by Laura Elliot
‘I hope you’re finding it helpful.’
‘My skin feels raw, as if I’m being eviscerated,’ she admitted. ‘Is that what you want to hear?’
‘My opinion doesn’t matter.’
‘It matters the world to me,’ she replied. ‘Women who love too much. I belong to that category. They call it a disorder, a syndrome. What do these so-called experts know about a love that tears the heart out of you? You and I understand that, Jake. The need to possess what belongs to us.’
He should walk away yet something held him there. He was unable to identify it, not curiosity but, perhaps, the fascination he would feel in the presence of a dangerous animal, whose claws, for now, were sheathed.
She paused as Feral, speaking on her mobile, emerged from the club. The drummer flapped her hand at them and moved out of earshot. Streams of neon reflected on the canal and lights spangled the windows of tall, gracious houses. The city flaunted its nightlife in side streets and elegant boulevards but Jake’s mind was locked in a small, silent ward.
Karin, too, seemed lost in thought before she spoke again. ‘Nadine insisted on meeting me after Eleanor’s stroke,’ she said. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘Yes.’
‘She accused me of being responsible for causing it. Is that what you believe?’
‘Indirectly… yes.’
‘Then you must think I’m monstrous.’
‘I think you cause havoc in people’s lives but never look behind to see the effect it has on them.’
‘My psychologist believes something similar.’ Her ring sparkled when she held out her hand. ‘A blue diamond.’ She studied the brilliant stone. ‘They’re rare and precious. Liam knew I wanted one and he found the perfect stone.’
‘Congratulations.’ He turned towards the door. ‘I’m needed inside. Good luck in your marriage.’
She moved in front of him and blocked the entrance. ‘You couldn’t afford to buy the cheapest fake yet I’d give him up tomorrow if we could get back together again.’
‘That’s never going to happen.’
‘You won’t be able to cope with Nadine on your own.’
‘I’ll always be able to cope.’
‘I know you better than you know yourself. You need something back from a relationship or else you find a replacement… like you did the instant she set you free. She can’t do that now, Jake. She’s paid the price – ’
‘What price are you talking about? Is this another way of hurting her?’
‘How can I hurt her when she’s a vegetable?’
‘What did you call her?’
‘She’s in a coma with no hope of recovery. Do you have an alternative word?’
He imagined bruises marbling her pale skin and flinched from the desire to inflict them. Had the love she claimed to feel for him ever existed or had it been hammered on the anvil of her hatred for Nadine? He remembered her standing in the bay window that night, the aura of flushed excitement he had mistaken for shock. And the rows, how they flared around Nadine even when she was a continent removed from them. What did it matter now? Nadine was where she wanted her; helpless, speechless, harmless.
‘Go back to your fiancée and respect that blue diamond he gave you,’ he said. ‘Do whatever you want but don’t involve me in any part of your future.’
Feral ended her phone call and came towards them. ‘God! It’s chilly out here. Is everything all right, you two?’
Karin, ignoring the question, stretched upwards on her toes and whispered in his ear. ‘She’ll always be a vegetable, Jake. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to let her go.’
The wind from the river feathered her hair as she walked to the edge of the pavement and raised her arm for a taxi.
‘I didn’t realise you and Karin were seeing each other again.’ Curiosity sparked behind the concern in Feral’s eyes.
‘We’re not.’
‘I see… well, I don’t actually. What’s she doing here?’
‘She came to say goodbye.’ He turned back into the hall. ‘You must be tired.’
‘More uncomfortable, than tired.’ She rested her hands on her stomach. ‘Not long now.’
He had never seen that slow swelling on Ali, had never experienced that mounting anticipation as the due date drew nearer.
He ached to be back with Nadine, sharing her silence, yet when he returned to Mount Veronica and she was exactly the same as before he left, he plunged into a rage that left him breathless.
CHAPTER 66
I moan. No sound. I dream. No waking.
