The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit)

by Gyland, Henriette

  ‘You didn’t ask. Anyway, who are you?’

  ‘Your grandmother’s nurse. You can call me Mrs Sanders.’

  Hard as nails, this one. ‘Nurse, you said. Is my grandmother ill?’

  ‘When did you last see Mrs Ransome?’

  ‘About seven years ago. Why?’

  Mrs Sanders sent her a sly look. ‘Well, then I’d say you’re in for a surprise.’ She motioned for Helen to follow her across the chequerboard hall floor to the lounge facing the garden. Helen clomped after her with some misgivings. Aggie normally received visitors in the front parlour. Things had obviously changed since she was last here.

  Mrs Sanders pushed the door open, and Helen was hit by the strong smell of Dettol and old age, which made her recoil.

  Despite the smell it was a lovely room really, sunny and bright, decorated in shades of primrose and buttercup, and connected with the large garden through a set of French doors. Old-fashioned spindly furniture, covered in exquisite damask with matching loose cushions, dotted the room and gave it an air of opulence, reinforced by the priceless artwork on the walls. A splendid marble fireplace dominated one wall, its mantelpiece covered in Meissen figurines.

  Aggie reclined in a high-tech adjustable chair, out of place among the antiques, at the back of the room. Her hawk-like features, which Helen remembered, had filled out, and her face seemed to float on a sea of sallow flesh. Her belly rose like a mound under a cellular blanket, and her arms appeared short and ineffectual like the clipped wings of a bird. She was quite simply gargantuan, and Helen swallowed back a feeling of revulsion.

  How the mighty have fallen, she thought, though without the rancour she’d expected to feel.

  When Aggie didn’t respond to the door opening, Helen crossed the room and put her hand on her step-grandmother’s shoulder. The old lady started and opened her eyes. For a moment she looked puzzled as if she’d forgotten where she was, then she squinted at Helen and then at a digital clock on a small table next to her chair.

  ‘You’re here,’ she said briskly, ‘and on time. Evidently some things do change.’

  ‘You certainly have.’

  ‘Mm, yes, indeed. Here, let me have a look at you, girl.’ She put a fleshy hand on Helen’s arm and pulled her closer. ‘You’re too thin.’

  ‘And you are bloody enormous.’

  For a moment Aggie stared at her in outrage, then she laughed. Against her will Helen felt a pull at the corners of her mouth.

  ‘Touché. I’d forgotten what a foul-mouth you can be, but I suppose you’ve put me in my place. What a terribly granny-like thing to say. I never thought I had it in me.’

  ‘That’s probably because you’re not my granny.’

  ‘I’m the only grandmother you’ve got.’ A haunted look appeared in her eyes and disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. ‘Why don’t you pull up a chair?’ she said, indicating a Chippendale.

  Helen dragged it across the floor, scraping the legs against the varnished floors boards, while Aggie rang a small silver bell.

  The door opened and Mrs Sanders reappeared. ‘Yes, Mrs Ransome?’

  ‘Oh, Sanders, now that my granddaughter has arrived would you be so kind and serve elevenses. We’ll have tea and some of that Victoria sponge cake with Fortnum’s strawberry preserve.’

  ‘But, Mrs Ransome, that’s far too rich for you.’

  ‘Nonsense, woman. When did a little cake hurt anyone? And I don’t see my granddaughter every day. The child has been to India. Heaven knows what they get to eat there.’

  ‘Egg and chips,’ Helen remarked.

  Mrs Sanders left them again, muttering to herself.

  ‘Why aren’t you allowed cake?’ Helen asked though she knew the answer.

  ‘I’m diabetic and under strict orders not to eat anything nice.’ Aggie’s small eyes twinkled behind their folds of flesh. ‘And Mrs Sanders takes her job very seriously. Letitia engaged her.’

  ‘Didn’t you have any say in it?’

  Aggie harrumphed. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t have let that old sourpuss darken my doorstep. Anyway, Letitia means well. She does her best with me, and I don’t suppose I’m an easy patient. I do wish she’d stop fussing so.’

