Esmeralda usually sat next to her while she was working. Often she read; sometimes she would draw, or play guitar. While she drew she would talk constantly, quietly, whispering the incomprehensible secrets of the universe into Lily’s ear. Lily rarely understood, but she liked the company all the same.
In the past week Esmeralda had been taken away on three separate occasions for talking too much or too loudly. Lily had been to visit her in her room after one of the occasions, to make sure she wasn’t lonely. She had managed to stay there for almost an hour before a nurse tracked her down and took her back to the common room.
The institute was a strange place, full of unstated rules and unspoken schedules, but Lily didn’t mind it. She liked the feeling that there was some kind of order to everything that was done: someone, somewhere, knew what was supposed to be happening and directed things accordingly. There was a plan, and someone other than Lily was co-ordinating things.
All that was required of her was that she exist.
The corridors had come to seem familiar over the course of the last few weeks, the black and white tiles casting comforting patterns that resonated warmly in her mind. The windows looking out over the courtyard were glimpses of a world that she spent no time in, but liked all the same. Occasionally she managed to sneak out of class when one of the other children was being particularly difficult, and she always came to the same corridor, where all of the windows looked out on to the same view.
She didn’t like the windows on the other side of the house. They looked out on to fields, trees. A view which stretched out into the ether, infinite and unstoppable. When she walked past those windows with the nurses, she kept her eyes on the floor and counted tiles until they’d passed.
She had no memory of how she’d got outside. Usually the doors were locked. Only allowed out at break times, in groups, with supervision. That was the way things were. Some things were so intrinsic to the running of an institution that they didn’t even need to be classified as rules; they were just the laws that operated beneath everything, the underlying ecosystem upon which the organisation lived and breathed.
Yet, she was outside.
The driveway at the front was gravel, all crunch and no spring. The courtyard was dried-up grass, oft-trodden mud, flowers that didn’t die easily. She’d never been out the back before; had no idea how she was here now. Her bare feet sank into the grass, but not through. Like walking on a cold, slightly damp trampoline.
Walking away from the building, she felt rather than saw its looming presence, its many eyes on her back. The sun was setting behind it, and so she was in its shadow. Paling into even further insignificance.
There was no sound. Or at least that was how it seemed. Deafness, numbness all around. Like being in a dream, where nothing existed except for what was immediately visible to you, and even that could never be trusted, was liable to disappear, transmogrify, with no warning whatsoever.
The woods, which skirted around the right-hand side of the house, sneaking up on the windows and reaching out branch-thumbs to graze the panes, sloped downwards away from the house. There was an expanse of neatly cut lawn directly in front of them, like an ocean which Lily must cross in order to get to the safety of the other side. She ran, bare feet thudding on open lawn, but once there she found there was no safety.
When the nurses found her, she was curled up on one side, eyes closed, thumb in mouth, and she would not open her eyes when they said her name. She shook violently for hours, long after she’d warmed up, and the only sound she emitted was the tiniest of murmurs, with not a hint of language underlying it.
now
Nathan always said he hated going to parties without Connie. It was the polite thing to say, he assumed; it would hardly be right to admit that actually he preferred going alone. Enjoyed the chance to speak to people who weren’t her. Enjoyed the opportunity to feel like someone other than a husband, a father, and a doctor.
Of course, it was a party full of doctors. But they were doctors pretending not to be doctors. Just as half of them were husbands pretending not to be husbands. Middle-aged men pretending to be young men.
Relatively sober men, pretending they were still capable of drinking a bar dry.
It was someone’s retirement do, and all the local practices had combined to give him a good send-off, despite the fact that the majority of them had never worked together and rarely socialised together. The result was that the room was full of people Nathan didn’t really know, and he found that he was actually enjoying himself.
‘I bet you earn a fortune,’ one girl was saying, laying her hand on his arm, practically panting the words in his direction. He laughed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable in the position of Attractive Rich Available Man. Perhaps because it was so utterly ridiculous that he should have been placed in that position.
‘No more than anyone else here,’ he replied easily, shifting himself slightly so that he could drop her arm from his without causing offence. He managed it, but probably only because she was drunk enough to be struggling to stand up, let alone notice the subtleties of body language.
‘Oh, but I’ve heard of you,’ she said. She sounded as if she was barely aware of what she was saying. ‘You own your own practice, don’t you? You must be loaded.’
‘Well, there are other things in life. And I’m not sure “loaded” is quite the term.’ He looked around the room for an exit from the conversation. The girl was pretty, well turned-out, vacuous – exactly the kind of girl he didn’t find remotely interesting. He briefly wished for Connie’s presence at his side: she had a certain way of turning a phrase, vicious and yet sugar-coated, so you couldn’t quite tell where the sting had come from. She would have been rid of this girl in a second.
‘Of course there are other things in life.’ Her hand was back on his arm again, blood-red fingernails – talons, he couldn’t help thinking, such a striking difference from Connie’s neat red toes – and he was less subtle in removing it this time, shaking her off impatiently.
‘Sorry, but I have to go to speak someone over there.’
