Ernie stood at the door and said that that it was certainly deliberate mass destruction, but there might be some answers that he could give me, “off the cuff.”
I quietly asked him if he would come inside and have his cup of tea, and I laid out some shortbread biscuits. I also explained that I didn’t want our conversation to be overheard, but that I would explain in a minute. Ernie sat down on the armchair
opposite me.
“Well,” he started. “Squirrels are very destructive when it comes to outdoor plants and so can rabbits, but I must say that this is usually towards autumn, when food is becoming scarce. I must say though; I’ve never seen anything quite like this. Oh,” he quickly continued, “I don’t mean to point fingers, but cats may sometimes like to sit in big pots like that, especially when the sun has been out, for the warmth.”
He took a sip of his tea and seemed deep in thought, until I suddenly and nervously began to tell him my fears. I was quite sure that I could trust him.
“Ernie, I know it isn’t Rosie, I just know it. She loves being out and about in the fields, but I’m sure she wouldn’t do that. Anyway, Mary’s garden and mine aren’t fenced off, and Mary has some pot plants too, that she put out weeks ago and Rosie has sat on those. I don’t think Rosie’s light weight would come near to destroying those plants beyond salvage. Also, how come the other pot has that great crack down it? Surely an animal couldn’t manage that?” I blurted out.
“Yes,” Ernie began thoughtfully. “I think that you have a point there. How do you think it happened? I feel as though you already have your suspicions,” he said gently.
“I do Ernie,” I said, and bent my head in despair.
“I know ninety nine percent for a fact that Clare has a grudge against me. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. Ian has commented on her strange behaviour, and, I don’t know. I just have a hunch and it’s all since she lost the baby, almost as if she’s taking it out on me.”
I then quickly added, “I know perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but I think Ian is finding her too much to cope with and is trying to get some help, and apparently Pam won’t come up for a while as she finds Clare hard work. Ian must put up with her having tantrums and being very destructive at times, I’ve heard it regularly. She really needs professional help,” I continued.
Ernie nodded. “I had heard that Ian is trying to get some respite care and in the meantime, I think he’s managed to arrange carers to come in at least twice a day.”
Ernie then continued, “I could have a word with Ian about today if you like,” he suggested, trying to be helpful.
“No, I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve no proof unfortunately, and saying anything would just make matters worse,” I said firmly. “As I mentioned before, I do know that Ian was very aware of Clare’s mental state and what she was capable of and when this campaign against me had started.”
Suddenly, Ernie had an idea. “It’s always been very quiet around here, but I do know that when the manor was being converted into the apartments that CCTV was supposed to be installed. If you just look up there, near the guttering, you will see that everything has been put in place, the connection has just been overlooked. Let me contact the Estates Office and ask permission to arrange to get it all rigged up properly and working. I won’t say anything about all this, but I can add pressure, because it should have been all sorted before anybody moved in. You may feel at least a bit more protected. Anyway lass, you know where Elsie and I are, and you just pop in when you want to.” That made me feel tons better, in some respects.
I did however, decide to take some photos of the tubs and all the mess surrounding them. I just felt that I needed to gather evidence, where I could, until this mess was sorted-out, sooner or later.
I quickly gave Rosie a hug and set off to work.
Grace called me at work and reminded me that we were supposed to be meeting up that evening. I apologised, and said it had been a rough morning and invited her around instead. Grace had been a couple of times before, and so she had no problem whatsoever in finding me.
I made a cheese selection with a choice of biscuits and some slices of ham, washed down with a small glass of Shiraz each.
I showed Grace the “crime scene” through the windows as I didn’t want to give Clare the satisfaction that we were surveying the damage. Grace shook her head in disbelief, that someone could be so hateful.
I made sure that Clare didn’t spoil our evening by letting her be the total focus of our discussions.
We had some good laughs, going over some of our memorable moments at college, and even better than that, discussing where we were going to have our annual few days off.
Rosie had really taken to Grace. Mind you, Grace also had a cat called Tigger, so that probably helped. Eventually Grace carefully picked Rosie up and gently laid her on the settee, stroking her saying goodbye to her.
Grace, hugged me and said to ring her any time, and hoped that things would settle down now. We arranged to go to the cinema the following week, as usual.
I looked at the clock. It was nine p.m. I took a chance and rang Neil although I knew that if he was at home, it would be midnight. I still felt wound up and stressed and I just needed to talk to someone who knew me inside out. Neil had become more of a big brother these days.
Fortunately, Oksana was fast asleep upstairs and he was at his desk in the dining room, going through his accounts. Neil listened to my latest plight and outburst of emotion.
“It could be squirrels,” he said. “I mean you’re really out in the countryside there, it’s an ideal habitat for them,” he replied.
“I know, that’s what Ernie said,” I replied. “I’ve taken some pictures of the state of the patio and the damage, you never know, they might come in useful. I’m telling you Neil, I spoke to Ian a few days ago and he did actually admit that Clare is mentally ill,” I added emphatically.
Neil said that he was flying over in a couple of days to the factory and that he would come and see me at home. I felt quite reassured by that.
