by Maria Savva
‘I don’t think she found it boring, Cara. She just wasn’t the right person to be your carer. She’s too young.’ Gloria walked around the bed and sat on the chair. ‘I should have known it wouldn’t work out. I spoke to her last night when she was leaving and explained that she was too inexperienced. She wasn’t very professional. Not what I’d expected at all.’
‘You sacked her? But… You didn’t mention any of your concerns to me.’
‘I’m merely thinking of your best interests, Cara. Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll pop in a bit later to see how you are.’
Cara watched her sister walk away, and as her mind tried to make sense of the situation she remembered the conversation she’d been having with Rosetta when Gloria interrupted them the day before. They’d been talking about Mandy’s uncle. This wasn’t about Rosetta at all; Gloria was trying to stop her finding out about Benjamin, wasn’t she?
‘Wait, Gloria!’
Gloria, now halfway out of the door, turned to face Cara.
‘Rosie’s such a kind, considerate girl, and I like her. Can’t we give her another chance? She must be devastated.’
‘She’s a nice girl,’ agreed Gloria, ‘just not really the ideal person to look after you.’ She appeared to be avoiding Cara’s eyes.
‘But how will you cope? I mean, it will be difficult for you to look after me.’
‘I’m going to find someone to replace Rosetta, don’t worry.’ She took hold of the door handle.
‘Gloria.’ Cara made one final attempt: ‘Will it still be possible for Mandy’s uncle to drive me to Billy’s grave on Sunday? I don’t want to miss the anniversary.’
Gloria pursed her lips and looked up in contemplation. ‘I’ll book a taxi, and we’ll go together, just the two of us.’
The walls of the bedroom felt more restrictive than ever to Cara, as claustrophobia overwhelmed her. Gloria was in control here, deciding what she could and couldn’t do, who she saw and didn’t see. It was hard to accept that this woman, who had been nothing more than a stranger and estranged for so many years, was now pulling the strings and dictating her life. What if her exterior friendliness was just a mask? Perhaps she was taking advantage of the opportunity to completely ruin her life. She would not be seeing Benjamin on Sunday; it was possible she would never see him again. How could she, trapped in this room?
‘Is there something I should know?’ The question came as Cara stared at her sister, released from her mouth absent-mindedly.
‘I’m not quite sure I know what you mean,’ Gloria replied, looking at her watch. ‘I really do have to go.’
‘About Mandy’s uncle, Paul. Is there something you’re not telling me?’ Cara persisted.
Gloria appeared to freeze, but then turned to face Cara, her brow knitted. ‘Paul is a busy man. Rosetta is too young to understand that people have responsibilities. That’s one of the reasons I had to let her go, don’t you see?’
Cara knew there was no point trying to explain to Gloria: having no children of her own, she would not comprehend the pain she’d felt every day of her life being far from her son with no idea whether he was alive or dead. She began to pick at her breakfast, eyes averted.
Gloria was still standing at the door. ‘Don’t worry, Cara, we’ll go to London on Sunday. We’ll visit the grave together.’
‘All right,’ Cara said dejectedly.
Gloria stood silently in the room for a short time.
After she left, Cara switched on the television to distract her mind as tears of frustration trickled down her cheeks.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
On Sunday morning, Cara woke up to the sound of hailstones pelting against her window. The dull light outside hardly brightened the bedroom at all, making it difficult to tell whether it was yet after sunrise. She lifted her head to take a look at the clock beside the bed.
7 o’clock.
As she rested her head on the pillow, a gloom that had nothing to do with the weather descended, causing a frown to form on her brow. Today she would be travelling to Billy’s grave with Gloria. She dearly wanted to see the grave and feel close to Billy but dreaded the journey to London with her sister.
For the past couple of days Cara had spent long lonely hours staring out of the window at the back garden, preferring to be by herself in the room rather than with Gloria. They had nothing in common apart from bitter memories, and Cara became increasingly resentful about her sister’s wilful decision making: she never consulted Cara about anything, just went ahead and made plans for her as if she were a child in her care.
