‘I didn’t want to be alone. Suddenly my own room seemed too big and lonely. Suddenly life seemed too big and lonely.’
Maureen affectionately patted her hand. ‘Then ye did right to wake me, so we’ll hear no more of ye being sorry.’ She began to pour the chocolate. ‘We’ll sit and talk a while. Then we’ll finish this little lot and get a good night’s sleep. Sure we’ll feel all the better for it in the morning.’ She poured Katherine a good measure of the hot chocolate. ‘Get that down ye,’ she ordered in her bossy, inimitable way.
‘You’re right.’ Katherine felt better already.
‘Aren’t I allus right?’ Maureen declared cheekily.
‘You were right about Jack, too.’ Katherine lapsed into a quiet mood. ‘He doesn’t want me here.’
‘Does it surprise you?’ Taking her own cup, the Irish woman sat in the chair opposite.
‘He’s my son. He should never forget that.’
‘Mebbe. But aren’t ye forgetting something?’
Katherine frowned. ‘That it’s been twenty years?’
‘There is that, yes.’ Her eyes surveyed that old face and her love swelled. ‘Then there’s the other business. Have ye forgotten that?’
‘You know I could never forget.’
‘So what makes ye think yer son should forget?’
‘Because he’s young. Because his life is ahead of him, while mine is almost past.’
‘That isn’t the issue here and ye know it.’
Katherine smiled then, a wry little expression that spoke volumes. ‘It’s obvious you have something on your mind, my dear, so you might as well say what you’re thinking.’
‘I’m probably thinking the very same as yerself.’
Weary, Katherine put down her cup and leaned back in the chair. Suddenly she felt old as time itself, old in every bone of her body, old and feeble, and despairing of life itself. ‘Oh, Maureen, it was all so long ago.’
‘It might as well have been only yesterday, and well ye know it. Ye can’t forget and neither can I. Cyrus… Jack… we all remember every detail vividly. Jack more than any of us, for wasn’t it that poor lad who walked into the nightmare? Wasn’t it he who got the blame, when all the while the poor soul was as innocent as you or me? Wasn’t it yer own darling son who was nearly locked away, could have been executed even, for something he didn’t do? And yer own brother Cyrus, so affected by what she did that he spent two whole years in a home for the insane.’
Katherine’s eyes filled with tears as she defended the brother she loved. ‘Cyrus was deeply affected by what happened. He had a breakdown. He was never insane.’
‘Aw, sure don’t I know that, me darling?’ Quickly now, she made the sign of the cross on herself. ‘Lord love and preserve us, it’s a wonder we didn’t all lose our minds. But d’ye see what I mean?’ She sighed and folded her hands and bent forward, her head drooping; her pretty, soulful eyes locked into Katherine’s pitiful gaze. ‘Ah, look now, I know how ye must feel, but we should never have come here. Can’t ye see what ye’ve done? Jack was trying to put it all behind him, and now ye’ve delivered it all to his doorstep… the badness and the pain.’ She hesitated, not wanting to hurt or apportion blame, but it had to be said. ‘Ye wronged him twenty years ago when ye believed he might have done all those dreadful things. Now, in coming here, ye’ve wronged him again.’
She reached out to touch the old lady’s hand, her voice dripping with sadness when the touch was refused. ‘Let’s go home before it’s too late. Before the badness is let loose again.’
‘It won’t be.’ There was a rush of loathing in the old one’s face as she stared at the other woman. ‘You disappoint me, my dear. I hoped you would understand.’ The sigh came from her soul. ‘I’m too old to worry about right and wrong any more. I need my family about me. I need my son. And my granddaughters.’ Her face softened. ‘I saw them sitting on the stairs. Oh, it will be good to have young people close again.’
A look of horror flitted over Maureen’s features. ‘I didn’t think ye’d seen them.’ She lowered her voice intimately. ‘The older one. Did ye get a good look at her?’
Katherine nodded, but couldn’t meet her gaze. ‘I saw her.’
