On the Edge of Darkness

by Barbara Erskine

  Jane glanced at Adam. Taking a deep breath she walked over to Calum and put her arm round his shoulders. ‘As you say, shit,’ she said firmly, the word far more shocking coming from her. ‘But there is no point in worrying about it today. Go to school, Calum, and concentrate on the exams. That is the most important thing at this moment.’ She squeezed his shoulders tightly as he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Oh yes it is. Julie can wait. Does Liza know? I’ll talk to her later. Please, darling. Don’t let this put you off. Whatever happens, whatever you and Julie decide to do, you need your exams behind you, you know that. Put her out of your mind for now. I know it’s hard. It’s complete hell, but we’ll work something out, you know we will. I’m just so glad you told us.’ She knew he hadn’t meant to. He had blurted it out without thinking and for that she mouthed a small prayer of gratitude. ‘Go on, sweetheart. Get your things. Adam, is the car ready?’ They were both sitting there as if pole-axed and she had to galvanise them into action.

  As Calum stood up and walked out of the room she caught Adam’s arm. ‘Don’t you dare give him a hard time on the way to school, do you hear? Whatever you think, whatever you think! Don’t take it out on him!’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I’m not a complete idiot, Janie.’ He ruffled her hair unexpectedly and then gave a small defeated shrug. ‘That minx. I’ve known all along she was bad for him. Stupid, stupid girl. And to ring today of all days! How selfish can you get?’

  ‘I’ll phone Liza. We’ll sort something out.’ She reached up and gave him a kiss. ‘Go on, drive him to school. And send him off feeling really good about himself, okay?’

  She sat down at the uncleared table after they had gone and reached for the coffee pot; there was enough for a cup of black. Sipping it she stared out of the window at the lawn. The thrush had stopped singing and had come down to its favourite perch on a large stone near the rose beds where it was hammering a snail. She winced instinctively as she watched the single-minded manner in which it smashed its way into the shell to find the soft body inside.

  There wouldn’t be an abortion, of course. After all, the kids had already declared their plan of marrying one day. It wasn’t such a disaster. As long as Calum got his grades he could go to university as planned and Julie would have to go with him. It wasn’t ideal, of course it wasn’t, but it wasn’t as if Adam and Philip couldn’t afford to subsidise them. She took another sip of coffee. She didn’t see why there should be any problem over it at all, really. Except for Adam.

  Wearily she stood up and walked into the study. Sitting down in Adam’s swivel chair she pulled the phone towards her and dialled the farm. Liza picked it up on the third ring which meant she was in the kitchen. The Stevensons had never bothered to put in extensions anywhere else.

  ‘He’s told you?’ She sounded quite cheerful.

  ‘He told us. How is she?’

  ‘Being sick.’

  ‘Poor Julie.’ Jane could not quite keep the coolness out of her voice.

  Liza heard it. ‘Jane, I know. We feel the same. But it’s not as if they hadn’t planned to get married one day. Oh, I know they’re a bit young, but these days I suppose it’s all about being young.’

  ‘That’s as may be, Liza.’ Jane took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘But today was Calum’s first maths A level exam. Julie rang him five minutes before he was due to leave. The boy went off to school in a state of total shock. Do you not think she could have timed it a bit better?’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘God, I’m sorry, Jane, I really am. Listen, tell him not to worry about it. Everything will work out all right. Somehow. And let me talk to Adam tonight.’ There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘I bet he made a fuss?’

  Jane did not need to answer.

  ‘Yes, I thought so. He doesn’t think Julie is intellectual enough for his precious son, does he? I’ll deal with him. And tell Calum I’m so sorry about the exams, I didn’t realise they had started. Wish him lots of luck from us and tell him we’re rooting for him.’