With a heavy heart I walked into the surgery, I really didn’t feel like being a listener today. I knew my supervisor wouldn’t really approve of me working today. I felt drained with nothing left to give. I was trapped in a vicious circle. I couldn’t prove anything, but I knew without a doubt that Clare was behind all this.
Little did I know, however, that this “revenge” behaviour was going to get a lot more personal and would result in a tragedy.
Chapter Thirty-One
In the following days, I noticed a regular team of carers coming in to see to Clare while Ian was at work. I did feel sorry for Ian for he was having to juggle work and then when he come home, Clare was still prone to her outbursts, and admirably, he didn’t seem to bite back and, from what I could tell, he was very patient with her.
The next morning, I arose very early after a fitful sleep. I decided I needed to clear the patio. I just hadn’t been able to face it until now. I made myself move into action. I thought that if I set to work on the clear up early and as quietly as I could, Clare would be unaware of it. I just couldn’t face it when she would be up and about and have that gloating look, which I now began to imagine, would be on her face.
With great strength, I managed to deftly move the unbroken tub next to the other one and for the time being, I laid a green garden bag over the top of them with a couple of large stones on each to weight the bag down over them. I quietly picked up my yard brush, and as quietly as possible, brushed the scattered earth on to the open lawns at the back. This was followed by a quick swill down of the flagstones on the patio. Satisfied, I surveyed my tidy up. At least it was all clean and clear again and I wouldn’t have to be reminded of the disaster. I kept thinking, almost as if I was preparing myself, I had the pictures of the dreadful event if I needed them.
Rosie took the opportunity to go and stake out her territory and have a good mosey around while I was outside. I gave Rosie her breakfast a
nd morning cuddle, and she settled her down on her cat blanket.
We sat together on the settee like two old pals watching the morning news. As I showered and dressed, I did hear some banging and clattering going on from Ian and Clare’s apartment. I gave a quick look out of the kitchen window that looked onto the parking area, and I noticed that Ian’s car had already gone. I then concluded it must be one of the carers perhaps being a bit noisier than usual in the process of giving Clare her breakfast, although I must admit, it did seem out of character for them.
I gave Rosie her goodbye cuddle and told her I’d see her later. Walking into the kitchen, I suddenly remembered I needed to pick up my lunch box and bottle of water. Why I am mentioning these seemingly insignificant matters, is, as you will read on, those few extra moments that I took to get ready, and been out of the door, could have avoided the dreadful shock that I had when I opened my front door.
I’ve heard many times of the “flight or fight response”, and I knew what it meant, but here I was now confronted with it myself, for there stood Clare with a vacant and glazed look, a bit like a zombie.
She stood inches away from me. In fact, she was hardly recognisable, apart from those distinctive sea-blue eyes. Here before me stood someone almost unrecognisable.
She stood there with bedraggled greasy hair. Her delicate frame was now replaced with an extremely chubby body. Instead of her business-like attire and image, she wore an old fashioned sloppy jumper and baggy skirt down to her feet, which were bare, standing on the stone slabs.
I stood rooted to the spot, desperately trying to handle this situation in the best possible way. I felt so alone. Alison and Chris were both away, Mike was away as was Jo and Mary had stayed down at the hospital the last night or so.
I was also unnerved by the fact that Clare had one hand behind her back as though she had something in it. My mind went into a panic, was it a knife, or some instrument or another to attack me with? Then I suddenly thought, if I made a run for it, she was now heavy enough to overpower me. What about Rosie? I couldn’t move to shut my door.
At that moment, at the height of my panic, one of the carers came through the main entrance, and came over and took a grip on Clare’s arm.
“Come on Clare,” said the carer taking charge. “Let’s get you sorted out.”
As she turned Clare towards her, Clare’s other arm swung out, and a bundle of tiny baby clothes were hurled at my face, mittens and bootees etc.
I didn’t respond, and I felt the soft feel of the scented fabrics, cross my face, before tumbling to the floor.
As the carer hurried Clare back up the stairs, she turned around and looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry,” apologetically, and gave me a sweet smile as they ascended the stairs.
My body went into shock and I felt tremors in my hands and legs. I shut and made sure that my front door was locked before I made it to the car.
Once in the car, I put on a CD that I had I had bought as advertised in a psychology magazine. It was like the familiar babbling of a brook across stones, and you could, if you closed your eyes and relaxed, imagine a bright summer’s day with the scent of bluebells with their delicate petals slightly swaying in the light breeze. The smell of wild garlic, and that undeniable yield and buzzing from spring to summer, and its treasures and the yellow meadow-laden fields.
I often played this quietly in the background of my consulting room, especially with new clients, to put them at their ease, as it was not unusual for new clients to feel a bit on edge, not knowing what counselling meant or entailed.
Well, it certainly helped me at that moment. I took a deep breath in and then exhaled slowly. I opened my eyes and I now felt calm enough to drive to work. My first port of call was Ian. I didn’t have to prove this morning’s events, and I’d had the carer witness what had happened.
