by Jodi Taylor
‘What were you thinking?’ he demanded.
Great. Sharon gets a bonus and I get a bollocking.
‘Why didn’t you just tell him to go away?’
By now, reaction was setting in. And I remembered I’d just had one of those twenty–four-hour bug things.
I kicked him.
‘Ow! What the hell …’
‘I was frightened. I didn’t know what to do. And you weren’t here.’ Which, as far as I was concerned, was the crux of the matter. ‘And he shouted. And he had horrible breath. And you weren’t here.’
He stopped dead and put his arms around me. ‘I’m here now.’
I really should have struggled or at least put up some sort of resistance. Instead, I leaned against him and buried my face in his jacket. He smelled of after-shave, fabric conditioner, and soap.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, again. ‘I’m here now.’
I sniffed a couple of times.
‘I really should try and take better care of you, shouldn’t I?’
I nodded.
‘Tomorrow. No, not tomorrow, I have to see someone. The day after tomorrow. We’ll go into town, have a nice lunch, and go to the art shop. How does that sound?’
‘Actually, it sounds very unlikely. On your form to date, we’ll set off for Rushford and be attacked by a … dragon which you will immediately bring home and we’ll be followed by the dragon’s owners, the three witches who will demand a large sum of money or they’ll turn us into toads and you’ll be in the … pub.’
He was laughing. ‘Jenny, when you’re wound up you really are a delight.’ He bent his head and kissed me very lightly, which I think surprised both of us.
He cleared his throat. ‘Shall we go and have a cup of tea?’
Good idea.
‘I’m out all day today,’ said Russell, finishing his breakfast the next morning, and getting to his feet. ‘All of you, just try and stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Jenny, you’ve got my number, but trust me, he won’t be back. Ever.’
He slammed the door on his way out. Kevin, who had made his tea last as long as possible so he could look at Sharon, wrung the last few drops from his mug and disappeared too. Sharon smiled blindingly, collected the hoover, and could be heard crashing about in the dining room.
‘So, just you and Mrs Crisp, said Thomas, stating the obvious.
I sipped my cup of tea very carefully, but everything seemed stable. She handed me a plate of delicate toast fingers. She'd even cut the crusts off. For some reason it brought a lump to my throat.
I nodded my thanks and nibbled carefully. She finished what she was doing, folded her tea towel and said, ‘I wonder if I might have a word with you, Mrs Checkland.’ My heart sank.
She slid an envelope across the table to me.
‘My resignation.’
I pushed it back again and shook my head. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing, feeling my way.
‘I don’t think you understand,’ she said, twisting her fingers together. ‘You see … I think what happened to you … your sickness … might be my fault.’
I shook my head again, but she was determined.
‘Let her say it.’
‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes I have … a little something in the afternoons because sometimes, when I get a little anxious, it’s helpful. I swear to you it’s never been a problem … it just helps me get through the day … but I wondered if … because I was nervous about the dinner … although I didn’t think I drank so much, but of course not knowing is a sign that there is a problem, and so … I mean, seafood and chicken, what was I thinking?
She sat at the table head bowed, her fingers working, crying quietly.
‘I always said I would go when Russell married. You know, new broom and all that, except I thought it would be that red-headed –’ She remembered suddenly that Francesca was my cousin.
I’d never felt so helpless. I wanted to make some long eloquent speech that would put everything right. To do something to ease her obvious unhappiness, but there was a log-jam of words and because it was important, vital even, that I say something, nothing happened.
I took her hand, concentrated on the pattern in the tablecloth, and said, ‘No.’
‘I don’t think you understand …’
‘No.’
‘No, really, Mrs Checkland – you don’t understand.’
There’s more to this than meets the eye, ’ said Thomas. ‘I’d just hang on a minute, if I were you.’
She wiped her eyes on her tea towel, an action that would have brought instant death to anyone else and continued, ‘I drink, you see.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Not a lot, but more than enough.’
I nodded again.
She looked around, but Sharon had moved upstairs and Kevin was still in the yard. Not looking at me, she drew herself up and said firmly, ‘I suspect, Mrs Checkland, that your recent illness was due to carelessness on my part and therefore, I beg you to accept my resignation.’
Something more was called for than just saying: ‘No.’ I focused on the pattern again, blue and cream, interwoven, took a breath and then another.
‘Dr Williams said it was a twenty-four-hour bug. He said it wasn’t the food. No one else is … sick. You cannot leave Russell. He’d be heart-broken. You raised him. Nobody can remember a … time when you weren’t here. You mustn’t go. You’re needed here. This is your home.’
‘Not bad. Not bad at all.’
She shook her head. ‘I should have gone years ago. Years and years ago.’
I was mystified. ‘Why?’
She looked round again. I could hear Sharon coming back. I got up and went out.
‘… Can you give Kevin a hand for half an hour or so?’ This seemed a good way of getting rid of her.
‘Neat,’ said Thomas.
‘Thank you.’
‘This next bit is not going to be good, though.’
‘No.’
Back in the kitchen, she hadn’t moved.
I sat down again and waited.