  Jane went back to the breakfast table and picked up her cup. Absent-mindedly she reached for the paper which in his hurry Adam had left for once by his plate. Unfolding it she glanced at the front page and then turned inside to find the news. The item was so small Adam must have missed it in his first quick look through the paper. She nearly did. The hunt for the missing mental patient, known only as Brid, a suspect in the Wilkins murder mystery, switched yesterday to the Home Counties when a woman, thought to answer the description of the missing patient, was spotted near St Albans. Nurse Deborah Wilkins was found three months ago, stabbed through the heart in the grounds of the institution in north London where Brid had been an in-patient for several years. Psychiatrist Dr Ivor Furness reiterated his warning that she should not be approached if seen.

  Jane realised suddenly that she was holding her breath. It had to be a coincidence. Perhaps it wasn’t her at all? She stared out into the garden again, her eyes going automatically to the stone. The thrush had gone, leaving a scattering of translucent pieces of shell as the only traces that the snail had ever existed.

  Adam had not yet called in his first patient when she rang. ‘Did he get to school all right?’ She had resisted the urge to lock the garden door.

  ‘He was there in plenty of time. I think it was better once he was with his friends.’ Adam had been sitting at his desk, staring into space.

  ‘And you didn’t give him a hard time?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ There was a touch of irritation in his voice.

  ‘I spoke to Liza.’

  ‘And what does she think?’

  ‘Same as us. Though I suspect beneath it all she’s quite pleased in a way.’

  ‘Pleased?’ Adam’s voice registered total disbelief. ‘For God’s sake, what does the woman think she’s doing, being pleased?’

  ‘She’s going to ring you this evening.’ For once Jane was glad they were going to have one of their private conversations which made her feel left out and jealous. This one she could well do without. ‘Adam, listen.’ She changed the subject suddenly. ‘I don’t know if you saw it in the paper this morning, but the police think Brid has been spotted near here.’

  There was a long moment of silence, then the one word, ‘What?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Adam, but I thought I’d better warn you. I’m surprised the police haven’t been in touch.’ For that split second he had sounded afraid. ‘Be careful, darling.’ Jane was clutching the phone receiver as though her life depended on it.

  ‘And you. You’d better lock the windows, Janie.’

  The amulet tree, dented and broken as it was after it was rescued by Jane, had been left on the table between their beds, the crystal at its foot. Mrs Freeling had twice moved it, and once suggested it be thrown away, but stubbornly Jane had replaced it and now the woman dusted it and put it back, trying to hide it behind the lamp as though its very presence offended her in the otherwise immaculate room. Jane went upstairs and sat down on the bed after she had closed the French windows. She reached across and picked it up. She wasn’t sure why it still reassured her. It was stupid and superstitious to think a small broken piece of silver and enamel and crystal could protect her from Brid. But then it was stupid and superstitious to think that Brid could get inside her house the way she did. For several minutes she sat staring at the ornament in her hands, then gently she put it down again, this time ostentatiously at the front of the table.

  ‘How was the exam?’

  Calum had come home on the bus and gone straight to the fridge, where he helped himself to a large wedge of cheese.

  ‘Not too bad, I suppose. I cocked up one or two things. Stupid things.’ He reached for a bottle of orange and poured himself a glass. ‘I suppose I’d better go up and revise for the next one.’

  ‘Not for a minute, Calum.’ Jane was standing between him and the door. ‘I think we should talk about Julie.’

  He shrugged. ‘What’s there to talk about? I su
ppose we’ll have to get married.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.’ She tried to keep her voice neutral. ‘It’s not so long ago that you were fighting with your father over your decision to marry as soon as possible.’

  Calum scowled. ‘I know. I do still want to marry her. It’s just that I wanted to live a little before we settled down.’

  ‘And she got pregnant after you told her all this?’

  ‘No, of course not. She wouldn’t do it deliberately. That would be blackmail. Julie would never do something like that. No, it happened that weekend when I kind of ran away. You know, after the row with Dad?’ He let out a great sigh.

  ‘I hope you’re not saying it’s your father’s fault.’

  ‘No.’ He shuffled his feet.

  ‘So, you don’t want to get married.’ She kept her voice carefully even.

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll have to. I can’t let Julie down.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you can.’

