Laying the Ghosts

by Catherine Thornton

  “Steady on, young lady, I don’t want to take you home drunk.”

  “I don’t want to go home,” replied Emma firmly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not into that house. Not now.”

  “But it’s your home.”

  Emma shook her head vigorously. “It’s too full of sadness.”

  Alex looked at her pale but determined face. He knew that he should simply point out that she had no choice, but he could not overcome the still growing conviction that she was now his responsibility.

  “What do you want to do?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “You’ll have to go back.” He struggled with the muddle of his own thoughts and then added lamely, “All your things are there.”

  At last the tears sprang into her eyes. “I won’t go back. I won’t!”

  Alex abandoned the idea of trying to talk sense to her. “It’s alright, my dear, I won’t make you.” He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a handkerchief. “Here you are. Don’t dilute your port.”

  Emma took the handkerchief, smiling at him although the tears still ran down her face.

  It was mid-afternoon and Alex was in Emma’s house trying to work out the whereabouts of her bedroom.

  “This is silly!” he muttered crossly. He found the house rather gloomy himself, particularly with all the paraphernalia of illness still scattered about. He was quite relieved to find a room that fitted the description that Emma had given him. It was cold and untidy and there was a pile of clothes heaped on a small settee. Alex felt like an intruder and the feeling did not please him. He was just about to leave and tell Emma that she would just have to sort some things out for herself when a newspaper cutting that was stuck on the wall caught his attention. It was an item that had been in the local paper the previous year. The picture showed himself and Jennifer Avery and the few accompanying paragraphs about the musical society had been highlighted in the part where they referred to him. He wondered if Emma’s mother had ever noted or commented on this memento.

  Emma popped round to explain to her neighbour that she would be going away for a while and to leave her a key. Alex had to wait a few moments for her to re-emerge.

  “You’ll have to sort out what you want for yourself. I’ll turn off the water.”

  Emma noticed the look on his face and obediently went to her room. She was out of the house again only minutes later carrying two plastic bags.

  “Are you sure you’ve got all you need?”

  “Another blouse, one nightdress, one toothbrush, one dress, one pair of shoes and assorted underwear. What else does a girl need?” She locked the house and the two of them got back into the car and went to collect Daisy and Dahlia.

  It was nearly four by the time they set out for Devon. It was appalling weather. The snow was still falling and some roads were already impassable. Alex knew it was madness to set out in such conditions. They could easily find themselves stranded. But he could not come to terms with the idea of taking Emma back to his own house and he could not make her return to her own. So he made a flask of coffee and gave Emma a rug to put over her knees and prayed that the roads improved as they got further west. As it was, Emma seemed quite excited by the prospect of the journey through the driving snow to a part of the country she had never seen. At first she was full of questions about the places they went through and about what his sister and her family were like and whether they would be surprised to see them, but after a while she fell asleep, her head against his shoulder. The cats too were quiet, although they had complained a bit when they first realised that they were confined to their baskets. After about an hour Alex woke Emma and, seeing her coat screwed up on the back seat of the car, he lent her his own so that they could go and get some hot food. Emma chatted happily again whilst they ate but fell asleep almost as soon as they recommenced their travels.

  When Alex at last reached his sister’s home he shook Emma’s arm gently until her eyes opened.

  “We’ve arrived, Emma.”

  She stretched and squinted out into the darkness to see where they were. “Is this it? What a lovely house!” The lights in the windows glowed warmly.

  “Come along then.”

  Alex got out of the car stiffly but Emma hesitated.

  “I feel a bit nervous.”

  “Nonsense. Mary will make you very welcome.” He lifted her two bags out of the car. “You take these. I’ll take the animals.” The sudden cold air had woken the cats who were now mewling with displeasure.

  It was Mary who answered the door.

  “Alex! I didn’t know when to expect you. You must have had a dreadful journey.”

  Emma had been standing a couple of paces behind Alex but he now half turned so that the porch light shone onto her.

  “This is Emma Tomlinson. I’ve tried to convince her that you won’t be put out by her sudden appearance, but she’s still a bit shy.”

  Mary hesitated only momentarily and then said, “Don’t be shy. There’s only me here at the moment. Come in, both of you. Of course you’re welcome.” She certainly didn’t display the slightest sign of being surprised. Instead she made hot chocolate and toast for them and sat Emma by the fire without a single question. When she saw Emma yawn and her eyelids beginning to droop she said pleasantly,

  “I’ll show you to your room, dear. I’m afraid it might be a bit chilly.”