  ‘Auntie Letitia fussing?’ Helen snorted. That wasn’t how she remembered her step-aunt.

  ‘People change.’

  Helen leaned back in her chair and looked at Aggie. ‘Why did you send for me?’

  ‘Send for you? My dear, I merely thought it was time for you to come back. Five years is a long time to travel.’

  ‘Not long enough.’

  ‘Running away never served any purpose. As you young people say, “it’s time to face the music”. You have responsibilities.’

  ‘Responsibilities?’ Helen choked on the word. ‘What, looking after you in your old age? Just like you looked after me when I was a child?’

  Aggie flinched. ‘Not at all. You’re twenty-five years old, and your mother’s shares in the company, which were put in trust for you, are now yours. You’re entitled to sit on the board.’

  ‘Shares?’ Helen blinked. ‘The board?’

  ‘Surely you knew? Ransome & Daughters is a public limited company, has been for twenty years now. When William and I married, we both had grown children of our own. I had Ruth and Letitia, and William had your mother, Mimi. When we merged our respective families and auction houses, it was always the intention to build up the company to float on the Stock Exchange. Your place is there too. Sadly William never saw any of this happen …’ she paused and looked away.

  Helen couldn’t believe her own eyes. Hard-hearted Aggie had softened, in every sense of the word.

  There was a knock on the door, and at Aggie’s curt ‘enter’ the nurse came in with a tray of tea things. Aggie went uncharacteristically quiet, which puzzled Helen because her grandmother had never moderated her behaviour in the presence of servants. It was almost as if she expected Mrs Sanders to eavesdrop.

  ‘Would you pour, please?’ Aggie asked when the nurse had left.

  ‘Sure.’

  Helen filled the delicate bone china cups with fragrant Earl Grey tea and cut two slices of the cake. While Aggie continued talking about the history of the company and singing the praises of a grandfather she had never met, Helen wolfed down her cake and helped herself to another slice without asking permission, a gesture Aggie chose to ignore.

  ‘Before William passed away,’ Aggie droned on, ‘we agreed that when the company eventually floated, sixty-three per cent of the shares would remain with the family and each of our children would have a stake in it, as well as myself. Your mother died, so her shares went to you, and you now effectively control fifteen per cent of the company.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Yes, dear. As of your twenty-fifth birthday you’ve become quite a wealthy young lady. The company is performing well, and the annual dividends to the shareholders are … well, let’s say very generous.’

  ‘How generous?’

  ‘Our annual turnover is about fifteen million.’ Aggie sipped her tea. ‘Out of that the company’s net profit is five to ten per cent, depending on performance, so a good year would yield, say, one and a half million. Fifteen per cent of that is … well, you work it out. You’ll need to see Sweetman about all that.’ She waved her hand dismissively as if it was unimportant.

  Helen’s brain kicked into gear. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds. Stunned, she sat back in her chair. She’d never imagined she would come into money, and without lifting a finger too. For years the loss of her mother had eaten away at her so sometimes it was the only thing she could think of. She’d known Aggie was wealthy, but had seen the monthly allowance as Aggie’s way of paying for her bad conscience. Compared to what she would have at her disposal now, the allowance had literally been a pittance.

  Still, she was convinced Aggie hadn’t lured her back to England to talk about her inheritance. She could have written a letter, saving Sweetman the trouble
and herself the unpleasantness of facing Helen’s anger. Because it was still there.

  ‘Is that really why you sent for me?’

  ‘Certainly not. I wanted you back here so you could take your place on the board of Ransome & Daughters. I’m getting a little old for that sort of thing.’

  ‘But I’m not interested in sitting on the board. I don’t know anything about the running of a business. What if I make a mistake?’

  Aggie made a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, you won’t. You’re a bright girl, and Letitia is there to advise you. She’s practically been in charge single-handedly for the past five years now. I’m only there for important meetings, and Ruth’s more or less dropped out. Letitia is good at what she does. She’ll fix you up with something.’

  ‘Fix me up?’ Helen grimaced.

  ‘With a job, so you can learn the trade. That’s what your mother did.’

