Healer of My Heart

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  “Yes.”

  Robyn closed her eyes. “Do you,” she said, “remember me asking you to leave him?”

  “Yes.” A whisper.

  “Do you remember me pleading with you to leave him?”

  “Yes.” Still a whisper.

  Robyn opened her eyes. “Another question. I didn’t think I could ask this one, because I didn’t want to have to deal with the answer. But here goes.” Robyn moved her head to fix her mother’s eyes with her own. Slowly and deliberately, she asked: “Did you know just how bad he was?”

  She watched this one sinking in. Her mother looked grey, the skin on the backs of her hands wrinkling like tissue paper as she wound her fingers together. Her voice was low, almost frightened. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did you think he was an autocratic hypocrite who made your life hell? Or did you know he was a pervert who was even worse than that?”

  Anne looked up, pleading. “Rob, there is no point in raking up the…”

  Robyn found herself shouting. “Oh yes, there’s every point! It matters now, every bloody day, to my life!”

  Anne leapt from her chair and ran to the living room. Robyn sat for a moment, breathing deeply, calming herself. But she felt relentless. Her mother had sat in an armchair, her hands over her face. Robyn circled and sat opposite her.

  “I’m telling you it matters. I’m entitled to know, and I want to know now. Did you know what he was doing to me? Yes or no.”

  She thought her mother wasn’t going to answer, but then Anne removed her hands and said hoarsely: “Your brother knew. He told me.”

  Robyn’s eyes widened in shock. “Stephen knew?”

  “He said that he used to hear his father in the middle of the night. He saw what he was… where he was…” Anne looked up and said quickly, with a defiance that struck Robyn as grotesque: “It affected Stephen too, you know.”

  Anger was making Robyn’s whole body shake. Her shoulders quivered, her legs trembled. Her voice rose again. “My God, Mum!” She flung her arms wide. “And your promises to your husband, your desperation to keep up appearances, were more important than any responsibility you had to your daughter?” She leaned forward. “Someone said to me recently that responsibility for another human being is heavy stuff. The person who said it is about a third of your age, but for some reason he’s ten times wiser than you could ever be.”

  Anne was weeping now. Slow tears of helplessness tracked down cheeks become old. But Robyn hadn’t finished.

  “And when you found me on the bathroom floor, my arms sliced open and blood soaking through to the floorboards? Fourteen, wasn’t I, when I did that? Not even then?” She became reflective. “I wonder are the marks still there, on the floor. Is the wood still stained? And I wonder how you explained that to the fitter who laid the new flooring.”

  Unexpectedly, Anne said, almost proudly: “Your Dad did it himself. He was good that way.”

  Robyn ignored this. The statement, and the tone in which it was said, betrayed too much to take in just now.

  “I nearly died, didn’t I? I nearly managed it.”

  “Yes. But your Dad got you to the hospital very quickly.”

  “Bully for him. But then, if I’d succeeded, the questions for a respected citizen might have dug a bit deeper, mightn’t they? An inquest would be harder to hide from.”

  Anne held out a hand. “Please, Robyn, it’s all in the past.”

  Robyn leapt to her feet. “No, it’s not in the past! Don’t you see?” Frustration made her pace around the room, ornaments rocking as she passed. “Oh, he never touched me again after that. But I was on medication for two years.” She mimicked a concerned tone. “Poor Matthew. The time of it he has with that daughter. He’s been so good to her. How could she possibly suffer from depression, coming from such a wonderful family?” She turned and jabbed a finger. “He nominated Neil as his successor, didn’t he? Neil was going to take me on, and you went along with it. You’re still going along with it.”

  Anne spread her hands wide, tears still fretting down her face. “That’s why I wanted you to marry him. To give you a normal life, children. Forget the past. And the money – I wanted it to make up for what he did.”

  Suddenly energy drained out of Robyn and she sat heavily in the chair. She explained patiently: “That won’t do it, Mum. That won’t do it at all.” She studied the pattern on the carpet for a minute. Then she looked up. “You just said you wanted me to have the money no matter who my partner is. But don’t you understand? How could I inflict myself on any man? The very thought of anyone touching me like that ever again makes me want to throw up.” She leaned forward, speaking slowly, emphasising every word. “Am I being clear enough?”

  She sat back, not feeling an ounce of remorse at the sight of her mother’s wretched face. “I could never respond to Neil. Although I don’t believe he knew the reason. He thought I’d get over it. But I woke up in time. I have the power to say no.” She was almost patient as she explained: “If someone truly loved me, I don’t think I could recognise it. That’s why it matters. It’s not in the past at all. It’s not just in the present either.” She looked out the window, her face bleak. “It’s all of the future too.”

  After a silence, she got up wearily. As she passed her chair, Anne thrust out a hand to grip her daughter’s. “Robyn, forgive me. Please,” she said hoarsely.

  Robyn looked down and said sadly: “Can anything you do to a child, or allow to be done, ever be forgiven?”

