by Adele Geras
‘Megan? Open up, dear. Whatever is wrong?’
For a moment, Megan seemed to hesitate then the car door suddenly opened and Megan’s voice, as ragged and hoarse as though she’d been screaming for days, said, ‘Oh, God, Eva. Get in. I can’t bear to see anyone at the moment but I suppose …’
‘Megan! Megan, dearest child. What is wrong with you? What has happened? Tell me.’
‘I can’t even cry, Eva. Bet you don’t believe that, but this is too awful even to cry about. I don’t know what to feel. I have no idea what to do or even if I should do anything.’
‘Tell me.’
Megan took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Yes.’ She paused. ‘I met Luke Fielden today when I was out for a walk and he told me something …’
‘Let me guess. He told you he knew Simon Gradwell. I did warn him not to …’
‘Well, yes, he told me that, but I’m not upset about that. I wouldn’t have cared about that. It’s what else he said. He told me that he’d seen them at lunch recently and he could see that Gail was pregnant.’
Can I be hearing her properly, Eva asked herself. This baby Gail was carrying had to be the one Megan thought she’d killed. The one he’d mentioned in that terrible phone call, on the day Megan came to Salix House with the magazine. Megan couldn’t possibly think of herself as a murderer now. The dead weight of guilt that had been round her neck the whole time Eva had known her was surely lifted now, wasn’t it? She looked at Megan for signs of something resembling relief and could see only misery and the haggard face of despair.
‘You’re not saying anything, Eva. Can’t you understand how this makes me feel?’
‘I’d have thought you’d be relieved. You didn’t hurt Simon at all. Nor his wife. His baby will be born and all is fine.’
‘But don’t you understand? It’s far worse like this. It means I obviously never meant anything to him. Everything I thought we had, every word he ever said to me was a lie. He didn’t have to do what he did, ring me up and suggest that it was my fault Gail had lost her baby. He knew I’d feel terrible about what I’d done for the rest of my life and he was okay with letting me go on suffering. I feel as if I was nothing to him and less than nothing. I thought there couldn’t be anything worse than what I’d done, but it’s worse to be the one that things are done to. Worse to be the victim.’
‘You can’t possibly think that!’ Eva burst out, unable to stop herself from interrupting. What was Megan saying? ‘Didn’t you tell me he was drunk? He can’t be held responsible for what he says at such a time.’
‘But there was the next morning, wasn’t there? And all the mornings after that. He could have rung again. Apologized. What am I supposed to think, then? He meant to hurt me. That was the only reason he rang up and why he was happy for me to go on believing a lie. I don’t feel better, I feel much worse.’
‘If that’s really what you feel, then I don’t understand you. Your whole attitude baffles me and I don’t know what to say to you. I’m going inside now.’
She could hear the coldness in her own voice. She couldn’t help it. Suddenly, unaccountably, she wanted Megan far away. What she was saying, her attitude to this latest discovery, set Eva’s whole being on edge, as though someone were scraping fingernails across a blackboard. She could feel a lurch in her stomach and a kind of dizziness came over her, as though she’d started down a path that led to something dreadful, to something she didn’t want to look at or contemplate but that suddenly she was being forced to confront.
‘I think,’ she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself, ‘that it might be a good idea for you to go away by yourself for a few days. Think matters over. You’re not in a fit state to look after the girls.’
‘Me? How can you possibly say that? You’re the one who’s being completely weird, Eva! What’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you like this before. I’ve told you how I feel and you’re just … you’re not like yourself. You’ve been unsympathetic and unkind and now you’re basically telling me to leave.’
‘All I said was: I think it would be a good idea for you to get some distance from Salix House for a few days. For your own good. I’m going inside now. You should go up and pack your things.’
‘Eva! You can’t mean it. Are you saying I’ve got to go?’
‘I am. You must go. You must go now. Until you’ve calmed down.’
‘But what about the girls? It’s the Nativity Play soon. They’ve got rehearsals. Who’s going to ferry them around? What’s Rowena going to say?’
‘I don’t care what Rowena says. We managed for a good long time to get the girls to school before you came. Conor’ll just have to help out for a while, won’t he?’
