by Jane E James
Perhaps that is why it takes me longer than usual to register the sound of a dog barking. The beaches here are normally empty, no matter the time of year, so I do not expect to be interrupted. But when I glance over my shoulder, I see a scruffy-looking dog, no more than a puppy really, tearing about on the beach, tongue foolishly lolling out and ears pricked. Realising I am in no danger of being savaged, I have an aversion to dogs that I think is relatively new, I am about to whistle it over, when I spot the dog’s owner.
The man and the dog stop when they see me. Selfishly, I do not want to share this part of the beach with anyone else, so I hope they will turn and walk away again, in the opposite direction. But oh no, they decide to head straight towards me. How annoying, I think, getting to my feet. If they think I am going to stand here and make small talk, they’ve got another thing coming.
As they draw closer, it dawns on me that this is the same man I saw outside the window. He has the same long scruffy hair and beard. The same arrogant stance. Standing there, alone on the beach, with no other people around, I feel afraid. There is something about him that unsettles me. I feel it now, as I did the first time I saw him all those weeks ago. Yet a part of me longs to know who the stranger is and why he has this effect on me.
Every painstakingly slow step he takes towards me reveals more of his face and features and I find I cannot move. Trembling from head to toe, I can shake my head in denial all I like, but beneath the beard and long hair, I recognise him. His eyes. Oh my God his eyes.
‘You’re not real!’ I shout, not wanting him to come any closer. ‘You don’t exist.’
He halts in front of me, seeming to understand that I need some space, but the dog is not so polite. It launches itself playfully at me, almost unbalancing me.
‘I suppose he’s not real either,’ I hear him say. Same old sarcastic voice.
He approaches me then, and my eyes dart constantly between him and the house by the sea, whose shadow falls on the beach in front of us. When he is close enough to put a hand on my arm, my trembling increases and I want to cry. Oh God I want to cry.
‘If I’m not real, how come I can touch you?’ he states matter-of-factly.
One blue eye. One brown eye.
Are you my boyfriend?
I was hoping to be.
‘I’m imagining this,’ I tell myself, refusing to look at him. ‘I must have forgotten to take my medication. That’s all.’
‘I waited. I waited a long time for you, Natalie.’
‘You’re not real!’ I scream, backing away from him. ‘You’re not real.’
‘What’s my name?’ he demands, refusing to let go of my arm.
‘I’m not going back there… to the institution. You can’t make me,’ I snap, managing to shrug him off at last, but then the tears come. ‘Dr Moses said I made a complete recovery.’
‘What’s my name?’ he barks again.
‘Jed,’ I sob. ‘It’s Jed.’
We are in the mouth of a cave on a secluded part of the beach, hidden from view. It is dark and damp inside, but Jed has managed to get a small fire going and is making tea, as if that will make everything okay. Seawater dribbles in through rock pools, where the dog tries to catch crabs, and water splashes onto our heads through cracks in the rock ceiling.
I watch him as if I have spent my whole life watching him. The tattooed ladies on his arms, evidence of a past that excludes me, come to life as he stirs the tea. My eyes jealously shift away from them and travel over his body. Images of us kissing goodbye and him walking dejectedly away come back to me. But when I see the pink strawberry mark on his bare back, which is just like Darkly’s, I close my eyes and blank everything out.
Not quite everything.
The baby has one too. See.
Glancing down at the charm necklace in my hand, which he thinks will help unlock my past, means nothing to me so far; but one mystery I have managed to solve all by myself.
‘You sent me that book, didn’t you?’
Jed turns to look at me. ‘I thought it might prompt you into remembering something,’ he admits. ‘But I got tired of waiting.’
‘I have a home. A husband.’ I am as angry with myself as I am him, but all I see on his face is pity. When he reaches out for my hand and I ignore it, he shakes his head sadly.
‘What you have is a lie, Natalie.’