‘Look who I met on the corridor. We recognised each other immediately. Memories, eh. That’s what’ll bring you back to us, my dear, unfortunate child.’
‘What a coincidence… imagine bumping into your father like that. I thought he was in Australia but he’s here with you, as I am. We’re waiting for you to wake up, Nadine. Can you hear us… hear us…’
Worm in ear. Must scratch. Can’t. Not Jessica…not Jessica….
Father smacks fist into hand…smack…smack…smack.…
‘She’s getting worse. Look at her eyes. Nothing there but emptiness. Excuse me… I have to go… can’t hack it…’
Not Jessica stays. Perfume… can’t breathe…
‘It’s just like old times. You and I alone together sharing secrets. Remember how we giggled ourselves in hiccups over any silly boy who looked at us? Remember the vows we made. Friends forever. Remember what you did to destroy that friendship? Remember, Nadine? Remember?
‘I saw you with him. You pretended you were looking at stars but I knew what you were doing. I watched how you flattered him. That sideways smile, brushing against him every chance you got. You didn’t even bother pulling the curtains in your bedroom when you were writing those sickening fantasies. I saw everything… do you understand… everything! That day by the river. He called you Alcyone and I knew. You thought you were inviolate. Untouchable. First Jake, than my father. Jake signed my arm that night. He kissed me too. In the little snug in Barney’s before he want on stage. Oh, he was a good kisser then… and now.
‘We were together in Amsterdam. I freed the wildness in him in ways you never could. A conflagration, that’s what it was. Just like the barn. It’s the end game, Nadine. You must know that. He wants you dead. He told me so. Dead and buried like my father.
‘Did you ever feel a moment’s guilt as you trudged through your boring, busy life? Whinging about your marriage and how you never had a chance to decide your future. Did you ever wonder how I managed my broken heart? Drugs dull memory but nothing can destroy the truth. My mind exploded when I saw you at the airport that day. Or did it implode? Implosion crushes, explosion scatters. Can they happen simultaneously?’
‘Did you read your letters when I returned them to you? Of course you did. Were you so far removed from reality that you thought my father was in love with you? He would have laughed if he read them… and he would have… the two of us laughing together at your ridiculous fantasies…
‘How deep are your depths, now? Fathomless, probably. I want to tell you my secret. But not now. Another time. Eoin is waiting for me. Poor man. He doesn’t know what to do with you. His undead daughter. Bye for now. See you soon again.’
* * *
Hand on cheek. Cold. Door opens. Door closes. Not Jessica…not Jessica.
CHAPTER 67
JAKE
Jake was unable to sleep. His eyes felt hot, gritty. He needed sleeping tablets, something powerful enough to switch off his thoughts. Imelda had spoken to him before he visited Nadine today. Her temperature kept spiking. She had vomited twice during the night. Her movements were becoming more persistent, spasmodic. She needed an increasing supply of oxygen to help her breathe. He could no longer ignore the truth. She was deteriorating, the weight falling from her, the lustre gone from her hair.
Suddenly, his senses alert, he sat up and switched on the light. He heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing except the t
aste of fear in his mouth. Was that how panic attacks began? He sniffed the air, convinced he could smell perfume. Faint, tantalising, as if lightly fanned on currents of air. He was reminded of orchids, not that he knew anything about their scent but he always imagined Karin’s perfume originating from the vulva-like centre of some exotic speckled blossom; oily, spicy, intimate. She could not have been inside Sea Aster. It was physically impossible. He ran downstairs, checked the front and backs doors. No sign of entry, not even a scratch on the paintwork. The windows were still locked. He returned to the bedroom and pressed the pillow to his face. Yes, that was the source. It cloyed his nostrils, reminded him of the musky scent he once sought in the curve behind her ear.
He slept fitfully in the spare room for the rest of the night. The smell had vanished when he returned to his own bedroom in the morning. Last night’s panic seemed dreamlike as he stripped off the bed linen. Phantosmia. He read about it once. Olfactory hallucinations, usually brought about by an illness. Mental or physical? He was unable to remember. Probably mental, he reflected gloomily as he shoved the sheets into the washing machine.