The garden had not changed much since Cara was a young girl and as such it held the power to ignite her memory, taking her back to times she had thought were long forgotten. She and Beattie had spent most of their school holidays in the garden and exploring the forest that sprawled out beyond.
The previous morning, Gloria had noticed her looking out of the window as she brought her breakfast.
‘I hired a gardener last month; he did a good job, didn’t he?’ said Gloria.
‘Yes,’ Cara replied, nodding, wondering—not for the first time—whether the tree house was still in the forest. Remembering her dream about Beattie, she felt a yearning to see the tree house again. If she asked Gloria about it, though, it would mean having a conversation about Beattie.
‘Do you remember playing in the garden as a child?’ asked Gloria.
‘Yes.’
‘With Beattie.’
The mention of her lost friend’s name came unexpectedly, and Cara searched her sister’s face for any signs of awkwardness.
Gloria smiled at her and resumed looking out at the garden.
Cara decided that in the circumstances perhaps it would be okay to ask about the tree house.
Gloria’s response was: ‘Tree house? I didn’t know about any tree houses there.’
‘Yes, we used to go through the gate at the back, to the forest. We played in it all the time.’
‘Hmm… Well, a few years ago, a fire in the forest destroyed most, if not all, of the trees. They’ve had to be replanted,’ Gloria explained.
Cara turned towards the window, a sadness in her eyes. It felt like part of her history had been erased.
The taxi arrived at eleven o’clock to take them to London. As Gloria pushed the wheelchair along the path towards the taxi, Cara couldn’t help wishing she were leaving this house for good.
‘I’ll go and ask the driver if he’ll help me with the wheelchair,’ said Gloria.
When her sister had gone, Cara noticed a girl running towards her. As the girl came closer, Cara saw it was Rosetta. She looked younger than ever, not dressed in smart work clothes now but in a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a picture of a white cat on the front. Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail. Seeing her again brought a smile to Cara’s face.
‘Hello, Cara,’ Rosetta said, standing beside her, slightly out of breath after her run. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘Yes, I’m going to London, to my husband’s grave.’
Rosetta’s bright smile faded. ‘But this is a taxi.’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘But Mandy’s uncle said he’d take you to London. I came to get you.’
Gloria and the taxi driver approached them.
‘Could you two lovely ladies help this beautiful creature out of the wheelchair so I can put the chair in the back of the cab?’ The driver winked at Cara. He was a muscular man with a shaved head, a plethora of earrings in his ears, and a tattoo of a fire-breathing dragon on his right arm.
‘But Gloria,’ said Rosetta. ‘We don’t need a taxi; Paul will drive us to London. We’re all ready to go.’
‘There’s no need. The taxi’s here,’ said Gloria sternly, walking nearer to the cab.
‘We don’t need a taxi,’ said Rosetta, grasping the wheelchair’s handles and manoeuvring it away from the cab.
‘Rosetta!’ shouted Gloria. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ she said to the taxi d
river, as she followed Rosetta, who was pushing the wheelchair quickly along the street.
The taxi driver pointed at his watch. ‘Look, lady,’ he huffed impatiently. ‘I haven’t got all day. Do you need a taxi or not?’
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ said Gloria.
By the time she’d caught up with Rosetta, the girl was at the corner of the high street talking to a tall, slim, blonde woman, who was wearing a pink, floral summer dress. A large bag, that appeared to be made of straw, hung from the woman’s shoulder. Her apparel gave the impression she was a holidaymaker, a little out of place here under the grey skies of Huddlesea.
‘Rosetta,’ said Gloria, catching her breath.
‘Claire,’ said Rosetta. ‘This is Gloria, Cara’s sister.’
‘Hello, it’s nice to meet you,’ said Claire, reaching out a hand.
‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ said Gloria, red-faced and panting. ‘I’ve got a taxi to take us to London.’