  Aggie rarely mentioned her mother. and the snarky remark died in Helen’s throat.

  A smile creased the corners of Aggie’s piggy eyes. ‘Mimi was quite a woman. She persevered and worked her way up. If she wanted something, she found a way to get it, through her own application. She had integrity,’ Aggie added when she noticed Helen bristling. ‘You may not believe this, my dear, but I truly admired her. She was a fighter.’

  Like me, thought Helen. Or am I?

  She only had hazy memories of worshipping her mother as a child, and although she hardly remembered her now, Aggie’s unexpected praise warmed her. Some of the tightness in her chest lifted, and for the first time her grandmother seemed almost human, fallible even. Maybe she was a fighter too, even though she hadn’t fought for Helen when it really mattered.

  ‘Ruth and Letitia won’t have anything good to say about my mother,’ she commented, not quite won over. ‘They couldn’t stand each other.’

  Aggie grunted. ‘Certainly there were ructions between the girls. Letitia adored her late father and didn’t want me to marry William, so she resented the set-up. It didn’t help that your mother was so pretty. As are you, if you would only make the best of yourself.’ Her gaze fell on Helen’s scruffy clothes.

  ‘I don’t like drawing attention to myself.’

  ‘That’s understandable, given what you witnessed as a child, but maybe it’s time to say goodbye to the ugly duckling and turn into the swan you were always meant to be. To come into your own, as it were.’

  Ignoring Helen’s glare, Aggie nibbled a piece of sponge cake, like an automaton as if she didn’t really taste it. ‘I admit that William and I didn’t do as much as we could’ve done to make the girls get on. We were too preoccupied with the merger. The company was our passion. When we did notice that all was not well between our daughters, William fell ill, and I divided my time between nursing him and running the company. Letitia was a great help, as was your mother, though she was barely out of school.’

  ‘What about Ruth?’

  Aggie scoffed. ‘Ruth was in love. She always was in those days. Nothing else seemed to matter to her. One after the other, and they were all disasters.’

  ‘But then she married Jeremy.’

  ‘Eventually. He was a disaster too.’

  It suddenly dawned on Helen what Aggie was driving at. ‘And now you want me to do what Ruth can’t, or won’t. You want me on your side against Letitia. That’s why you wanted me to come back.’ She hadn’t imagined she could be useful to Aggie, and now she saw the role she was expected to play, it wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for.

  Aggie’s mouth tightened. ‘Letitia will do as I say. I still own eighteen per cent of the shares. That’s enough to throw a spanner in the works, with a few of the other shareholders on my side. You, my dear, read too many trashy novels.’

  ‘I haven’t read a book in years. Reality is strange enough.’

  ‘You’re right about that.’ Aggie put her fork down, suddenly looking very tired. ‘I’m sorry, but would you mind awfully if we continued this conversation tomorrow? These confounded medicines sap my strength so.’ She pulled at a lever on her chair which pushed her halfway up, but still she had difficulties getting out of her seat.

  Overcome by a sudden pity, Helen got up to help her, but her grandmother waved her away.

  ‘I’ll manage. Be a good girl and ring for Mrs Sanders so she can tidy up.’

  Mrs Sanders appeared almost immediately as if she’d been waiting right outside. With expert hands she helped the old lady into an electric bed at the other end of the room, took off her too-tight pumps, and pulled a blanket up to cover her hips. This done, she cleared away the tea things and left the room without a word.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ Helen asked.

  Aggie patted a chair next to the adjustable bed. ‘Stay a while, Helen.’

  This was the first time she’d used Helen’s name since she got here, as opposed to ‘child’ or ‘girl’. Helen experienced a rush of something. Affection? ‘You never really liked my name, did you?’

  ‘Helen is a perfectly sensible name.’

  ‘I meant my real name. Yelena. Ridiculous, I think you said.’

  ‘Hm. I may have said something like that. It seemed a little too … exotic for a girl like you.’

  ‘No one in your social circle had daughters who married foreigners. My mother brought shame on the family, is that what you thought?’

