by Ann Troup
As she watched Brodie tuck into cheap steak and chips, with extra onion rings and garlic bread, she prodded at her own Caesar salad despondently. Thoughts of the cottage in Hallow’s End kept intruding like an invitation that she was trying to ignore. Whichever way she looked at it, there was no way they could go back to a place that was owned by the Gardiner-Hallows. The press would be all over it. But it didn’t mean to say that there weren’t other places to rent in the area. Maybe it would be a good thing to go back, after all there were demons to face and gaps in the story to fill.
Brodie had finished her gargantuan feast and had just ordered dessert, a festive looking glass of E numbers and chemicals that was masquerading as ice cream. Elaine had settled for coffee, ordering from a waitress who clearly thought she recognised her but didn’t like to say anything. It was bound to happen.
When they had stopped for petrol Elaine hadn’t failed to notice that her own face was plastered over every newspaper. It had been even worse when she had turned her phone on, the thing had practically blown itself to bits as message after message had buzzed through the small device. Overwhelmed, Elaine had taken out the battery and thrown the thing in the bin. Whatever life had been before, it was something different now and she didn’t want any attachment to Elaine Ellis’s past. She was a hybrid now, half Elaine, half Mandy. A smile crossed her face as she played with the initials and realised that they spelled the word ME.
Brodie noticed it and spoke up. ‘What’s tickling you?’ she said, unaware of the slick of neon pink sauce that was dribbling down her chin.
‘Your face,’ Elaine said as she passed her a serviette.
Brodie scowled and wiped her chin.
‘Brodie, I want to go back to Hallow’s End. If you don’t want to come with me I can call Tony.’
Brodie looked at her aghast, ‘Is the pope Catholic? Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I’m coming with you!’
‘But what about your mum’s funeral, you’ll want to be there.’
Brodie licked her spoon, ice cream and sauce had bled onto her fingers and she was a sticky mess, ‘I don’t want to go. Why should I? Funerals are supposed to be about paying respects. I can’t respect a woman who topped herself when we needed her most.’ The comic mix of melted food, which made her look like a naughty toddler, and the adult logic of her words were an incongruous combination.
‘You might regret that choice flower, funerals only happen once. Think it over will you?’
Brodie frowned at her, ‘I have thought it over. I don’t want to go. Did you go to Jean’s funeral?’
‘Of course,’ Elaine said, remembering the unceremonious dumping of Jean’s ashes and still feeling mild guilt.
‘Did it make you feel better? Did it allow you to forgive her for everything she’d done? Did you feel you’d paid your last respects?’ Brodie challenged.
Elaine was taken aback by the questions. In truth she had gone because she was obliged to do so for appearances’ sake, ‘I did what I felt I had to,’ she said, still astonished at how easily this child could put her on the spot and extract a confession.
‘Exactly, you went for other people, not you. Jean was dead so it didn’t matter to her did it? You did it to please other people, and where are those other people now that you need them? Selling their stories to newspapers, that’s what. So, doing what you had to do hasn’t paid off has it?’ It was pronounced with a calculated rhetoric beyond Brodie’s years.
Elaine was stunned to silence; she could feel the blush reaching her cheeks and was grateful for the distraction provided by the waitress who had brought the bill.
*
While Brodie was settled in the room with a pile of chocolate from the vending machine and full access to the film channel, Elaine trawled the internet looking for places to stay near Hallow’s End. She found a place, cheap and available due to a last minute cancellation and paid for it with her debit card. On a server a hundred miles away, the transaction pinged and wheels were set in motion.
***
At Dan’s house, a knock on the door interrupted the drinking session that he and Jack were enjoying, having drowned their sorrows and moved on to more positive things. Dan, in a benign alcohol fuelled fuddle opened the door and assumed the man on the doorstep was some grizzled hack trying his luck for a story. He was about to shut the door in the man’s face until what was being said penetrated his whisky-addled brain.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, I’m looking for Elaine Ellis, I was told she is staying here. My name is Graham Ellis and I’m here to talk about her claim on the house.’
