Later, there was a gentle knock on the door, and then before she could answer, Edward stuck his head into the room. Without thinking, Patricia smiled, and he stepped forward.
‘How are you?’ he whispered.
‘All right. Sore throat. Headache.’
Edward nodded.
‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ she continued weakly.
‘I’m sorry, I’m just so happy I found you in time.’ His dark eyes held her gaze and for a moment neither of them spoke.
‘Did a doctor really come?’
‘Yes. Yes, he did. That’s why she moved you in here.’
Patricia screwed her face up to indicate that she didn’t follow his logic.
‘The double bed,’ Edward said, pointing at it. ‘We’re married.’ He held out his hands helplessly.
Patricia stared at him, unsure what to say. Being reminded of her circumstances, and how out of control they had become, made her almost dizzy. Her sense of panic began to resurface. She took some deep breaths. She didn’t feel able to scream or shout. What did she need to understand? She licked her dry cracked lips.
‘Why won’t your mother let me leave?’
Edward squirmed, pulling at the bottom of his jumper, and turned away.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know. She’s not a bad person.’
‘What does she want?’
Edward turned back towards her. ‘She wants us to be happy.’
‘Happy? Oh, my God. Was this the plan all along? Those letters, Edward, those letters!’ She threw herself back on the mattress; the effort of speaking was agony.
Edward knelt by the bed and took her hand. ‘This should never have happened. My mother was just helping me.’ He paused and looked up at the ceiling as if asking a higher power what he should say to this woman lying before him. ‘We needed you, she said so, and she was right. My mother writing the letters seemed simple, it was only after we met that I realised how wrong the whole thing was. I liked you and those letters, they made you like me.’
Patricia turned away from him and groaned.
Edward squeezed her hand tighter. ‘I can’t. You know I don’t have the words. I can’t explain. I don’t know how to tell you.’
‘How did you manage to never learn to read or write? You weren’t a child when you left school, were you?’
Edward pulled at his collar. ‘I just … when they were teaching it back in infants and first class, I just didn’t get the hang of it and then the teacher, old Mrs Cassidy, gave up on me. She knew I was only going to work on the farm, so what did it matter? When I got to secondary there was talk of getting me special help but then, well, then I had to leave.’
Patricia looked at him. His face crumpled by frustration at his own shortcomings. This man wished her no harm. She trusted him.
‘Edward, you can put an end to all of this. You can make this stop.’ She leaned forward so that their faces were almost touching. She hoped he could see the desperation in her eyes.
‘I can’t!’ Edward spat the words at her as if it was her own stupidity that prevented her from understanding why he couldn’t help her. He pulled himself to his feet, unnerved by his own outburst.
‘I’ll go. Get well.’ The click of the door as it closed. Patricia squeezed her eyes shut. She had no idea what was going on in Castle House or what would happen to her, but in that moment, without him, she found she missed Edward. Her Edward.
NOW
A skeletal, needle-free Christmas tree leaned against the hedge, a few strands of forgotten tinsel fluttering in the breeze. Elizabeth sighed. Her accommodation for the night didn’t seem promising.
Brian had picked her up from Abbey Court and taken her back to her car in Muirinish. She had asked him about Edward’s marital history but Brian knew nothing. Perhaps his aunt would know more. She followed him in her own car the four or five miles along the coast road till they came to a small cluster of houses. There were two street lights but no sign giving the place an actual name. Brian told her that it was just known locally as Coakley’s Cross but it lacked the pub or shop or chapel that might have elevated it to the status of an actual village.
He led her from the cars to a gate that two houses shared. One was brightly lit and looked freshly painted, while the other was a nondescript bungalow that had seen much better days. Above the abandoned Christmas tree, hanging baskets of dead plants were hung from either side of the shallow porch. Of course this house turned out to be the one belonging to his aunt.
‘Brian!’ The old lady at the door seemed surprised to see her nephew.
‘Auntie Eileen, this is Elizabeth, the woman I told you about.’
