The Liminal Space

by Jacquie McRae

  ‘It would have been our daughter’s fortieth birthday today, Emily. We light a candle for her every year.’

  I show her into the Lady Chapel, where statues of the Virgin Mary and Jesus look down on us.

  ‘Thank you, Emily. This is the perfect place to light one for her.’

  She drops a coin into a donation box and takes a small white candle. She lights it from another candle and places it with others on the stand.

  I sit in one of the pews as they walk up to the altar. Their backs are towards me, but I watch as they both bow their heads. I presume they’re praying. I see him slip his hand into hers, and she turns and smiles at him.

  I wanted that. I feel myself getting emotional again. I give myself a moment before calling out to them. ‘We’d better keep moving,’ I say, herding them out of the church.

  On the high street, Maureen stops outside a shop window. She points out a Lilliputian miniature of the church, looking at me and then at Fred.

  ‘Oh. That’ll be a nice souvenir of the day. Do you mind, Emily? I collect them.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Fred smiles and leans his back against the brick shopfront. ‘She loves those funny things.’

  Maureen comes out a few minutes later holding a little box. She and Fred beam at each other, and it makes me feel worse. I concentrate on the pain as I bite the insides of my cheeks. The tears are clouding my vision, but I keep my gaze on the ground and stride towards the library.

  ‘We’d better hurry,’ I yell back at them.

  Flowers are being delivered just as we return. Red roses and purple irises rest on gold paper and cellophane. They’re tied up with a massive satin bow and would have cost someone a fortune. I look around at the ladies in the knitting circle, and then the courier driver calls out my name. It takes a moment for me to realise that these flowers are for me. A small envelope is tucked into the cellophane. I open it and read the card inside.

  I’m sorry.

  ‘Aren’t you just the luckiest girl?’ Maureen says as my tears spill over.

  Some of the women in the Knit and Natter session ooh and aah, but I notice Maggie looking at me sideways. The problem with being an orphan in a village is that everyone knows your business and thinks they know what’s best for you. I’m like the stray cat that everyone feeds—with unwanted advice.

  I say a quick goodbye to Maureen and Fred and search for a vase in the kitchen. I find a dusty one under the sink. As I’m arranging the stems in water, Colleen walks up behind me, making me jump.

  ‘God, you scared me.’

  She gives me a funny look.

  ‘They’re lovely, but you’re worth more than a bunch of flowers.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘I don’t think you do.’ She walks away.

  Rob surprises me again by meeting me after work. Colleen walks out at the same time I do. The three of us stand awkwardly under the eaves of the porch, and no one says a word. I’m glad that I’m positioned in the middle of them as they glare at each other. Rob insists that we walk along the high street, even though it takes twice as long. I struggle with my bag and the bouquet of flowers. Maggie stops her relentless sweeping outside the post office long enough to stare at us as we walk by.

  ‘Can I help you with anything, Maggie?’ Rob calls across the street.

  I tug on his arm to keep walking.

  ‘You don’t fool me,’ she calls down the street after us.

  I feel the muscles in Rob’s arm tense, and I notice my body does the same. He looks down at me, and for a moment I think he’s angry, but then his face softens.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emily. People like her get to me; sticking their noses into other people’s lives. I let things get to me when I know I shouldn’t.’

  ‘You hurt me, Rob.’

  ‘It’s like something takes over, and it’s not really me.’

  ‘But it was you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It was horrible, and you scared me.’

  He stops walking and stares at me.

  ‘It won’t happen again.’

  I search his eyes. Looking for some sign that he means it.

  ‘Give me another chance, Emily. It won’t happen again. I promise.’

  We walk past the newsagent. On the cover of the newspaper is a photo of hundreds of tourists on a beach in Europe. They’ve flocked there trying to cool off in a freak heatwave. All of a sudden, I know what we need.

  ‘We should go on a holiday, Rob.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘It could be like our belated honeymoon. You always said we were going to go later.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘We could both do with a holiday. Get away from here. It’ll be like a new start.’

  He frowns, but then he smiles and nods his head.

  ‘You should look into it.’

  ‘I’d love to do that.’ My face feels like it might crack open if I smile any harder. I’m finally getting to leave the village—and, even better, I’m going with my husband. As we’re walking, I start fantasising about all the places we could go. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.

  In the morning, for the first time ever, I don’t want to go to work, but then I remember that the preschool kids from the neighbouring village are coming today.

  Colleen starts as soon as I arrive.

  ‘A bunch of flowers and all is forgiven.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She follows me as I move to the back of the library. ‘It was you who told me to always look for the good in someone. Why can’t you be happy for me?’

  ‘What do you want me to say, Emily? That I think Rob’s a great bloke?’

  ‘You just don’t know him.’

  ‘I know his type, Emily. That’s enough for me. You’re still holding on to the fairy tale. It’s your business, and I’m trying to stay out of it, but I’m just letting you know that I don’t like what I see.’

  ‘Well, you’re right about one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s my business. And by the way, I’ll need to book some leave. Rob and I are going on holiday.’