Childishly, I place both hands over my ears and move away from him. ‘I don’t want to know anything, even if it is the truth.’
‘You’re living on the illusions they’re feeding you. Daniel, Dr Moses, the villagers. None of it is true, Natalie. You know it isn’t.’ He pauses as if unsure whether to go on, then continues in a less harsh tone, ‘You remember what they did to Merry?’
Merry’s birthmark. I’d know it anywhere.
‘That was a bad dream. It didn’t happen.’
‘They cut her up. Turned her into a piece of meat,’ he persists angrily.
‘No.’ I won’t have it. I don’t care what he says. It can’t be true.
‘And slaughtered your father too. Or was that also a dream?’
I get to my feet, angrier even than Jed is now. ‘My father was a drinker. He died of liver disease,’ I insist.
He gets to his feet too, grabs my arm and shakes me. I get the feeling he thinks this will be enough to jolt my memory. If only it were that easy.
‘That’s what they want you to believe. Think, Natalie, think. You can remember if you try hard enough.’
When he shakes me again, harder this time, I slap him across the face. His anger is no match for mine.
‘You’re as bad as they are. Always trying to get me to forget or remember.’
He turns away to hide the tears that appear in his eyes. ‘A bride never forgets the best day of her life,’ he groans wretchedly. ‘Can you honestly remember anything about your wedding day?’
‘There were pink freesias and linen tablecloths,’ I reply robotically. ‘My father wore a blue suit with a pink buttonhole and I wore a beautiful lace dress. It hangs in my wardrobe.’
Remembering my own doubts from this morning, I do not feel so certain of anything anymore. Could Jed be right?
‘It’s still got the price tag on,’ I admit dejectedly. I have never got over this fact, I realise with sudden perception.
‘And the wedding photos?’ he prompts gently. ‘Where are they? Are there any pictures in your house?’
I shake my head. One of the first things I noticed on returning home was the lack of photographs. If he’s right about that, could he be right about everything else?
‘We don’t behave like an old married couple,’ I point out, remembering the postman’s comments from this morning.
Needing to sit, before I fall, I flop on the wet sand and look out to sea, longing to go back in time to this morning, when everything was different. Where did that happy moment with Darkly on the bed go? As for the laughter I shared with Daniel—
When I feel Jed kneel beside me and take both my hands in his, I turn to look at him.
‘I’m not somebody’s wife? Somebody’s mother?’
The House By The Sea
I must look like a wild thing as I stumble into the kitchen. My hair is knotted and windswept and it feels as if my eyes are all over the place, a sure sign that I am late taking my medication. Seated at the table, in the middle of eating their meal, Daniel and his mother pause, with their cutlery in the air, to stare at me as if I were an intruder. And perhaps I am.
‘Where have you been?’ Daniel asks. ‘We were getting worried. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. Sorry. I lost track of time, that’s all.’
I rest my hands on the back of a chair and tell myself to calm down. My heart is beating so loud I am surprised they cannot hear it. Daniel goes on eating, but I can tell by the set of his jaw that he is annoyed with me. His mother simply stares. When I notice the joint of rare beef in the middle of the table and see meat juices running down her t
riple chins, I retch, convinced more than ever that I do not belong among these people. Mistaking my unsteady appearance for signs of hunger and fatigue, Daniel’s mother gets to her feet.
‘We kept it hot for you,’ she says, busying herself with plates and saucepans. ‘Come and sit down.’
‘I’m not hungry. Where’s Darkly?’ I ask impatiently.
Mother and son share a guarded look, sensing something odd about my behaviour.
‘She’s been in bed this last half an hour or so,’ Daniel’s mother explains in a voice she would use to a child.
‘I want to see her,’ I snap, walking towards the door, but Daniel gets there before me. With a deceptive smile on his face, he turns me around and guides me back to the table.
‘Eat first,’ he hisses in my ear, his fingers nipping at my skin. ‘Mam’s cooked it special. Gone to a lot of trouble.’