‘No, no, you don’t want to be spending money on taxis. No. My Paul will take us,’ said Claire, smiling brightly. ‘We’ll all fit in the car, no problem. It’s an estate.’ She looked at Cara. ‘Do you know, Rosie’s been so excited about this trip to London, haven’t you, love? She’s never been to London before. I’m looking forward to showing her all the sights.’ She pushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face.
‘But we don’t want to impose,’ said Gloria, impatiently.
‘Don’t be silly. We were driving to London anyway, and Paul has to come back here for a few more days for work, so it’s no big deal. Besides, it’s Rosie’s birthday on Tuesday, isn’t it, love? I’ve told her this can be our present to her: a birthday treat. Paul said we should go without you two, especially as you sacked Rosie on Thursday, but Rosie’s such a sweet girl, she didn’t want Cara to miss out on seeing her husband’s grave today. We decided it would be unfair if we went all the way to London without taking her.’
Gloria lowered her head. ‘I still think Cara and I should go separately in the taxi. It’s nice of you to think of us, but—’
‘No,’ said Rosetta. ‘We’ll take you.’ Then she said, ‘Cara, who would you rather go to London with? A taxi or us?’
Cara opened and closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.
‘Of course she doesn’t want to go in a taxi,’ said Claire, taking hold of the handles of the wheelchair. Cara recognised the perfume she was wearing as the one Penelope used to wear; she associated the sweet flowery smell with her granddaughter and felt a sharp longing to see her again.
‘Come on, everyone,’ said Claire as she walked along the high street. ‘Follow me.’
‘I’ll have to go back and pay the taxi driver,’ said Gloria.
‘We’ll wait for you,’ said Claire, cheerfully.
‘No, don’t.’ Gloria waved a hand. ‘I was only going to London to keep Cara company. You don’t mind if I don’t come, do you, Cara?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Well, have a good time, I’ll see you later.’ Gloria shrugged as she walked away.
As they approached the guest house, Cara questioned whether meeting Benjamin in these circumstances would be the right thing to do. How would he react?
‘You two, wait out here,’ said Claire. ‘I’ll go inside and get Amy and Mandy, and I’ll tell Paul we’re ready to leave.’ She disappeared inside the house.
‘Rosie dear.’
‘Yes, Cara?’
‘I… I should go to London with Gloria, I feel dreadful for letting her down.’
Rosetta opened her mouth to protest, but Cara continued: ‘Could you take me back to the house, please?’ She felt her temperature rise.
Just then, a little girl with long black hair and shining brown eyes exited the house and ran along the path: Amy. She reminded Cara of Penelope at that age.
Amy skipped and smiled, playing with the daisies that grew along the side of the pathway.
Cara could not help staring at the child.
Claire was the next person to come out of the guest house; she left the door open. Bracing herself, Cara looked into the passage of the building: soon Benjamin would appear.
‘I’m really sorry about this,’ said Claire as she came closer. She leaned over to speak to Cara, who was sitting almost on the edge of her wheelchair in anticipation. ‘It looks as though Paul won’t have time to drive us to London, after all.’
‘Why?’ Rosetta walked out from behind the wheelchair.
‘There’s a note on the fridge door; he’s been called out by his office to show a house to an important client. I phoned him on his mobile and he says he’ll be gone for a good few hours. I knew something was up when I saw the car wasn’t parked outside.’
‘He’s working on a Sunday?’ asked Rosetta.
‘It can’t be helped,’ said Cara.
‘But I have to get back to London today,’ said Mandy, who was now standing beside Cara. ‘My exams start tomorrow.’
‘I know, love.’ Claire put an arm around her daughter. ‘Paul said we should get a taxi and he’ll come later to bring the suitcases.’
‘Maybe you should wait for your husband,’ suggested Cara. ‘Then you can all go to London together. It’s silly paying a taxi if he’s going to London later to take your suitcases.’
‘But it’ll be late by the time he gets back,’ said Claire. ‘It’s not right; it’s the anniversary of your husband’s death. Rosie was telling me how much you were looking forward to it.’
‘I’ll go and see whether the taxi is still at Gloria’s house,’ said Rosetta, running towards the high street.