Jack had followed Dan down the hall, ready to give any lingering press hawks a piece of his mind. ‘Who did you say you are?’ he asked, his mind befuddled by the possibilities.
The man looked down at his feet, ‘Graham Ellis, Jean’s husband,’ he murmured.
‘But you’re dead,’ Dan argued, unable to take in what he was being told.
‘I’m afraid not. It’s a long story. May I come in?’
Staggered by the appearance of this unexpected caller, Dan held the door wide and admitted the walking dead into his house. He exchanged glances with Jack, who shrugged his shoulders behind Graham’s back to show he was none the wiser.
*
Graham Ellis sat at Dan’s table and refused the offer of whisky, asking instead if he might have a cup of tea. His self-effacing manner belied the reason behind his visit. To all intents and purposes he came across as a meek and mild mannered man, prone to fiddling with his tie and clearing his throat often.
‘I’ll have a cuppa too Dan, I’ve got a feeling I want to be sober when I hear this one,’ Jack said as Dan retrieved mugs from the dishwasher.
Graham Ellis said nothing while the tea ceremony took place, just sat and took in his surroundings like any normal guest might. Once he was in possession of his drink he said, ‘Am I to take it that Elaine is not here?’
Dan shot a surreptitious glance at Jack, ‘She’s out at the moment I’m afraid, but I’m her partner and her interests are mine.’ It was a necessary lie.
Graham took a tentative sip from his mug. ‘Perhaps this might be better coming from someone else, given the circumstances,’ he said.
‘What are the circumstances?’ Jack asked. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion as if he had spotted one too many untold things crawling out of the woodwork.
Graham paused, placing the mug on the table and carefully aligning the handle so that it pointed at a direct right angle to himself. ‘Perhaps I should start at the beginning. You see Jean and I never divorced. We met when I was young and so was she. We were both shy people and were thrust together by our parents. I don’t think either of us wanted to get married, but it was expected, so we did. It wasn’t a happy union – you see my shyness came from the fact that I am attracted to men, but in those days that was much less acceptable than it is now. I worked away from home a lot, it meant I earned decent money and was able to, ah, well, let’s say… indulge myself away from my own doorstep. It would be fair to say that this was hard on Jean and she didn’t thrive. I tried my best, knowing that who I was could never make her happy, even going so far as to agree to having a child. When our daughter died Jean was distraught, it changed her into a person I didn’t recognise. To my shame I left her, it was cruel and selfish I realise, but we couldn’t go on as we were. I met my partner, David, shortly before the split and as we could never marry, the option of divorce seemed unnecessary and Jean did not demand it. By way of compensation I deeded the house to her and paid off the mortgage. David and I are mercifully not short of money, so I also set up a trust fund, which gave her an income. Guilt comes at a high price I’m afraid. Anyway, we had no contact, I got on with my life and she got on with hers such as it was with all her bitterness and anger. To be honest, I rarely gave her a thought until all this hit the papers.’
Jack and Dan listened to his soliloquy in rapt attention.
‘So what does this have to do
with Elaine?’ Dan asked, already guessing the answer but wanting to hear it confirmed.
‘Well, I didn’t even know of her existence until recently, and she’s not my daughter is she? My daughter died,’ Graham said, apparently reluctant to put his whole story on the table.
‘So, are you suggesting that because she is not your daughter, you are challenging her inheritance?’ Dan asked.
Graham nodded, ‘I’m afraid so, I had a responsibility for Jean, but this is something different. I feel very sorry for Elaine, or Mandy, whoever she is, but I don’t have any obligation to her. Financial, or in any other way.’
The look on Dan’s face told Jack he obviously thought otherwise, but Graham seemed indifferent to the man’s glare.
‘But Jean left a will, everything went to Elaine,’ Dan argued.
Jack intervened, ‘I think Mr Ellis is implying that as, strictly speaking, Elaine doesn’t exist, she may not have a legal right to inherit, despite Jean’s intentions.’
