by John MacKay
‘What about family?’
‘They’re old enough.’
‘What about your husband?’
‘He’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,’ Cal lied. ‘Look, I’m going to stay. I don’t want you feeling you have to.’
‘I know, I know. It’s just that Mary…’ She paused to take a breath. ‘Well, it’s like I told you.’
Cal took the casserole dish over to the sink. As he got close to Mairi, she moved away from him. ‘I’ll just go and check on her,’ she murmured. She left the kitchen and came back a few moments later. ‘Still asleep.’
As Mairi pulled on her anorak, Cal took in her slender figure.
‘I’ll go now and give you time with her.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for everything.’
She smiled sadly at him and the tears welled up.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Mary is special. I’ll miss her.’ Then her tears spilled out. She pulled a paper hankie from her pocket and wiped them away. Cal felt helpless. Embracing her would be inappropriate and the words that came to him seemed insensitive. Defeated, he leaned back against the stove, his head bowed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, flustered. ‘I’ll be off.’
She pulled the door open.
‘Mairi,’ Cal said suddenly, ‘I don’t want you thinking I don’t care. I was asleep when you called this morning and what I said didn’t come out right. Please understand that Mary was special to me too. I maybe wasn’t very attentive, but she was always part of my life.’
Why did he so want this woman to believe him?
Mairi stood at the door, looking at him, her eyes soft and red from her tears.
‘I just wanted you to know that,’ he said, gesturing openly with his hands.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘You came didn’t you?’
4
CAL SAT WITH Mary, her occasional shallow breaths the only sign of life. At one point he went for a walk through the house to keep himself awake.
The living room and bedroom were the only ones on the ground floor of the original structure, their windows flanking the unused front door. Both opened onto the lobby, which was gloomy because the outside storm doors were closed and the only light came through small, curtained side windows. A flight of stairs led up, doubling back on itself before arriving at the upper floor. A small toilet had been built beneath the stairs. Mary had joked with him that prior to that you had to go outside and hope the wind wasn’t strong. There was barely any room to stand up straight in it, but it served its purpose.
There were two large bedrooms upstairs and a small area on the short landing, barely a room, that had been used for various purposes over the decades. Cal remembered sleeping there on a camp bed. Mary had evidently used it these past years to store an array of items that were beyond their best, but which she thought might come in useful again. There were a couple of chairs, an old Singer sewing machine, a stack of books ranging from faded paperbacks to hardback volumes, dating back many decades. Cal wondered what their value might be. Right at the back was the old camp bed, the springs stiff with rust.
The room above Mary’s had been the one his parents slept in when they came on holiday. It had barely changed since, in all those years. There was a dark mahogany wardrobe with metal handles shaped like oyster shells, and next to it a chest of drawers with smaller versions of the same handles. A full-length swivel mirror stood by the window. At the back wall was a bed with an iron frame and a mahogany headboard. Next to it was a small cabinet that matched the wardrobe and a standard lamp with an old tasselled shade. The furniture was old but of the best quality. Even now the drawers slid open smoothly. He loved this room, with its sloping ceiling and dormer window that looked out across the road and down the croft towards the sea.
It had been many years since the other bedroom had been occupied, but it was little different from its twin along the landing. It smelt musty and he went over to open the window, which was so stiff that he only managed to raise it by a couple of inches, sending two spiders scuttling away. Air flowed in, causing the net curtain to stir.
It had been too large a house for Mary, she had said so herself often enough, but she would never have left. It wasn’t just a house, it was her home, as it had been home to many others in the family down through the years. Their photographs were everywhere. Formally posed pictures, sepia tinted with faded gilt frames. More relaxed, black and white snaps: a young man with a Glengarry trying to keep his wavy hair in place, smiling as he leaned in an exaggerated manner on the bonnet of a military vehicle; and Mary too, young and smiling faintly. The house was a place dearly loved, the well from which they sprung. The last to live here had been a woman with only the ghosts to keep her company in the lonely hours of the night. And how many ghosts there were.
Cal returned down the stairs to the living room. Here, the furniture was fairly modern. The main feature was a dresser. The glass doors housed hidden lights which lit up the crockery, nicknacks and photos, including some of him, one in his graduation robes. An empty crystal fruit bowl sat on a frilled lace cover beneath the display units. A television and VCR filled the corner opposite the door to the kitchen.
The decor was not to his taste, nor, indeed, the design of the house, but its value was in its location, the views. It would all be his soon. And yet, for the first time, he had the feeling that he was losing, not gaining.
He returned to his place by Mary’s bedside and time ticked on. Sleep beckoned him constantly and he began talking to her to keep it at bay, reminiscing over happy memories.
‘D’you remember that walk over the moor with my mum? It was the last time she was home. The sun was so hot. We all got burnt.’ Cal chuckled. ‘Remember her climbing the fence and she got her skirt caught on the barbed wire? She couldn’t get down for laughing and when she finally jumped the whole thing nearly came off! And those sandwiches you made, oh they were great. We took a break at Fibhig overlooking the sea. What was in them? Just cold meat, I think, but they were wonderful. That bread!’
