The House of Memories

by Monica McInerney

  ‘Merci,’ I said.

  ‘What about me? Do I look any skinnier?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Because I’m not. I don’t want to be. As I keep telling the doctor, being this fat means there’s more of me to love.’

  I smiled. I wanted to tell him again that I loved him. I didn’t need to. He knew.

  We were both quiet for a few minutes, watching the weather forecast on the carriage’s small TV screen. There was more cold weather ahead, even sleet, a forecast of four degrees Celsius.

  Charlie broke the silence. ‘Do you remember that time you met me and Dad at the airport, Ella? After we’d been in Germany?’

  I nodded. Of course I remembered. They had been in Germany for his mother’s funeral.

  ‘That was really nice of you. What you did. I don’t know if I ever thanked you.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  I’d made a banner. I’d needed to do something to mark his homecoming. He and Walter had been gone for a fortnight. It was Charlie’s first trip to Germany, to bury the mother he hadn’t seen for more than ten years. We’d never talked about her much at home. If I asked Charlie, he just shrugged and said he didn’t really remember her. I never dared ask Walter for any details. It wasn’t until Mum and I were on the way back from dropping them at the airport that Mum told me the whole story. I was just old enough to take it all in. Old enough, too, to feel sad not just for Walter and Charlie, but for Birgitte, Charlie’s mother, as well. She’d had addiction problems, Mum told me. Not alcohol or hard drugs, but prescription tablets – valium and painkillers. She’d had difficulties before she and Walter left Germany. They’d got worse once they came to Australia. There was a good period while she was pregnant with Charlie, and during the first year of his life. But then she started taking the tablets again. In secret at first. Soon there had been no hiding what she was doing. Walter did what he could. He stayed with her until Charlie started school, but her problems became more serious. She’d been in and out of treatment centres. She told Walter repeatedly that she hated him. She had no real relationship with Charlie. Eventually, her older sister came out from Munich and took her back home. Walter filed for divorce and was granted custody of Charlie. He met Mum in the garden centre the year Charlie turned eleven.

  While he and Charlie were away for Birgitte’s funeral, Walter rang home every day, but not for long. I didn’t speak to Charlie for the entire two weeks. I really missed him. So did his friends at school. Throughout that fortnight I was stopped at least once a day by one of Charlie’s friends. Had I heard from him? How was he?

  ‘Fine,’ I told them all. ‘Fine. Very sad, though, of course.’

  I was lying. I’d talked about it with him before he left, after his aunt had rung with the news that his mother had died, and to say they would delay the funeral until Charlie and Walter could get there if they wanted to come.

  ‘Do you want to go?’ I asked Charlie.

  ‘Ja, natürlich,’ he said.

  He was trying to joke. I wasn’t in a joking mood.

  ‘Do you remember her?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘Are you sad?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘But she’s your mother, Charlie.’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t know her, Ella. I can’t miss someone I didn’t know.’

  The night before they arrived home, I spent hours on my banner. When they came out into the arrivals hall, I was there holding it up. Welcome home Charlie (and Walter!) I missed you (both)! xxxx I’d originally only had Charlie on it but Mum told me to add Walter in case his feelings were hurt.

  Charlie burst into tears when he saw it. He cried for hours afterwards.

  ‘Are you cross that I didn’t make you a banner today?’ I said.

  ‘No. I just wanted another excuse to cry. I’ve really missed you, Ella.’

  ‘I’ve really missed you too.’

  ‘We all have. Me. Lucy. The kids.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Charlie.’

  I couldn’t say more than that, not in public. I hoped he knew what I meant. I was sorry for not reading his family reports. For not coming to see him. For not sending his four children birthday presents or Christmas presents. For having nothing to do with his family for the past twenty months.

  ‘You know you’re welcome any time. Whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Maybe you’ll come and see us when you’ve finished your detective work with Lucas?’

  ‘I have. Didn’t Lucas tell you? It was Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the candlestick.’

  ‘Oh.’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘You know?’