  WILLIAM

  Juno’s barking in the garden wakes me up from my slumber on the window seat. I look out the window and see Sergeant Norris talking to James by the gate. Juno is tapping at the gate with a paw and looks like she’s about to leap over. The sergeant hands James a card and leaves.

  I push myself up and wipe my eyes and slap my cheeks as Juno rushes in.

  ‘Come in, James. I’m in the lounge.’ I force a smile onto my face when I see him.

  ‘Did she behave?’

  ‘Not really.’ James pats her head, and I’m glad to see a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘I hope Sergeant Norris didn’t give you too much of a hard time. He’s just marking his new territory.’

  ‘He wanted to know if you’d ever offered me drugs.’

  We both look towards the kitchen. I know he would have seen the stuff on the bench.

  ‘Mmm, the sergeant seems to have added two and two together and come up with six. He thinks I’m manufacturing drugs. He took away some pills. When he analyses them, he’ll find out that it’s just sugar.’

  ‘You sell sugar pills?’

  ‘No. I give them away.’

  ‘Why do you have sugar pills?’

  ‘It’s a long story, James, but basically I give them to people when I think they need something to believe in.’

  ‘Is that what you do in your shed? Give people pills?’

  ‘Very rarely.’

  ‘What do you do, then?’

  ‘Usually … I just listen. People want to tell their stories. People need to be heard. And sometimes I lend them a book.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why you give them the pills.’

  ‘Same reason I give them a book. There’s hope in them. There’s a belief that all will be well. We need to know that.’

  MARCO
<
br />   I drag the ladder through the hole in the hedge and lean it against William’s house. Some plonker has tagged the front of his house in red paint again.

  I soak a rag in petrol and climb up the ladder. Ever since I was a boy, there has always been someone throwing something at William’s house: rotten fruit, eggs. It seems to be a crime in this village to be different, or even to try to keep to yourself. William just sprays off the offending garbage and never says a word about it.

  I look down now and see him coming from the side of his house.

  ‘Ah. My fairy godmother,’ he says, looking up at me.

  ‘Whatever, William.’ The paint comes off easily, but it leaves an imprint of the word NUTTER on the house. I climb down the ladder.

  ‘I don’t know how you stay in this hole.’

  ‘It’s easy. It’s a nice hole.’

  ‘What’s nice about it?’

  ‘Lots. The woodlands, the river and the people.’

  ‘Including the person who did this?’

  He shrugs his shoulders. ‘There’s no point in being angry.’

  ‘Yeah, there is. Whoever did this is an arsehole, William. You need to track them down and deal with them.’

  ‘Haven’t you heard that saying, Marco? Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. It’s probably a bunch of kids. I’m the witch in the village who you throw stuff at. I’m okay with that.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Maybe they’re right, William. Maybe you are a nutter.’

  He laughs. ‘All I’m saying is that most of the time, it’s easier to let go than hold tight.’

  ‘Whatever you say, William.’

  ‘I say come inside and get some jars of relish.’

  I follow him inside. A tea chest is in the middle of his lounge, and cardboard boxes are scattered all over the floor.

  ‘Planning on going somewhere?’

  ‘I thought I was.’

  I remember about the tumour and quickly change the subject.

  ‘Where’s that relish?’

  He smiles and then stumbles a little. He leans on the back of a chair to steady himself and then carries on like nothing happened.

  ‘It’s on the bench.’

  ‘I’d better get these to Dad. I’ll come back for the ladder later.’

  ‘Don’t run away, Marco. You don’t need to be frightened by my illness.’

  ‘How can you be so accepting, William? This could kill you.’

  ‘Maybe, but we all have to die at some stage. It’s about the only thing we can be sure of.’

  ‘It’s just wrong.’

  ‘It just is, Marco. One thing I’ve grasped in my lifetime is that life flows much better when I accept what’s happening. I’ve tried fighting against it, and lost every time.’

  I shake my head. ‘They’re right. You’re a nutter.’

  JAMES

  Juno races along the track in front of me. I call out her name, but she doesn’t return. I listen for sounds of her but hear nothing except the chirping of the thrushes in the trees. Up ahead the path splits into three. I stand at the junction and listen. The ground is carpeted in the gold and scarlet of autumn leaves. The colours play tricks with my eyes and give off an almost magical light. An argus butterfly drifts down and settles on a bush beside me. The different shades of brown remind me of the mallard ducks down by the river. I call again, and this time I hear a bark in the distance. I clamber up the bank towards the sound and into a wooded section off the path. I follow a line of trees, keeping the church tower as a landmark on my right.

  Nature whispers to all my senses, and a feeling of warmth floods through my body. It’s fleeting, but the trees and the wildlife have let me sense something other than the relentless voice inside my head. It makes me feel connected. It’s the same feeling I got when I painted. I could leave everything at the top of the bank and slide down into a different world. All that mattered was being beside the river, with the wildlife, and the brush strokes on the paper. I remember being happy.