Maureen’s eyes grew wide with fear. ‘In the light from the landing, did ye see how her hair shone… like fire? Did ye see the dark glint in her eyes, like the glint of a devil in moonlight?’ Her voice grew incredulous. ‘Did ye see? Do ye know what it means?’
‘I don’t want to talk any more.’ Making no effort to leave, she deliberately sipped at her chocolate. Back there, in Jack’s home, she had seen everything just as Maureen described it. The young woman whom she assumed to be Virginia. The one who carried her own mother’s name, the consequences of which she dared not think about. Maureen had seen, and now she was in terror. Katherine was duty bound to hear her out because, like it or not, Maureen was the echo of her own conscience.
‘Virginia by name. Virginia by nature.’ The implication was chilling.
‘Your imagination runs away with you.’ Anger. And the smallest, unmistakable terror. ‘I won’t listen!’
Undeterred, the Irish woman painted the picture in the other one’s mind. ‘The same fiery hair. The eyes that could be yer own mother’s. The eyes of a madwoman.’ Taking a deep, shuddering breath she went on relentlessly. ‘The same tall, stately build. A smile that destroys while it caresses. And the name. Her name.’ She shook her head frantically. ‘Knowing what he does, why would he give her your mother’s name?’
‘You know how much he loved my mother before… before…’ It was on the tip of her tongue, but to utter the words would make it seem too alive, too real.
‘Say it, why don’t ye? Before she went mad. Before she slaughtered so many innocent souls.’
‘No! I don’t want to hear it.’
But she had to, because Maureen would not be silenced. Desperate to make her see how they should leave well alone and get the next flight to America, she insisted, ‘What if she really is like her great-grandmother? Oh, ye might say, what does it matter if she has the same hair and eyes, the same build and the same name. She’s of this time and yer mother was of the past. Ye might say there are generations between. Jack’s daughter is not insane! Ye might say that. Ye might even believe it. But can ye be sure? Can ye really be sure she isn’t yer mother all over again?’
‘It’s you that’s being wicked now. Jack’s daughter can’t help inheriting her great-grandmother’s features.’
‘Ye have to listen to me, Katherine. This young woman has taken so many of yer mother’s genes. Outwardly she’s so like yer mother it makes my skin crawl. What about inside? Is she the same? How can we know whether she has a killer’s instinct? Is she mad too? What about the teacher… the one who drowned? Jack’s daughter was there. Did she drown that poor woman?’
‘It’s you that’s mad.’ Rage kindled in her.
‘Listen to me, Katherine. All I’m asking is, can ye be sure? When ye looked at the girl, did ye see beyond the face, beyond the image of yer own mother? Did ye see the badness? Did ye feel a sense of horror? Because, God help me, I did.’
‘You won’t frighten me.’ Over the years Katherine had come to realise how her old Irish friend had developed a sixth sense. In her heart she too believed that Jack’s daughter was the essence of everything evil. But she could not turn a blind eye. Not this time. ‘I don’t agree with what you’re saying,’ she lied, ‘but if, and I’m only saying if, the girl is bad, then it’s all the more reason for us to stay. We didn’t see it coming last time. This time we can watch and be ready.’ She looked at Maureen in the strangest way. ‘I would never let it happen again. Believe me. If, as you say, she is evil, then I will simply have to deal with it.’
Momentarily taken aback by the malign glint in the old lady’s eyes, Maureen couldn’t believe what her mind was telling her. ‘What do ye mean… deal with it?’
For one unnerving moment, Katherine’s smile was unca
nnily like that of her own mother as she softly answered, ‘I would have to kill her, of course.’
Subdued and nervous, Maureen could not speak. For the very first time she wondered whether the madness had risen in Katherine. Maybe it was always there and, because she idolised the old lady, she had never seen it. Frantically, she cast her mind back, to the time when Katherine’s own mother had shocked the whole of America, and the world, with her heinous crimes. Her heart turned over. Surely to God Katherine was not involved. Her mind was doing somersaults. It wasn’t possible. But it was! It was!
The sound of sobbing brought her back to the moment, to the room, and the pitiful creature before her. ‘Please, Maureen. Don’t let’s assume the worst. We’ve crossed an ocean to be here with my son and his family. I beg you, don’t spoil it for me.’ Taking a dainty frilled handkerchief from the cuff of her robe she dabbed at her eyes. ‘Anyway, the girl is as normal as you or I.’
