words.”

  “Roses are red, violets are blue,” she rhymed.

  He laughed. An easy, adult laugh. “How about: ‘They go the fairest way to Heaven that would serve God without a Hell.’ Count the colours in that!”

  She stopped in astonishment. “Where on earth did you hear of Religio Medici? I didn’t come across that till university.”

  “I found it in one of the bookshelves at home. I think it’s my mother’s – she’s a doctor. I can’t remember who wrote it, though.”

  “Neither can I.” She watched as he worked, his long back flexing easily. “Are there a lot of books in your house?”

  “Stuffed shelves in every room. I went from pulling them out and throwing them around, to loving the feel of them and the covers, to actually starting to read them.”

  “Didn’t you have your own books?”

  “Plenty.” He paused, resting his hand on the ledge. “I suppose I was lucky really. My parents never stopped me reading anything. If I wanted to go from Roald Dahl to Dickens and back to Winnie the Pooh or Asterix, they never said I shouldn’t.”

  “So what’s your favourite Dickens?”

  “I don’t like Dickens.”

  “Sacrilege!”

  He stood back to glance up along the top shelf and pointed. “You see that stack? If you put them in this corner, piled a little higher, you would get all these on the floor into that space up there.”

  She pondered for a moment, eyeing the possibility.

  “Let’s do it.”

  In one quick movement he was on the ledge and started handing the books down to her, his head bent against the ceiling.

  Curious, she said, “What do you not like about Dickens?”

  “He’s bleak; depressing.”

  “But he was drawing attention to social evils. And he did believe in happy endings. Look at Scrooge, redeemed in the end!”

  He was quiet for a moment, working a pile of books forward to where he could lift them. “But that’s not real life, is it?” he said finally. “Depressing things can stay depressing. Not everyone’s redeemed.”

  For Robyn at that moment, it was as if the very tip of a little finger had lightly touched still water and sent the merest ripple across the dead surface. She would not have it.

  “Don’t go all religious on me, Shaw.”

  He looked down at her suddenly and on her upturned face she felt the breeze of his sudden flash of impatience.

  “Religion or reality. Why on earth do you think they’re not the same thing?”

  It wasn’t the same after that. They finished almost in silence. Politely, he reminded her of her part of the deal and then left.

  She stood in thought looking out over the playground, her hands steepled over her nose and mouth. David must be an exceptional student. He would probably lift a first class honours degree in a few years without breaking a sweat.

  He and Chloe Masters emerged from a door below her and crossed the playground jauntily. Chloe was short and lightly made; she fitted three steps to David’s two. As they turned out the gate, Robyn saw Chloe say something. David threw back his head and laughed, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they walked.

  Robyn turned back to her desk, lifted her bag and keys and took a last look around the empty classroom. Her head ached and the world had become black and white again.

  6

  ACOLDNESS HAD entered Angus Fraser. Rigid, implacable, irresistible. He moved restlessly in his desk chair as the picture of Robyn Daniels with a man looped in his brain.

  He had known roughly where she lived. Now he knew exactly. Having spotted her walking with her man friend last night, it had not been difficult to drive round the side streets, coming out onto the main road every few hundred yards, keeping them in his sights. Watching them on her doorstep, he was amazed that the man did not go into the house with her. Businessman probably. Suit, flash car. After he had gripped her face, Robyn disappeared fast. Not even a goodnight wave. The guy wanted to stay. He must have. She must have led him on and then told him to get lost. There were names for women like that. Every one of them needed taught a lesson.

  Around him his class rioted. They could go to hell. He bent over his desk, the coldness tightening like a frost.

  Gemma was showing an elderly man how to use the online catalogue. He thanked her with a smile. Robyn, seated at one of the research tables, watched her with admiration. Gemma was good with people. She sent a ‘see you in a minute’ gesture to Robyn, and dealt with another query before managing to drop into a chair across the table.

  “Some difference in here now. No problem getting a seat,” said Robyn.

  “Isn’t it lovely? Libraries would be heaven if there were no people.”

  “Just like schools with no pupils.”

  “I can’t get out this evening. I’m stuck till nine. Somebody took sick and had to go home, so I’m covering.” She looked at Robyn more carefully. “You look a bit uptight. Anything wrong?”

  “I’m OK. I just fancied a walk, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all, Rob. I know you.” Gemma looked around, checking the enquiry desk and the other tables. Empty enough to keep talking. She cocked a groomed eyebrow across the table and waited.

  “Honestly Gemma, you have to get Neil to back off.” Her brief laugh was brittle. “He even said at the weekend that we could be married by Christmas!”