So, I sit down. I have little choice really. Even so, I inch away from the pan of sizzling meat. Just looking at it makes me feel queasy. How could I have ever gone back to eating it again? Did they force me? Was that always the plan? To make me like them. I will never forgive either of them for this month-long deception. How could they be so cruel? When Daniel’s mother puts a heaped plateful of potatoes and cabbage in front of me and carves a slice from the end of the joint, I run to the sink and bring up a mouthful of vomit.
‘What on earth has got into her?’ Daniel’s mother shrieks.
‘Where did you go today, Natalie? Who did you talk to?’ Daniel asks suspiciously.
‘He’s becoming quite the jealous husband, your son,’ I joke, trying out a laugh on Daniel’s mother, which seems to do the trick, as she sits back down again. They even resume eating. Joining them at the table, I must try to appear normal, I butter some bread, to steady my shaking fingers more than anything, and when I next glance at Daniel, it’s obvious he knows something is up. He looks to his mother for guidance, but she is as baffled as he is.
‘Word is,’ Daniel talks with his mouth full, ‘there’s some tramp hanging around again. Long hair with a beard. Did you see anyone like that on your walk?’
He observes me warily and I remind myself that he doesn’t know anything, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s trying to trick me. Shaking my head, I concentrate on eating my bread and butter, but even that is difficult to get down.
‘Yeah… well,’ he takes another enormous mouthful of food, barely pausing to chew before he swallows, ‘he won’t be around much longer. Once we find him—’
Although I am not supposed to, I see the warning glance pass from mother to son and acting on it, he shuts up. On her feet again, as if she can’t bear to be idle for long, Daniel’s mother slides a large slice of meat onto my plate and waits expectantly.
‘Tuck in,’ she says, elbowing me none too gently.
I push the plate away. I will not look at it a second longer.
They turned her into a piece of meat.
‘I can’t face it.’ I feel sick all over again.
‘That’s nice,’ Daniel’s mother huffs. ‘It only took me hours to prepare while you were out gallivanting.’
‘Eat it,’ Daniel commands from across the table.
‘No,’ I snap, but hang my head, not wanting to battle with Daniel’s icy blue eyes. I am afraid. But there is nothing he can say or do that will make me eat it.
‘I never heard of a butcher’s wife turning her nose up at a good joint of meat before.’ Daniel scrapes back his chair and starts to remove his belt.
Is he insane? Does he really mean to whip me? Do people still behave like that? Little Downey may be old fashioned, but this is something else. I look at his mother in alarm. Surely, even she wouldn’t countenance something like that. But judging by the look of shame on her face, I get the feeling this isn’t the first time Daniel has abused me.
‘There’s no call for that, son. She’ll eat it when she’s good and ready,’ she urges him.
‘No, I won’t,’ I declare, surprising all of us, including myself.
Although I am grateful to Daniel’s mother for sticking up for me, she is no friend of mine. I only have to look at the way she has been pushing me around since I came home to know this. Not one gentle word have I had from her. As for my so-called husband, who continues to glare at me, even though he’s sat back down in his chair, I think the Daniel with the gentle eyes never existed, except in my imagination. If I was unsure before, I am convinced now that he is not a man I would ever marry.
‘Something’s got into you. Somebody got to you, didn’t they?’ he declares at last, placing the belt on the table; a reminder of what he is capable of.
I say nothing, but I stare right back at him, refusing to be intimidated. I am a Powers, I remind myself. But when his fist crashes down on the table, I jump to my feet.
‘Something did get into me, Daniel!’ I yell. ‘I’m expecting a baby.’
Mouths wide open, they stare at me in astonishment, unable to process this news. Daniel is the first to break the silence.
‘Isn’t it too soon to know that?’
‘A woman has a sixth sense about these things.’ I glance nervously at Daniel’s mother, hoping for more of the support she showed earlier. ‘Isn’t that right, Mam?’
