Dark Places

by Dawson, H A

  ‘How did she react?’

  ‘She seemed upset. I didn’t push it.’ She reached for her mug. The air was cool, and warmth of the mug in her hands pleasing. She took a tentative sip. ‘When I’m a mother, I’m going to make sure I’m nothing like her.’

  He grinned. ‘Are you ready to try again?’

  The memories of her pregnancy swept across her, from her elation in the early days to her desperate sense of loss on the day of the miscarriage. Her stomach ached and her head flooded with wretchedness. Forlorn, she caught his gaze, ‘not yet.’

  ‘One day you will be and I’ll be waiting.’

  He expected much. Should she tell him that she might never be ready and that her comment about being a mother was a mere slip of the tongue?

  ‘Maybe we can’t have children,’ she said.

  ‘A miscarriage is not proof of infertility.’

  ‘I know . . .’ her voice trailed.

  After her miscarriage, her mother had been surprisingly sympathetic. She sat on the edge of the bed, held her hand and stroked her hair to one side. She didn’t say much, but what she said had an impact, and for the first time in months, she felt a connection. Only now had she come to realise that her mother had spoken from experience.

  ‘If Mum had fertility problems, I might too.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d not been off the pill for long.’

  She agreed and lowered her head. She might be able to get pregnant, but she might not be able to reach childbirth. It was a terrifying thought, leading her to wonder if she could ever accept a life without children. Yet it might be something she had to learn to do. The thought of becoming pregnant again, only for it to end unsuccessfully was too much for her to bear. It may sound silly, but she would rather not try than fail again.

  She caught his attention. ‘We don’t know why I had the miscarriage, so I can’t stop it happening again.’

  ‘So we should give up?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve had one miscarriage. It’s not that uncommon, and it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.’

  ‘I had a miscarriage when I was about seventeen too.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I never knew.’

  ‘Only Mum knows. You’ll think I’m horrid saying this, but I was relieved it happened. I wasn’t in a relationship and I was too young to be a Mum.’

  He projected a sympathetic gaze.

  ‘It bothers me more now than it did then. It was a life Sam, and I . . .’ she stopped; her grief choking her of words.

  He carried his chair around the table, sat beside her, and wrapped her in his arms. It was a comforting moment, and whilst it would have been easy to sob, she clenched her jaw and removed the sadness from her mind. Moments later, she lifted her gaze and told him she was all right.

  He frowned, appearing uncertain.

  ‘Perhaps we’re not meant to have children,’ she continued. ‘Perhaps that is why fate brought us here.’

  ‘I still don’t think we should give up, at least not yet. And I’ll always be there to support you.’

  She passed him a wistful glance.

  ‘Just say you’ll agree to consider trying again. No pressure, though, okay?’

  She agreed, gazed into the distance, and prayed for a happy future.

  The following day, Sam stood back and examined the room. Pride emerged. Progress had been slow but steady. He had insulated another room, covered the walls with plasterboard, and it was ready for decoration. His next task would be to install a wood-burning stove. He’d also received word that a plumber may be available soon to replace the copper pipes, and if that came to fruition, he’d break off from his task and assist. Then he’d be able to start work on the kitchen.

  Michaela’s patience surprised him. Most people could not live in such difficult and ghastly conditions, yet she barely complained. She didn’t moan about the torn linoleum floor and gathering dirt, and she rarely commented on a white substance gathering on the exposed brick walls, a result of the drying walls. Nevertheless, her attitude didn’t mean that his guilt was any less intense. In fact, if Judith were more amenable he may have insisted she took her up on her offer to move in.

  Thinking of his mother-in-law caused him to consider the photograph safe in a drawer in the living room. He had intended to speak to Michaela about it immediately, but after her announcement about her first miscarriage, he had considered the timing inappropriate. Now, his courage was lacking. He knew the find would upset Michaela, and that was not his intention. Maybe it would be better if he gathered more facts and confirmed his supposition before speaking out.

  Who would know about Judith’s past? Mary knew more than she had let on, as when she had passed on her photographs to Michaela, she’d had a glint in her eye. He also believed it possible that she had another motive, and whilst he couldn’t determine what they may be, he didn’t want to take a chance and talk to her about family matters.

  Another option was to speak to Grace. She was approachable, at least for him, and, he sensed trustworthy too. However, she if she wasn’t aware of the situation, he could be causing more harm than good.

  Therefore, one solution remained. He had to speak to Judith.

  Michaela was tending her tomato plants when she turned and saw Sam strolling towards her.

  ‘We have to go see Judith,’ he said.

  ‘But I’ve only just seen here. Is it necessary?’

  He moved the dusty grains of soil with his toe. ‘I’ve just called her. I said we would be over in an hour.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Have you looked at those photos yet?’

  Sort of.’

  ‘But you haven’t looked properly.’

  Her pulse quickened, her arms folded. ‘No. What’s going on?’

  ‘You should.’

  Before she had a chance to question him further, he turned and walked back towards the house without uttering another word. Dropping her hand fork to the ground, she raced after him. He retrieved the photographs from a drawer, selected an image, and handed it across.

