She unwound the window, gulping at the incoming rush of air. Oddly familiar sounds invaded the car – ducks and geese loudly squabbling amongst themselves; people strolling by and laughing, or quietly talking, the distant hooting of car horns and the unmistakable drone of traffic. Normal, yet not normal.
Collecting together her handbag and jacket, Cathy wound up the window and got out of the car. She was hungry, and her throat was dry. Locking the car door, she glanced about. On the other side of the river two dogs splashed in and out of the water. Two dogs… not Labradors… not like Matt’s dogs. The awful memory was too stark. Matt! Where was Matt? Her heart sank. Now, the picture was clearing. She was losing him. But, there was something else. What? What else?
‘Lovely day.’ The woman smiled as Cathy swung round, almost colliding with her. A small prim figure with sharp features and wearing a pert little hat, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the terrier at her heels. Cathy returned the greeting and hurried towards the footbridge.
There was a small café on the other side of the river. She had to think, to get some sort of order in her mind. It was only a short distance, over the footbridge, then along the embankment to the old boathouse. The café was next door. The sun was blazing down. Pausing awhile to watch a group of small children at play, Cathy’s heart lightened. Normality was all around her. Curiously, though, she did not feel part of it. She was outside, merely an observer. Her life was back there, with Matt. Matt! Where was he? The warmth of the sun was pleasant, tingling on her arms and face. Inside, she was cold. Fear was a cold relentless thing.
The cool interior of the café provided welcome relief from the hot sun. ‘Thank you.’ Cathy smiled up at the waitress, a pretty young thing with wide-awake eyes and a shocking-yellow ribbon in her hair. She put the tea and toast in front of Cathy and walked back to the counter.
Sipping the refreshing tea and gazing thoughtfully out towards the river, Cathy felt more relaxed. Of course! She had left the house before Matt that morning. She recalled her reasons – the note she had propped against the kettle… ‘I’m driving into Bedford’, it had said. But the note was a lie. She had never intended to come into Bedford today. Then why was she here? Because she was ashamed? Yes! That was it. This morning she had gone to see the priest. She had wanted to confide in him, to confess her fears and to ask his advice. She recalled how he had taken her into the house. She had started to tell him, she remembered that, and she was desperate that he should know the whole truth. But then, she had grown agitated, her courage had left her and all hope went with it. She could see herself running from the priest’s house, ashamed, disquieted, still haunted. She racked her brains. There was no peace of mind. Nothing to give her hope. The priest had been a glimmer of hope. Now, there was none.
‘Will there be anything else?’ The waitress collected the crockery.
‘Just the bill, please.’ Impatient, Cathy followed the girl to the counter where she paid the bill and left a generous tip. On the way out, she stepped aside to let an old lady pass. Emerging into the sunshine, Cathy hurried on towards the footbridge. The old lady! That was it. That was why she had come to Bedford. Maria Hinson was still in hospital, Cathy knew that because while she and Matt had visited her only twice since the accident, Cathy’s father, together with Emily, had been a frequent visitor to the old lady. His growing friendship with Emily was one of the good things to come out of that dreadful tragedy.
Suddenly, the urge to see Emily and to talk with her was strong in Cathy. Determined, she crossed the footbridge, and ran to the other side of the road. Here, she paused on the pavement, scrutinising the impressive row of grand old Victorian dwellings. According to her father, the house was a ‘splendid place with bay windows and its original lattice arch’. Another time he had also mentioned how the house was ‘almost opposite the footbridge’. At first, Cathy went in the wrong direction, which took her half a mile along the embankment to a relatively new block of flats. Retracing her steps, she soon found the house. Her father was right. Belonging to a bygone age, detached from its neighbours and standing well back, Maria Hinson’s house still had an air of grandeur about it. Surprisingly large, and double-fronted, with wide bay windows and a deep imposing archway over the door, it was exactly as her father had described. Straight away Cathy could understand why he had enthused about it.
