Chosen

by Lesley Glaister

  There was a schoolbag on the floor and I looked around for Seth. ‘Where is he?’ I asked.

  ‘Upstairs, packing,’ she said. ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘Please.’ Adam looked done in. ‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘Mind if we put the fire on, Stell?’

  She gave a shrug and went to make the tea. The one-handed clock still ticked away, the other hand like a dead insect at the bottom. Adam sat on an upright chair, elbows on the table, head supported in cupped hands. The space where his thumb should be was deep and withered, powdery and bluish. He looked old and threadbare, the scalp showing through his thinning hair. When Stella came back into the room I saw her glance at him and flicker with satisfaction. My heart was hectoring away inside me.

  There was a rumble of feet on the stairs and Seth was suddenly in the room. I couldn’t help but gasp – and Stella smirked to see it – because he was so much like Adam – so like Bogart had been: tall, dark-haired but with your startling blue-glass eyes.

  ‘Mum, have you seen my phone?’ he said, and then: ‘Hi.’ He flicked back his hair and darted curious looks at Adam and me.

  ‘This is your uncle and aunt,’ Stella said, ‘who are kindly taking you back to the States with them.’

  Seth gave us both a shy smile and extended his hand.

  ‘But I need to tell Dodie first,’ he said. ‘I’m meant to be going round.’

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ Stella said.

  ‘You can ring her later,’ I said.

  ‘But I’ve lost my phone.’

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ Stella said again.

  ‘Tell her I’ll email, soon as I get there. I’ll have another look for it.’ He went thundering back upstairs to continue his search.

  ‘He’s lost his phone?’ I said.

  Stella shrugged and wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘There’s his bag.’ She pointed to a scruffy rucksack. ‘Passport and stuff in the pocket. Adam can take Seth straight away, but I want’ – and now she did look at me – ‘I want you to stay with me for a bit.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  I worried for Adam since he wasn’t strong, and called a taxi to save him driving. Seth was plugged into a music player, head nodding to some inaudible sounds.

  When Adam and Seth had gone, Stella rolled herself a joint and we went into the sitting room. She kicked off her clogs and curled up with her legs beneath her, puffing and narrowing her eyes against the smoke. The grey-blond hair that straggled either side of her face was faintly yellowed. There was a long pause while we waited to see who would speak first. Her lips made papery sounds as she smoked, and with every inhalation I expected her to say something, but in the end it was me who spoke first.

  ‘Why did you say yes?’

  She smiled mysteriously at me through the smoke. Another silence.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me when Aunt Regina was ill?’ I tried.

  She blew out a long thoughtful plume of smoke. ‘That was years ago! You’re not still hanging onto that?’ She grinned to herself. ‘Why don’t you let it go?’ She said this last bit in an exaggerated Soul-Life voice, and then reverted to her normal one to tell me that Aunt Regina had asked her not to let me know. ‘She didn’t want to see you. I wonder why?’ She began ripping at her fingernails with her teeth.

  I looked down at the flattened tufts of the carpet. ‘What does Dodie know about me?’ I asked.

  Stella spat out a fragment of nail. ‘She doesn’t remember you at all.’ Her lips crinkled until they resembled the gills of a mushroom. ‘All she knows is what I told her.’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘That you tried to steal her from me when I was ill, that’s all. And that’s the truth. And then, when I was better and you realized you couldn’t keep her, you walked right out of her life.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘You’ve warped it,’ I said, when I could speak evenly. ‘I was only trying to help.’

  ‘You were trying to steal her.’

  Our eyes locked for a second. I was first to look away. The pattern on the carpet had faded. I remembered the roses as pink but now they’d gone to the grey and beige of food stains. I ran my finger round a furry petal.

  ‘How often do you see her?’ I said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dodie. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘She could be dead for all I know.’

  ‘Stella!’ I said, and she did flinch then and flush, and busy herself rolling a joint. Once she’d lit up and taken a puff, she tucked a hank of hair behind her ear.

  ‘She’d run a mile rather than speak to you, anyway,’ she said. ‘Keep away from her. Keep Adam away from her.’