  ‘That’s not your father is it?’

  She stared at the couple. Their bodies were together, his hand was touching her face, and there were love and laughter in their expressions. The woman was her mother, but the man wasn’t her father.

  ‘Is that Jim?’ he asked.

  ‘I think it must be. I’ve never seen a photo of him, though.’

  ‘Did she go out with him before your dad?’

  She shook her head. ‘Dad was her first love.’

  ‘I feared that’s what you’d say.’

  ‘It might not be what it seems,’ she said meekly.

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ He turned away. ‘I’ll put a few things away, and we should set off.’

  ‘I don’t want to go see her.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know the truth?’

  ‘It’s none of my business.’

  ‘I think there is more to it,’ he said and walked away.

  Michaela’s face felt washed of colour as she moved, robot-like, to the car. She dared not question Sam any further for fear she may hear something disagreeable, and tried to block her mind from the news; yet all the time her mother’s secretive affair along with her fear of the pond dominated her thoughts.

  Gazing out of the window, searching for a distraction, she scanned the grasses, hedges and field crops. Sheep grazed, horses trotted in paddocks, and free-range chickens meandered in the intermittent sunshine. Then, all too soon, the countryside transformed into urban life, and she noted double-fronted houses with large gardens and paved fronts, each with potted plants and narrow herbaceous borders.

  They were drawing ever closer her mother’s house. Would Judith be pacing the room, fidgeting, or staring out of the window, fearing their arrival? Would she answer their questions? Maybe she would hide from the truth and insist the interrogation stopped even before it could start.
Maybe she would lie.

  ‘Does Mum know why we’re going over?’

  ‘I told her about the photograph,’ he replied.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She went quiet – and I could almost hear her jaw drop.’

  ‘I’m surprised she agreed to see us.’

  ‘I didn’t give her an alternative. I told her we were on our way and then put the phone down.’

  He indicated left and decelerated. Wiping her hot and clammy hands onto her jeans, she scanned the house looking to the windows and the net curtains. There was no sign of life, no sign she was there. He passed Sam an enquiring look.

  He parked the car, killed the engine, and turned to face her. ‘We have to do this.’

  Fighting a trembling body and a gathering sickly sensation in her throat, she exited the car and strode to the door. They didn’t have a chance to knock. Judith opened the door, and stood, stiff and ashen, and seemingly unable to speak.

  ‘Can we come in?’ Sam asked.

  She stepped aside, and let them through.

  He paused in the kitchen. ‘Did you have an affair?’

  Her nod was slight.

  ‘Was it with Jim?’ Michaela asked.

  ‘We didn’t mean it to happen. We never intended to hurt anyone.’

  Frowning, she squeezed past her mother and moved to the living room. Judith followed on behind, shuffling in tiny steps as though forlorn and beaten. Her skin was blemished and she looked frail and old, and not the stylish woman, oozing charisma and confidence she had grown used to seeing.

  ‘Did Dad know?’

  ‘That’s why we moved away.’

  ‘How could you? He loved you.’

  ‘And I loved him.’

  ‘Like hell!’

  ‘Michaela, you have to believe me. Why do you think we stayed together for as long as we did?’

  ‘You told me you hadn’t been happy for years, so don’t lie.’

  ‘I’m not lying. Your father was a lovely man. I cherished him until the day he died.’

  She flung her arms into the air. ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘We may not have been lovers, but we were still friends – good friends.’

  ‘Lord knows why he stayed with you after that. He deserved better.’ She dropped onto the armchair. ‘Dad lost everything because of you.’

  ‘He was glad to get away.’

  ‘He was glad to get you away from his brother, more likely.’ A picture of her father on the mantelpiece caught her attention. He had been innocent, the victim, yet he had been treated as though guilty and had been forced to leave the family unit. It seemed wrong. ‘Jim should have been the one to leave, not Dad.’

  ‘It was what your father wanted . . . to make a fresh start. I couldn’t talk him out of it, and I didn’t want to try. It had to be his decision.’

  ‘So he had to miss a life with his brother! How could you do that to him?’

  ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

  She withheld her retort. Maybe on another occasion, she would demand to know the finer details. However, right now, becoming involved in a bitter dispute over a situation from the past seemed pointless, especially when she had more pressing questions to ask.

  Judith interrupted her thoughts. ‘It was Arthur’s wish that Jim left his share of the house to you, as an apology.’

  ‘That doesn’t make up for what you both did to Dad!’ She puffed out. ‘I can’t believe you’d hurt him like that.’

  She held a stiff pose.

  ‘Why was I never told about Jim?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘No, it’s not. You had an affair, that’s all.’

  ‘Darling . . .’ her voice was small. She clutched her hands to her chest and looked away.

  ‘There’s more to it isn’t there?’ she said.

  ‘It’s because of the drowning incident,’ Sam said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  Judith’s eyes flitted and droplets of perspiration formed on her forehead. Having spent a few moments looking between them, and seeing no respite to their relentless stares, her mother started to speak. ‘W-we were distracted, but only for a minute. W-when we turned around h-he was face down in the water. We . . . we tried to save him. God we tried.’ Tears dribbled down her face. ‘A moment later Grace was rushing towards us. Her face collapsed.’