  Then she went back to the kitchen and lifted her bag. Opening the cloakroom in the hall, she lifted out her jacket. Anne followed her, tissue crumpled in her hand, jabbering, imploring.

  “You can’t go now. You’d get back far too late. When you phoned earlier, I made up your bed. Stay overnight at least. Don’t go like this. Let’s go shopping tomorrow.”

  Robyn found Onion curled in a perfect circle on her mother’s bed. She lifted him and hugged him, burying her face in his soft side. The pressure of her arms squeezed spasms of purrs from him as he nuzzled her face and licked her nose. Gently, she set him back on the bed and left him with a last pat. In the hall, she opened the front door and stepped outside.

  Looking back, she said quietly: “Goodbye, Mum.”

  Then she slammed the door.

  19

  ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, the land line rang in the flat. It was Neil.

  “I’ve just called at your mother’s. She said you were here yesterday. The poor woman looks as if she’s been crying all night. What on earth did you say to her?”

  “Ask her, Neil.”

  There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me you were down? You always tell me when you’re coming.” Another pause. “She told you I’m back home?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Physically, yes.”

  “Good.”

  “I think you should know that I’ve had to cancel plans to move to Belfast. I believe you know why.”

  “I do.”

  “I was very lucky that there was another tenant ready and willing to take the building I wanted.” She noticed the stress on the last two words. “So now I’ll have to drive past it and see someone else’s sign up on it.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His irritation began to shake loose. “Yes, it is too bad! And this is all because of you. You can’t blame me for making plans when I thought everything was clear.”

  “Absolutely nothing was clear to me, Neil, as I have discovered. But then maybe that didn’t really matter. You were going to take care of everything.”

  “Of course I was!” he exploded. “There’s no need for any of this. You’re going to regret this sooner or later anyway.” She listened to his struggle to calm himself. “So let’s forget this ever happened. Let’s meet and sort things out. Fresh start.” He added brightly: “I think they’re building more units further along on the same site.”

  “
Neil?” she said softly.

  “Yes?” he said hopefully.

  “No,” she said clearly, and hung up.

  It had been four days since he had seen her and he had not heard from her either. David was only half listening to his father who was wandering round the garden explaining what he wanted to do before the summer was over. Manna padded along beside them, snapping at flies and missing.

  “See here, where these hostas are?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “It’s too sunny for them. I’d like to try strawberries here. I never managed to grow strawberries successfully in the last place. Either the soil or the weather; don’t know which.” Vincent smiled ruefully. “Or maybe it was just me.”

  Perhaps he should phone, just to make sure everything was all right.

  Vincent pointed. “Those loganberries are doing fine growing up the back of the garage. So I don’t see why strawberries wouldn’t be OK.”

  He had been busy of course. There had been a meeting to do with going away next month. Then he’d had to put in some work on assignments and coursework.

  Vincent was still considering. “And then here, this mallow has got much too large. It’s going woody. I’ll have to cut that right back.”

  And then there’d been Chloe. The big scene with Chloe. Pretty as the mallow flower and tanned as shoe polish after her holiday. He thought he’d chosen his words well. He’d certainly rehearsed them for long enough. What had she called him? A pagan. A cad (that was a posh word for Chloe). A bog-trotting clod (more like her). An unfeeling two-timing something-or-other. At least he’d been able to argue that the last one wasn’t true.

  “In fact, son, would you get me the clippers and I’ll lay into some of this jungle now.”

  David heard that. “No, Dad, I’ll do it later, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  David didn’t reply to this, remembering his mother’s strict instructions. His father was not to be upset, or drawn into any of their frequent heated debates. It was hard to do, because they both rose to an argument. The pros and cons of sabbatarianism would have to wait. Vincent staggered slightly on the steps up from the lawn. David steadied him.

  “Come on. Inside. Or would you like a chair outside for a bit? I can get one from the conservatory.”

  “Don’t pamper me! I’m fine. I’m going to the study. I need to look at some reports the office sent over. I’ll be back at work soon, and I need to be up to speed with what’s been happening.”

  Manna sat in the doorway and scratched an ear enthusiastically. Cream hairs floated past the weeping cherry, carried on the warm air. David eased the dog out of the way and Vincent disappeared into the house.

  David went to the back corner of the garden and stretched out on the bench seat, dropping a hand to fondle Manna’s ears as the dog flopped beside him with a sigh.

  When Robyn had stirred and eased away from his arm, she had smiled up at him briefly, stretched and stood up. She had been quiet in the car, preoccupied, saying only a brief goodbye when he left her at the door of her flat. When he went to bed, he found one of her hairs on his shirt.

  David knew that Robyn attracted attention. He was also sure that she could handle most come-ons. It must have happened to her before. But Fraser bothered him. David didn’t care that Fraser had seen them together at Groomsport. Not for himself anyway, although Tim’s warning had given him pause for thought, until he reasoned, rightly or wrongly, that anyone could do what they liked in the summer holidays. And anyway, she was only subbing for a few months. She was almost still a student herself.

