I spin round.
‘Aaron! I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘Somebody needed to come to Edinburgh today to see a client. I elected myself. Can’t think why!’
He holds out his arms and I melt into them.
‘Hmm. I can see I must surprise you more often if this is the welcome I get.’
I’m still poring over the photos when James arrives. I hadn’t expected him today either.
‘Aren’t they amazing, James? See this. Somebody’s wedding picture. Donkey’s years ago. But look at the photography.’
‘Wow! Does it say who it is?’
‘May and Bertie. Wedding day. 2 June 1869.’ What does this say underneath it – I can hardly read it.’
‘Mamma’s parents.’
‘That would be Gran’s grandparents,’ I chose my words carefully.
‘Your great-grandparents. My great-great-grandparents. Now you’re talking. And you haven’t ever seen this photo before?’
‘Never.’
‘They look awfully posh, don’t they? I thought Gran came from a very ordinary family.’
‘Well, I do know her grandmother “married beneath her” – according to Gran’s great-aunt Hester anyway. She always spoke like a lady of the manor, apparently. People thought she was a bit uppity.’
‘From this I’d say she had something to be uppity about! Maybe you’ve got a spot of blue blood in your veins, Mother.’
‘You should be so lucky!’ How can I disabuse him?
I turn the photos idly. The breath catches in my throat. It’s a sepia portrait of the embroidered ballgown.
May. That’s all it says. May. Great-grandmamma in her youth.
She’s stunning: elfin face, a pile of dark curls threaded with ropes of beads, perfect figure. James is staring at her over my shoulder. He whistles appreciatively.
‘How come we didn’t inherit her looks? Eat your heart out, Pandora Montisoree.’
I trace the outline of her face with the edge of my finger.
‘We’ve got this dress. It was in the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘No kidding!’
I take him out into the hall and at that moment Aaron lets himself back into the house, complete with food from the supermarket. Somewhere I register that they seem unsurprised at the meeting.
‘These must be worth a pound or two,’ James breathes.
‘They’re priceless to me.’
He gives me a sharp look.
‘Presumably May couldn’t bear to part with such a fabulous outfit,’ I say, touching the fanned sleeve. ‘I wonder if she ever took these clothes out, tried them on. Regretted her decision.’
‘Well, we’ll never know now,’ James retorts. ‘But I’ll regret it if I don’t get my skates on and get home before Margot gives my dinner to the dog! We’ve got a parents’ evening tonight, which I absolutely can’t miss. I’ll clear these boxes and then I’ll be off.’
Between them they have the hall empty of boxes in record time.
‘Not the black case, James. Please. I’ll pack the clothes back in that. It’s not heavy. I’ll take it when I go. And the photos.’
His look is sharp again.
‘Come home with me, Mum – both of you. You’re exhausted. You’ve already put in a long day. Have a bite to eat with us.’
‘Thanks, dear, but no. I need a little while longer.’ I’m annoyed at the break in my voice and turn away quickly.
Aaron slips his arm around me – the first time in James’ presence. ‘I’ll take good care of her, James,’ he says quietly. ‘Promise.’
‘I know you will.’
‘And we’re almost there now.’
I lean into him, watching the car drive off, but then instantly turn back to the hall. The dress moves slightly in the draught. I see her…
No, I never knew you, May, but I’m not ready to say goodbye. Not yet.
‘Jessica.’ I turn at the strange note in Aaron’s voice. ‘Why don’t you try them on? For me.’ A long pause. ‘Please?’
The light is golden in the conservatory as I glide towards him in my borrowed finery. His expression makes me say the first thing that comes into my head. ‘I feel like a nervous teenager on her first date.’
His gaze slides over me slowly, a look on his face I haven’t seen before.
‘And I feel… breathless…’
‘Before m’lady May.’
He shakes his head, holding my gaze. ‘No. You. Looking so fabulous.’
‘Minus the painting clothes.’
‘Ah, I see you’re determined to quell my romantic inclinations.’
‘Only because…’ The tears come anyway. He wraps me gently to him.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me. I’m not the crying type.’
‘You, honey, are too worn out for words. I haven’t begun to say a fraction of the things I intend to say to you, but they’ll keep. Mercifully life has taught me a little patience. Although, when you look at me like that…’
I give myself up to his kiss.