Standing outside the door, Cathy was assailed with doubts. How would Emily receive her? After all, they were virtual strangers. In truth, Cathy was not sure why she wanted to talk with Emily. Maybe she had wrongfully drawn the conclusion that whatever the old lady knew, Emily might also know. With renewed determination, she tugged on the ancient bell cord. Somewhere in the depths of the house a deep-throated peal rang out. Footsteps quickly approaching, then a pause, before the heavy panelled door swung back to reveal a woman with a surprisingly youthful figure. Cathy’s grey eyes appraised the face, the smooth taut skin, marred only by the splash of darker colour, and the brown eyes, pretty, quizzical.
‘Why, it’s Cathy, isn’t it?’ Emily came into the daylight, one arm thrusting wide the door, the other arm extended in greeting. ‘Come in, please… come in.’ Her smile was quietly lovely, the eyes sparkling with pleasure.
‘You don’t mind?’ Cathy had not known what to expect, and yet she was not altogether surprised by Emily’s genuine welcome. Bill Barrington was a good judge of character. His praise for Emily was without reservation. In fact, his enthusiasm had prompted Matt to remark, in Cathy’s presence, ‘I’ve never seen your dad so happy. This Emily is good for him.’ Cathy thought so too. She had long suspected how lonely he was.
Fussing with pleasure, Emily installed Cathy in the little-used room whose casement doors opened out on to the back lawn. ‘I love this room,’ she explained, waiting until Cathy was seated in one of the floral patterned armchairs facing the terrace. ‘Maria hates it.’ She sat in the adjacent chair; from here she could easily address herself to both Cathy and the colourful delights of the garden. ‘She’s a darling, but when she takes a dislike to something… or someone… there’s no changing her mind.’ She smiled, a wide, honest smile. ‘Stubborn as a mule, she is!’
‘Maybe that’s what pulled her through,’ observed Cathy. ‘She was badly mauled. A lesser person might not have survived.’
Her face now serious, Emily nodded. ‘You’re right, of course,’ she said quietly, ‘Maria is a marvellous old lady.’ She glanced at Cathy, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘She’s like a mother to me. After my parents died, I don’t know how I could have managed without her.’ Suddenly her smile was back. ‘But, thank God, she’s recovering well.’ She edged herself forward on the chair. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a cup of tea?… coffee?… a cold drink?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘I’ve only just come from the café, but thank you all the same.’ Such pleasantries, idle chit-chat, were taking her away from the point of her visit. No, she did not want tea or coffee or a cold drink. What she wanted… needed, were answers. What she would rather talk about was the way the old lady had looked at her when they carried her into the ambulance! Why, when she must have been in considerable agony, did Maria Hinson deliberately seek Cathy out? Why the strange look in her stricken eyes when she mingled her gaze with Cathy’s? What was she so desperately trying to convey? What did she mean when she whispered for Cathy’s ears only… ‘Fight it’… ‘Trust in God.’ Because she knew. That was why! Somehow, she knew what Cathy had been suffering. In some disturbing unaccountable way, she was able to identify with Cathy… a stranger, and to send her a message that was both comforting and intriguing. Why? How could that be possible? Three times, Cathy had gone to the hospital, where she hoped to find the answers. Each time, she had found her to be heavily sedated. At that time, so soon after the accident, Maria Hinson was not expected to recover. Outwardly calm, Cathy said, ‘You must be wondering what brought me here today?’
Emily smiled. ‘I thought there might be a special reason.’ Cathy would have go
ne on, discreetly edging towards her reason for coming here, but Emily put out her hand, interrupting. ‘I think I knew as soon as I saw you standing outside,’ she said a little sadly, ‘and I can’t blame you. After all, your father is a successful businessman, and you must know how lonely he is… how vulnerable.’ She was anxious now, her voice hesitant. ‘But I wouldn’t want you to think I was a gold-digger, or that I would take advantage of our friendship. Your father is a wonderful man, kind and considerate, but I would never hurt him. I know what it’s like to be hurt and lonely.’
‘No, oh no!’ Cathy was shocked to see how upset the other woman was. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong about my reason for coming here,’ she assured Emily, smiling when that dear soul raised her eyes in relief and surprise. ‘I’m delighted that he’s found a good friend in you. He has been lonely, yes.’ She laughed aloud. ‘But he’s not a wealthy man, so it would take more than a stretch of the imagination to think he might be pursued by a gold-digger. Although, of course, he is “well breeched”, as Matt might say.’ Now, when she thought of Matt, the small bubble of laughter burst inside her. In her mind’s eye she could see him, his tall handsome figure, sincere dark eyes. Her heart ached with love. Her mood darkened.