Pulling many different faces, she thinks long and hard about this. A lot seems to depend on her answer, because Daniel’s eyes are on her, not me.
‘Can’t argue with that. I knew I was carrying you,’ she glances fondly at Daniel, ‘after a couple of weeks. This is wonderful news. No wonder she’s gone off her food.’
Looking stunned, Daniel flops into his chair. ‘I’m going to be a father.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised, Daniel,’ I hiss sarcastically. ‘Anyone would think we’d never had a baby before.’
Darkly is asleep in her big-girl cot in my old bedroom, which, like the rest of the house, has undergone a dramatic change. Painted fairy-tale pink, the room has everything a real-life princess could want, including a doll’s house, rocking horse and army of dolls and soft toys. When I first saw this room, I couldn’t help thinking the decoration was too old for a toddler. It felt as if Darkly’s personality had already been decided upon; denying her the chance to become her own version of her. I do not like her sleeping in here on her own and would much rather have her in with us, but Daniel won’t allow it. Men do like their rules, I find. When he goes on like that, he reminds me of my father.
Gently, so as not to wake Darkly, I tuck the pink Disney duvet around her, knowing it will soon get kicked off again. She is one of those children who would run around naked all day long if she could; hating to be restricted in any way. She is much more of an outdoor girl than I ever was, and I suppose this is why she is as brown as she is. But then I remind myself that the sun isn’t solely responsible for her olive colouring. If everything Jed told me is true, and I have no reason to disbelieve him, then Darkly is my sister, not my daughter.
Half-sister. Gypsy blood at that.
I will always love her as my own of course. The new life growing inside me will not change that. I was not lying when I informed Daniel and my mother-in-law that I am expecting. Nor do I need to see a doctor to know that I am with child, that’s not how things are done in Little Downey. I have a natural intuition for such things, as I am sure my own mother did before me. I still struggle to believe that she is gone. Memories of her fill my head.
Pausing over a photo of my mother, I am sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, like the girl I used to be, surrounded by boxes of old photographs, when Daniel comes in. This time, his presence does not surprise me. Rather, I have been waiting for him to make an appearance. Seeing the photographs, he looks perplexed.
‘Looking for something?’ he asks quietly.
‘The wedding album,’ I reply matter-of-factly.
‘What wedding album?’
‘Ours, silly.’ I dart him a deceitful smile, which confuses him further. I begin to think my husband i
s not as intelligent as I once thought. ‘There must be one,’ I insist. ‘Where is it?’
When his blue eyes go off to the left and afterwards blink in rapid succession I know that he is ruffled. No doubt his mind is busy at work trying to come up with the perfect lie.
‘Over at Mam’s,’ he says eventually. ‘We thought looking at it might upset you.’
‘It was the best day of my life, Daniel,’ I reply convincingly, without a hint of sarcasm. ‘I want to remember it for a long time to come.’
Chapter 66
I like today already, I decide, because this is the first morning Daniel hasn’t insisted on us going down to see him off. I rather think the sun is on my side too, because it sits shyly behind a cloud and refuses to come out. This behaviour reminds me of Darkly, who does the same thing whenever Daniel is in a bad mood, which is increasingly often. However, she has no need to hide from him today, even if he is in a right grump, because I have her safely wrapped in my arms. I only hope she doesn’t sense what dark thoughts are on my mind.
We watch from Darkly’s bedroom window, as Daniel storms, blond hair bobbing, towards the pickup truck, hands on the hunt for the keys in his pockets. He doesn’t glance up at the window as he gets inside the vehicle, but he will—
As soon as he finds the charm necklace wrapped around the steering wheel, he is out of the truck in an instant. From his body language, I can tell he is shaken by the discovery.
Now who’s seeing things, I think smugly.
As if he knows he is being watched, he darts a suspicious glance up at the window, see. I knew I was right, and his accusing eyes settle on us.