If Mary heard him, there was no sign. At length Cal found himself unburdening his regrets about his father. The sound of his own voice filled the void.
‘You know what he was like. Nothing was good enough for him. He should never have left the island and then he’d have had no one to blame but himself. All that stuff about coming to the city to give me the best chance and that I was throwing it back at him. I never asked him to leave here. This notion he had that being a lawyer was so important. They’re the biggest crooks of all! He was a policeman, he should have known that. Y’know, he used to say to me that I made my money by cheating people, that I produced or provided nothing.’
In the quiet of the room, his monologue seemed confessional.
‘Even you, his own sister. What did you ever do to him? The way he spoke to you sometimes just wasn’t right. But he was my dad and I wish we’d been pals.’
Cal’s phone rang, its electronic tones at odds with the setting. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open in one fluid, practiced movement.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, it’s Lisa.’
‘Hi. Have you got news for me?’ Cal’s tone was immediately businesslike. He sat forward intently.
‘Well first of all, don’t you think you owe me an explanation? Running off like that this morning. You made me feel like a tart. What do you think I am?’
‘Look I’m sorry. I told you. It’s difficult.’
Cal stood up and walked quickly out of the bedroom, the phone clamped to his ear.
‘Why didn’t you phone me?’
‘I’m really sorry.’ Cal tried to keep the irritation from his voice. ‘I told you my aunt was ill. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Her disbelief almost poured through the phone. ‘I’m not lying,’ he added.
‘So where are you?’
‘I’m at her house.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘What
does it matter?’
‘Look, I’m taking a big risk for you. Don’t start getting smart with me, or you can forget it.’
‘Okay, okay, I know what you’re doing for me. But my aunt is dying and she asked to see me.’
There was silence at the end of the phone.
‘You’re consistent, I’ll give you that. That’s the story you came up with this morning.’
‘It’s not a story, it’s true. I’m in the islands.’
‘The islands! They’re miles away.’
‘Yeah. That’s why I had to leave so early.’
‘That screws everything up.’
‘How?’
‘That house. It’s like I thought, they want it off their hands. They’re here tomorrow just for the one day and I’ve arranged to meet them. If you get there and I phone to cancel, I’m sure you could persuade them. The usual suspects are sniffing around and you know what’ll happen if it goes onto the market.’
‘When did you arrange to meet them?’
‘9.30.’
Cal sighed audibly.
‘I’ll never make it for then, even if I got the early ferry. And anyway, I can’t leave while she’s still alive.’
There was silence at the other end of the line. He could imagine the look of irritation on Lisa’s face. ‘You’ve got to understand,’ he pleaded.
‘No,’ she retorted, ‘You’re the one who has to understand. I’ve put a lot of time into this and you promised me.’
‘I know, but what d’you expect me to do?’
‘You’ve seen your aunt, there’s not much you can do for her now, so get back here.’
‘I can’t leave her. I’m all she’s got.’
‘Does she even know you’re there?’ Her questions were coming back at him faster than he could think. ‘You’ve got a choice, Cal. If you don’t get back here and make this deal work, you can forget it. I’m never going to help you again. If my boss ever found out what I’ve done, I’d be for it and you know that.’
The line went dead. Cal cursed savagely. This was the make-or-break deal. He’d studied the West End, watching for houses and flats that could offer a potentially substantial profit, but people were canny enough to know the value of their property. On a tour one evening, he’d chanced upon an elderly lady in a wheelchair being taken into an ambulance. The paramedics were her only company, no friends or family in evidence. He’d reasoned that if there had been any relatives she would have called them when she required assistance. He kept a regular watch on the house and there was no sign that the woman had returned.
Lisa worked for a well established local estate agency and Cal had got to know her through his property dealings. She was an attractive, if rather soulless girl, but he had pursued her ruthlessly. It had paid off. The elderly woman’s son lived in London and wanted the ties of the house to be cut as quickly as possible. Lisa had been the one who’d taken his call and she had informed Cal. Everything had been coming together, until last night’s phone call.
Cal looked out of the living-room window. All was deep black.
He had come and now he could go. What more could be expected of him? And who was judging him? If he clinched this deal, he would be on his way. ‘Look forward!’ he urged himself. This struggle between future and past should have been straightforward, but for the fact of Mary dying in the room next door. She was the personification of his past and that made the choice so hard.
He walked through the house and out the back door, following the path round to the front. The wind chilled his cheeks and through the dark mounds of the land, he could see the moon shifting on the sea. His car sat at the end of the path on the other side of the gate. He could just get in it now and drive away. What further comfort could he give Mary? He had come and she’d known it, so what else was there to keep him? If she was dead by morning, what difference would it make whether he was sitting by her? None. If he secured this house in the city, his business would get the kick start it needed. And that’s what it came down to: where his presence would make the difference.
