by Máire Fisher
‘You told me,’ I said. ‘You told me yesterday when you asked me about Detective Ace and Dirk Stone.’
‘I asked you about whom? Dirk Stone? I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl.’
I stared at her dumbfounded. I had expected— I don’t know what I had expected. But I certainly never thought that she would deny our conversation.
‘But you said … you asked me …’
Ma Bess looked at her watch. ‘It’s five minutes past two, child. My tea will be brought up at three o’clock. Until then, I would like to continue the afternoon rest you so rudely interrupted. I realise that the discovery of your brothers’ bodies has come as a shock to you and your parents and sisters, so I am prepared to excuse your insolent questions.’ She sounded so crisp, so assured, that for one awful minute I wondered if I had been dreaming, conjured it all up.
‘I know nothing about your brothers,’ Ma Bess continued. ‘And if you know what is best for you and your family, you will let this matter rest.’
She smiled then. A thin sliver of malice. And that was all I needed to see. ‘How could you,’ I murmured. ‘How could you not have said something? If you had, they might still be alive. The police, all the search parties, would have had some idea of where to look instead of looking everywhere.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl, but I’m rather worried about the way in which you are distorting the truth. If this continues,’ she said, ‘I might be tempted to speak to your mother. Perhaps you would benefit from some medical help, a little counselling after all this trauma. I hear they have very good clinics these days. Expensive, but well worth the cost if we can help to set your mind at ease.’
For once I wasn’t concentrating on my feet. I looked instead at her hands as they moved in her lap, working in and over each other, and then at her eyes, not quite as brilliant, a filmier blue, but very alert. Where was the rambling, incoherent woman I’d last seen sitting in this chair?
‘So you didn’t say anything about naughty boys climbing the mountain?’
There was an ominous warning in her tone when she replied. ‘Your brothers were naughty, girl. They could have done with a firm hand and some healthy discipline. I told your mother this several times. I even offered to pay for their education at a good boarding school. She would hear nothing of it. As for you, I find your behaviour offensive. Now please leave before I call your mother. Not that that would do much good. She has no idea how to control her children.’ She settled back in her chair and closed her eyes.
‘Switch off the light before you go.’ She could easily have done it herself. I had to walk around her chair to click the switch. As I reached for it, her hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist. ‘I don’t want any more of this nonsense. Do you understand?’
I stood silent.
‘Answer me,’ she rapped. Her nails dug into my flesh.
I pulled my hand from her grasp and turned to the door.
‘You’re just like her, you know.’ Ma Bess’s voice was conversational. ‘All sweetness and light and everyone loves you.’
What was she on about now? I was scared to turn around, scared that she’d lost it again and I’d see her gibbering and drooling and telling me terrible things she’d later deny.
But Ma Bess looked quite sane. She was looking me up and down, as if she was measuring me for a new dress. Probably one of sackcloth.
‘Your great-aunt,’ she said. ‘Kitty.’
Kitty? The woman Pa God had spoken about with such sadness in his voice?
‘She also tried to get in my way. Just like you.’
I stepped back.
‘You look like her too.’ She scrabbled around in the papers on her table and tossed an old black-and-white photograph towards me. It fluttered to the floor.
I bent to pick it up and found myself staring at my replica. Fine, fair hair, blown slightly back from her forehead. Light serious eyes that shone like marbles. She was smiling, looking up at the thrillingly handsome man who stood with his arm around her waist. Pa God, dressed in flannel trousers and a soft open-necked shirt. In the background there was another young woman, tall and striking: Ma Bess. The two girls wore full-skirted dresses, nipped in at the waist, and carried wide-brimmed straw hats. The photograph had been taken in front of an old house. Mansion, I suppose, would be a better word for it.
‘There she is, our little Kitty-Kat. And you’re the spitting image of her.’ Ma Bess’s voice held a bitter edge.
I turned the photograph over and there, in a large rounded hand, were the words, ‘Godfrey, Beth, Kitty. Marchbanks.’
‘Marchbanks?’ I asked, puzzled, gripped by a sick feeling of fascination.