  ‘Lucas confessed.’

  ‘Lucas has a big mouth. Are you angry with us?’

  ‘For bringing me all the way to London under false pretences? For putting four innocent tutors under suspicion?’

  He nodded.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ella. We were so worried about you. We wanted you to stay still, even for a month or two, to see if —’

  ‘Lucas explained, Charlie. It’s okay.’

  We were approaching Paddington. The woman on TV was thanking us for travelling with her. I needed to tell Charlie something else. Now.

  I reached into my bag, took out Aidan’s letter and handed it to him. I watched as he read it. I didn’t need to read it again. I already knew it by heart.

  Dear Ella,

  I’m working in London next week. If you’d like to see me, I’m staying at the Paddington Hilton.

  Underneath he’d listed his dates. He was here now. He’d arrived yesterday and was staying for two more nights. He’d signed his name under that. Just his name, not Love Aidan, or All the best, Aidan. Just Aidan.

  Charlie read it, returned it to the envelope and handed it back.

  ‘Did you know?’ I asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘I talked to him recently but he didn’t mention any work in London. What are you going to do? Are you going to see him?’

  ‘You talked to him recently?’

  ‘Ella —’

  ‘Charlie, please. I need to know.’

  Charlie hesitated. ‘I’d arranged to meet him in Washington. We wanted to convince him to come see you while you were staying at Lucas’s house.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Lucas and I. But Aidan cancelled at the last minute. Lucas told him what my visit was about and he cancelled. He told me he appreciated our concern but that it was between you and him.’

  ‘Were you going to tell me any of this?’

  ‘Eventually.’ He paused. ‘Actually, no.’

  ‘Charlie, is Aidan seeing anyone?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When I got the letter … Charlie, I haven’t heard from him in months. Nearly a year. I think he wants to tell me he’s met someone else. He wants to ask for a divorce.’

  ‘Ella, I’m sorry. I don’t know. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times since he came to Washington but he only ever asked about you. He didn’t mention anyone else.’

  The train pulled into Paddington Station. I knew the Hilton was close by. As we walked along the platform I could see it through the glass roof of the station.

  Charlie saw it too. ‘Go, Ella. I can find Lucas’s house on my own.’

  This wasn’t the right time. He was here until the end of the week. I had two more days.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ I said.

  Lucas greeted Charlie with a hug. I was struck by how close they seemed. How easy their conversation was. I remembered Lucas saying he had talked to my mother regularly. It seemed he had talked regularly to Charlie too.

  Lucas had been busy. He’d phoned the police and reported Jess missing. The policewoman had taken all the details, but she’d been sceptical, he reported. ‘She said she’d put out a bulletin about it, but it sounded to her like Jess was off having either a big lo
ve affair, a sulk or an adventure.’

  Lucas had also printed some simple flyers, using a photo of Jess from her Facebook page, and adding our contact numbers. We decided to take them to as many places in the West End we could think of. We’d just put on our coats to leave when Charlie turned to Lucas.

  ‘Did Ella tell you Aidan’s in London, Lucas?’

  I passed the letter to him. He read it. ‘Go, Ella. Charlie and I can look for Jess on our own.’

  ‘I want to help.’

  ‘Ella —’

  ‘Please, Lucas.’

  He didn’t look happy. But he let me come with them.

  Six hours later, we were back, cold, tired and footsore. Our mood was grim. We had passed out nearly a hundred flyers, but we had no leads and no news. We’d called in to theatrical agents, casting agents and cafes all around the West End. No one remembered seeing Jess.

  We called in to other hotels in the area, in case she had booked in there. Nothing. We waited until the theatres began to open for business, watched as the crowds gathered outside. Jess wasn’t among them. We showed her photo to ushers after most of the crowds had taken their seats inside. No one knew her.