‘Please get out of this car, Eva. Go on.’ Megan was shouting now, tears standing in her eyes. ‘Get out. Now. I’m not going to bother to pack. Please ask Phyllis to put some things in a case for me. My laptop. I want that but I don’t care about the rest of the stuff. Tom’ll come and pick it up tomorrow. Go on, get out.’
*
Megan’s face was bone-white but she had stopped crying and part of Eva wanted to put out a hand and touch her, and say No, I don’t mean any of it. Stay. I’m sorry, but it seemed as though she’d started down what felt like a slope and didn’t know how to climb back to where she’d been before. Something had frozen in her. What Megan had said: It’s worse to be the one that things are done to; it’s worse to be the victim, kept going round and round in her head till Eva felt sick with thinking about it. Also, looking at Megan frightened her and she couldn’t work out why. I need her to be out of Salix House, Eva thought, and then maybe I’ll be able to think straight. As things stood, she was confused and frightened and angry with Megan and wanted her gone. Everything else she’d been thinking about had shrunk into such insignificance that she struggled to remember what it was. The flat at Frobisher Court, the Museum, Lissa … all of it no more than bits and pieces seen through a telescope: very small and very far away.
*
Perhaps I oughtn’t to have driven, but it was the only thing that made me feel a little more like a normal person. I’d already spent half the day going nowhere and then coming back and I was tired but I had to leave at once. Eva had sent me away. I couldn’t work out what was supposed to happen next. I drove and drove without really noticing where I was going. I just wanted the motion and the silence and nothing but the noise of the engine and my own breathing around me. Where was I meant to spend the night? Where was the nearest hotel? Could I phone Tom? After what had happened this morning? It was hard to believe that was only a few hours ago. It felt like a lifetime. I didn’t know what I was going to do. All I knew was: something had happened to Eva. She’d totally lost it. Even though I was still torn up about Simon’s baby and the way he’d treated me, this was what was taking up the space in my head. I felt worse about what Eva had said than I could possibly account for. If what she was doing was sacking me, she didn’t have the right. Rowena had employed me and was paying my wages. The girls … what would she tell Dee and Bridie? How could I leave them without a word? I was going to cry. I tried to think of something else. Where was I? I had no idea but I could see a service station coming up ahead of me and turned into the car park. I’d be sensible. I’d have a drink and something to eat and think about what I was going to do next.
The café was drab. The coffee tasted of nothing and was grey and not brown. The bun I picked out from a selection quietly going stale under a transparent plastic hood was sweet and that was about all you could say for it. I asked the cashier where I was. She looked at me as if I was mad. ‘On the M40, just outside Oxford.’
‘Right, thanks,’ I said.
I sat at a corner table and ate my bun. I looked out at the procession of lights whizzing past on the road outside and wondered for a moment about those thousands and thousands of people, preoccupied with their own worries, their own lives, their own small successes, sealed off from one another in fast-moving metal boxes. Then
I looked at my watch. I felt as if I’d been on the road for ever but it was only half past six, but it was so dark outside and felt like the middle of the night. I wanted to phone Tom, but how pathetic was that? The only person I felt like talking to was Jay, but before that I needed to find somewhere to go tonight. Felix would have been friendly and helpful but I didn’t feel I could just phone him out of the blue and suggest bedding down in his spare room. Also, I didn’t feel up to explaining everything.
I felt around in my coat pocket for Luke Fielden’s card. What if I rang him instead? He’d looked anxious when I dashed out of the pub. Perhaps he was worried about me. I turned this thought around in my head and somehow couldn’t imagine it. It was much more likely that he’d said to himself: She’s lost it. Best not to interfere. If he was bothered, he could phone Salix House. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d spoken to Eva. What would she have told him? I could ring and put him right. Tell him my side of things. I put the little rectangle away but more carefully this time, next to my credit cards in my purse. I wasn’t going to phone him. I didn’t know him nearly well enough to land him with my whole life history. I’d feel ridiculous confessing something like that in the light of what he’d told me about his wife and son. But he had said he wanted to see me again. For a moment, something like a gleam of happiness flashed into my head, in among all the horrible things. Luke was probably only being polite.