‘Quite,’ Graham concurred, ‘I’m aware that it’s a distasteful business, but fair is fair,’ he added with a nonchalant shrug.
Dan banged his fist on the table, ‘Fair? You call this fair? That woman has done nothing wrong, she’s the victim in all of this and now you want to rob her of her security? For Christ’s sake, I think she deserves some compensation from the woman who stole her from her family don’t you?’ He was shouting, and shook off the calming hand that Jack had placed on his shoulder.
Graham cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, ‘With all due respect, I was not the one who abducted her,’ he said with unexpected assertiveness.
Dan stared at him, mouth open, ‘Maybe not bud, but you might like to think about what you did to your bereaved wife and how it might have affected the balance of her mind,’ he said spitefully.
Graham Ellis had the good grace to blush, but asserted himself nonetheless, ‘I tried my best to compensate Jean for my failings, but I was not responsible for her actions. I am only looking to regain what is rightfully mine.’ He was so consumed with angst that he looked like a demented chicken stretching its scrawny neck, ready to peck out the eyes of anyone who challenged him. ‘I have put the matter in the hands of my solicitor, I just felt that it was my duty to inform Elaine, Mandy, whoever she is, of my intentions. I meant no hard feelings,’ he said.
Dan treated him to a look of disgust. ‘Well, you might not have meant them, but be assured you got them.’ His lip curled as if Graham represented a particularly noxious smell.
Graham shifted in his seat, his face betraying the shock he obviously felt at the onslaught on his sensibilities, ‘Well, I had hoped for a more tolerant and understanding reception,’ he said.
By that time Dan was positively snarling. ‘Jack, please tell me that this dude is joking,’ he said, as he scraped his chair back and got to his feet.
Graham rose, the Adam’s apple in his chicken neck bobbing up and down like a fishing float in heavy weather. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, as all six foot two of Dan loomed over him.
Dan laughed, ‘I’m showing you the door, you odious little man.’
Graham started to protest, but was hastily chivvied to the door by Jack. By the time he had unceremoniously been ejected he was sporting a dudgeon so high it was hitting the stratosphere.
As Jack returned to the kitchen Dan turned to him, calmer than he ought to have been. ‘Can this shit get any worse?’ he asked.
‘Don’t hold your breath lad, there’s no point’ was Jack’s cynical reply.
‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to finish the house so that greedy prat can profit from it,’ Dan said, folding his arms.
‘What state is it in?’ Jack asked.
‘Stripped out, floorboards up, no wiring, no water. We had to down tools when Bob found those clothes. I expect the police have torn it up even more. I’m frigging glad I haven’t cashed her cheque yet.’
Jack looked at him, ‘I don’t like it either, but the law is the law. I don’t know if a court will find in his favour or not, but in the meantime it would be foolish to interfere with a property that might be subject to a lawsuit. Might I suggest that you go back and retrieve any and all property belonging to you, and Elaine for that matter, and then return the keys to Elaine’s solicitor with a letter of explanation?’ he said with a wink.
‘What if the removal of my property caused any damage?’ Dan asked, a wicked look on his face.
‘Well, as long as it’s damage you can put right should the circumstances turn out to be favourable…’
Dan grinned at him, ‘I’ll get round there in the morning.’
‘I don’t want to know, I didn’t see or hear anything,’ Jack said, throwing his hands up and feigning ignorance. ‘Anyway, it’s time I got going, Mrs Pearson will have my hide at this rate. Think I’d better call for a taxi, I can’t imagine an ex-copper being done for driving under the influence will go down well. Mind if I borrow your phone?’