He strode briskly back inside to get his jacket. Pulling it on, he went through to say goodbye to his aunt for the last time. The young Mary looked at him from a photo on the lobby wall. Her hair was short and straight and draped over one eye, slender legs emerged from a short skirt beneath a raincoat. Her expression was somewhere between a smile and a laugh and she radiated the vigour of life. The picture was in stark contrast to the emaciated figure in the bed, whose life was rotting from within.
Cal approached Mary to say his final goodbye. He rested his elbow on the pillow and leant over to kiss her, his lips touching her forehead quickly and lightly. There was nothing he could think of to say and he did not want to linger.
He walked purposefully out of the room, through the house to the back door, and stepped onto the path just as Mairi was closing the gate behind her. His intention had been to phone her when he was on his way because he didn’t want to tell her to her face that he was going.
‘Oh, am I too late?’ she asked, concern catching her voice.
‘No, no,’ Cal stammered. ‘I stepped out for some fresh air.’
Mairi approached him up the path, pulling her jacket protectively around her and stared at him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was leaving. For reasons that reared quickly and he didn’t understand, he did not want to lose the respect of this good, honest woman.
‘Has there been any change?’
‘No, she’s just as she was.’
They stood together uncertainly, looking into the night, each aware of the silence but neither sure how to break it.
‘I’ll go in,’ Mairi said finally.
Cal watched her disappear round the corner of the house and quietly cursed. He couldn’t leave now. She had looked right into his eyes and he knew she suspected what he had been about to do. It was enough to force him to stay. As the night closed in around him, he reflected on the chance that was slipping away.
In the bedroom, Mairi had left the chair vacant for him and had seated herself at the foot of the bed. She was gently stroking Mary’s leg through the covers. Cal threw off his jacket and slumped into the chair.
‘You’ll be tired,’ said Mairi. ‘You’ve had a long day.’
‘You too,’ he acknowledged, bending his head back and stretching his neck muscles.
The silence descended between them again and it made Cal uncomfortable.
‘That photo in the hall,’ he began, directing his comments vaguely towards Mary. ‘That one of you as a young woman. You were a looker in your day. You must have had a job keeping the boys at bay.’
Mairi smiled affectionately at the prone figure in the bed.
‘I wonder why she never married?’ Cal asked directly to Mairi. He accepted that Mary wasn’t hearing him. Mairi shook her head gently, her mouth tightly closed, fighting back tears.
‘Maybe she never found the right guy.’ Cal answered his own question. ‘She’s just such a loving person I can’t imagine that there was never anyone, but if there was, she kept it to herself. Didn’t you Mary? You listened to all that stuff I used to tell you and I never let you say anything to me. Not that I suppose you would have anyway.’
Mary moaned quietly, startling them. Cal and Mairi both leaned forward, their heads close to her.
‘What’s that?’ encouraged Cal. ‘D’you want to say something?’ But there was no more.
Cal would never know the precise moment of her passing. Her breathing had been barely discernible for the final few hours, but after a while he realised that she had not drawn breath at all. Mairi had fallen asleep, draped across the foot of the bed.
Cal sat up quickly, touched his fingers against Mary’s neck and felt no pulse. She was gone. Emotion welled up deep within him for this woman who had always looked for the best in him. His eyes misted and he kissed her softly on the forehead. Now he truly was all alone, the last of the line.
He took a deep br
eath to compose himself, laid her bony hand on the bed and gently shook Mairi. She woke with a start.
‘She’s gone,’ said Cal gently, failing to hold back the tears.
5
MAIRI TOOK OVER, phoning the doctor, who arrived promptly and confirmed what they already knew. Cal and Mairi hovered uncertainly behind him as he checked the body.
‘Yes, I’m afraid there’s no doubt,’ he pronounced with a sigh.
Cal had witnessed death before, looked upon both his mother and father after they died. What made that difference between the living body and the dead shell? The heart stopped beating and the lungs stopped inflating – was that all it took for somebody to cease to be, or did something else leave the body, what religious folk speak of as the soul?
Generally Cal tried not to dwell on such great questions, but here, with death before him again, they were brought into sharp focus. Was Aunt Mary’s spirit already in Paradise with those who had gone before, or was all that she ever was now lying there, growing cold in front of him? Was faith in an afterlife simply protection from the awful prospect of nothingness?
The doctor knew Mairi and was taking details from her for the death certificate.
‘The time of death was an hour ago?’
‘Well that’s when we noticed.’ Mairi looked over to Cal and brought him up from the depths of his thoughts.
‘It may have been a couple of minutes before, I could see she was breathing up until then.’
‘You must be Mary’s nephew?’ said the doctor.
Cal nodded.
‘I’m very sorry. You must be the next of kin – as far as I’m aware, Mary has no other family.’
‘No. I’m it. The last of the line.’ Cal’s voice caught on that familiar phrase.
‘It was peaceful at least.’
Cal nodded again.
‘It’s up to yourself what we do now. I can arrange for the undertaker to take the body away. Or he could dress the remains and leave them here until the funeral. Some of the older folk prefer to do that.’
Cal looked to Mairi.
‘It’s up to you, whatever you want to do,’ she said.