I walked straight into the kitchen when I arrived, and poured myself coffee from the percolator. I checked first with the girls in reception when Ian had a free slot, and was more than pleased to find out he had a slot within the next ten minutes and that I had too.
As I sat in my room, sipping on the glorious taste of the rich coffee, my mind began to rehearse different ways to confront him, but I knew that it would be really a case of “go with the flow”, but one thing I was now determined about, I wasn’t leaving his office until he gave me his word that this was it, he had to do something immediately. I couldn’t live like this anymore. I knew it would be a shock, or at least that’s what I thought, but something had to be done without delay.
As I approached his room, I saw his door was ajar, but I could hear he was on the telephone. I would normally have apologised and crept out of the room until he had finished, but No! I thought, this has gone too far now. I sat down opposite him, defiantly, and I waited for him to finish his call.
As he put the receiver down, he said, “Ah, Natasha.” His eyes lit up as he said my name. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“No, it’s not a pleasure that I have to be here,” I said curtly but bravely.
I saw Ian’s facial expression, as he seemed a bit taken aback.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Dr Crowther,” I began formally. “I have had strong suspicions over the last few months, which have been confirmed today, I might add, that Clare has a serious grievance against me, and it’s got to stop!” I mustered all the strength in my voice without shouting,
I told him all about the passing and the disturbing events of the last few weeks and Claire’s reaction at their baby’s funeral, which was apparently, only directed at me. I also complained about the continual screaming outbursts.
Ian looked slightly uncomfortable as I spoke. I continued and told him what had happened that morning as I left for work, and added, “I am not picking those baby clothes up. Maybe someone will before I get back, but I’m not.”
Ian now looked aghast and was extremely apologetic. I then hit him right between the eyes that it was unacceptable and WHY had it happened? What had I done to deserve this?
I couldn’t help noticing that Ian was trying to avoid directly answering my question. He then said, “I’m trying to get Clare into Faversham House Residential. I can’t apologise enough for all this distress and I should have let her go into care a long time ago. I just kept hoping that she would improve that it was just a hiccup and part of me felt guilty because of our baby. I do need a break myself and the two carers that come each day just aren’t enough. She really needs care 24/7,” Ian explained.
“Yes, I can see that,” I replied albeit unsympathetically. “However, that doesn’t explain why me? Why am I the target of her anger? It’s not as though I have a baby myself to feel resentful about,” I replied, getting quite irritated now. I felt as though Ian wasn’t really addressing the situation.
I then continued as there was no immediate response from him. “Look, I can appreciate that Clare has been through hell. Clare knows that I lost a baby myself when I was married to my first husband. I know it wasn’t the same situation as Clare’s, clinging onto the hope that your baby was going to pull through and doing everything within your power to ensure that, and yet still facing the tragedy of losing that much-loved baby. I’m not surprised that all the insurmountable grief has perhaps pushed her over the edge. As much as I feel for her, I am not going to bear the continual brunt of it, and I don’t deserve it!” I was quite surprised at my righteous outburst.
Nor was I prepared for the shock and the terror of what Ian was about to reveal to me. Ian now lifted his head from his hands that I had been talking to.
“I think I know,” Ian replied slowly.
I made no comment, but I was intrigued at his reply, but at the same time, I was nervous at what I could feel was about to be revealed.
Ian continued, “You remember the day Clare came home from hospital, that last time after losing our little girl?”
I nodded, “How could I ever forget?”
“We stopped and spoke
on the stairs for quite a few minutes, didn’t we? I think you were on your way up to Alison’s?” he continued.
“Yes,” I affirmed, not understanding the relevance of that event.
“As we were talking, your hand was resting on the bannister, and I patted it and gazed into your eyes,” Ian continued.
“I vaguely remember. That was the evening you told me the terrible news about her losing the baby,” I answered expectantly, waiting for the answer.
“Well, Clare saw us. Do you recall, Clare slamming the apartment door? She had seen us,” he burst out.
“So,” I replied annoyed and irritated. “I’ve sometimes given someone a slight pat on their back, in a caring manner. In my experience, when there has been a sudden bereavement, people do express themselves in different ways. What are you getting at?”
“Well Clare automatically took it as though there was something between us. I suppose it didn’t help her being on an emotional roller coaster,” he finally explained.
“Just a minute!” I said quickly, beginning to piece things together suddenly. “Does this have any connection to all the arguments that suddenly began between the two of you on that evening and the smashing of crockery or glasses, whatever that was?”
Ian nodded, but kept quiet. Slowly, I carried on with my train of thought and my memory began to rapidly kick in.
“I remember Clare shouting at you and saying, ‘Go on, you can have her if you want her, you can have her, but at a price’! Something like that anyway. She wasn’t referring to me by any chance, was she? Given the revelations that you have come out with today?” I carried on, becoming infuriated.
“Yes,” was all he replied and levelled his eyes at me.
“You’ve known all this time that she has had a grudge against me, and I might add, a completely concocted, imaginary grudge, for no reason whatsoever, and yet you’ve let it fester and get dangerously out of control?” My voice became louder. By now, I wasn’t really bothered if I was overheard.
Through the Dark Keyhole Page 13