Eoin was already outside, clearing the barn. He had organised two large rubbish skips and was slowly filling them with the burned-out remains of equipment and furniture. When would he return to his wife? Wry comments about the ‘ball and chain’ and overheard snatches of phone conversations when he was talking to Lilian convinced Jake it was marital problems rather than his daughter’s coma that was keeping Eoin in Ireland. The stale smell of cigarette smoke still hung in the air from last night. He must have been smoking indoors when Jake was at band practice and Ali was with Sara.
He was amazed at his granddaughter’s resilience, the strength of her still-tiny kicking feet. She would soon be strong enough to come home from hospital. The thought of her breathing smoke into her delicate lungs enraged him.
He made tea and called Eoin in from the barn. ‘You should go back to Lilian,’ he said. ‘We’ve no idea how long this will go on.’
‘It’d be cruel to leave you at this stage,’ Eoin argued. ‘I can make myself useful, you know. That attic needs a lot of work if you’re serious about turning it into a recording studio. The wiring is shot to hell. I’ll make a start on it.’
‘Don’t touch anything,’ Jake held onto his temper, afraid he would go on a rampage if he lost it. Smash… clatter… bang… it would bring a momentary relief but everything would still be the same afterwards. ‘I’ll do the attic in my own time. Why not stay with Donal for a while? You’ve hardly seen him since you arrived.’
‘To be honest, Jake, me and the brother were never that close. All those frigging choo-choos would drive a man crazy. The last time he visited me and Lilian he overstayed his welcome by four weeks.’
‘How long was he supposed to stay?’
‘A month.’ Eoin slapped his knee and guffawed. ‘Only joking. But seriously, I’ll ring Donal soon. There’s no rush for the moment. I’m needed here. Are you sure you don’t want me to rewire – ’
‘Absolutely.’
‘At least let me move that stack of floorboards from the hall. I don’t know how many times I’ve tripped over them and nearly landed on me arse. You don’t want me ending up in hospital with a broken leg.’
Jake shuddered at this possibility. The floorboards for the attic were stacked behind the hall door and had been delivered to Sea Aster before the accident drove everything else from his mind. Eoin was right. They were a hazard.
The floorboards had been moved to the attic when he returned that night from Mount Veronica. A note from Eoin, along with a manila envelope had been left on the kitchen table.
Gone to visit Donal. Found this envelope behind the floorboards. Looks like it’s been there for a while. Be back tomorrow.
The envelope was covered in dust and smeared with spider webs. No name or address on the front suggested it was junk mail. He opened it, expecting to find a flyer about a supermarket offer or a special deal from a restaurant. Five smaller envelopes were inside. He opened the first one and removed a letter. The page had yellowed with age and been folded so often the creases were beginning to split. Each envelope contained a similar letter. This was Nadine’s writing, a younger, neater hand but still instantly recognisable.
My Darling Max, he read. Shocked, he checked the date. How could she have been writing to Max Moylan that summer… and using such an endearing term? He sat down and began to read.
By the time he finished the five letters he felt like a voyeur, somewhat soiled and guilty. His head pounded, as did his heart. No wonder Nadine had always avoided talking about that summer. How long had the letters been lying in the hall? She must have dropped them by accident when she was clearing out her possessions. By her own admission, she never wanted them to be read by anyone. He would be unable to ask her. The realisation that she might never speak to him again struck him anew and added to his grief.
‘What have you got there?’ Ali entered the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed when she glanced at the pages scattered on the table. She lifted the first sheet before he could stop her.
‘Give that back to me at once.’ He tried to snatch it from her but she moved from his reach.
‘It’s okay, Dad. I know about them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Those letters. I read a copy of one of the originals.’
‘When?’
‘Before Mum’s accident. That woman sent it to my flat.’
‘That woman… you mean… why wasn’t I told about this?’ He gathered the sheets together and shoved them back into their envelopes.