I pack the clothes carefully back into the case. Aaron gathers up the photos.
One last look into the cupboard and I know my task is nearly done. I’ll paint it tomorrow. Magnolia.
Aaron sits down on the bottom stair. ‘Take your time, Jess. There’s no hurry.’
The doors all stand open and my eyes roam over the bright rooms. This shell will soon echo to strangers’ voices. But the last, most telling ghosts go with me. I turn to smile into Aaron’s eyes.
‘Thank you for being here today.’
DORIS
Chapter 11
2009
THE BOARD SAYS SUMMER. 29 August. A sun, smiling. I smile.
Yellow. I hate yellow.
‘You OK, Doris?’ a blue lady says as she stomps past.
Doris? Doris isn’t here. But I know where she is. Hiding. Hiding under the shed in our garden. Hiding from Papa.
Shhoo, shoo. Geddouta here, you dratted mutt!
Papa hates next-door’s cat. Papa hates all cats. Especially Doris. He’s put wire netting in the gap under the shed; I’ll stop that pesky blighter fouling up my garden!
I like cats. I must find her. ‘Doris. Dooooris.’
‘You all right, dearie?’ says a blue lady. ‘Lookin’ fa somethin?’
Where is she? ‘D-ooo-ris.’
‘How about you come with me. The pet lady’s here this morning. With Araminta. Remember Araminta? The lovely fluffy cat. Remember? It’ll be your turn to hold her in a bit. You like cats, don’t you?’
It’s black. Silky. Fat.
Mrs Green Cardigan picks her up, puts her on my lap. ‘There we go, Doris.’ Warm. I feel her breathing. I stroke her. She purrs under my hand.
Shhhh. Very softly. Don’t let Papa in. Don’t! Don’t!
‘Get him out of here!’ I whisper, so the cat isn’t frightened. Mrs Green Cardigan picks her up. ‘Somebody else’s turn.’
Cuddling the cat has made me feel sleepy.
The kitten’s eyes are still closed. I can feel its bones, thin sticks, all bunched up as it sleeps. Its little heart… beat, beat, beat. I walk ever so slowly up the path, holding it close to my chest. Keeping it warm and safe.
‘Doris! Where did you find that?’
‘Down by the shed, Mamma. Just lying there.’
‘If I find you’ve lied to me, my girl...’ Mamma’s bristling as she scurries down the garden.
There are seven of them. Eyes closed. Huddled together. All black with white markings.
‘Well, it’s lucky for you your father isn’t at home! We’d better get these wee things somewhere safe or that’ll be the end of them!’
‘Can I keep them in my bedroom? Please? I’ll take really good care of them. Please, Mamma.’
‘Absolutely not! And not another word on the subject, young lady!’
I hug the one I found closer to me. The claws scratch my skin as if to say, ‘I’m doing my be
st to hang on to you.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’ My father’s face is like a squashed bruise.
I try to push the kitten inside my jumper but his hand darts out and grabs it by its scruff. It mewls, its paws scrabbling the air.
He drops it into the heap of pulsating black fur and glares at Mamma.
‘Get her inside. Now!’
I mustn’t let…
‘No! No! Please, don’t!’
‘Help!’ It’s the one in the mauve cardigan. I reach across…
Mrs Lavender gets up. Off comes the cardigan. Off comes the skirt. The water hisses down her skinny legs. I always wanted skinny legs. She’s paddling. She smiles. I smile.
She sits down in the paddling pool. Her chest is like… contours… maps… Mr Cunningham… room 4a… third period Friday morning. Get out your atlases. Latitude. Longitude. Ridges. Mountains.
‘Oh Gertie. Not again!’ A blue lady. ‘And you, Doris, look at you! Your slippers are sodden. You didn’t need to step in it, did you? Really!’ She calls. ‘Ann.’ Then louder. ‘Ann, come and give me a hand, will you?’
‘What’s the magic word?’ I say.
Another blue lady. ‘Oh yuck!’
Ouch! It’s Mrs Nippy Fingers.
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘Get Doris outta here, will you, while I see to Gertie? Bung her slippers in the machine. She keeps shoutin’ somethin’ but I haven’t a clue what she’s sayin’. P’raps you can make it out. Any rate, get her away from this mess.’