  It had been very cold walking around the West End. We’d seen homeless people huddling for warmth in doorways; others, some of them just kids, begging for change. We’d walked through Soho, where many of the theatrical agencies had their offices. I’d seen the lap-dancing clubs, the strip clubs. Could Jess have ended up in one of those? On the Tube on the way home, Charlie raised the same theory. We’d agreed to return to Soho tomorrow with more flyers.

  It was nearly eleven. Charlie wanted to phone Walter and Mum. Lucas thought it was better to wait until there was something definite to report. He phoned the police for an update. They had no news either. Charlie compromised by sending an email: No news yet, but we’ll find her. Don’t worry, he wrote.

  There was nothing more we could do tonight. We turned to practical issues. Charlie offered to cook some pasta. Lucas lit the fire. I made up Charlie’s bed. I’d given him my room and moved a mattress up to the attic for myself. Of the four tutors, only Darin was in the house. The others had gone home for mid-term break. He came into the kitchen just after we arrived home, met Charlie, took a handful of biscuits out of the tin and went to his room. We didn’t see him again.

  We ate in front of the fire, in Lucas’s withdrawing room. I let Charlie and Lucas do the talking. Neither of them mentioned Felix, or Aidan. I was relieved.

  Just after dinner, Charlie started to yawn. His jet-lag had caught up with him. We were all tired. We agreed to meet again for breakfast at eight a.m. Lucas would call the police for an update and then we would go out with the flyers again.

  The attic was warm and dark. The mattress was small but comfortable. I didn’t read or turn on the lamp. I looked up at the sky through the roof window, listening to the sounds of London: sirens, voices, music from somewhere, buses, taxis – a city switching into night mode. I tried to imagine Jess, out there somewhere.

  Let her be all right.

  I wasn’t praying. I didn’t pray any more. But something must have happened to her. It must have. Something that was stopping her from ringing home, using her credit card, sending an email. Young girls could drink too much, take drugs, meet people they shouldn’t trust, get into cars they thought were mini-cabs —

  Stop.

  Distract.

  I thought of Charlie downstairs. I thought of the three of us, Charlie, Lucas and I, there by the fire this evening.

  They had talked mostly about Jess. Charlie had known it all, about her medication, the counselling, the self-harming. I stayed quiet. I stayed silent when their conversation moved to other subjects too. Charlie’s kids. Life in Boston. His weekly reports. Lucas asked Charlie to tell him the story about the family’s visit to the dentist again. Charlie had smiled. ‘Please, don’t remind me.’ It had been pandemonium, he said. Sophie had fainted. Reilly leapt out of the chair and ran screaming through the waiting room. Ed pocketed some false teeth he found on a shelf. Tim, the youngest, somehow managed to turn on the drill. They’d been ordered out and politely asked never to return. Charlie smiled again as he told the story. Lucas did too, enjoying every detail.

  I hadn’t heard it before.

  ‘That was great news about Lucy’s results, too,’ Lucas said.

  ‘She’s brilliant,’ Charlie said. ‘Two more semesters and she’ll have her marketing degree.’

  I hadn’t known she was studying for a marketing degree.

  I turned over in the bed. I’d been exhausted, but now I couldn’t sleep. I replayed every moment from the day. The morning at Henrietta’s house. My conversation with Lucas. My phone call with Mum. Aidan’s letter. Looking for Jess. Charlie’s arrival at the same time as Aidan was in London.

  Something Charlie said on the train came back to me.

  I’ve been waiting for an excuse to come over to see you. I’m glad she’s gone missing.

  Missing.

  As the map, necklace, figurine, ring and watch had apparently gone missing.

  I sat up. Jess wasn’t missing. Lucas and Charlie were behind this as well. They must have known Aidan was going to be here for work. They must have decided this was their best chance to get Aidan and me talking. Was Mum in on it too? Jess? Had they asked her to stop posting anything on Facebook, just for the time being? My mind made connection after connection. It all made sense.

  I pulled on my dressing-gown and went downstairs. Charlie’s bedroom door was open, his bed empty. I could hear the shower running. I went down to the ground floor. Lucas was still up, in his withdrawing room, putting the screen in front of the fire.