My thoughts went back to Eva. She was the person I expected to help me through this. Almost the worst part of this whole situation, I told myself, is that I’ve lost Eva. I’d thought we were close. I’d thought she trusted me and liked me. Who had she told her big secret to, after all? She’d kept quiet about something for seventy-odd years and then she’d chosen me. She must feel … she must have felt, at least, something for me. And the more I thought about my feelings for her, the more I realized how much she meant to me. What was I going to say to Tom? I’d punched in the numbers before I’d had time to think.
‘It’s me, Tom …’ I began.
‘Oh! Hi, Megan.’ He fell silent then, and no wonder. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Well. No. Not exactly. I’m sorry, Tom. I’ve got no right phoning you for help only I didn’t know where else to go.’
‘Where are you?’ he asked, sounding worried. ‘What’s happened?’
I couldn’t answer. I was busy biting back my tears, and trying to find a tissue in my bag in case I started crying anyway.
‘I’m in a café,’ I said at last.
‘Right,’ he said, and then, ‘tell me what’s up.’
‘Okay … well …’
‘Are you crying, Megan?’
‘No. I was before but I’m better now.’
‘Megan, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. And where you are so that I can come and fetch you.’
‘You can’t come and fetch me. I’m practically in Oxford. I can come to you, Tom, if you’ll have me, only the thing is—’
‘Oxford? How did you get there? Why?’
‘I’ll explain everything when I get to yours. I suppose it’ll take me about an hour.’
‘Jesus, Megan, tell me something. I’ll be worrying otherwise. Are you fit to drive?’
‘I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you mean. I’m fine to drive. I’ll fill you in later but the bottom line is I’ve been sacked from my job. I think …’
‘You think?’
‘I was sacked last time I looked. But that was Eva and it’s Rowena who’s my employer so I’m not quite sure. Question is, even if I’m not sacked, do I really want to go back to somewhere I’m not wanted?’
I could hear Tom taking this in on the other end. ‘Okay, we can talk this through when you get here. I’ll get some food ready for when you arrive. Please drive carefully.’
‘See you, Tom. And thanks so much,’ I said. When I ended the call, I felt bad about taking advantage of him again. I hadn’t said anything about staying the night. I’d have to sleep on the sofa. Should I ring him back and warn him? I decided to leave it till I saw him. I left the dregs of my grey coffee and went to find my car.
*
‘You what?’ Rowena leaned forward across the table. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. How could you do such a thing? What on earth could Megan have done for you to behave in such an unbelievably high-handed fashion? What gives you the right to tell Megan what she must and mustn’t do? I’m her employer, for God’s sake.’ She flung the fork she’d been brandishing like a weapon down on to her plate. ‘And your timing is perfect. Nativity Play coming up next week, me as busy as I’ve ever been, the house stuff going on as well and we still haven’t found a place for you to live … Oh, I give up, honestly.’
‘What’s the matter, Mummy? Why are you shouting?’ Dee said. She came into the kitchen with Bridie trailing behind her. They were in their nightclothes. ‘Why did Phyllis give us our bath tonight? Where’s Megan? Who’s going to put us to bed?’
‘Darlings, I’m so sorry … I’ll put you to bed in a minute. Megan’s gone out for the evening.’
‘Without saying goodbye to us?’ Bridie frowned.
‘I’ve sent Megan away for a few days,’ Eva said. ‘She needs a bit of time on her own. She’s had some news which has made her a bit unhappy and she is getting over it.’
‘That’s horrible of you, Granny!’ Dee said. ‘I wanted to tell her about … I just want her to come back. When’s she coming back?’
‘Yes,’ Bridie added. ‘I want her to come back as well.’
‘Don’t talk to your granny like that, Dee,’ Rowena said sharply. ‘Go upstairs now while we finish talking and I’ll come and put you to bed in a minute.’
‘Sorry, Granny,’ said Dee. ‘But will Megan come back?’
‘If I’ve got anything to do with it, she will,’ said Rowena. ‘Go along now.’
As soon as Dee and Bridie were out of the room, Rowena rounded on Eva again.
‘See what you’ve done now? I simply can’t understand why, either. Don’t bother thinking of a reason because frankly, nothing you say is going to make any difference. I’m going to put the girls to bed.’