‘You didn’t come here to voice any fears, then? About me and your father?’ Emily was now curious.
‘No. Believe me when I say that you have been a real tonic for my father.’ In fact, Cathy believed her father to be falling in love with Emily. Now she hoped her father’s love for this gentle soul might be returned. Some deep instinct told her it was. She welcomed it. ‘I came to enquire about Maria.’
‘That’s very kind of you. No doubt your father has told you of the doctors’ hopes for her full recovery? Although, of course, she has a long way to go. Her wounds are healing and she is responding well to treatment, but she’s still very ill. Being of such a great age, there is always the danger of pneumonia.’ Emily’s love and concern for the old lady shone through. She would have gone on in greater detail, but she was suddenly aware that Cathy was waiting to say something. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh, ‘but I do tend to go on a bit where Maria’s concerned. Like I said, she has always been like a mother to me.’
‘I understand,’ Cathy told her, reaching out to touch her fingers against the nervously clenched fist, ‘and we’re all so very relieved that she’s recovering well, but I hope you don’t mind, only it was something else that brought me here today… something that Maria said to me. It’s played on my mind ever since.’ The brown eyes were searching her face. Cathy had the uncanny feeling that Emily knew exactly what she meant.
‘Something she said?’
‘Yes. On the day of the accident.’ Cathy began fidgeting, not certain how to explain. ‘Her eyes sought me out. She said something… strange… “Fight it,” she said.’
‘And to “trust in God”?’
Cathy was shocked. ‘You heard? You heard her say that?’ When Emily nodded, a deep frown on her face, Cathy persisted ‘What did she mean?’
Emily rose to her feet and went to the casement window. Then was a sadness in her features. For what seemed an endless moment she gazed out across the lawns, a distant look in her eyes Presently she turned to ask Cathy, ‘Don’t you know what she meant?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment. ‘I was hoping you might have the answer.’ Her kind brown eyes roved Cathy’s lovely features. ‘It was a strange thing for her to say, I agree.’ Her gaze was intense. Behind her the garden was a myriad of blooms, the vivid colour almost blinding. Silhouetted in the hazy sunshine, Emily’s small frame was a black looming shape, her features indistinguishable against the brilliant backdrop. Only the voice was easily recognisable. ‘I’ve thought about it a lot… what she said to you. It would be like Maria to want you to “trust in God”. Maybe because she knew how close to death she was, and how devastated we all were. But I can’t know what she wanted you to fight. And the way she addressed herself only to you, Cathy… intimately… not wishing anyone else to hear. Almost like a secret. That was very strange, I thought.’
‘And you’ve no idea what she meant?’ Cathy’s instincts told her that Emily knew more than she was revealing. Suddenly, there was a kinship between them. It made Cathy bolder, gave her hope. ‘You do know something, don’t you?’ she insisted. ‘Something you’re not telling me.’ When Emily remained silent, her head bending to the carpet and a strange awkward silence descending between them, Cathy stood up, her two fists clenched together, desperation betrayed in her voice. ‘Please!’
Emily raised her head. She was deeply hurt to see how distraught Cathy was. ‘Yes, there is something puzzling me. I would ask Maria, but she’s still very ill, and besides, it may be nothing. I can’t understand it, though. In fact, I had almost made up my mind to talk with your father about it.’ She made a small nervous laugh. ‘To be honest, though, it’s none of my business, but it does seem so odd.’ She studied Cathy through frowning eyes. ‘Have you been to this house before?’
‘Never.’ Cathy was intrigued by her question.
‘And Maria… had you ever met her before the day of the accident?’
‘No.’
‘Your husband, Matt, or your father, did either of them know Maria before that day?’
Disturbed by the questions, Cathy shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. No! I’m sure of it.’ On impulse she put out her hands, gripping the other woman’s small shoulders. ‘What is it you’re trying to say, Emily? Why are you asking these questions? Is it because you know why Maria said these things to me… to me and no one else?’
For a long time, Emily quietly scrutinised Cathy’s anxious face, as though searching for answers of her own. Then, in a voice that was both soothing and penetrating, she made a remark that took Cathy unawares. ‘I don’t know why Maria said those things to you, but I suspect that you know!’
