Janet sat on the edge of the bed, looking to see what she was reading. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Not really. Well, it’s not like Jane Eyre. ’
‘Esther, the ring you found – it was the ring Uncle Gordon gave Caroline?’
‘Yes, with the different coloured gold.’
‘The ring you found after that night we went to the theatre.’
‘Yes.’
Janet straightened the top sheet. Esther had pushed the blankets and quilt to the bottom of the bed. ‘Are you all right like this?’
‘Yes. Still too hot.’
As Janet rose to open her window a little further, Esther said,
‘Mummy, where did Caroline go that night? Nobody ever told us.’
Janet paused, then drew the curtain across the window again. ‘Oh, she just went to stay with a friend,’ she said. ‘Now, try to sleep.’
Esther lay awake thinking that was the stupidest thing anybody ever said – try to go to sleep. As if you could! Sleep came or it didn’t. She had often tried to catch that instant when unconsciousness took over, when you fell from dozing into the other world of dreams, but had never managed to do it.
Stayed with a friend. It didn’t even sound true. Did that mean her mother knew where Caroline had gone, or not? Was she not telling, or did nobody know?
Daniel knew. That was certain. He would be home on Saturday, him and Caroline. The house would feel different, full again, and soon she would be back at school. Everyone had stopped worrying about typhoid.
Daniel passed his driving test in August. A week or so later, Harry’s friend found them a used Ford Anglia with low mileage.
‘What colour is it?’ Caroline asked.
‘I’ve no idea.’ It had not occurred to Harry to ask, but he caught his wife’s expression as she and Caroline exchanged glances in a rare moment of common understanding.
‘Not white,’ Janet said. ‘It’ll never look clean, especially in the winter.’
‘Oh God, no.’ This was not what Caroline had in mind. Nor was a Ford Anglia – she thought them ugly. Still, there were bound to be other cars.
In a friendly meeting over a couple of pints in Ma Cameron’s, Daniel bought a Mini from a friend, but this turned out to be a mistake. It was corroded with rust and quite soon Daniel put his foot through the floor. Fortunately, as Harry pointed out, the car hadn’t managed to take him past the house next door when this happened. ‘At least it was cheap,’ Daniel said when they sent it to the scrapyard and were obliged to buy a blue Ford Anglia from Harry’s friend instead.
Caroline lost interest in learning to drive once Daniel could. ‘Book lessons first,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to take you out till you can drive a bit.’
At Braeside, on Grandpa’s land, he took her out once or twice, and so did Harry. Then exams loomed, and the weeks passed in a blur, intense with work. They both let it drift after that, with no lessons booked.
In October, Caroline heard about a flat from one of her friends, and by the end of the first week in November they had moved in. This was more successful than the Mini. It was tiny, with three rooms and a lavatory at the turn of the stairs. They had baths at Harrowden Place or in the Student Union which provided utilitarian bathrooms with deep porcelain baths. Caroline liked to lie a long time in one of those, in scalding water, topping it up now and then, emerging beetroot-faced but feeling clean and relaxed. It was far better there than Harrowden Place where someone was always banging on the door or trying to shout things to you through it, engaging you in a conversation you did not want to have.
It was what they noticed most sharply on their first night in the flat: the silence.
‘We can have friends back now,’ Caroline said, ‘without having to check with anyone. We can have parties.’ She sounded more certain than she felt, at this moment. The silence seemed a presence in itself. The tenement block was in a busy street, but the traffic did not matter, hardly impinged. What mattered was that nobody talked to you, nobody gave you instructions, made requests, interrupted.
‘Do you mind having the wee bedroom?’
‘I told you. No, it’s fine,’ Daniel said.
They sat on the lumpy sofa in their rented living room, ate chips from paper parcels fragrant with vinegar and drank beer. For almost half an hour, neither of them talked.
Daniel finished first and leaned back with a deep sigh.
‘I never realised we were so quiet,’ he said.