  Emma, still wearing the over-coat and carrying her plastic bags and looking like a refugee, followed her timidly. It was only when Mary had seen her safely to bed that she came down stairs and confronted her brother.

  “Now then, Alex, what is going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Mary, I should have phoned and warned you.”

  “I wish you had. I didn’t want to embarrass the poor child with questions. She looked ready to drop as it was.”

  “It was her mother’s funeral today. She’s probably a bit emotional.”

  “Then why on earth isn’t she with her family? What are you playing at dragging her down here in the snow? It’s a good thing I was the only one in. Brian and Chrissie would have been quicker to ask a few questions!”

  “I’m sorry, Mary.” Alex himself looked strained and tired. “I didn’t mean to abuse your hospitality.”

  “I don’t mind that, Alex. I just want to know who she is and what she’s doing here?”

  “There is nothing much to tell you. Her name is Emma Tomlinson and I went to her mother’s funeral this morning. She couldn’t face going home so I brought her back here with me. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.”

  “What about her family?”

  “She has none.”

  “You are not trying to tell me that there was not a single one of her relations at the funeral?”

  “There was an uncle. But she barely knew him.”

  Mary sighed. “So long as you know what you are doing, Alex. It seems a bit odd, you bringing her here.”

  “I suppose it does. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She must be eighteen.”

  “I see. That’s not so bad. She looked barely sixteen to me.”

  The two were silent until Mary said. “I’m sorry, Alex. I don’t mean to cross exam you or anything, but I’ll have to tell Brian and Chrissie who she is. I don’t want Brian meeting her in the bathroom tomorrow morning and wondering what’s going on. Anyway, you look exhausted yourself. I suggest you go to bed too.”

  “I’d better feed the cats first.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thankyou.” Alex made his way wearily upstairs.

  When Emma woke the following morning she found herself in a large, bright room with peach coloured walls, floral curtains and matching bedclothes. She could tell by the light that it was quite late, but she was warm and comfortable in bed. Also, she was aware that she was in a strange house and she was unsure of the protocol on such occasions. She felt that t
he best thing to do was to stay where she was until summoned. As it turned out, she had just taken in the fact that there was a wash basin in the corner of the room and that her clothes were slung untidily across a chair, when she heard a creak of floor boards outside her door. This was followed by a gentle knock.

  “Come in.”

  “I’ve brought you a cup of tea.” Mary entered carrying a cup and saucer which she placed on the bedside table. “I let you sleep on because you seemed so tired last night.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Emma sat up in bed and took the tea. Then she added sheepishly, “I hope you weren’t too taken aback by my arrival last night. It’s just that everything seemed so unreal yesterday that I wasn’t thinking about good manners when I should have been.”

  “That’s perfectly alright. Anyway, it was Alex’s responsibility to let me know when he was coming back and I’ve already told him off. Did you sleep well then?”

  “Yes, very well.” Emma sounded almost surprised.

  “Good. Are you hungry?”

  “Haven’t you already had breakfast?”

  “We have breakfast at all sorts of odd times. How would you like some porridge?”

  “Well, if you’re sure it’s no trouble, I’d love some.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve sent Alex out to chop some wood for me. He had some breakfast a while back but I expect he’d welcome some porridge too.”

  “Yes.”

  Mary moved to the door and turned back.

  “You know Alex from school I assume?”

  “Yes.”

  “I believe he mentioned you once. Anyway, breakfast in about ten minutes.”

  Emma washed and hastily pulled on her jeans, a clean blouse, her Arran jumper and even one of the silk scarves which she had brought with her. Once she was downstairs she followed the clatter of crockery and soon found the kitchen. Mary was putting some bowls onto the table.

  “Can you go and fetch Alex? You’ll find him out that way.” She indicated the back door and Emma let herself out. This time she followed the sound of wood being chopped. She came up behind him, noticing the breadth of his back and the way the hairs grew up the centre of his neck as she did so. He had taken off his jumper and rolled up his sleeves. She felt very uneasy in his presence. The confidence of yesterday had evaporated.

  “Alex?”

  He wiped his face on his sleeve and turned to look at her.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Very well. Your sister has made some porridge. Do you want some?”

  “I certainly do. Wait a minute, I’ll bring the wood in.” He pulled his jumper back on and loaded the wood into a large wicker basket and followed Emma into the house. Mary was just ladling the porridge into their bowls. She smiled at Emma,

  “Honey?” she enquired, offering Emma the jar.