He left too quickly for her to formulate an objection, walking swiftly to the other side of the room.
He got a whisky from the bar – his third, and he was starting to feel the effect, a pleasant buzz just beneath his skin. He leaned back against the bar, scanning the room for people he recognised. There were a few people from his surgery by the buffet table, but no one he particularly wanted to talk to. A couple of people on the other side of the room, but they were too close to the girl he’d escaped from. She was still standing in the middle of the room, scanning it determinedly, presumably for a glimpse of him. He noticed the door to the balcony, and slipped out of it as surreptitiously as he could, closing it gently behind him.
The night air was warm for November, and his suit was just about sufficient to keep him at a reasonable temperature. The balcony was bigger than he’d expected – by the looks of it, it stretched around the entire building. They were only seven or eight storeys up, but it had the feel of an American tower block: very cosmopolitan. Or perhaps that was just his conception of such things. He preferred life on a smaller scale.
‘Nate.’
He turned to the right, and spotted his only real friend from work, waving a cigar in his direction, beckoning him over. He obliged, reaching out for a handshake as he approached.
‘James. Good to see you.’
‘You too. Enjoying yourself?’
‘Mmm, actually, I am.’ Nathan grinned, and raised his whisky glass by way of explanation. ‘Some girl in her twenties has just been propositioning me. How about you?’
‘Yeah, not too bad.’ James waved his cigars in Nathan’s direction, and he took one with a nod of thanks. ‘Which girl?’
‘In there.’ Nathan gestured in her direction. ‘Blonde, fingernails like talons, can barely stand up on her own.’
‘Oh, her. Yeah, she’s been chasing people around fairly indiscriminately,
I believe. As long as you’re rich and not physically disfigured she’ll give it a go.’
‘I thought she might be one of those. It was the repeatedly asking if I was loaded that gave her away.’ Nathan grinned, and lit his cigar with a flourish.
‘Subtle. So where’s Connie tonight?’
‘Oh, she’s not been feeling great recently. You know, with her mum dying, and her sister being a nut job, she’s not had much of a break.’
‘Oh, come on – Lily’s not a nut job. She’s always seemed normal enough whenever I’ve met her at your place.’
‘Maybe not. But she’s going to turn Connie into one if she carries on the way she’s going.’
‘That bad?’
‘Well. Maybe. Where’s Angela?’
‘We split. About two weeks ago. Didn’t I mention it?’
‘Oh, you might have done. I’ve been pretty distracted… not that that’s an excuse. What happened?’
‘The usual. We liked each other, we had a nice time, she brought up marriage, I stopped having a nice time.’
Nathan laughed. ‘That does sound pretty standard. Maybe you need to address your commitment issues, or whatever it is that women refer to them as?’
‘Maybe. Or maybe I just need to find a girl with no fucking interest in getting married. Is that really too much to ask?’
‘Apparently so.’
They stood in silence for a minute, smoking, looking out over the town below. They could hear the music from inside, and the dull murmur of conversation from around them, but despite that the night felt strangely peaceful.
‘Maybe you should take that girl home,’ Nathan suggested, only half-joking.
‘Which girl?’
‘The one who’s been propositioning everyone in the room.’
‘Oh, no. I couldn’t bear to steal her away from you.’
‘Funny.’
‘Seriously, you’re not really worried about Connie?’
Nathan paused for a moment, considering. ‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’
‘In what sense?’
‘Well, she doesn’t get out of bed. She doesn’t talk about anything, except Lily and how worried she is about her. And that blasted house.’
‘What house?’
‘Her mother’s house. Connie’s childhood home, actually, but she moved out when she was young and never went back.’
‘How come?’
‘Oh, some weird stuff happened there. I never really got to the bottom of it. Connie just said there were bad memories. Lily doesn’t speak about anything unless she has to. I assume it has something to do with their dad dying – they never really talk about that either.’
‘Sounds mysterious.’
‘It’s mostly just irritating. I don’t think there’s any huge mystery there. Just a general refusal among everyone to talk about things in a normal way.’
‘So you don’t think maybe there’s a reason they don’t talk about it?’
‘I think Connie would trust me enough to tell me, if that was the case.’
‘Hmm.’ James raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘Don’t be so sure. Women are strange creatures. They work in mysterious ways.’
‘Huh. I doubt it.’ Nathan took a long slug of his whisky, and winced slightly. ‘As far as I can tell, they just like us to believe they do, so they can get away with more.’
Another hour and a half, and Nathan was drunk enough to be pleasantly unsure of where he was or who the people around him were. He’d gone inside for a while, but found the crowds and the noise confusing: people kept veering out in front of him when he was trying to walk in a straight line. He grabbed two drinks at once to save himself a second trip inside, and retreated back to the balcony, where James was talking to a redhead in her early thirties. She smiled warmly when Nathan approached, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
‘Nate, this is Andrea. We used to work together at the Park Surgery. Andrea, this is Nathan, one of our more esteemed doctors.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Nathan went to hold out a hand for her to shake, realised that both of his hands were full and, shrugging apologetically, offered her one of his drinks instead.