‘That’s what I was thinking!’
‘Will I put a record on?’
‘In a minute.’
They sat on in the stillness they had created, content.
‘It’s funny without Daniel and Caroline,’ Esther said.
‘I keep expecting them to come in,’ her mother agreed.
‘Louise says she’s going to have her own room at last. Is she going into Caroline’s?’
‘I thought we’d use it as a spare room. High time I had one, considering the size of this house.’
‘You can break it to Louise, then!’ Esther said, laughing.
‘Margaret says she wants Daniel’s little room but we’ll redecorate it first.’
‘Really? Oh well, that solves it then.’
Esther, having had her own room for so long, gave no further thought to it, and changed the subject. Margaret, thinking of it so much, was only worried Louise would take a fancy for Daniel’s room, and insist on having it herself.
Later, when the girls were in bed, Janet said to Harry, ‘Margaret’s very quiet. The girls are missing their cousins.’
‘Our cuckoos have flown the nest, after all,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Are you?’
‘Missing them? I hope the flat is warm enough, with just that wee gas fire,’ was all she said.
‘They should have bought one, it’s just money down the drain, paying rent,’ Harry said, still annoyed at having his advice ignored.
‘I dare say they’ll get fed up with that place,’ Janet said. ‘It’s not up to much.’
She had done everything she could. She had insisted on cleaning it before they moved in and they had finally done so equipped with home baking and a chicken casserole. She had checked the scanty inventory and bought them Pyrex dishes, a set of good knives and an ironing board and iron. They had not expressed more than dutiful gratitude for any of this, and she realised they felt much as she did. Everyone had done their best, and now it was over. The years of being responsible for Caroline and Daniel were finished.
At least, that was how it seemed then, as Harry and Janet sat on their own in the den. It was cosier than the sitting room, and they seemed to feel they had to reclaim it, before Esther wanted it to have her friends round, and Louise started complaining there was nowhere for her. Margaret said nothing, about the den or about the absence of her brother and sister in the house. She didn’t feel well. It was the feeling she had when her temperature was going up. She didn’t want to miss school, so she wouldn’t tell Janet just yet.
The Accident
1964
When Caroline began to wake up there was a hazy moment suffused with the dream she was rising from, evaporating so fast there was only the essence of it left when memory took over. Then there came that dead weight again and nausea rising in her throat. All day she would feel as if she had been punched. She was dazed, winded, as if recovering from a blow to the chest.
In the darkness of the December morning, she was conscious of her heart thumping: was she feeling it or hearing it? She could not decide. The more you thought about it, the worse it got. Not just the painful heart.
Rain rattled against the window panes and a bluster of wind shook the lilac tree, its branch tips brushing the side of the house, bending with a gale that had come with the thaw. They both had leave not to go in to Marischal College or the hospital, with the agreement that this concession would be reviewed in two weeks. For a few days she could go on lying in bed till there was at least some daylight and it was easier to m
ake herself get up. She had been trying to work here, but she missed their little flat, the rickety folding table in the window; the view of the narrow street; women in headscarves tied turban-fashion over their curlers, hurrying along with shopping bags; men in flat caps going to work early in the morning; the schoolchildren in twos and threes, calling to each other.
Daniel sat in his old room at the oak table he had always used in the Harrowden Place house and stared at open books, a half-filled notebook. He was not working either; he was doing nothing but stare at the same pages, not seeing them.
In a week, the world had changed.
A man Harry did business with had come to dinner with his wife last Saturday night. He was the genial sort who brought sweets for the children and had a brief conversation with Caroline and Daniel, heartily acknowledging their adulthood in a way that emphasised their youth. He said, ‘You’re looking well on it anyway’ when Caroline responded to his version of the usual enquiry – How do you like medicine? You must be nearly finished now? She had said, rashly, it seemed, ‘Yes, it’s great, I’m enjoying it – only a year to go till we graduate.’ They had only called in on their way to the party to collect a pair of gold sandals Caroline had left in the wardrobe here.