Mrs Nippy Fingers scuffs her shoe. Her hands bite into my arm each scuff.
‘Get off. Leave me alone! Mamma!’
‘Whissht now, Doris. Let’s get you out of these smelly slippers.’
The carpet’s cold.
‘Here, let me help you get Gertie up. Stand there, Doris. No running off, now. Come on, Gertie. Up you come, sweetheart. That’s it. Look at you. What would your son say if he could see you in this state, eh?’
The knickers hang down like… like… like… that thing. Heavy. Veins. Batted from side to side when they walk.
I sit down. Close my eyes.
Uncle Frank’s fingers stroke the udders, clip the machines on.
‘Great bags of liquid nectar,’ he says. ‘Bigger the better, s’far as I’m concerned.’
The whole shed hums. Uncle Frank walks down the row, patting their swollen bellies, stroking their udders.
‘There you are, old girl. That’s good, in’it? Sweet. OK, Doris. You’re next.’
Their hooves skitter on the hard yard as they jostle to get out, udders soft now against their scrambling legs.
You can’t see the milk. But it’s in there.
…
It’s collecting. Pressing. Sore. Bursting.
The baby’s fighting. Screaming. Biting down.
The pain!
‘Engorged,’ the nurse says. ‘It’ll get better once he’s latched on.’
He’s screaming. Screaming.
‘Bottle feed it, hen. Save yersel’ the hassle.’
The pain! Take it away. I can’t do it.
‘Take it away! Take it away!’
‘Doris? Hush, dear. Look who’s here? It’s your daughter. It’s Jessica.’
The old lady smiles. She’s pretty. Nice eyes, but sad. Nice smile. Lovely hair like… wavy hair… I can’t remember.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Sad Eyes says.
Poor thing. A lost soul. Looking for her mother. Sad. I’ll invite her in. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘It’s me, Jessica.’
Jessica?
‘Why don’t you take Doris out into the garden?’ the blue lady says. ‘She’ll need something on her feet, though. I’m afraid we’ve had to pop her slippers in the wash.’
‘Mamma?’
‘I’m Jessica.’ Sad Eyes leans close. Grey eyes. Tiny red veins. Like… ‘Let’s go out and see the roses. You like roses.’
‘You’ve got to get me out of here!’ I hiss. ‘They’re going to kidnap me.’ It’s so hot.
‘Let go of my arm, Mum. You’re pinching me.’
Maybe she didn’t hear.
‘They’re going to kidnap me.’ Right in her face this time.
‘Ssh. There, that’s better. Look at these roses. Aren’t they lovely?’
Mmm. Lovely. Like a cloud.
‘Oh, here’s your favourite. Ena Harkness. Dad grew it for you. Mmm. Smell that.’
Her hand feels sticky… like Uncle Frank… ‘Let me go!’
‘Don’t fight, Mum. Please. Just walk along nicely. That’s better. This one’s Peace. Dad always said it was too wishy-washy for him. Neither one thing nor the other. Remember?’
She pulls me along. She keeps bending down.
‘Walk tall,’ I say.
‘Iceberg… Queen Elizabeth… Blue Moon.’
Once in a blue moon.
‘Buff Beauty… Cornelia… Céleste.’
Céleste Murray. Ginger hair. In my class.
‘Oh look. Albertine. Remember the arches we had, covered in Albertine roses? Fabulous perfume in the summer. Smell them.’
Mmmmmmm.
‘Versicolour. Rambling Rector.’
Not in my church, thank you very much.
‘Himalayan Musk… Ingrid Bergman… Sweet Dream.’
They all say that. The blue ladies. ‘Sweet dreams.’
‘Oh, look at that colour! You always liked the dark ones. Remember? What’s this one? Tuscany Superb. Never heard of that before. Isn’t that gorgeous?’
She’s tugging me. Like Uncle Frank…
‘No… no… let me go!’
I must get home before… If I run…
‘No joy?’ It’s Fat Lady. ‘But even a short time outside beats sitting in her room, I guess.’
This is my chance. I lean closer, hiss the words so they won’t hear. ‘You have to get me out of here. They’re coming to get me.’