  ‘It won’t be that bad.’ He sounded hopeful suddenly. ‘She’s a great laugh. And I do love her. I’ll get some kind of job …’

  ‘No.’ Jane folded her arms. ‘No, you don’t have to do that. You must still go to university, Calum. We’ll find the money somehow to make it work. We’ll find you a little flat or something up in Edinburgh. Don’t worry about that.’

  Weeks passed and there was no further news of Brid. After the first few days, Jane began to leave the windows open again. She and Adam did not discuss her – Adam’s thoughts on the subject were strictly private, as had been his conversation with Liza that day – and Jane wanted to put Brid as far out of her mind as possible. Their attention was fully taken up with Calum and Juliette in any case.

  Calum had passed his exams, but nothing would persuade him to agree to go up to university the following autumn.

  ‘Loads of people take a year out, Dad,’ he had said after the quiet wedding in the church at Hay that July.

  Adam had surveyed his son’s colourful wedding outfit and that of his by now obviously pregnant daughter-in-law with distaste and retreated to the far side of the farm kitchen, where he had knocked back two large whiskies in quick succession. ‘Not if they are going to study medicine, Calum,’ he said through tight lips. ‘Not if you care about your career. You are going to be studying for five years at least, perhaps more if you specialise.’

  ‘All the more reason to have a break and enjoy himself!’ Julie caught hold of Adam’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Stop being such a grump, Uncle Adam!’

  Adam could feel himself growing increasingly angry. This child, this pretty, silly child had distracted his son so easily. Why couldn’t Calum be strong like he was? After all, he had turned his back on Brid to go and study.

  The thought of Brid made him even more cross. Where was she, this child woman who looked so like his Brid? Why had they heard nothing? Had she really murdered a nurse and run away or was she being made into a scapegoat? After that one reported sighting of her near St Albans there had been no further word. She had disappeared into thin air, as had the cat. He had seen no sign of it for months and he had to admit he missed it. God, he missed it! If there was a slight frisson in the air as he thought about it, he did not notice.

  ‘Penny for them.’

  He realised suddenly that Liza was standing in front of him. She was looking particularly lovely in a dress of cornflower blue with, when they were in church, a large cartwheel straw hat which had been deposited on their return to the farm over the fruit bowl on the dresser.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Penny for them. But I know what you are thinking: why did that wretched child seduce my Calum away from his great career – right?’

  He gave a reluctant smile. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘She didn’t, you know. It must have been fifty-fifty. And she’s not going to hold him back. She is tremendously proud of him.’

  ‘Even though she stopped him getting the grades he needed?’

  ‘Oh Adam!’ She was infuriated. ‘You don’t know he would have got As. As it is he did very well. He’s got his place in medical school. For goodness’ sake, stop being such a fussy old thing. That’s it, you know,’ she giggled. ‘You’re getting old!’

  ‘Am I?’ Adam was standing in front of the mirror in the attic bedroom later. ‘Am I getting old?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Jane was already in bed. She was wearing a white cotton nightdress trimmed with broderie anglaise like the one she had worn on their wedding night and to Adam, as he turned round and caught sight of her, she looked suddenly ethereally beautiful.

  ‘What is it? Why are you staring at me like that?’ She smiled at him.

  ‘Christ, I fancy you, woman!’ It was a long time since he had made love to her, a long time since he had felt any attraction to her at all and here he was overcome by a sudden wave of something very like lust. He walked over and sat down next to her. Gently he put his hand up and pulled at the ribbon which held the neck of the nightdress closed. ‘I think I must have had too much to drink.’

  ‘Why do you think that? Because suddenly you’ve remembered you’ve got a wife?’ She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him forward so she could kiss him. ‘They’ll be happy, Adam, I know they will.’

  He shook his head and put his finger to her lips. ‘Let’s not talk about them any more. They’ve chosen their path. They must follow it.’ God, I sound more and more like my father every day, he thought to himself suddenly. It was not a happy thought. He pulled her closer. ‘It’s not just the young who can be happy,’ he murmured. Behind the lust there was a sudden moment of guilt. ‘Time for you and me, now. Why don’t we go away somewhere? Just the two of us.’ He pushed the nightgown off her shoulders and down to her waist. Her breasts were still firm, her stomach flat. He dropped his mouth to a nipple and took it gently between his teeth, hearing her quick gasp of pleasure as he did so. Urgently he pushed her back on the pillows, fumbling with his trouser zip, feeling her hands caressing his face, his hair, his shoulders, going to his shirt buttons and then to his own chest. ‘Oh Adam.’ Her breathless murmur urged him on. ‘Yes, yes, please!’