The temperature had been falling all week and when they arrived they peeled off scarves and opened their coats in the newly warm hall.
‘So, the new central heating is working then!’ Caroline said. She was both amused and resentful that this had been done almost as soon as she and Daniel had left.
‘I wish we’d done it years ago,’ Janet sighed. ‘What a difference it makes.’
‘Anyway, the flat is easy to heat up,’ Caroline said.
They were in the kitchen, where Janet was putting slices of melon on plates. She began slicing between flesh and skin, concentrating.
‘Well,’ Caroline said, ‘we just came in to say hello and to collect my shoes and the records Dan left behind. We’re heading out to Bridge of Don to collect Alison on the way to a party.’
Janet looked up. ‘Is that the chain Daniel gave you for your 18th birthday? It suits you.’
Caroline fingered it, light and delicate on her neck. ‘Yes.’
Janet’s attention was on the melon again. ‘Sorry dear, I need to get on.’
She’s fussed, thought Caroline, she doesn’t really like dinner parties. She went into the hall, where their scarves and Daniel’s fur-lined gloves, the birthday present she had given him in anticipation of winter, were piled in a heap on the hallstand. Daniel came out of the sitting room.
‘Time we got going,’ he said.
‘What time is it?’
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘Oh help, come on then.’
They snatched up their things and made for the door, calling goodbye as they went, leaving Harry and Janet and their guests to beef casserole and lemon meringue pie.
Janet, taking plates of melon slices through to the dining room, saw that Daniel’s gloves had fallen onto the floor, unnoticed. By the time she had put the plates on the table and come back to open the front door, their car had gone. She shut it again quickly, to keep the heat in.
‘I think it might snow,’ she said to Harry and their guests when she went to tell them dinner was ready. ‘It’s terribly cold outside.’
As they got into the car, Caroline thought how happy she was, how relieved they were off on their own, and did not have to go back to Harrowden Place when the party was over, and creep in trying not to wake anyone else.
‘Even with the central heating,’ she said to Daniel, ‘I wouldn’t go back now, would you?’
He laughed. ‘I fancied a bit of that lemon meringue pie though!’
‘I wish we’d not stayed so long – we’re going to be late for collecting Alison now. I said to her just after eight o’clock and we’ve got to get out to the Bridge of Don.’
‘Ok,’ he said, ‘we’re on our way now.’
When the terrible thing happens and you are thrown into the outside world with no say in what will happen next, when you are so frightened you can hardly breathe – where do you turn? Who is there?
Harry of course. Their father was in London, Grandpa was dead, Granny too old and anyway out at Braeside. Besides, Harry is the person who will know what to do. Harry will take care of everything. Harry will make it all right.
This time, he could not. Caroline and Daniel knew that, even as he took over. He drove them home from the police station, spoke to the police and arranged for the car to be taken away when they had finished examining it. He dealt with the insurers through his own insurance broker. He took them back to Harrowden Place and contacted the university. He provided all the reassurance he could. They were so grateful they made no objection to returning to his house for a few days till this is sorted out. Janet and Esther went to the flat to fetch their clothes and books and they were re-installed in their old rooms, still unchanged.
It was as if they were invalids and could do nothing for themselves. Caroline lay awake in the dark morning thinking about this, and about what happiness was, a thing she felt she could be objective about, now it had gone. It was talking about happiness that made it vanish, perhaps. It seemed they’d had no trouble at all in their lives, till this.
If she felt like this, what about Daniel? It was the first time she had not known exactly what he was thinking. That separation from him was the worst of it, beyond even the terror of not knowing what might come of this. They won’t prosecute, Harry said, it wasn’t Daniel’s fault. It seems the fellow was blind drunk but they have to investigate because he died. It will be fine, wait and see.