  Emma nodded and then helped herself to a large spoonful. She realised once again how hungry she was.

  After they had breakfasted Alex announced that he was going to take a look at a house that he had been sent the particulars for that morning. As he was putting on his coat he turned to Emma.

  “Do you want to come along?”

  “Yes, I’ll come.” She followed him as he strode out of the room. He seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts and gave Emma no encouragement to speak. After a while she became unhappy at the silence and asked,

  “What did your sister make of my arrival?”

  “She seemed happy enough,” he responded briefly. Then he seemed to be more forthcoming about what was on his mind. “Actually I believe she feels herself to be somewhat responsible for your welfare while you are staying in her house.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “It’s a little awkward. That is, it makes it clear that we’ll have to sort things out.”

  The lanes they were now driving along were narrow and although the snow there had been lighter they were still perilous and demanded the majority of his attention. He spoke in a detached, almost absent-minded, manner.

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “Well, I can’t have you as a house guest indefinitely. The proper thing would be for you to get back to school and finish your exams. If you stay things will have to be done in a strictly conventional manner.”

  “If you mean that your sister will want to protect my virtue, her attentions are a little too late.”

  “Yes, well I can hardly tell her that!” Alex swung the car round a corner a fraction too quickly and for a moment Emma thought they would go skidding into the hedge. However, he kept control but seemed to divert all his attention back to the task of driving safety.

  “I don’t understand what you are trying to say,” Emma prompted, feeling that Alex had at last started to look seriously at the nature of their relationship.

  “What am I trying to say? I’m trying to say that if you want to stay with me rather than going back home, we’ll have to get married.”

  Emma was utterly disconcerted both by what he had said and his apparently phlegmatic manner. She believed that, in the circumstances, he might have felt obliged to continue a reluctant association with her until she seemed ready to settle back into school. Marriage, like romance, was a concept which – even in her early daydreams – she had never quite been able to associate with him.

  “If you don’t want to get married you better say so now,” commented Alex testily.

  “”Well, as far as I’m concerned, we’re married already.”

  “How on earth do you work that out?”

  “We consummated the relationship.”

  Alex laughed with genuine amusement. “Thank goodness not every woman thinks like that!” He pulled over to the side of the road and studied the map. “It should be on this side of the village, always supposing I’ve got the map the right way up.”

  Emma looked at the photograph of the house in question and scanned the buildings in sight. “I can’t see it. Maybe you took a wrong turn.”

  Alex grunted and started the engine again.

  Emma sighed. “Well, I never mistook you for the romantic type. Just tell me one thing: what made you decide to marry me. I don’t suppose you love me or anything like that?” There was a slight twinkle in her eye as she said this although she watched Alex’s face closely as he made his reply. His expression gave nothing away.

  “I could live without you, if that is what you mean.”

  “Would you rather live with me?”

  Alex considered the question carefully and then said, with the slightest note of surprise in his voice, “Yes, I think I would.”

  “Well, I rather think that will have to do.” Before she could say anything else something caught her attention. “Alex! Over there.” Emma pointed out of the window at the house which was in the picture. “It looks rather dilapidated.”

  After Lunch, when Emma had left the room, Alex briefly informed his sister of his intentions. She made no comment until after she had finished doing the washing up with Emma’s help. She found her brother in the lounge reading a book. He looked up at her as she entered.

  “Where’s Emma?”

  “She’s peeling some potatoes for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I want a word with you.”

  “Oh!” Alex frowned. “What had she been saying to you? I thought that it was taking rather a long time to do a little bit of washing up.”

  “If you want to know, I’ve been trying to talk her out of marrying you.”

  “So, you don’t think I’m doing the right thing?”

  “Oh, you are! I’m not worried about you, Alex. It’s Emma I’m concerned about. She should be thinking about finishing her exams and going to university. At first I assumed that she was simply reacting to her mother’s death, looking for a surrogate parent or something. Then I thought that perhaps she was just silly and full of romantic nonsense. As it is, I find that she is charming, intelligent and sincere. Some of her ideas are a little quaint, bu
t she certainly seems to know what she wants and why she wants it. More surprisingly, she doesn’t seem to be under any illusions about the sort of person you are.”

  “So you don’t think that she has been influenced by the loss of her mother?”

  “Of course she has. How could she not be? But at the same time I think she is genuinely attached to you. I don’t think she fully appreciates what she will miss out on by not courting and marrying someone of her own age, but her mind is certainly made up. I just hope she doesn’t regret it.”