‘We see what we want to see. I looked into those beautiful eyes and I saw something terrible there.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘I want to leave here.’ More so now she had detected something odd in Katherine. She began to wonder whether she herself was affected. Or was it Jack’s daughter? Was the evil already touching all of them?
Turning her head Katherine stared into the fireplace. The coals were dying. Life… flickering away. Like those other lives long ago. So many lives. ‘No one will hurt us,’ she murmured. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Oh, but there is something to be afraid of!’ Fearful now, Maureen sprang out of her chair and hurried through the adjoining door. A moment later she returned with a small valise.
Katherine sat bolt upright. ‘That’s mine. What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I know what ye carry about in this case. What I don’t know is why ye carry it about.’ Laying the valise on the table, she withdrew a sheaf of papers. Clutching them in her fist she demanded, ‘How can ye say there’s nothing to be afraid of? And what do ye mean to do with these? Will ye show them to Jack? Is that it? Do ye want to send the poor man right over the edge?’
Grey faced, Katherine defended herself. ‘I would never do that.’
‘Then why have ye brought them?’
‘Because they belong with me.’
‘No!’ Bending over the old lady, her voice little more than a whisper, Maureen declared, ‘They’re wicked and evil.’ Raising the papers to her face she sniffed at them. ‘They reek of death. They don’t belong with ye. They belong with the Devil.’
‘Put them back!’
‘When I’ve made ye see sense. When ye tell me we’re going home. When ye promise to leave Jack and his family alone. That’s when I’ll put them away… for good. But, until then, I want ye to know what ye’re carrying around with ye. Not fond memories. Not a cherished keepsake of loved ones. What ye’ve kept is evil. It’s corrupted us all. It’s corrupting us now. Something terrible is happening here. We’ll end up suspecting each other. The badness is not dead. Can’t ye see that? It’s here. It’s in these papers. Everywhere we turn it will follow us, for the rest of our lives.’ Her voice softened. ‘It’s time to let go.’ Brandishing the papers, she pleaded, ‘Let me burn these. Let’s leave this place and go home. Right now.’
She made a move towards the fireplace, but the old lady’s hand moved quicker. Like iron it gripped her, held her there. ‘If you do, I’ll kill you!’ Sitting on the edge of her seat her eyes looked bulbous, jutting out from her face like small stabbing beacons.
The other woman stared hard at her, searching for something she might easily recognise. In a small scathing voice she asked, ‘What’s happening to us, Katherine?’
‘You!’ The word spat out. ‘What right have you to go into my private papers? Interfering. Always interfering! What I do is my own affair, and I’ll thank you to mind your own business. You’re nothing to me. You’re not a relative. You have no family, so how can you possibly understand how I feel? I lost part of my family through no fault of my own and I want it back. I don’t want you. You make me feel guilty. You frighten me, just as she did.’ Her face contorted with grief and pain, she went on mercilessly, ‘I’m beginning to hate you. I ought to send you packing. Throw you out on to the streets where I found you!’
Incensed, Maureen could hardly contain herself. ‘Do it then, why don’t ye?’ she cried. ‘Happen I’d be glad to get away from ye an’ all. Happen I’ve had enough of yer spoiled ways and selfish manner.’ It was too late to hold back. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. ‘Just now, I saw something in ye that reminded me of yer mother. Mebbe ye’re insane too. But it doesn’t matter to me any more. I would have died for ye, Katherine Louis. Now I don’t care what happens to ye. So, go on! Throw me out on to the streets. Or maybe I’ll save ye the trouble.’ Swinging round she would have stormed out, but Katherine took hold of her, pressing her down, staring into those pretty blue eyes that were now alive with malice.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. The bulbous eyes paled. The tears ran down that aged face, following the creases and folds, meandering to her chin and dripping to her chest. ‘I can’t let you destroy them.’ Grabbing the papers she clutched them to her heart, a world of pain in her voice as she murmured, ‘They’re all I have left of her.’