Hesitantly, folding and re-folding the tea towel, she began.
‘I think in everyone’s life there’s always something they wish they’d done. Or hadn’t done.’ She looked at me and continued with difficulty. ‘I did something. It was wrong. It was very wrong. I knew when I did it that it was wrong, but I was so – alone – and just for a few hours, the world went away and … But it was wrong. So that was something else I had to forget. So I started taking a drink at night, just to help me to sleep and well, you can guess the rest.’
She looked terrible. The weight of her past must be almost unbearable. She was in her – what – late fifties? Did Russell know what was going on here?
‘Hard to say,’ said Thomas. ‘ He’s uncomfortably perceptive in some areas and a complete idiot in others. I’m guessing this is one of his idiot areas.’
With no idea what to do, I took her hand. She squeezed it and then pushed it away from her.
‘I’ll tell you,’ she said with sudden decision. ‘I’ll tell you and then you’ll see why I have to go.’
‘You don’t have to,’ I said, panicking. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’
But she’d made up her mind. I don’t think she was even listening to me. She sat up in her chair, squared her shoulders, and put her chin in the air.
‘I killed her. I killed Russell’s mother.’
Chapter Nine
Long, long seconds passed. I should do something. I should say something. The longer the silence lasted, the worse things would get. Neither of us was capable of speech. Thomas moved around to stand beside her, breathing gently into her hair. Calming and soothing.
I swallowed once or twice, and then, since she was still sobbing into her tea towel, got up and switched the kettle on. My legs felt wobbly. I was really out of my depth. Again. My first thoughts were to leave this for Russell to deal with, but that woul
dn’t be a good idea.
‘Good thinking. Let’s see what she has to say first. She might just be referring to another catering accident.’
‘Russell’s mother died in a car crash, Thomas.’
‘Well, I can’t see her under the chassis tampering with the brakes, can you? Let’s listen and then decide what to do.’
I put a mug of tea in front of her, removed the tea towel, and substituted the kitchen roll.
We looked at each other for a while and then she began.
‘Dr Williams … haven’t seen him in a long time. Did he call me Lizzie Crisp?’
I nodded.
‘That was my business name.’ She smiled back into her past. ‘I’ll start at the beginning.’ She seemed quite calm now. Determined too. I cuddled my tea in both hands and listened.
‘Grahame and I met at junior school. We knew, both of us, almost from the moment we met. There was never anyone else. Childhood sweethearts.’
She smiled again, but it was a sad and bitter smile this time.
‘He was a mechanic – and a good one. He worked for a while in his uncle’s garage and then set up on his own. He did well, but he was always busy so I looked around for something to do.
‘I liked cooking. I was good at it, so when a friend asked me to cook for her dinner party I was thrilled. It was a success. Word got round. From being just something to keep me occupied, it went to being a neat little business. Grahame was happy, I was happy. Everything was going so well.’
She drank some more tea. I was beginning to have a horrible feeling. I’d wanted a life. I’d wanted the sort of life real people have. We should be careful what we wish for. Suddenly, I wanted to be back in my attic where I wouldn’t have to hear what happened to happy Lizzie Crisp and her childhood sweetheart Grahame.
She continued. ‘And when Alice was born, it was just the icing on the cake. She was beautiful. I dressed her in blue to match her eyes.’
She lost herself for a while and we waited patiently.
‘Grahame’s dad found us some premises where I could cook and there was a small shop-front as well. People could either select from the freezer and take it home, or bring in their own dishes, I’d fill them up, and they could pretend they’d cooked it themselves.
‘It went really well. Grahame was busy too. I really thought it was going to be a case of “and they all lived happily ever after”. Well, some of us did – live, I mean. But there was no happily ever after for anyone. There never is, really, is there?’
‘Don’t answer that.’
‘It was summer. I was hot, tired, and getting behind. Grahame finished work, collected Alice from play-school, and arrived to pick up the deliveries. I can still remember. There was a buffet meal for the Summers family – they were having a do in their garden to celebrate their daughter’s exam results. There was a cake … And Beef Wellington and poached pears for the Elliots. They were a nice couple.’
She sighed. ‘I was running around like a maniac. Everything was laid out ready on the counter. He loaded the car and, seeing I was busy, he said he’d take Alice who would enjoy the drive. I said yes, over my shoulder. I didn’t even spare the time to look at the pair of them. When the police asked me what they’d been wearing, I couldn’t tell them.’
I tensed my muscles to get up and run away.
‘You have to be strong now, Jenny. Strong enough for two people. You can do it.’
‘There was an accident. At the crossroads. They’ve got lights there now. Too late, of course. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened. The other driver was only a young boy. Quite sober, on his way back from the college. He burned himself badly trying to get … to get them out. He couldn’t of course. His parents sent him up to Scotland afterwards. I think he’s still there. I expect he has his own family, now …’
She trailed away and looked around the kitchen. I hoped to God she wasn’t looking for a bottle because I really wouldn’t know what to do then.
‘I wound up the business and for a long time I did nothing. I found a little nip of something before bedtime was – helpful.