More afraid than ever, Cathy took her hands from the woman’s shoulders and turned away, deliberately playing her gaze on the garden… on the wizened misshapen tree in the shaded area by the wall. ‘I’ve been troubled lately,’ she confessed in a low murmur. Emily came to her side. Cathy was comforted by her nearness. ‘Things aren’t too good between me and Matt.’ She laughed, a painful sound. ‘Oh, it’s not that we don’t love each other,’ she said, ‘because it’s still there, the love, the need, the way it was. But there is something else, hard to explain, a kind of…’ She paused, not knowing how to describe the black moods that kept her from him. How could Emily understand? She turned and shook her head in despair. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t mean to burden you, especially at a time like this.’
‘I want to help, if I can. If you’ll let me?’
‘Maria… that day. I didn’t understand. It was as thought she felt the turmoil in me. As though she knew.’
‘I’m sorry, Cathy.’ Emily’s face was filled with kindness, and regret. ‘I can’t help you.’
Disillusioned, Cathy collected her bag and prepared to leave. ‘Would you mind if I went to the hospital? I would dearly like to sit with Maria for a while.’ She was in no hurry to get home. There was only more pain for her there.
‘That is kind of you, but when I went earlier today, there was little change. She won’t know you. Sleep is her quickest route to recovery, they say, and she is heavily sedated.’
‘I understand.’ Cathy waited for Emily to lead the way across the room and into the hallway. At the foot of the stairs, the two women paused, Cathy saying, ‘I would like to sit with her awhile, if that’s all right.’
Emily nodded. ‘She would like that, I think.’ Emily had taken an instinctive liking to Cathy. She recalled how Bill had feared for his daughter’s health and it pleased her to see how well Cathy seemed. Now, going against her instincts to wait until Maria was well enough to discuss it, she felt the urge to confide in Cathy. Cupping her hand beneath Cathy’s elbow she said, ‘You remember I said something had bee
n puzzling me?’ When Cathy affirmed that yes, she had been made curious by the other woman’s remark, Emily told her, ‘There’s something of Maria’s I think you should see.’ From the top of the stairs she led the way along the spacious landing to the old lady’s bedroom, her steps quickening the closer she came, and a look of determination shaping her features. ‘When you see what I found, you’ll no doubt understand why I asked you all those questions.’ Enthused now, and convinced she was doing the right thing, Emily swept into the bedroom. ‘This is Maria’s room,’ she explained, ‘the place in this house which she loves the most.’
Coming into the room, Cathy immediately felt Maria’s presence. It was overwhelming, enveloping like the cold clammy air of a dark foggy night. Once before in Maria Hinson’s presence she had felt a kindred spirit. She felt it now, and she could hardly breathe. There was a timelessness here, enveloped in the dark wooden furniture, the lightshade with its long creamy fringe, the brown patterned carpet and the thick patchwork bedspread. The air was clinging, but uniquely pleasant, all kinds of aromas mingling into one… the dry musty smell of many flowering plants, rose polish from the furniture and linoleum, the clean sharp smell of freshly laundered bed linen and the stinging odour of camphor oil. Little brass plant pots bright with blooms bedecked the windowsill, and all around on every wall hung various small pictures and pretty cameos.
The crucifix over the bed sent a shock through Cathy, bringing another into mind, with the church, and the priest whose sapphire-blue eyes had seemed to devour her. There had been danger there, with him. He evoked a certain kind of terror in her; she had gone there seeking help and he had sent her away disillusioned. And yet there had been a certain degree of amity in the church, in his domain. But it was cruelly short lived, like every hope she ever had. This house was Maria Hinson’s ‘church’. This room was her domain. It awakened those fiendish murmurings inside Cathy, that same deep-down horror which had seen the carnage in the stable and had watched impassive when the dogs tore into human flesh as though it was paper. The same horror that stalked her dreams and lingered into the waking hours – the very same horror that came between her and Matt… vague, insubstantial, yet implacable and real, a presence so intensely overpowering that she was driven to a priest’s house… to God’s house, only to find in the last desperate moments that it was stronger than she, its appetite insatiable.
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