***
Brodie ended the call. She’d been trying to ring Dan, but the constant beeping told her his phone was engaged. Elaine wouldn’t like it, but Brodie felt that Dan had a right to know where they’d gone. Besides, she had a bad feeling about the return to Hallow’s End and Dan was her only ally. Elaine’s mood was worrying her, it seemed as though she was a bit spaced out, not quite with it, and Brodie found it pretty unnerving. She had enough on her plate without Elaine flaking out on her and having a nervous breakdown. What if Shirley’s mental-ness was genetic and Elaine had inherited it? Brodie shuddered, it didn’t bear thinking about. Just like the fluttering in her belly didn’t bear thinking about. She tried to imagine that the little movement was just indigestion, an artefact of the huge meal she had just eaten. But the baby was having none of it as it fought against the burden of her stomach as they competed for space in her small frame.
It would have to be faced one day, she knew that, but it was hardly like she could tell Elaine now, besides, what could anybody do? She would be sixteen in a few weeks and could do what she liked. If Elaine didn’t like the fact that she came with baggage she would manage on her own. How, she hadn’t thought of, but something would come up. She wondered what the baby would be, and who it would look like. Please God it wouldn’t look like its father – that spotty, greasy little scrounger who had looked so cute when she had been pissed on cheap cider. He’d promised her it was just a cuddle, and that he’d look after her, but he’d left her lying in a pool of her own puke with a baby growing inside her. She bloody hated him, Stephen fuck face Lewis. Oh God, what was she going to do? For all her bravado and thoughts of independence there was no way she could cope with a baby. With her family history the kid would be better off being raised by a pack of wild dogs than a mother with the name of Miller. So far she had tried laxatives, scalding hot baths with mustard in them and had even resorted to making herself sick on neat gin, which she had stolen from Miriam’s kitchen cupboard. Nothing had worked, she had practically boiled the thing alive and turned her innards inside out, but still the creature clung to life. She couldn’t think of it as a baby, and saw it in her mind’s eye like Ridley Scott’s Alien. If she thought of it as a baby she would have to identify with it, and if she did that she might have to love it, and if she did that she was going to get hurt. There was no way anyone was going to let some bastard kid with scars on her arms bring up a child. She would rather give it away than have it taken. So that was her plan, ignore it until she couldn’t ignore it any more, then give it away. Was this how Fern had felt when she was pregnant? Had Brodie been the alien growing in her belly, getting ready to tear her life apart? Like mother, like daughter. But Brodie wouldn’t give it to some half arsed loony tunes like Shirley, she would give it to someone like Elaine who was married to someone like Dan, she would give it to people who could love it like kids should be loved. There had been a day or two when she had thought – no, hoped – that Dan and Elaine would stand by her and take the thing off her hands. Bu
t Elaine had flaked out on Dan and now that couldn’t happen. Thoughts of Dan made her look down at her phone again. Even if Elaine didn’t want him, Brodie needed him.
She was going to try Dan again, but shut off the phone when she heard Elaine coming back into the room, ‘Find anything?’
‘Yes, it looks OK and it’s available tomorrow. Do you know they want five quid an hour for internet access downstairs? What a rip off!’ Elaine said. ‘Anyway, what are you watching? Anything good?’ She didn’t tell Brodie that she had emailed Alex and told him that she was coming back. Maybe it was because she wasn’t entirely sure why she had contacted him. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision, just an instinct based on something Fern had said which had triggered the vaguest of memories. She wasn’t even sure it was a memory; perhaps it was just a conjuring of a childhood nightmare triggered by all that had happened. Even so, Alex had been in it and she wanted to talk to him.
Brodie thought she looked happy, more happy than she had in days, even when they had been with Dan. It made her sad because in a fair world they would still be with Dan and he would be the one making Elaine happy and it wouldn’t be this fake, temporary jollity which was just an illusion and a complete hiding to nothing.
‘Independence Day, not that I haven’t seen it a million times,’ she said.
‘Great, I love that film.’ Elaine made room for herself amidst the chocolate wrappers on the double bed, which Brodie had commandeered for a better view of the TV.
Brodie moved her body away from Elaine, but rested her head against her shoulder, hoping that despite her gut feeling they would, in the end, be all right.
***