  ‘But you’re letting us take Seth.’

  ‘He’s a boy, a man, he’ll be OK.’

  ‘She’d be OK with us too.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. She’s grown up now. She’s got her own life. What would she want with you?’

  She made a wet sound. I couldn’t believe it, but a single tear rolled down her cheek. When I made a move towards her she started, spikily, and I withdrew.

  ‘Stell?’ I said.

  She stubbed out her joint and blinked slowly so that I could see the green veins on her eyelids. ‘Why did I never show her any love?’ she said. Her voice was tight, as if it was squeezing out past a massive obstacle. She hugged her knees against her chest and was quiet for so long I thought she’d stopped, but then she looked up and her eyes met mine for a wincing second. ‘Sometimes when she was small, you know, four or five or six, I’d look at her sleeping and be so overwhelmed with something – love, was it? – that I was petrified.’ She was speaking urgently now. ‘And I’d think tomorrow I’ll be loving, tomorrow I’ll say nice things – but then, tomorrow, there she’d be, bright as a button – and I would be so cold. And sometimes I think I actually hated her. I don’t know why.’ She bit her thumb. ‘It seemed so bloody easy for you to love her. And I hated you for that.’

  I didn’t dare reply and we sat in silence for a while. The phone rang and sent electric sparkles through me, but Stella didn’t even look up.

  ‘It was a bit easier with Seth,’ she continued. Her face was pressed against her knees now and I could barely make out her words. ‘I’m not saying I was a good mother but I could smile at him. You know? I went through the motions with him. Sort of. But it was Dodie I loved the best. Why couldn’t I show it? What’s wrong with me?’ It came out as a plea, but I failed her. I had no idea what I could say that wouldn’t make it worse.

  She scrubbed her face childishly with her fists, her mood abruptly changed. ‘It was fun at first at Wood End, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘Remember Derek?’

  ‘Course I do.’

  She struck a match and breathed in smoke before she spoke again. ‘Shame Aunt Regina went off with Kathy.’ She lay her head back and watched the smoke that matched the silvery grey of her eyes as it uncoiled towards the ceiling.

  ‘He was so nice. I wish I’d kept in touch with him,’ I said.

  ‘I did,’ she said, and gave me a lazy smile. ‘Oh yes, he moved to not far from here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She shrugged, held a breath of smoke in and let it slowly out. ‘I guess I just wanted something for myself. You got Adam.’

  ‘But you had the children!’ I didn’t mean my voice to go so shrill but, really, it was outrageous that she should think like that. ‘You had the kids, the house, you had Aunt Regina loving you right till the end!’

  ‘Your choice,’ she said.

  ‘Adam was mine first anyway,’ I said, hating the spite that had crept into my voice. ‘And you didn’t want him.’

  ‘Too right,’ she said. ‘He’s a sad deluded old pisspot and you’re welcome.’

  I found my note and hummed until I was calm enough to let this pass. When I opened my eyes again, she was regarding me with her head tilted to one side. The coolness of her scrutiny made me squirm.

  ‘Do you have to do that stu
pid hum?’ she said.

  ‘Derek . . .’ I said. ‘You said he lived near here. Tell me about Derek.’

  She made me wait until she’d inhaled and exhaled again. The whites of her eyes had gone pink. ‘He used to visit now and then. He married someone, but she died. Then he died.’ I was just absorbing this heartless summary of a life, when she added, casually, ‘He was shocked that you tried to buy my baby, of course.’ She crossed her legs and smoothed the red velvet tent between her knees.

  Thought-stopping can be achieved almost as effectively by imaginary humming as by real humming if the imagination is strong enough and if the pitch is right. Some days, some weeks, some months I’d hummed aloud or silently almost all my waking hours.

  ‘Derek blamed Bogart,’ she went on. ‘He thought you were a brainwashed little goose. Said he was disappointed in you. Thought there was more to you than that.’ She left a moment for the sting of that to take effect, then: ‘Bogart!’ she said. ‘Did you ever think about that name? Aunt Regina thought he must really fancy himself, calling himself after Humphrey. I told her it wasn’t that, it was about bogarting a joint and she thought I meant a leg of lamb!’ She giggled, sounding almost like her old self, or like the self she could have been.