  The growl behind them from the window was very quiet but they both heard it and froze. For a minute neither of them moved, then very slowly Adam sat up and turned to face the sound. For a moment he could see nothing. The room was dark save for the shaded lamp on the table in the corner. It was so hot in the attic room under the roof that they had left the window wide open to catch the slightest breeze from the fragrant night outside. Two moths circled the lamp dizzily, otherwise nothing in the room moved. Holding his breath he stared into the shadowy darkness, aware that behind him Jane was frantically trying to pull her nightdress back over her breasts without drawing attention to her movements.

  Very slowly Adam stood up. He pulled his trousers into place and zipping them up he took a step away from the bed. The room was full of the honey smell of the night. Above the line of the hill outside and the right-angle of the roof with its huge Welsh slates he could just see the glow of the rising moon. Behind him Jane pushed herself back into the pillows, her eyes straining to see beyond Adam as he took another silent step forward. The room was eerily quiet. Even the noises of the night seemed to have died away. The owl had drifted off across the hill into the next valley and the younger wedding guests who had stayed, their sleeping bags lined up in Liza’s large barn, had finally fallen asleep, their snores contained by the thick stone walls.

  ‘Adam?’ Jane’s whisper was almost soundless.

  He waved his hand at her behind his back and took another step towards the door. He was reaching out towards the light switch when they heard it again, a throaty growl from somewhere very close in the room.

  ‘Oh God,’ Jane pulled the sheets and blankets up to her face. ‘What is it?’

  Adam grabbed at the switch and flicked on the light, then he turned, his back against the door, and surveyed the room which was now bathe
d in pink from the small lamp hanging from the beam. Bed. Cupboard. One rush-seated chair, a pretty woven mat on the broad oak boards and a small table with a Victorian mirror on it which served as a dressing table. Besides that there were their two suitcases, both lying open on the floor, Jane’s neat, an improvised chest of drawers, the lid sitting propped up against the wall, his own with the lid back on the floor, clothes and shoes lying scattered out of it and around it in cheerful disarray. The cat was lying in the middle of his clothes, regarding him from brilliant golden eyes.

  ‘Adam, it’s her!’ Jane’s strangled cry was cut off short by his angry gesture.

  ‘We don’t know that. Think,’ he murmured. ‘Can it have got in here from the roof? Or from the house earlier? Is it Liza’s?’ He realised suddenly that he was shaking like a leaf.

  ‘Of course it’s not Liza’s.’ Jane’s whisper rose into an hysterical hiss. ‘Don’t you recognise it? It’s her.’

  ‘If it’s her, Jane, it’s not real.’ He forced himself to move a step closer. The cat remained motionless except for the very tip of its tail which began to move almost imperceptibly from side to side. ‘It is a projection of her imagination.’

  ‘Hers or ours?’ Jane slid over to the far side of the bed and knelt there, a pillow clutched against her chest. The cat ignored her. Its eyes were fixed on Adam’s face. ‘It looks bloody real to me.’ Her voice was shaking.

  ‘Brid?’ Adam spoke to the animal hesitantly. ‘Brid, is that you? Please, show yourself so we can talk.’

  Behind him Jane smothered a burst of hysterical laughter in the pillow. ‘Now I’ve heard everything. “Brid?”’ She mimicked his voice. ‘“Show yourself, my darling. I like you better with long black hair.”’

  Languidly, the cat turned its head and stared at her. She shrank back against the pillows.

  ‘What the hell are you trying to do?’ Adam turned on her. ‘For God’s sake, Jane, don’t be so stupid! Come on, puss.’ He squatted down and held out his hand to the cat. ‘Come on. Come and talk to me.’