Hands were wiped on an apron and then a thin bony paw was held out to be shaken.
‘Nice to meet you, I’m sure.’ Her pale eyes were magnified by her thick glasses so that every blink was like a camera shutter closing. Elizabeth was mesmerised by her.
‘Thanks so much for taking me in.’
Eileen held her head back to get a better look at her visitor through her bifocals. Then she turned and gave her nephew a quizzical glance.
‘I rang earlier.’ Brian was speaking very slowly and clearly. ‘I explained that Elizabeth needed a bed for the night. You said she could stay. Remember?’
The old woman bristled with indignation.
‘Of course I remember! Come in out of the cold. You are very welcome …’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Elizabeth.’
‘Of course, of course. Come in.’
Elizabeth took a step forward but realised that Brian was staying where he was. She turned to him.
‘Thanks, then.’
‘You’re very welcome. Nice to meet you. Sleep well and safe travels.’
‘Thanks. Take care.’
They both hesitated. Was this the moment for a handshake, a hug, a peck on the cheek? It seemed that none of those felt exactly right, as Brian gave an apologetic shrug and started to walk back to his car.
Elizabeth’s heart sank. She did not relish the thought of her night ahead with only Auntie Eileen for company.
‘Close the door. Keep the heat in!’ a voice from within commanded. Elizabeth painted a smile on her face and strode forward. A hall the size of a phone box forced her through the only open door into a dimly lit sitting room. A single bar on an electric heater glowed orange while above it a coal-effect fire moved in slow waves. In the corner of the room the light from a silent television spilled over the small two-seater sofa and a low coffee table, with a half-finished crossword abandoned on it.
‘In here!’ Eileen’s voice called from the door at the other end of the room. Elizabeth was momentarily blinded when she stepped into the bright glare of the kitchen. It was a narrow room but down one wall was a large aquarium. It hummed and the blue-green light spilling from it gave Auntie Eileen the pallor of a Halloween ghoul.
‘Goodness!’ Elizabeth expressed her surprise at finding this enormous tank in such a small room.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it? They all belong to Johnny.’
It crossed Elizabeth’s mind to ask who Johnny was but almost at once she realised that she had no interest in finding out more about him.
The two women stood and watched the small bright fish swimming with purpose on the other side of the expanse of glass.
‘I could watch them all day.’ Auntie Eileen turned and smiled at her visitor. Her large exaggerated eyes reminded Elizabeth of the fish in the tank.
‘I’m sure you could. Very soothing.’ Though Elizabeth wondered how anyone could ever relax in this room lit up like a nuclear reactor.
The old lady scraped a chair back from the Formica-topped table.
‘You’ll have a seat.’ Elizabeth sat down, while the old lady leaned against the draining board of the sink.
‘Did Brian say he found you down in Muirinish?’
‘That’s right. I was down looking at Castle House. Do you know it? The Foleys lived there.’
‘Castle House? Is that the one al
most in the sea?’
‘Yes, it’s just set back.’
‘The one with an old castle ruin?’
‘Yes. That’s the one.’
‘That’s Castle House. It was the Foleys I think lived there,’ Auntie Eileen explained helpfully.
‘That’s right.’ Elizabeth wondered if the old woman was deaf.
‘I never knew them but that was a fierce sad house. One funeral after another. It’s like the place is cursed. What’s your interest in the place?’
Elizabeth cleared her throat. ‘Well, I’m the new owner.’
‘Oh.’ The old lady’s face suggested that she had heard Elizabeth loud and clear. ‘It must have lovely views, I’d say.’
‘Lovely,’ agreed Elizabeth with a smirk. ‘I’m very interested in the history of the place. What were you saying about funerals?’
‘Oh, I was only a girl. I don’t really remember, but when we went into town that way, my mother, God rest her, always crossed herself. It might have been a bad death … or did someone drown? Sorry now. I’m no good to you at all. I’ll tell you the person you should speak to. You need to talk to Cathy Crowley. She was a Lynch back then and she grew up down there beside them. She might remember all the gory details.’