‘Anyway, a little while later, Louisa, Russell’s mother, came to see me. We’d been at the same school. She was in the year above me, but I knew her slightly. She offered me the job here. Housekeeper, she called it, but really, it was a bit of everything. My family – and Grahame’s – urged me to take it, so I did. And to begin with, I didn’t regret it at all.’
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Thomas, who could see what was coming.
‘What?’ I said, because I couldn’t.
‘Shh!’ he said, as she picked up the tale again.
‘Louisa was lovely, of course. Gay – in the original sense of the word – charming, outrageous, demanding, loveable, selfish. Russell is her duplicate, even down to the hair. She whirled around the place, leaving chaos in her wake. I didn’t mind at all.
‘Russell’s father – I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I had a good deal of sympathy for him. Even back then, things weren’t going well and there he was, trying to hold it all together, while Louisa – well, you know how Russell can be …’
I nodded. We all knew how Russell could be.
‘The arguments started. Each side became more – polarised. It wasn’t a happy house. And I was struggling, myself. And then, one night, Louisa and Russell were away, and we had a drink, and then another …’
She trailed away again. I tore off a piece of kitchen roll for her.
‘I think afterwards we were both quite horrified. And ashamed. We just – carried on as if nothing had happened. Now I had several drinks every night.
‘I never said anything to anyone. The rows between them got worse. Then one night, I heard their door slam. She raced through the kitchen, screaming, ‘How could you, Jeremy?’ She brushed straight past me, out into the yard, jumped into her car, and roared off down the lane.’
To take the bend too fast and kill herself.
Her voice was husky with tears and guilt.
‘So you see, he must have told her in the heat of the moment and she went off in such a temper … and that was another one who never came back.’
She was silent for a long time after that, looking back over her memories.
‘I stayed on, mostly to look after young Russell. A couple of women came up from the village, but Russell’s father shut down most of the house, so we didn’t need them. And once or twice, because we were lonely and everyone needs comfort every now and then …’
Of course they did. No one knew that better than I did. I had Thomas, but not everyone was that lucky.
She smiled at me. No, she didn’t. She twisted her mouth bitterly. ‘So, as you can see, Mrs Checkland …’
I said slowly, to give myself time to think, ‘Well, I can see how you … might think you had something to do with her … death, but I think you are mistaken.’
She drew back. ‘No, you don’t understand.’
I took a giant leap into the world of words.
‘Yes, I think I do. You said she … pushed past you in the kitchen. If Mr Checkland had told her, don’t you think she would have had it out with you? Right there and then? I didn’t know her, but I know Russell. No … filter. She would have shouted, screamed, tried to claw your eyes out, or … something. I don’t think Mr Checkland ever spoke of you to his wife. I can see how you linked … what you did … to her death, but I think it was just a … coincidence. I can see why you think her death was partly your fault, but I think you are mistaken. I think you are confusing fault with guilt. ’
‘Jenny,’ said Thomas. ‘Magnificent.’
‘And I think, because you are a … careful and conscientious person, you are inclined to be over-concerned about the dinner party. I was not ill enough to have food poisoning. The meal was delicious and everyone enjoyed it. You rose to the challenge and Russell was proud of you. Please try not to think so much about the past. Focus more on the credit you deserve for raising Russell to be so �
�’
‘Yes?’ said Thomas.
‘Russell,’ I finished lamely, because my stomach hurt with all the words.
She was sobbing buckets. I hadn’t done any good at all.
‘Wrong,’ said Thomas. ‘Just let her have a good cry and pour her another cup of tea.’
And so I would have done, but at that moment, Aunt Julia turned up.
‘Again? Is it some sort of punishment?’
Mrs Crisp bolted for her room.
‘Do you think she believed you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It wasn’t a bug, was it?’
‘No.’
‘What are we going to do?’
I appreciated the ‘we’. ‘I don’t know.’
He stared out of the window. ‘Bet you’re not bored now.’
Aunt Julia brought flowers and a tasteful thank you note. She peered closely at me. ‘Are you feeling well, Jenny? You don’t look it.’
‘I’m a little tired,’ I said, taking advantage of my ‘disability,’ just for once. ‘My life is quite busy at the moment.’
She didn’t believe me. ‘You’re very pale. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’
‘Yes. Thank you for the flowers. Would you like some tea?’
‘Not stopping. Not stopping. Not stopping …’ intoned Thomas, an enthusiastic neuro-linguistic programmer.
‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’
He snorted.
‘I don’t think you should be exposing a young foal like me to such language.’
I showed her into the living room, checked Russell hadn’t left anything controversial on the table, and went back to make the tea.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, as I brought it in, together with a plate of second-best biscuits.
‘Not the HobNobs,’ Thomas had warned. Unnecessarily.
‘Your tea, Aunt Julia.’
‘Yes, I can see that, but why are you making it?’
‘Because my housekeeper is prostrate with grief and guilt over having slept with my husband’s father and thinks she may have got drunk and accidentally poisoned me,’ is what I didn’t say.
‘Mrs Crisp’s day off,’ seemed a less controversial response.