  Gemm
a’s mouth dropped in an exaggerated gasp. “Typical man! How on earth could you manage that? You’d get no hotel free at this notice. Besides, you’d freeze. You’d have to have fur bits on your dress, for goodness sake! I fancy a drop shoulder sleeveless bridesmaid’s number.” She posed dramatically, one arm held out gracefully, the other hand behind her head, pushing up her hair, scarlet fingernails peeping through her blond bob. “I hope you told him next summer would be the earliest.”

  Robyn pulled a tissue from her sleeve and fiddled with it. “You’re still seeing Jack the White Knight, are you?”

  “Oh yes! I’m not letting this one go. I’m seeing him tomorrow night.” She arched her head sideways, “Anything might happen.”

  Robyn tore the tissue in two.

  “You’ll sleep with him.” Robyn fired the comment like a pistol shot. Gemma blinked.

  “If you want to keep someone, you have to put logs on the fire.” She paused then added: “Besides, I want to. He really turns me on.” She dropped her voice further and leaned across the table, eyes dancing mischievously. “He’s a great kisser! – one good smooch and I’m putty in his hands.”

  As if they belonged to someone else, Robyn watched her own fingers squeezing and tearing the tissue. “Neil’s moving to Belfast,” she said.

  “Yes! He told me this morning he’d finally signed the lease. It’s a great site. He showed me round it last week.” She checked the enquiry desk again and turned back, eyebrows raised teasingly. “You dark horse! And he’s looking in all the right places for a house. Right roads going to all the right places. Neil says that was your idea.”

  A woman approached the enquiry desk. Gemma pushed her chair back and grinned across the table as she stood.

  “Oh go on, Rob!” She tossed her hair. “Loosen up! Put a log on the fire and see what happens. You’d have some fun and you’d make him a happy boy! You could always dump him later.”

  She ducked as a crumpled tissue flew across the table. Robyn lifted her bag and strode out onto the echoing stone landing, clattered down the wide stairs, past the imposing book cabinets on the half landing. Gemma caught her in the foyer before she reached the revolving door. At the hand on her arm, Robyn spun round, her hair flying.

  “Rob? Take a joke, for God’s sake.”

  There was a display of book cover designs in the long hall and some browsers turned, curious at the noise. Robyn’s ashen face showed two scarlet spots on her cheekbones. She hissed through gritted teeth.

  “The first I heard of Neil moving to Belfast was last night. And I’ll never make him a ‘happy boy’. I wish you’d get that through his stupid hair into his stupid skull!” She took a few rapid steps backwards and cried. “Fire’s burn, Gem. Fires burn!”

  Then there was just the door, spinning crazily on its pivot.

  Neil drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. No sign of her yet. Where the hell was she? When he had phoned her and said he would be here, she had said very little, but she certainly hadn’t said she had to be anywhere else. Where else would she go anyway?

  He looked at his watch. Seven-thirty. This wouldn’t do. It was undignified. Matthew, her father, had been right. One evening years ago, when Robyn had flounced off in a huff about something he had said, Matthew had slapped him on the back. “Whatever you do, don’t apologise, Neil. Fatal mistake. Show who’s boss.”

  Shortly after eight he saw her. Her head was down as she turned into the street and crossed to where he waited outside her door. As he slammed the car door, she looked up, startled. He could see from her face that she had forgotten all about him calling.

  “I’ve been waiting for ages. Where have you been?”

  He thought he saw a flare of distaste, but it was gone before he could be sure.

  “Walking.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you I’d be calling.”

  She turned away and then back again. “Actually, Neil, I haven’t just been walking. I went to see Gemma in the library.”

  A light rain was starting to fall, speckling the pavement, tapping on the roof of the car. Robyn turned her face up, letting the droplets gather on her cheeks and lashes. He opened his mouth but she spoke first.

  “You’re a liar, Neil. You’ve lied to your sister and you’ve lied to me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! When did I ever lie to you?”

  “Gemma knew you were moving up here. She saw the place last week. And I bet you were going to tell me that you’d spotted a nice house and you’d made an appointment to view it. Oh, and by the way, Gemma, it was Robyn’s idea.” There were three steps up to her door. She turned on the top step, her key in her hand. Her hair shone in a gauze of rain. “That puzzles me. Why would you let Gemma think I knew about your plans?”

  He put his foot on the first step. So she wanted to know, did she? Then he would tell her. He jabbed a finger at her face. “She laughs at me. Do you know how that makes me feel? Have you any idea? She’s known how I’ve felt about you for years, but she doesn’t know that you actually cringe when I touch you.” He didn’t notice her recoil. “She doesn’t know I have a bit of work to do yet.”