‘Thanks, but I don’t do whisky.’
‘Why ever not? Nectar of the gods, you know.’
‘Mmm. My stomach doesn’t agree.’
‘How unfortunate. Can I get you something more palatable?’ He grinned, fully aware that he was going out of his way to be charming, but feeling no particular inclination to stop.
‘Actually, I’ve got a drink. But thanks.’ She was polite but firm – a gentle rebuke, he felt, and took the hint.
‘Fair enough. I think I might go in search of a bathroom. I’ll catch up with you later.’ And with a nod to them both he retreated inside.
Once inside, he found that there was nothing for it but to actually go in search of a bathroom. He wasn’t having too much difficulty walking, though putting his drinks down when he got inside proved something more of a challenge. He exchanged cheery nods with a man who was leaving as he came in, and took advantage of the empty room left by his retreating back to check his reflection in the mirror. He nodded approvingly while straightening his tie, and almost winked, though held himself back just in time. He wasn’t sure he was drunk enough to excuse that sort of behaviour.
He was aware that he was having a good time, and that he should probably be heading home fairly soon. He knew it was nearly midnight, and that Connie would be pissed off. Also, he had work in the morning. And he didn’t want to wake up the boys by coming in too late.
On the other hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been wifeless. Childless. It wasn’t an opportunity he allowed himself very often.
He checked his phone, and realised that Connie had tried to call him over an hour ago. She’d then sent a text, which simply read, Going to bed now. Don’t wake me up xx. The kisses were a good sign, he assumed. She’d sounded annoyed earlier, but she was obviously somewhat more cheerful now. Or, if not cheerful, at least slightly more forgiving.
With a mental shrug, he downed the remainder of one of his drinks. Sod it. He would go home soon. What was the point in having an understanding wife and not using it to his advantage?
He arrived home around three am. Connie didn’t wake when he came in; didn’t even stir when he almost fell over trying to take his trousers off, though he knocked several items off the dresser while doing so.
He crawled into bed beside her. Slipped a hand around her waist, under the T-shirt she chose, unfathomably, to wear to bed. Marvelled, as always, at how soft her skin was, how delicate she felt. Kissed her neck, and felt her murmur, almost inaudibly, in her sleep.
Never another like you, he thought, drunkenly, not entirely sure where the words had come from. Then passed out.
then
The drive took place in near-total silence, interrupted only by Marcus’s occasional comments about the landmarks they were coasting past. They left around four on Friday, just making it past the motorway by the time rush-hour cars started dribbling on to the road. Marcus had plotted a ‘scenic’ route for them to take – one which avoided most of the traffic and took almost twice as long as it could have done. They arrived at the caravan park just in time to pick up the keys; five minutes later and the office would have been closed. They hauled their cases into the caravan as the sun was setting, and tried not to notice that there was no one else around, that the caravan was dark and poky and that the three of them, plus suitcases, filled all of the available space without difficulty.
‘It’s only a few days,’ Marcus said, too heartily, trying to rearrange the cases so that there was enough space for them to sit down.
There was only one bedroom; Connie would sleep on the sofa-bed in the living area. She took this in without comment. She and her mother sat on the sofa and looked around the room, taking in the predominantly beige décor, the TV in the corner which looked as if it had been around since the nineteenth century. Marcus fussed with wate
r and gas and electricity, eventually combining his efforts in all three areas to produce a pot of tea, which he placed proudly on the table. ‘Not too bad, eh?’ he said, still using his over-cheerful voice, producing plastic mugs with the sort of flourish which might more commonly be reserved for groundbreaking scientific discoveries. Connie and her mother accepted their tea without comment.
The sun set too quickly for them to get a good look at their surroundings, and none of them wanted to venture outside in the dark. They spent the evening in front of the TV, which crackled and fizzed its way in and out of focus, and Connie wondered how many other families would travel two hundred miles to sit in a living room less comfortable than their own, watching the same programmes they could watch at home on a smaller television set.
They went to bed early, and slept little; the creaking of the caravan kept Connie awake until the early hours, and she lay staring at the front door in the dark, half-expecting someone to come bursting through it.
Esmeralda had stopped leaving her room. Lily went to visit her most days, but the nurses didn’t approve of this, so she had to do it in secret. She usually went in the evenings, the time when the order of the house seemed to break down and the nurses were likely to forget what they were supposed to be doing and who they were supposed to be looking after. The advantage of her silence was that her disappearance generally went unnoticed; no one really registered the absence of nothing.
Lily spent her evenings sitting in the chair in the corner of Esmeralda’s room, wordlessly watching over her patient, who was often so out of it she didn’t notice anyone was there. When she was awake and alert – when, she informed Lily with delight, she had managed to avoid taking the drugs they’d been trying to slip her – she talked endlessly about the conspiracy to keep her locked up, about the pointlessness of existence, and about her parents, who became more demonic with every passing day. She knew the truth, and they were determined that she wouldn’t have the chance to tell anyone. But she knew. And, some day, she would tell the world.
Hush Page 12