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure she was fully prepared for ‘gory details’.
‘That’s great, thanks. Where could I find her?’
‘Her husband manages the Co-op down in Muirinish. They’re in the white house with the big hedges just beside it. I’d say now she would be your best bet. She’s a great one for local history and all that sort of thing. Very interesting …’ The old lady’s eyes drifted back to the fish tank and began to follow the creatures as if she was watching a very slow game of tennis. Suddenly, as if remembering that she had a guest, she put a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and enquired, ‘Have you had your dinner?’
Without thinking, Elizabeth told her that she hadn’t.
‘Oh, right.’ Auntie Eileen looked worried. ‘I don’t normally do evening meals.’
‘Well, perhaps I could—’
‘No, no,’ the old lady interrupted, ‘I’ll put you together something here. Sure, nowhere would be open at this hour.’ She indicated the clock on the wall telling them that it was twenty past seven as if it was midnight.
Elizabeth thanked her profusely and then asked if she could go to her room. The old lady showed her back through the sitting room and then into the hall. One door was for the pale pink bathroom, while the other led to her peach boudoir. Elizabeth’s overall impression was of nylon. The whole room seemed to bristle.
Left alone, she brushed her teeth and then sat on the end of her bed, her weight bringing the mattress close to the floor. For the first time in hours she thought about Elliot and Zach. How had the pick-up gone? She wondered if Michelle had dared to show her face. Elizabeth had to admit that she was almost glad to be sitting in this nylon shrine rather than having to deal with the embarrassment of Zach’s sex life. Let Elliot pick up the pieces for once. She would try to call them later, once they were back in San Francisco and the dust had had a chance to settle.
A gentle knock on the door.
‘Yes?’
‘Your tea’s ready when you are.’
‘Thank you!’ Elizabeth replied, thinking to herself that the old lady had managed to cook up a meal surprisingly quickly.
When she saw what was waiting for her on the kitchen table, the speed became less of a mystery. A small grey, almost blue, mound sat in a pale yellow pool of liquid. She thought it might be egg but really couldn’t be certain.
‘It’s just some scrambled egg. I hope that’s enough for you.’
‘More than enough,’ Elizabeth reassured her hostess and she meant it.
‘There’s some toast for you,’ the old lady said, putting down a side plate with two slices of bread so white it was hard to believe they had seen daylight never mind the inside of a toaster. ‘I have the kettle on for tea.’
‘Lovely!’ Elizabeth hoped that might help her wash down some of her meal.
She had scarcely taken a bite of the eggs, so dry it was hard to understand where the liquid had come from, when the shrill doorbell took Auntie Eileen from the room. Elizabeth used the opportunity to mess up her plate with her fork and tear the ‘toast’ in two to give the impression that she had consumed more than she had.
‘A visitor for you!’ Auntie Eileen exclaimed and Brian’s smiling face loomed behind her shoulder. Elizabeth sighed with relief.
‘Hello,’ she called happily.
‘Sorry. I’m interrupting your meal,’ he said apologetically.
‘Not at all. I was just finished.’ Elizabeth stood up to prove her point.
‘Really?’ Auntie Eileen was incredulous.
‘It was lovely. Thank you,’ Elizabeth said to her hostess with all the sincerity she could muster.
Brian coughed. ‘Well, I was just wondering if you fancied a drink down the pub.’
‘Yes,’ she blurted out.
Brian laughed. ‘It’s like that, is it? I won’t have her back too late,’ he said to his aunt, adding, ‘If you want to go to bed just leave the key out.’
‘I will, I will.’ But the old woman was distracted by the food left on the table. She looked stricken, but Elizabeth refused to feel guilty.
The atmosphere in the car seemed different between them. The windows steamed up and their coats seemed noisy and cumbersome. Conversation was stilted. They seemed to have lost their easy, relaxed connection from earlier in the day. It was decided that they would drive back towards Muirinish. Brian explained that there was a sweet little pub called Carey’s that sometimes had live music.