  I wander through a small stream at the bottom of the path, and my thoughts continue to tumble. The thought that I was once happy seems as crazy as coming across a twin I didn’t know I had. Juno’s bum and her wagging tail appear on one side of a bush; the rest of her is hidden. ‘There you are.’ She pops her head up and comes running back to me. She nuzzles her nose into my hand. ‘What are you up to?’ I barely have time to scratch under her mouth before she takes off again.

  I follow the stream and sit down beside it for a moment. Juno fossicks around in the fallen leaves. I listen to the trickle of water as it meanders its way across some of the pebbles. The stillness envelopes me.

  If I was once happy, maybe I could be again?

  EMILY

  I find Colleen in the small bedroom off the kitchen. The wooden doors are open, and she sits on the steps that lead out to the garden. Her shoulders move with the sound of her sobbing. I take a few steps back but knock into a stool and send it crashing to the ground. Colleen swipes at her face and then picks up a book from the stack next to her. She stays facing out towards the garden.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to get onto these for a long time.’

  ‘I’ll go and make us our tea.’

  I spoon tea leaves into the big pot and let it brew for a long time. Colleen has composed herself completely when I return with the tea. I take a seat on a wooden chest at the base of the bed.

  ‘I think we have to face up to the fact, Emily, that we are going to be forced to move.’

  ‘There must be something we can do? Can’t we protest?’

  ‘I don’t think it will help. The church has to sell the manse to finance the footings of the church. If they don’t redo the footings, then they’ll lose the church as well.’

  ‘We can’t lose the manse. Couldn’t we do some fundraising? Do some cake stalls and sell some things?’

  ‘That’s a great idea, but we would need thousands of pounds.’

  ‘We can’t let them move us.’

  ‘I don’t think we have a say in it.’

  ‘But where will we go?’

  ‘They were thinking of putting us in the old annexe by the community hall.’

  ‘That’s a horrible building. It’s ugly and it’s cold. We wouldn’t even fit the books in there. People will have to take turns at coming in.’

  ‘There’s been talk that our library could merge with Bellingford’s one. They already have a purpose-built library building.’

  ‘But how will we get to Bellingford every day?’ I see the look on Colleen’s face, and I know that there will be no commuting to Bellingford. ‘Oh. I’m so slow. When we lose the library, I lose my job. That’s right, isn’t it?’

  I see the tears pool in her eyes as she nods her head.

  WILLIAM

  I edge my way down the bank and slide into the river where the reeds are not so thick. The river has only just taken off her night clothes, and the water is icy cold. It sends a shock through my body and makes me gasp. I let the current take me away from the land and feel like I’ve stepped outside of time as I float downstream towards the bridge. Nature invites me in and makes me feel like I’m a part of it. I feel myself getting cold and breaststroke towards the bank. I clamber out over slippery river rocks covered in emerald green moss. I startle some nesting birds as I race along the walkway to collect my clothes. I watch the birds take off and feel the same soaring in my own body.

  MARCO

  I look at my phone and see that I’ve missed three calls from Owen, but he hasn’t left a message. I slide the phone back into my pocket. He can wait. I knew he’d regret his decision. It’s going to feel so nice to make him grovel.

  Dad walks in from the garden with bits of straw attached to his overalls.

  I watch as he struggles to get his legs out of his clothing, and I realise that he’s getting older.

  ‘Can I make you a cuppa, Dad?’

  ‘What? What have you done w
ith my Marco? He doesn’t offer to make tea.’

  ‘Haha. I was just going to make one, and you look like you could do with one.’

  He slumps down into a chair. ‘That would be really nice. I’m knackered. I swear those pumpkins get heavier each year I stack them.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s the pumpkins.’

  He smiles but ignores my dig. ‘Did you see William this morning?’

  ‘Briefly, but I’ll pop over again later.’ My phone rings, and I see that it’s Owen again. ‘I’d better take this, Dad.’

  He pushes himself up from his chair. ‘I’ll make us the tea, eh?’

  I nod as I move down the hall. I try to act nonchalant on the phone, but the truth is that I’ll take anything Owen’s offering. I can hear in Owen’s voice how hard it is for him to need something from me. I play with him as long as I can.

  ‘That was my old boss, Dad.’

  ‘Did you get your job back?’

  ‘Nearly. He wants me to source something for him. I’ll need to make up some flyers and get them printed. Does the post office still do that shit?’

  Dad shakes his head as I move past him.

  ‘Yes, Marco. They still print things. Your tea’s on the bench.’

  ‘If my flyer doesn’t attract ducks to the pond, nothing will.’

  ‘Now, that nonsense sounds more like my Marco.’

  I spend the afternoon making up a flyer to put in a few letterboxes.

  ‘I’m just going into town,’ I yell out to Dad in the garden. ‘I’ll see if William needs anything.’ A gloved hand waves out from the side of the shed.

  On the path to William’s door, small branches poke out from the hedge; I snap one off as I pass. William would never let the hedge get this long unless he was really sick. Telling him that I’m going to cut it should be the fastest way to get him back on his feet.

  ‘Hey, William. I’m going in to the post office, and I wondered if you needed anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Marco, but I can’t think of anything. I need your help with something else though.’