  ‘Bog-Art,’ she added, ‘graffiti in a toilet. Suits him.’ She started to really giggle in that infuriating stoned way – infuriating if you’re not also stoned. The giggling brought a hectic colour to her cheeks. Her teeth were awfully stained with all the tea she drank and the constant smoke and there was one missing at the side.

  ‘Why did you do it, Stell?’ I said, when she’d stopped. ‘Why did you agree to have Seth?’

  That started her off again. ‘You should have seen your face when I said yes!’

  I opened my mouth to speak and realized the smoke was getting to me; the air was thick with it. ‘But surely that’s not why you said yes,’ I said, carefully.

  ‘It was to start with. I couldn’t resist it!’

  The phone rang again, but neither of us moved. I guessed that it was Adam back at the hotel. Or it could have been anyone. It could have been someone selling windows. Or maybe, Dodie, maybe it was you.

  ‘I said yes for a joke,’ she said. ‘And then I thought, well, why not? You know, in my whole stupid life the only time I ever felt well, normal, was when I was pregnant. And it was a reason to keep on.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Keep alive. Obviously.’

  She began to gnaw her fingers and I looked away. Neither of us spoke for ages. And then she got up and went through to the dining room, sat down and began to do her puzzle. I followed her and watched her thin, stained fingers busying about with the pieces.

  ‘Are you pleased with your life?’ she said suddenly. A gondolier was growing under her fingers, and an intricate pattern of ripples on water. ‘What you’ve done with your precious life?’ She turned in her chair and looked up at me. ‘What have you done with it?’ she said. ‘What’s your greatest achievement?’

  I flinched as she hit my tenderest spot. I opened my mouth to ask, ‘What’s yours?’ but she would say the children, and I couldn’t bear that.

  ‘Loving Adam,’ I said, instead. ‘Really loving.’ It felt like a mean thing to say.

  She widened her eyes at me. Water, silver, smoke, they saw right through me. ‘Shall we have some soup?’ she said. I was surprised; cooking was the last thing she ever did. ‘It’s a special day,’ she said defensively. I followed her into the kitchen and watched the inexpert, almost childish way she cut slices from a carrot.

  ‘I should really go,’ I said. ‘Adam will be wondering.’

  She turned from her chopping. The knife was a small sharp one with a black handle. She stuck the end of it in her finger and a bead of blood rose and swelled and spilled.

  ‘Stella, don’t.’

  ‘Did you really think I’d let Seth go, just like that?’

  ‘He’s gone,’ I said.

  ‘I still have his passport.’

  ‘But, Stella –’

  ‘I have it.’ She licked the blood off her finger and wiped it on her skirt.

  ‘Is this one of your stupid tricks?’

  She held the knife by its blade and offered me the handle. ‘Remember your promise?’ she said. I took the knife, only to protect her from the blade. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.’

  The Kitchen Devil glinted in my hand. And then the doorbell rang. Stella froze, and I did, too. We waited for a moment, holding our breath, and then there was a banging on the back door. Stella peered out of the window.

  ‘It’s Dodie,’ she said. ‘Go upstairs.’

  ‘You said you didn’t see her any more –’

  ‘Go! She’d run a mile if she knew it was you.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Go.’

  If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have opened the door to you that day. I put the knife down on the chopping board and went upstairs. From the landing I strained my ears to try and catch the conversation, but it was no good. Stella’s room smelled of patchouli and, lurking beneath it, something sour as cat’s pee, though there never was any cat that I knew of. I went into the room that was yours: empty of any trace of you, but full of memories. I would go down and see you, I thought, I would, what could she do?

  ‘Seth?’ you called up the stairs. ‘Seth?’

  I froze until you went back into the dining room and the door clicked shut. I went down then. I was standing in the hall, ready to walk in, practising what to say. I’m your Aunt Melanie. Or Aunt Martha, would that be more honest? Or just Martha? Or, I’m Stella’s sister. And then I heard the back door open. You’d only stayed two minutes. I ran upstairs again and caught a glimpse of you in the light from the kitchen door, dark hair and shrugging shoulders in the rain, one snatch of Stella’s outstretched hand, and then you turned your back on her and went out through the gate.