  ‘You’d been making out?’

  She pressed her head into her hands.

  ‘How could you? That’s so irresponsible! You were looking after a child.’

  ‘I know!’ Her complexion was blotchy and her eyes misted with tears. ‘I don’t need telling that he was just a baby. I’ve thought about it every day ever since.’

  Frowning, she did not respond.

  ‘I screamed at him, “breathe, breathe”.’ She shook her head. ‘He just couldn’t do it.’

  Michaela brushed her hand across her face and memories of her own vision started to crystallise, yet it was almost too horrendous to confront. She saw her mother’s failed attempt at resuscitation, she witnessed her shaking the child, pleading for a reaction, and she listened to her spine-chilling scream.

  ‘It was an accident,’ Sam said. ‘We understand that.’

  Judith shook her head. ‘We had to go . . . had no choice . . . couldn’t face anyone. I didn’t deceive you deliberately, but I couldn’t tell you. I . . . I was far too ashamed. Please tell me you understand.’

  She breathed out a taut breath. Her mother had made a terrible mistake and had suffered ever since. Did that mean she was deserving of forgiveness? Did it excuse her of her lies? Maybe so.

  ‘I am trying to understand,’ she said. ‘And I suppose what you did doesn’t affect me – at least not negatively.’

  ‘Thank you, darling. That means a lot.’

  A while later, having talked around the subject a little more, they returned to the car. Having waved at Judith’s pitiful figure standing in the window, Michaela turned to Sam.

  ‘You know what,’ she said, ‘I actually feel sorry for her.’

  ‘I do too.’

  ‘Why do you think your father forgave her?’

  ‘I suppose the little boy’s death must have put the affair into perspective. Your mother did pay the ultimate price for her promiscuity. He seemed a caring man.’

  ‘He was. It must have been twice as hard for Audrey. She would never have been able to trust Jim with their children again.’

  ‘No wonder they moved out. I wouldn’t want those memories around either.’

  They continued to mull over the turn of events as they journeyed home. It was a sedate drive, with no more than the average amount of traffic; there were no delays and no tractors occupying the lanes, and it relaxed her mind. Progressing along, she was glad that Judith’s secret was in the open, and wondered if their relationship may finally be able to grow and develop. She shared her thoughts.

  He smiled. ‘I love your optimism.’

  ‘Well, it would have been a huge burden to carry, especially since she knew Primrose Cottage was going to belong to me one day. She’d suspect I’d ask questions, as I did.’

  ‘I suppose it wasn’t something she’d be keen to share, so you never know, now that it’s out it might be a new start for you.’

  Michaela agreed and a short time later, they turned into Church Lane and into their drive. As soon as she exited the car, Bloomer appeared and weaved around her legs. Grateful for his love, she gave him a stroke then continued passed a pile of bricks and a ton bag of sand to the house.

  A note attached to the handle of the door caught her attention. Upon closer inspection, she saw it was a drawing of a cat and with the letters RIP. Squealing, she turned to her cat. He seemed to be all right, but just to be certain, she lifted him up and scrutinised his body. Bloomer wasn’t appreciative, and wriggled free and jumped to the ground.

  Sam edged her aside, grabbed the note from the door, and scrunched it into a ball in his hand. ‘Ignore it.’
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br />   Choked with fear, she followed him inside the house.

  Chapter 31

  For Michaela, the warning left on the door had been less easy to disregard than the news of her mother’s affair and the drowning incident. It wouldn’t have been on her mind if Bloomer had continued to act in his usual manner, but he neither awakened her with his tail-chasing activity nor rubbed himself into her, and she feared he was ill.

  She caught Sam’s attention. ‘Do you think Bloomer has been poisoned?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘He’s too quiet, something’s wrong.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s eaten something he shouldn’t.’

  ‘Like poison.’

  ‘I doubt that.’ He folded the newspaper and placed it by his side. ‘I thought you were ignoring that note.’

  ‘I would if his behaviour hadn’t changed. He’s far too quiet. Something’s wrong Sam.’

  ‘He’s less needy and that’s a good thing. It was bound to happen eventually.’

  She frowned. That was not it at all.

  ‘You want him to be a normal cat, don’t you?’

  Normal yes, ill no.’

  She vacated the room and trudged to the kitchen. He didn’t believe her, and it was pointless pursuing the matter. She would have to find out for herself what was wrong, and if she discovered it was poison, she would find the culprit. No one was going to hurt her little cat and get away from it. He was as important to her as her own child would be.

  Once she had placed her dirty breakfast items near the sink, she looked to Bloomer’s dish resting on the floor. His food was untouched, reaffirming her belief that something was wrong. With her fear swelling her gut, she left the room and searched for his whereabouts. Normally, he would be in one of the downstairs rooms washing, but he was nowhere to be seen. Hastily, she climbed the staircase, knocking over the bathroom accessories that rested on a step in the process. Whilst irritated by her carelessness, she decided to leave them until later and continued into the bedroom.

  Bloomer was on a chair, resting in a hunched position and with a scowl on his face.