Elizabeth drank a couple of glasses of red wine, which was surprisingly good, while Brian had pints of stout. It turned out there was no music that night but the pub was busy enough and the turf fire gave the place a welcoming glow. Conversation became easy once more. Brian made her laugh and he leaned in close when she spoke. She noticed his thighs where his jeans were stretched tight across them. Elizabeth wasn’t exactly sure if this was a date, but whatever it might be, she was enjoying herself. It was good to spend time with a man who knew almost nothing about her. He couldn’t judge her as a mother or a daughter, he didn’t know what she was like at work, or whether or not she should have spotted that things weren’t right with Elliot. She was just a tourist, tracking down her roots. She drained her second glass.
‘Will you have another?’ Brian asked.
Elizabeth did want another but experience told her that she would regret it in the morning and she was planning to drive back to Buncarragh.
‘No, I won’t, thanks.’
‘Right.’ Brian seemed a little crestfallen. ‘Well, I’m driving so I’d better not either.’ It seemed the party was over.
‘Will we hit the road?’ he asked.
‘Might as well. Don’t want to wake your auntie,’ Elizabeth said with mock seriousness, reaching for her coat.
Back in the car, the doors shut and the interior light went out. Brian had the keys in his hand but didn’t put them in the ignition. There was silence. Elizabeth looked at his strong, almost angular, profile against the lights of the pub. He seemed lost in thought.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course,’ Elizabeth replied, her heart beating just a little faster. Was he going to kiss her? She could feel the two glasses of wine urging her to say yes.
‘Would you like to sleep with me?’
This was not the question she had been expecting. Brian seemed to have skipped several steps in their nascent courtship.
‘What?’
Brian squirmed in his seat.
‘I just wondered if you wanted to sleep together, you know, have sex?’
He sounded so matter of fact. Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to say.
‘It just seems a little abrupt. Sudden. You know what I mean?’ She didn’t want to upset him, but at the same
time she was surprised that he was being so crass.
‘Well, I just thought you are here for tonight. An attractive woman. We probably won’t see each other again. I haven’t done it in a while and I thought you might like the chance of no-strings attached …’ His voice trailed off and Elizabeth assumed that he could see the expression on her face in the light from the pub windows. Her surprise had turned to anger.
‘I see. And do you offer your services to every single female traveller you come across?’
‘No, no.’ He raised his hands to placate her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … I really like you.’
‘Well, that’s encouraging. Good to know there is some sort of selection process.’
‘Look,’ he sounded defensive, ‘I never meant to insult you or piss you off. It was just a question.’
‘Well, the answer is no.’
‘Fine.’ Brian stuck the key angrily into the ignition but before he could start the engine the sound of Elizabeth’s phone rang through the tension-filled car.
She writhed in her seat, trying to extract it from her coat pocket. When she did the display said ‘Elliot’.
‘Sorry. I ought to get this.’
‘Fire ahead,’ Brian muttered, clearly beginning to sulk.
‘Hello. Everything all right?’
Elliot’s voice didn’t answer but just informed her, ‘Your son has something to tell you.’
Your son? That didn’t sound promising.
‘Mom?’ It was Zach.
‘Yes …’ Elizabeth said the word tentatively, anxious about what might be coming next.
‘Don’t be mad, Mom.’
‘OK.’ If she was being honest, she was finding it hard to feel like a parent right now, sat as she was with a man in a car outside a pub, having an adolescent conversation about sex.
‘Just tell me, Zach.’
‘OK. Well, the thing is, I have some news …’ He was obviously playing for time.
‘Just tell me!’ she snapped.
Zach gave a tiny cough and then said quietly, ‘You are going to be a grandmother.’
It was as if she had stared into the centre of the sun. A hot white light seared into her brain. She had no words. There wasn’t a single reaction that she could articulate. She felt breathless. Finally Zach’s voice came from the speaker. ‘Mom?’
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