That was crazy! How was it ever going to be fine again? I’m going mad, she thought, lying in the dark, listening to the sounds of the family getting up, the girls thudding up and downstairs, water running in the bathroom, bedroom doors banging, dishes clattering in the kitchen, the kettle whistling, while she didn’t think she could ever eat breakfast again. Then Harry’s deeper voice in the hall – get a move on, you’ll be late – because he was giving Esther and Louise a lift to the High School.
She was a mad person still lying in bed while all this ordinary life went on outside her door. How could they do that, how could they be so cheerful and normal when her life was ruined and Daniel’s life was ruined and –
‘Pull yourself together,’ Janet had said last night. It was like a slap in the face.
‘What?’
‘It’s much worse for Daniel, a horrible thing to happen to him,’ Janet said. ‘But it wasn’t his fault, and he will get over it. You should be helping him to do that, not dramatizing it like this.’
When Caroline had left the room, slamming the living room door behind her, she heard, faintly, Harry’s doubtful voice, ‘Maybe you’re being a bit hard on her – it was an awful shock for them both. A terrible thing to happen.’
Caroline paused. She was not so angry and upset she did not want to hear what Janet said.
‘I’m not denying that,’ Janet agreed. ‘But if she’s going to be a doctor, she’ll have to learn to rein herself in a bit. She’s no help to Daniel like this.’
Furious, Caroline ran upstairs and flung open Daniel’s door. It was already ajar; he was lying on his back on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
‘Honestly – she doesn’t understand a thing.’
Daniel turned his head in her direction, and she pulled up, frightened. It was as if he had gone blind – knew where the voice came from, but could not see the speaker. Could not see her.
‘Dan?’
‘Sorry. What?’ He began to sit up.
‘Nothing. Just Janet. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Right.’ He lay down again.
Caroline perched on the side of the bed. ‘Have you been working?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s nearly Christmas anyway – we’ve got time to catch up.’
He did not answer. She put her hand on his stockinged foot.
‘You’re cold.’
‘My feet are always cold.’
She rubbed his toes between her palms, warming them. He lay still for a moment, putting up with this, then he said, ‘It’s not just that I can’t concentrate.’
‘Oh, I can’t either.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with me any more.’
She let go of his foot. ‘What do you mean?’
He turned his head towards her and in the dim afternoon light she saw the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks, the hollows of his eyes, the tight line of his mouth, that had always been curved for humour, on the verge of being amused. What are you smiling at? Diana used to ask him, you always look as if you’ve got a joke you’re not sharing.
Caroline thought of the dead man, of Diana, dead too, of something lost from them, a life that could not be recovered. She blinked back tears – pull yourself together.
‘Caro,’ Daniel said, putting his hand on her arm. He did see her, he still saw her. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m sorry. ’
‘You don’t need to be.’
‘It’ll be all right, Harry says.’ She dashed the tears away. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or something?’
‘Yeah. I’ll come downstairs. It is cold up here – and I’m sick of being cold.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
When she had gone, he went on sitting on the edge of the bed, his cold feet on the floor. He had been cold since last Saturday night, since the accident. He closed his eyes, seeing it again, the whirl of snow in the headlamps, the black shape rearing up in front of the car in the dark, the whack of the body on the bonnet, then flung in the air like a flying scarecrow, brakes screaming, Caroline screaming, the skid of the car on the wet road and onto the verge, into the hedge and coming to a halt, the engine cutting, silence. Eerie silence and a smell of snow and blood, his own blood, the taste of it metallic in his mouth, the cut lip, but no pain. No pain at all, then.
He opened his eyes. He was shaking. The room was familiar as his own flesh: the embossed cream wallpaper, the dark red carpet, the Lloyd Loom chair with its blue cushion flattened by Margaret’s cat sleeping there. He looked at his table by the window, the books open: the central nervous system, the beautiful tracking of nerves and muscles throughout the body, the heart, the pumping of blood to and from the magic heart, the intricate diagrams he had come to love, the work he had thought would be his whole life.
The Treacle Well Page 11