‘She stole them from Mum when they were kids on some holiday. Mum made me promise not to say anything. Gran was in hospital and you were feeling bad enough about everything. Brian and the twins were sent copies, as well. It was her way of humiliating Mum. She obviously kept the originals for you.’ Ali took the envelope from him. His hands, he noticed, were trembling.
‘Did you ever suspect?’ she asked.
‘No… never.’ He remembered Max Moylan on Monsheelagh Strand. The mahogany sheen of his skin as he swam back to shore from Table Rock, Nadine alongside him. Nadine and a man old enough to be her father was as inconceivable as Ali and Mark Brewer had once seemed to him. Strutting Jake Saunders, the singer in the band. An unimportant smudge on Nadine’s horizon when he believed he had filled her eyes.
‘What happened then is of no relevance to now,’ said Ali. ‘There’s only one way to deal with it.’
He made no effort to stop her when she threw the letters into the sink and struck a match. Nadine’s paintings had burned with the same fierce speed. What was he, Jake Saunders, in all this turbulence? A pawn? A stick to beat Nadine? Could he have salvaged his marriage, assuaged her discontent, unhappiness, yearning for freedom… whatever it was that persuaded her to seek a new beginning without him? They could have found another way forward if he had not chosen the dazzling road, the wild blue yonder.
* * *
An ultimatum from Lilian forced Eoin Keogh to salvage what was left of his marriage. At the airport he thumped Jake’s shoulder then bear-hugged him. He had been crying, the pouches under his eyes more pronounced, his bombastic personality subdued.
‘I have to admit I didn’t think your marriage would last a year when I first laid eyes on you,’ he said. ‘But you’ve shown a different side to your character. My daughter’s lucky to have you.’
‘I’m lucky to have her. We’ll come and visit you and Lilian when she recovers.’
‘I’ll look forward to the day.’ Eoin sounded too hearty to be convincing. ‘Keep the faith, man.’
The morning post was lying in the hall when Jake returned from the airport. The Wharf Alley Art Exhibition was opening next month. He had been invited to attend.
* * *
Today was special. Sara Saunders was coming home. In Mount Veronica she lay on the pillow beside Nadine. Red hairs tangled in her tiny fist. Ali began to cry, even though s
he had psyched herself against disappointment, when Nadine’s only response was an involuntary eye movement.
CHAPTER 68
Names. Jake…Ali…Brian…Sara…cockatoos…Sara…tiny? Why tiny. Pulls my hair. Tiny fists… Not Jessica comes…
‘Do you feel anything? Is your mind a stone or a sponge? When you blink are you warning me to be silent or twitching in the abyss? I believe you blinked a few times today. Are you listening, Nadine? I know you can hear me. Blink once for yes.’
Blink.
Help me… help me… tell them!
‘Two for no.’
Blink… blink.
‘Jake is going away with me. Brisbane. You’ll be dead by then. All it takes is a flick of a switch. Like your mother. Imagine. A flick of a switch and all his troubles are over. He won’t let you haunt him the way you haunted me. Do you hear me? Blink, bitch. You can hear me. You killed my father. Can you hear me? You killed him as surely as if your hands pressed him beneath those waves.’
‘Ah… there you are, Jessica. Cold out there today, isn’t it. I’ll have to ask you to leave now. Nadine’s neurosurgeon is dropping by to see her.’
‘Goodbye Nadine. Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. We’re all rooting for you.’
Not Jessica… not Jessica… Karin! Tell them… tell them… help me…
CHAPTER 69
JAKE
Wharf Alley Gallery, once a cavernous warehouse, was crowded when Jake arrived. He recognised Chloe, the curator, from her profile photograph on her gallery website and made his way towards her. Chloe’s professional smile faded when he introduced himself. She led him through the throng to Nadine’s paintings. They had been hung with care in a prime space with good lighting. He had expected ices floes, a boat with streams of bunting, gnarled Alaskan faces, Northern lights above snowy mountain peaks.