Composed now, and moved by the old lady’s plight, Maureen gently caressed her. ‘No, they are not all ye have left, me darling. Ye have yer memories,’ she consoled. ‘Before, when ye were small, when she was yer mother, and you her daughter. When everything was as it should be. These were the good times. These are the memories ye ought to keep.’ Tapping her chest, she murmured, ‘In here. Keep the good memories safe in here.’
The old lady clung to her. In Maureen’s arms she felt safe and secure, just as she had when she was a child, when her mind would be crushed by awful, merciless headaches, and her mother would hold her, just as Maureen was holding her now, and yes, they were the good times. When there was no premonition of what would happen later. What might happen again.
But she dared not think on that. There was too much fear still. Too much that would finally destroy them all. Maureen was right to be afraid. Deep down, in her darkest heart, she too was afraid. She wanted the papers destroyed. Oh, the many times she had yearned to burn them, but how could she do that, when the faces of her loved ones stared back at her? Destroy them! she silently pleaded now. Keep them! The struggle never ended.
‘I’ll put them back, shall I?’ In the face of such sadness, Maureen relented. There would be another time. A time when the burning of those papers would not be so painful.
The old lady stirred in her arms. ‘I’m so tired.’ Tired of living, she thought. Tired of being afraid.
‘Come on then, me darling.’ Astonished at how light and frail the old lady seemed, Maureen helped her to her bed. ‘See, I’m putting them back where I found them.’ Replacing the papers in the valise, she then returned it to the top shelf of the wardrobe. ‘Get off to sleep now. If you want anything ye know where I am. Otherwise I’ll join ye for tea in the morning.’
But it was not to be.
Never again would the two women sit across a table and talk of things close to their hearts.
The evil was close. Already the room smelled of death.
Heavy eyed, and drained by the bitter exchange, Katherine watched her old friend leave. She heard the familiar click as the door was pulled to and the lock rammed home. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered. ‘In the morning I’ll make it up to you.’ There had been times before when she and Maureen had crossed swords, but there had never been a time when she could so easily have taken the other one’s life and watched her die with a sense of satisfaction. She sighed. It was those papers. If only she could find the strength to burn them. The truth was, Katherine did not have that much strength left in her. Not now. It was all used up twenty years ago, back there, when her mother was strapped into the electric chair and paid for her foolishness.
>
Raising her face to the ceiling, she smiled, a wicked sorry gesture that made her feel ashamed. You did wrong, Mother. I’ll never really know why you did it. But love makes us do strange things, don’t you think? The smile fell away and in its place came such despair that it was too much to bear. Life was too much to bear. Sleep was impossible.
She lay quiet for a moment longer, after which she got out of bed, tiptoed across the room and put her ear to the door. ‘You’ve a nasty streak in you, Maureen Delaney,’ she chuckled, ‘but I expect it serves me right for taunting you.’
Satisfied she would not be disturbed, she went to the wardrobe and got out the valise. ‘They’re mine,’ she muttered sourly. ‘I won’t burn them, ever!’
Climbing into the bed she took the valise with her, cradling it as though it were a baby, stroking it and softly singing, ‘Rock-a-bye baby in the tree-top… when the wind blows the cradle will rock…’ She was a child again, and her mother was singing to her.
Suddenly she was silent, jerking her head up like a sparrow in fear. ‘Who’s there?’ Silence. Unnerving silence.
She listened intently, her heart beating so fast she could hardly breathe. The silence was nerve-racking. From the street below, the low throaty sound of a car horn was startling. Reassured, she softly chuckled, mentally shaking herself. ‘Maureen’s right,’ she muttered nervously, ‘we could all be going mad.’
A quick glance about, then she took out the papers, lovingly caressing them as she feverishly laid them on the bed. There were fourteen in all. Each one a newspaper cutting. Each one yellowing with age, dog-eared where she had fingered them time and time again. In a straight, uniform line at the top she placed the larger ones. Beneath, she set out the smaller articles. Each article depicted a face, and as she touched them she visibly trembled.
No Heaven, No Hell Page 15