  He turned as I came in. ‘You couldn’t sleep? I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Jess isn’t missing, Lucas, is she? This is you and Charlie pretending again. Lucas, I appreciate it, I do, but you have to let me —’

  ‘Ella, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.’

  ‘Lucas, please, tell the truth. Charlie arrives just as Aidan happens to be in London for a conference? Jess happens to go missing? I know what you’re trying to do. But please, won’t you just —’

  ‘No, Ella.’ Lucas ran his fingers through his hair. He looked very tired. ‘I wish we were behind this. I wish Jess wasn’t missing. But I wouldn’t put Meredith and Walter through this, even if I did hope it would bring you to your senses and make you start thinking about other people as well as yourself.’

  I went still.

  ‘I’m sorry to be so blunt. I also know it’s Felix’s twenty-month anniversary soon. I know what that means to you. But you are not the only person in your family hurting at the moment.’

  ‘Lucas —’

  He held up his hand. ‘I know. I know what you’re going to say. You have all the excuses in the world to do whatever you want to do. But everyone has been through hell these past twenty months. Everyone has had to try to remake their lives. Charlie has tried harder than everyone, to keep us entertained, to keep up his weekly emails, to cheer your mother up as much as he can. But he barely dared to mention his children around you tonight. Did you notice that? When are you going to stop punishing him for still having four children, for having a happy family?’

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘It’s only been twenty months, Lucas. Not even two years.’

  ‘It’s been twenty months for all of us, Ella. For all of us. But one day soon you are going to have to make a decision about the rest of your life. Whether you are going to open yourself up to all of us again, or stay locked in your own prison of grief.’

  He came across to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, pressed a kiss on top of my head. He looked tired. More than tired. He looked disappointed. In me.

  ‘Go to bed, Ella. We’re going to be busy tomorrow.’

  I walked back up the stairs to the attic. I felt like I’d been winded. I sat on the mattress, in the darkness. I felt as if Lucas had given up on me. As if I wasn’t t
he person he’d thought I was. Of all the people in the world, I couldn’t bear to let Lucas down.

  You didn’t let us grieve with you, Ella.

  But Felix was my son. My baby.

  We all loved him, Ella.

  I remembered Henrietta’s words to me that night in the kitchen.

  Grief is selfish.

  I didn’t want to think about her.

  I’d thought staying away from everyone was the only way to go on. I had never thought I was causing more hurt myself.

  I wanted to go downstairs again. I wanted to talk to Lucas, to say sorry to him, to beg his forgiveness. I hated what he’d said to me, but I knew he was telling me the truth. If I had grown up believing he was on my side, all my life, I had to believe it now.

  Was everything he’d said about Charlie true? It was, I realised. I’d been punishing Charlie for having four children. I’d punished him by ignoring them, even when I knew they were everything in the world to him. But he never said anything to me. He kept emailing, kept cheering me up, listening to me, phoning me, being kind to me, when all the time I was being so hurtful to him.

  So much must have happened to him and his family that I knew nothing about, because I had chosen not to know. I’d heard just two stories tonight. What else had happened to Lucy, to Sophie, Ed, Reilly and Tim over the past twenty months?

  I could find out, I realised. I could find out, right now.

  I got up, switched on my laptop and logged onto my email account. I went straight to a file of emails that had been sitting, unread, for months. Charlie’s weekly updates. I pulled up a chair, wrapped a blanket around myself, opened the first one and started to read.

  It was nearly two a.m. by the time I finished. I walked quietly down the stairs. Charlie’s light was on. I could hear voices. The radio? I knocked softly.

  ‘Charlie? Are you awake?’

  I heard his voice. ‘Enter at your own risk.’ He’d used to say that when we were kids.

  I opened the door. He was sitting up in bed, the laptop on a pillow on his knees. He smiled. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Just talking to the kids. Hold on, kids. It’s Aunty Ella.’

  Charlie beckoned me closer. I stayed where I was.