  ‘It seemed unnecessary, when there were so many suitable English men vying for her attention. But I wasn’t ashamed of her.’ Aggie leaned back against her many pillows and closed her eyes. She sat like this for a while, and Helen thought she’d fallen asleep when she said, ‘They’re trying to put me in a home, you know.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My daughters, who else? Letitia doesn’t think I’m able to look after myself. Getting me a nanny was just one step in that direction. Ultimately I think she’ll have me declared mentally incompetent in order to control my shares. I don’t blame her,’ she added in response to Helen’s look of disbelief. ‘That’s how I brought her up, to have a head for business. I just don’t think I can hold out against the pressure much longer.’

  They sat in silence for a while longer, then Helen blurted out the question which had been on the tip of her tongue throughout. ‘Tell me about Fay.’

  Aggie eyed her through half-closed lids. ‘You took your time.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly get a word in edgeways, with you going on and on about the company, did I?’

  That brought a flicker of a smile to Aggie’s pale lips. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Where is she? How long has she been out of prison?’

  ‘A few months. You’re not going to do anything silly, are you? Anyway, what makes you so sure I know where she is?’

  ‘Why else would you send your trained monkey to tell me she’d been released?’

  ‘It was the only way to get you to come home.’

  Helen jutted out her chin.

  ‘All right, all right.’ Aggie sighed. ‘Sweetman has all the details. I’ll get Mrs Sanders to call him this afternoon. I take it you’re staying here.’

  ‘Well, you’re wrong. I’m not. I’m in a hotel for the time being. My home was never with you. You made that quite clear a long time ago.’

  Aggie had the decency to look shamefaced but soon recovered. ‘Fine. If you let me have a phone number for where you’re staying, I’ll make sure the information reaches you. Also, I do think you need to see our doctor in Harley Street about your, er … well, condition.’

  ‘My epilepsy. It’s okay, you can say the word. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it.’

  ‘Yes, your epilepsy. I’d feel more at ease if I knew you’d seen Dr Urquhart.’

  ‘As it happens, I called from India and wangled an appointment with my old consultant. The NHS is good enough for some of us.’

  Her grandmother gave a sort of disgusted grunt, but the conversation had depleted the last of her energy, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

  Helen rose to leav
e. It was gone noon, and an intrepid shaft of sunlight had broken through the morning’s cloud cover. It fell on a swarm of hover flies by the open window, hanging motionless in the air like the unspoken words between herself and Aggie.

  Turning the door handle quietly, she threw one last glance at the only grandmother she’d ever had, in a way. Aggie had her eyes open, and a weary smile appeared briefly.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, my dear.’

  Mrs Sanders showed Helen out with a sullen air, almost slamming the door behind her. Outside she bumped into another woman who stared at her with an equally sour expression. Plump and middle-aged with short, coarse, iron-grey hair and thin lips, she was dressed in a tweed skirt and a drab olive-green Barbour gilet over a beige shirt, and she clutched a brown handbag to her chest as if she thought Helen was a bag-snatcher.

  Helen did a double-take. ‘Auntie Ruth! I almost didn’t recognise you. It’s Helen.’

  ‘Yes, I know. What are you doing here?’

  She hadn’t seen Ruth in years, nor Letitia, not since she’d graciously been invited back into the fold. She’d almost completely blocked out her old life when, on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, a chauffeur-driven car had collected her from her last foster home and brought her here. In Aggie’s dining room they’d made it clear that she’d been kept apart from her family for ‘practical reasons’ but they now considered her mature enough to understand the complexities of the family set-up. In other words, know her place. They were blood relations, and she was not. That even though it would appear they considered her family after all, she was still an outsider. The gesture had felt like a cruel joke.

  They’d met her screaming rage and frustration with stony-faced silence. She’d adored Ruth as a child – strangely the memories of her aunt were stronger than the memories of her mother – and once she’d thought the affection was mutual, but of the three of them Ruth was the one who hadn’t looked her in the eye.

  It was therefore a shock that her aunt looked straight at her now, and with undisguised hostility.

  ‘I came to see Aggie,’ she explained.