‘I’ll come with you.’ Mandy followed her.
‘Yes, hurry, you might catch him. Ask him to wait!’ Claire called out after them. ‘Cara, do you mind if we all come in your taxi? I mean, we could share the fare.’
‘Of course, dear. The more the merrier.’
Amy approached Cara. ‘Why are you sitting down?’ the little girl asked.
Cara’s eyes filled with tears, as she mused at how much Amy resembled Penelope… and Benjamin.
‘She’s resting her legs, darling,’ said Claire.
Amy began playing with the frilly edges of Cara’s dress, which were hanging from the sides of the wheelchair.
‘Amy, stop that,’ chided Claire.
‘That’s all right,’ said Cara, smiling and wiping a tear from her eye.
‘Don’t worry, Cara,’ said Claire. ‘We’ll get you to London one way or another. You’ll get to see your husband’s grave, I promise.’
Soon Rosetta and Mandy returned, running along the street. ‘The taxi’d already gone by the time we got there,’ said Rosetta, puffing, ‘but Gloria has phoned for another one. It should be here soon.’
‘Great!’ said Claire.
Cara felt a sense of relief but also frustration. On the one hand, she remembered how nervous she’d been when she thought Benjamin would be taking them to London, but equally, there was a part of her that just wanted to get everything out in the open, to stop playing games.
‘Amy, help Mandy with the bags,’ said Claire as they stepped out of the taxi in London.
‘Here you are, Amy, you carry the sandwiches and I’ll carry the drinks,’ said Mandy.
‘Cara, are you comfortable?’ asked Rosetta, after she’d helped her into the wheelchair.
‘Yes, dear, thank you.’ It was a warm day, which had made the drive to London quite intolerable as there were so many of them in the taxi.
‘Amy, stop running,’ called Claire, chasing after her daughter as they entered the cemetery gates.
Visiting Billy’s grave had always been such a private, family occasion; it seemed wrong to turn it into a party. The others were already chatting excitedly about how much they were looking forward to seeing the sights of London. This was probably a frustrating pit stop for them; no doubt they’d be in a rush to leave. Cara usually sensed Billy’s presence when she was at his graveside;
it was a special feeling. Now she almost wished she had not come at all. It wouldn’t be the same.
She bought a bunch of pink roses interlaced with gypsophila from the flower seller at the cemetery gates, then navigated the way to Billy’s grave.
‘Here it is: Billy’s grave!’ shouted Rosetta excitedly as they reached the tombstone, as if they’d happened upon a site of public interest.
The others flocked around the wheelchair.
‘Hello, Billy,’ said Cara addressing the black granite stone, which she noticed had lost its shine. ‘I’m sorry it’s been such a long time. I would have liked to have come sooner, but it couldn’t be helped. I’ve brought you some flowers.’ She leaned forward to place the flowers in front of the tombstone.
‘Mummy.’ Amy held tightly to Claire’s arm and said, ‘Who is she talking to?’
‘No one, darling.’
‘Mummy, I’m scared. I want to go home.’
‘Don’t be silly, Amy.’
The little girl started to cry. ‘She’s talking to a ghost.’
Claire leaned down and whispered into Amy’s ear, then smiled at Cara. ‘I’m sorry about this.’
‘Don’t worry, dear.’
‘It’s a lovely headstone,’ said Claire, surveying the granite carved cross. ‘“William Patrick Edwards, a loving husband and father, rest in peace”,’ she read from the tombstone. ‘He died quite young, didn’t he? Sorry, Cara, I didn’t mean to sound…’
‘He did die young,’ said Cara. ‘It was a car accident.’
‘Mummy, can we go?’ Amy tugged at Claire’s arm.
‘Not yet, sweetie. Cara wants to stay a bit longer.’
‘But I’m hungry and I’m scared.’
‘Wait a minute, sweetie.’
They stood at the graveside in silence for a short while.
Although a wooden bench faced the grave, none of them sat down. This only reinforced Cara’s belief that they would rather be anywhere else.