Rowena stood up and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Eva continued to sit at the table. Her daughter, Eva thought, would no doubt be back to yell at her some more once she’d finished with Dee and Bridie. I don’t have to sit here and go through that, she told herself. She stood up, went to get herself some biscuits and cheese. Then she made herself a cup of tea. She wasn’t in the least hungry. She’d take some fruit to her room once she’d eaten what was on her plate. As she ate, she reminded herself that Rowena was given to slamming doors. Eva shuddered. She hadn’t had a fight with Rowena for years. After the row on the evening of Antoine’s funeral, they’d both avoided it.
1982
It had been a terribly difficult day, but the funeral was over now and Eva was sitting at her desk in the study stroking Kitty, a ginger-and-white giant of a cat, who was curled up on top of a pile of letters of condolence. The room was filled with the sound of purring.
‘I don’t know how you can sit there and just stroke the bloody cat!’ Rowena said, coming into the room with such force that the door crashed into the wall behind it. Kitty jumped off the desk, startled by the noise.
‘Well, I can’t stroke her now, can I? You might consider poor Kitty before you go slamming about.’
‘I don’t care about Kitty. Or you, for that matter. I just can’t bear to see you sitting there so smug and complacent. It’s your fault.’ She was screaming as she came up close to Eva and stood in front of her, red in the face. Eva said, ‘Rowena, calm down please. I’m not smug and complacent. How dare you?’
‘You are! Why aren’t you crying? I thought you loved him but you didn’t, not really. Not like me. And I heard you. You thought I’d gone up to bed but I hadn’t. I heard you, practically kicking him out. You were shrieking at him and he ran away. It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t made him go, he’d still
be alive. How can you live with yourself? You killed him. You’re a killer. A murderer. Murderer.’
Eva stared at Rowena and listened to each word as it was spoken. Yelled. She felt every one of them falling on her, one blow after another. She took a deep breath, determined to say nothing, repeating over and over to herself: It’s the stress. She’s just hysterical with grief. She’s only twelve. Take no notice. She doesn’t mean it. You’re her mother. Comfort her. Say something that’ll make her feel better.
But what? Eva looked over at Rowena, who had thrown herself down on the sofa and turned to sob into the cushions. I’ll let her cry herself out, Eva decided. Then I’ll speak. Suggest we go and eat. Or just give her a cup of tea or something. She looked around the room, as though teacups and saucers would magically appear. Then Rowena whirled round. She started quite quietly, so that for a moment, just for a moment, Eva thought the worst was over.
‘I think you treated him rottenly. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you had lovers. He kept going away all the time, didn’t he? I know he said it was work but I bet it was something else. He couldn’t bear you … couldn’t bear your lack of interest. Your other men.’
‘My other men?’ Eva thought: am I hearing this right? Did she say ‘other men’? For some reason, this struck her as funny. Terrible, heart-breaking but funny. She’d begun to laugh and this had enraged Rowena even more.
‘You see? You just don’t care. You killed Dad. He loved me. You don’t. You can’t or you’d have thought about what you were doing. Now you’ve lost him for ever and it serves you bloody well right.’
Eva decided to ignore Rowena’s last words. ‘I’ll tell you something, darling,’ she began and speaking, she realized, was like vomiting. The words she’d kept pushed down, pressed into silence for almost twelve years were rising from her stomach and whatever they were and whatever effect they might have when they were spoken became irrelevant as the flood of sound came into her mouth and spilled out. ‘Don’t talk to me about other men. Ever since we married, he was the one. The one who didn’t love me. The one who went to other men. Yes, that’s right. Men. I’m surprised you haven’t guessed. I fooled myself for years, but I loved him so much that I didn’t care. Or I told myself I didn’t care and I still loved him whatever he did to me. However many lovers he went off with. He always came back to me. To us. But you don’t know, Rowena. You have no idea what it’s like to live for so long with a man who doesn’t, who won’t … He had his lovers and occasionally, once or twice a year, he’d come to my bed and that was it. Do you understand? The night he died … well. That was the end. The end of the marriage for him, not for me. He wanted to leave. Do you understand now? He wanted to leave me and he would have left you too, however much he loved you. He told me that night. He wanted to go. Go and live with Pietro. You’ve just seen Pietro at the funeral. Who did you think he was? Your father’s latest lover, that’s who. Antoine stormed out of the house in a rage and he’d been drinking. His car hit a tree and he was killed. There’s nothing more to say than that.’