  Robyn’s back was pressed against the door, her expression horrified. “You have a bit of work to do?”

  Neil put his foot on the next step. She pushed him hard and he staggered back.

  “You bastard!” she spat. “Your sister also knows how I feel about you.”

  The rain was getting heavier, flattening her hair and separating it into limp strands. He felt his anger rising, caution overwritten by long frustration.

  “Yes, I lied! I lied to make you look normal so that I wouldn’t feel so…!” He spun out onto the pavement, turning with his fists clenched in irritation. Looking back at her, breathing heavily, he decided to go on, careless of who would hear, “Damn it, Rob, count your blessings. I’m willing to watch the knives and the pills. Who else would have you?”

  Robyn’ hand covered her mouth in shock, her eyes staring at him. Then she lowered her hand.

  “You haven’t listened, have you? You’ve never listened, Neil. And that’s your fault, not mine.” Her voice rose to a shout. “I don’t want to be had at all!”

  She spun round, inserted her key and in one swift movement had slammed the door behind her. His body sprawled onto the heavy wood a split second after it closed. It was minutes before he stopped hammering it.

  A stranger could have found the hall by following the jumble of voices and out-of-tune guitars. It was transformed.

  “Hello, Miss Daniels!” Three girls from her junior class grinned a greeting as they wobbled along a line of chairs with a bunch of balloons. The balloons seemed destined for the top rung of the climbing bars, if they lasted long enough to get there. There was a loud bang and the tubbiest of the trio squealed and fell off a chair.

  Robyn decided to intervene. “Here, let me reach them up now you’ve got them this far.”

  She climbed the first few rungs and tied the string at the top.

  “Thanks Miss,” they said in unison and ran to the stage, looking younger in jeans and jumpers than they did in school uniform. “Hey, David. We’ve done that. What can we do now?”

  Edith appeared, bottom first, through the fire door beside the stage. She was dragging a table. From the colour of her face she had pulled it all the way from the HE rooms. Robyn lifted the other end.

  “Right over to the foyer, Robyn. He wants it for the bouncers.”

  “Bouncers?”

  “I think that might be you and me.”

  “Do I look like a bouncer?”

  Edith raised her brows. “Do I?”

  On the stage, Tim Thompson and David Shaw were hunkered down beside sound equipment, twiddling knobs. Chloe was in a corner, eyes closed, humming softly to herself and beating time with her finger.

  Only her strong desire to keep her word had made Robyn leave her flat this evening. A call had come for her in the staffroom at lunchtime on Wednesday
. The receiver was left off the hook, waiting for her. The person who answered had confirmed that the caller was a man. It had to be Neil – who else would it be? – and she had quietly replaced the handset without speaking. She had heard no more from him, although she had walked home quickly each day. Getting by. Still getting by.

  By eight o’clock the Hooley was at maximum volume. Leaving Edith by the door, Robyn circled the edge of the noise. The juniors looked younger out of uniform, the seniors looked older. The school’s own Holy Huddle group had kicked off and a full hall of young people waved their arms in rhythm to a loud song about Elijah and trumpets.

  Now, a visiting gospel group was rapping around the stage, the lead singer spinning on his toes. Robyn cocked her head to listen. She had never heard Christian rap before. She looked for David but couldn’t see him. This had to be his influence. Back out in the foyer, Edith sat reading a novel.

  “Music’s not bad,” Robyn said. You should go in for a bit. I’ll keep an eye here.”

  Edith was unmoved. “Not unless they sing ‘Shall we gather at the river?’”

  “I don’t think that’s in their songbook.”

  “Neither do I. I’ll keep reading. You go back in if that’s your thing. I’m fine here. Sure what’s to keep an eye on anyway?”

  Back in the hall, the lead singer was waving his arms now and clapping his hands above his head. The audience was waving back and stamping feet at the same time. The floor as well as the walls shook.

  Angus was surprised to be quite enjoying himself. The rhythms were good and there wasn’t a uniform in sight. The middle school pupils were the funniest to watch. No matter how low their necklines or tight their jeans, they still had a skimming of immaturity. His lip curled. Kittens swaggering like cats and still tripping over their tails.

  Senior girls were another thing entirely. The full fresh feline. If he met some of these in a club down town he wouldn’t be going home alone. As it was, even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk his job by coming on to a pupil. His radar picked up Robyn’s reentry into the hall. He shifted to keep her in sight.

  Robyn found the drinks machine. David Shaw was beside it, head back, Adam’s apple making short work of a Coke. His eyes lit on her when he dropped his chin.