  I started down the stairs, to open the front door and catch you – but Stella was there.

  ‘Don’t.’ She clutched my sleeve. ‘Please, Mel, please. Leave her be.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Don’t. Please. I need to talk to you. Please.’

  And so, Dodie, I let you go.

  ‘Help me,’ Stella said, and I flinched, heart plummeting, but she only meant help her finish the puzzle. We sat and put in the last few pieces. The sunny world it showed, full of light and vistas and reflections, mocked the dismal atmosphere in the room. Our breath condensed on the cold shine of the perfect table. Once the puzzle was finished, Stella stood and looked at it, nodding with satisfaction, as if something, at least, was complete.

  ‘Come upstairs,’ she said.

  ‘What about the soup?’ I was worrying about Adam, how on earth he would be getting on with Seth.

  ‘I’m not hungry now,’ Stella said.

  We went back up the stairs and into her room. I sat down beside her on the rumpled Indian bedspread. It was the one that Adam had bought to replace the gruesome pink candlewick when we’d first moved in there. Her fingers trembled as she pulled a ragged thing out from under her pillow. It took me a moment to recognize Mother Clanger. Her tail had gone and she was squashed from so much squeezing, but her expression was still there. Stella sat with the toy against her neck, twizzling a finger in her hair. ‘Remember when you made me this?’

  She put Mother Clanger in my hand. The black button eyes looked up at me, filled with chips of reflected light. I could see the square cut-up shape of the window in them: so, so tiny.

  Stella had curled her arms round her knees. ‘When you made me that you were my saviour and my sister.’

  ‘Saviour?’

  ‘Remember the seances and everything after Mum?’

  ‘You used to see her.’

  ‘It was only pretend.’

  ‘Was it?’ I stared at her until she looked down.

  ‘Not sure now,’ she admitted. ‘Anyway, you looked after me.’

  ‘No
I didn’t.’

  ‘Did.’

  ‘Didn’t.’

  ‘Did.’

  ‘Didn’t.’

  We smiled at each other, a real smile for once, at the echo of our childish squabbling.

  ‘But . . . remember what you promised when I was in hospital?’ she said. Mother Clanger’s eyes were bright and blank. ‘When you made me that’ – she nodded at the toy – ‘it was the kindest thing ever. I think it was the kindest thing anyone ever did for me in my life.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Aunt Regina was always kind. Much kinder than me.’

  ‘But it came naturally to her, so it was different.’

  I stared.

  ‘Anyway, when I told you I wanted to die, you were maybe right to say no – then. I was young. I could have been wrong. But I wasn’t wrong, Mel; I’ve never wanted anything more than to die. Bringing up the children – it was like something I had to do before I went. And having Seth – well, maybe I said yes to put off the moment. Maybe that was the real reason. But now Dodie’s all grown up with her own life. You’re taking Seth away. And there’s not even Aunt Regina or Derek to be upset.’

  My mouth had gone dry. ‘But there’s me,’ I said. ‘There’s your kids.’

  She let this go.

  ‘Stella, you’ve still got years ahead, you could . . .’ I tried to think of things that she could do, but she smiled and shook her head.

  ‘Don’t bother, Mel. You want Seth’s passport; you keep your promise.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ll never get him out of the country without it.’

  ‘I don’t care that much.’

  ‘But Adam does.’ She paused. ‘You will look after Seth, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  Stella was perfectly composed, Dodie; she was perfectly clear and determined: it’s important you believe that. She opened a drawer, took out a pair of pop socks and rolled them onto her feet and up her shins. ‘If you ever had any love for me, you’ll keep your promise.’ She held my eyes until I had to look away. I could see the two of us in the dressing table mirror, my hair cropped, hers long; my face wide, hers narrow; her eyes huge and grey, mine small and blue; every feature different but there was still something the same about us, I saw for the first time ever; something that showed that we were sisters.