  But Fraser must have followed them. In his car. And had he just happened to be in the school at the same time as Robyn, or had he followed her there too? He swung himself upright and hooked his phone from his pocket. He started to tap out a message, but cancelled it. He chewed the corner of the phone in thought. He got up and walked round the seat, absently tossing and catching the phone in one hand. He sat down again. He started another message. Cancelled it.

  What was wrong with him? Something had changed inside himself, making him hypersensitive, nervous of doing the wrong thing. Impatient with himself, he jabbed through to her number and called it. She answered quickly.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Just checking.”

  “You OK?” she asked.

  “Of course. What would be wrong with me?”

  She gave a slight laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Choked on a dictionary or something.”

  He smiled at the hedge, not knowing what to say.

  “Are you at home?” she asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  He bent to pick up a stray twig and swung it in one hand.

  Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then he said: “Fancy a chat some time? If you’re still not afraid of me, that is.”

  He had said this lightly, but she replied: “I think you should be more afraid of me.”

  “Sounds like a competition. Let’s form a Frightened Society, with an annual prize for the most frightened person of the year.”

  She sighed, an amused sigh. “You’re a nutcase.”

  He gripped the phone tighter. “I want to see you.”

  There was total silence for so long that he began to think the connection had been cut. Then she said, very low: “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “OK.”

  “Walk or drive?”

  “Drive.”

  “I’ll be there about two?”

  “Fine.”

  “And Robyn?”

  “What?”

  “Shalom.”

  He heard the smile as she replied. “Shalom.”

  The little green hatchback approached slowly. Robyn wondered how David fitted into it. It wasn’t new, but somehow it had character. Or maybe that was to do with the driver. Why was he going so slowly? She went to the edge of the footpath. He was studying all the cars on each side of the street as he drove along. Several cars crawled impatiently behind him, but he ignored them.

  He double parked and reached over to open the door.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “The drivers behind you are not amused.”

  “And they’ll stay that way till we’re out of this street.”

  He crawled the rest of the way, looking from right to left. Once onto the main road he relaxed and smiled across.

  “Just looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She dropped it.

  The weather was uncertain, breaks in the clouds alternating with the threat of rain. But a burst of sunshine illuminated the view from the great sandstone tower of Scrabo on the hill above the town of Newtownards, to the south of Belfast. Half way up the rough track from the car park, a bench nestled in the scrub of the hillside.

  “Want a rest?” he asked.

  “Don’t be cheeky!”

  At the top, they caught their breath and walked round to the side overlooking the town and across to the airfield. A microlight was making a careful approach to the runway, dropping over the edge of the town. Beyond, to the south, little islands punctuated the waters of Strangford Lough in dots and commas.

  Robyn dropped her coat onto the grass and sat on it, mesmerised by the view. She pulled her knees up to her chin and felt David hunker beside her.

  She spread her hands wide. “Freedom!”

  “You sound like an escaped convict.”

  She smiled crookedly. “I feel like one. Escaped just before being hanged at dawn.”

  They looked out at the town spread like a map below, silent and content. Then he said: “Robyn?”

  “What?”

  “Fraser. In your storeroom. As I was walking up the corridor I think I heard him say ‘I’ve recovered’, or something like that. What did he mean?”

>   She buried her face in her knees and then looked sideways at him, a grin forming. “Well, I had to… be forceful when he stopped being a gentleman.”

  He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow enquiringly. “How forceful?”

  “I kneed him in the balls. Hard.”

  It started as a small chuckle in his stomach. Then it rose, bubbled, grew until he was throwing back his head and roaring with laughter at the sky. He overbalanced and fell from his heels. Flat on his back on the grass, his whole body convulsed.

  When he could speak, he said: “Brilliant. Priceless. I wish I could have seen that. Just don’t do that to me.”

  She looked at him lying beside her, his face full of humour, his crisp black hair tufting through the grass, hands spread wide behind his head. She said: “I’d never have to.”

  He twisted his head to look at her. “You’d never want to, I hope.”

  She shook her head and reached over to pull a piece of grass from his hair. “No, never.”

  She told him she wanted to learn to drive. He found a large shopping centre car park and got out. He came round to the passenger side.

  “Shift over. You drive round the car park.”

  “Don’t be daft!”

  “No time like the present. I’ll show you where the brake is and it’s a doddle from there.”

  She shuffled over to the driver’s seat. “But there are cars around. The shops are open.”

  He settled beside her and tapped the steering wheel. “That’s what that’s for. Don’t worry. You’ll miss most of them.”

  She adjusted the seat, moved the mirror and gripped the wheel. The next half hour involved kangaroo petrol, stalling, a fierce argument, grinding gears, and one near miss – the cause of another argument.

  Eventually she rolled into a parking place near where they had started. He opened his door and looked down.

  “Hey, you’re between the white lines! Imagine that.”

  She thumped the steering wheel, her eyes alive with achievement. “I think I could do this.”

  They swopped seats. “I think you could too,” he said, easing the seat back. “But next time I’ll bring the travel sick tablets.”