‘You’re OK, Doris,’ Fat Lady says. ‘You’re quite safe. We’ll look after you.’ I can tell she isn’t listening. She pats my arm but she’s not looking at me; she’s looking at Sad Eyes. ‘The garden’s fantastic this year, isn’t it?’
‘Fabulous! I only wish my roses grew like yours.’ Sad Eyes smiles. She’s pretty when she smiles. I smile.
‘It’s Tom. Best gardener we’ve ever had, I reckon.’
‘My father grew roses. Mum always loved them. Should I have insisted she stayed out longer?’
Fat Lady shrugs. ‘Who knows? You tried. It’s all any of us can do.’
Another blue lady. ‘Hi there, Doris. Hi, Jessica. D’you know she’s bleeding, Ginny?’ Mrs Tobacco-breath grabs my hand. ‘Ach. You must have caught it on a thorn.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Sad Eyes looks as if she might cry.
‘No problem. We’ll soon have this sorted, won’t we, Doris?’
It stings. The blue lady sticks something on my hand. Is it poisonous? Is it radioactive?
‘There we go. All better. Now you look at the roses, pet. No touching in future, all right?’
Roses? I want to see the roses.
Sad Eyes pulls my arm. She feels sticky… like Uncle Frank…
‘I know you want to go on your own, but I’m just going to walk with you. It’s for your own sake. There… look… your most favourite. Ena Harkness. Remember? Dad grew it for you. Smell that! And Albertine. Mmm. I can see those arches as if it was yesterday. Covered in blossom. D’you remember when Fergus Davenport sneaked in and cut all the low ones off and tried to sell them in the market? I always wondered what Dad actually said to him. All he said to me was, “Let’s just say it’s the last rose that little bugger will ever steal in all his long-legged life!” Poor old Fergus!’
Sad Eyes is laughing. Pretty. I smile.
‘Oh, do you remember, Mum? You look as if you do!’
I look at Sad Eyes. ‘Hannah?’
‘No, Mum. I’m Jessica. Your daughter. Hannah was your mother. Remember? Your mamma.’
Mamma. Where is she? ‘Mamma?’
‘Mamma’s gone now.’
Gone? Where’s she gone? I must find her.
‘No, Mum, you can’t go in there. The door’s locked. Let’s sit down here and enjoy the sunshine and the scent. Have a wee snooze, maybe.’
The sun’s warm…
Jack and Sydney are running. I can’t keep up.
‘Wait for me! Wait for me!’
‘Come on, Doris! You’ve godda speed up if you wanna play boys’ games.’
I’m going as fast as my legs will carry me.
Reuben comes up behind me, panting. He’s not as skinny as the younger boys.
‘Come on, kiddo. Hang on to me. We’ll catch up.’
We fly over the grass, hand in hand. By the time we arrive at our new adventure course we’re out of puff. All four of us flop on the ground and wait till our hearts stop pounding.
I’m up first. I’ll show them. Girls aren’t sissies.
I twist my legs twice round the rope. Since Reuben tied the big knot at the bottom, you get better purchase. Seven swings and I can see the roof of the factory.
‘Hold on tight, Doris, you hear me?’ Reuben’s face comes and goes.
‘I hear you.’
A few more swings and I’ll touch the clouds.
They’re cheering, Jack and Sydney.
‘Higher! Higher!’ they urge. ‘Atta girl. Higher!’
I give it everything.
I only hear the first creak of the branch.
…
Somebody’s wailing. ‘She’s dead! I know she’s dead! We’ve killed her.’
Next thing I know their faces are all upside down. Somebody’s shoving something sharp right up my back.
‘Doris! Doris! Wake up. Come on. Wake up!’
‘Mamma’ll kill us!’
‘Don’t move her. What if she’s…?’
Jack’s slapping my hand. I bat him away.
‘Get off of me, you crazy loon. Get off.’
‘Get off! Get off me!’
‘It’s OK, Mum. You’re fine. You were only snoozing.’
‘Reuben?’
‘Reuben’s not here. It’s just me. Jessica.’
Not here? Where’s he gone? I must find him.
Chapter 12
A year earlier
WHO’S MOVED IT? Who stole it? I need to find it…
Remember, Remember Page 10