‘Marchbanks-on-Trent,’ Ma Bess snapped. ‘It’s time you learned a little family history, my girl. Marchbanks is a distinguished family name, I’ll have you know. And my dear Papa was always on about marrying wisely, passing on the family name. Not that he did much good. Marrying my mother, a weak milksop – all she managed to produce were two girls. No males. And the firstborn was Kitty. Meek, sweet, gentle Kitty-Kat. Another waste of breath.
‘Not like me. I was Papa’s daughter. I should have been his son. I should have been first-born.’
Her head was tilted back and she watched me closely, like a snake contemplating a snack. ‘Marchbanks should have been mine. I would have kept the family alive and strong. But no, it was all to be for Kitty and whatever offspring she spawned – spineless, sapless, lily-livered pups. Because Kitty was never going to get a real man into her bed and between her legs.’ She laughed then, a rasping chuckle that made the skin at the back of my neck go cold.
‘And me? Poor Beth, the youngest daughter. Make the best of it, Beth, hide your bitterness. Not that Kitty would ever have known what I thought about her. Oh no, she was too kind for that. Too good. Good, sweet, sickly little Kit. Always seeing the best in everyone. Do you know how nauseating that is?’
I sneaked a look at my watch. Ten minutes since I had knocked on her door, and it didn’t look like she was going to stop any time soon. And I wasn’t sure now if I wanted her to. Half of me ached to have all my questions answered, the other half dreaded hearing what she was going to say.
‘Papa said I had a man’s head on my shoulders. I understood the estate. It should have been mine.’
I edged back, finding the firm comfort of the wall, and listened as my grandmother told her story. Her eyelids lowered, her voice became silky and smooth as she slipped into the past.
‘I resented Kitty, but I didn’t bother enough about her to hate her. And then, what did she do?’ Ma Bess opened her eyes and stared straight at me. ‘What did she go and do? She met Godfrey Hall at her coming-out.’
Oh God, Pa. So that’s what happened.
‘He stole her heart. And when she brought him home to Marchbanks, he stole mine too.’ Ma’s voice trembled and she cleared her throat. ‘I knew, from the moment I saw him, that I had to have him. And that’s when I learned to hate your great-aunt Kitty. Can you blame me?’
She sat waiting for an answer and I managed a weak, ‘No, not really.’
‘She was going to get everything. The house, the family name. And Godfrey Hall. Tall, beautiful Godfrey …’ Her voice trailed off, as if she were picturing his splendour. Then she resumed: ‘She was going to get it all and I’d be left, single and alone, with nothing. I couldn’t let that happen.
‘But what could I do? What could I do?’ Her feet jiggled, beating a muffled frenzy on the thick carpet. Her eyes darted over to where I stood, trying to make myself as small as possible.
‘On that first visit, he was with us for a whole weekend, and Kitty just wallowed in it. It wasn’t enough that she had him, oh no. Now, wherever I looked, there she was, hanging on his arm, her head on his shoulder. And Mama and Papa looking on, with fond smiles. Dear Kitty had done the right thing, brought in a decent chap, with looks and brains …’
Ma Bess’s voice was getting higher, her breath coming in short
gasps. ‘So it went on, one weekend, and the next, and the next, and each time she brought him home, I hated her more. All I wanted was to smack that snivelling smirk off her face.
‘What an insipid little piece of nothing she was – a drab little moth fluttering towards his flame.’
Ma Bess leaned back against her chair, panting. She’d stopped. At last. Wanting to learn about the past was one thing, but hearing this outpouring of venom was something else. It was sick and sickening and wrong. Her poison was eating into me, scouring me away. I wanted to scuttle out but, as I turned, her words spun out and caught me again.
‘It was inevitable, I suppose.’
She was still enmeshed in the past and I had to stay, fascinated and trapped.
‘Soon enough, the weekend arrived when Godfrey fell on one knee and produced the velvet box and put the ring on her finger.’
I felt a small surge of triumph. Good for you, Kitty, I thought. You managed to best her. But you didn’t win in the end; you didn’t keep him. What happened? Did I really want to know?
Whether I did or not, Ma Bess rattled on.
‘That night, I wanted to scream into the room, “Stop! Stop!” But instead I smiled and kissed her cheek and hugged him. He looked so happy. Shining bright and fine.
‘Kitty turned her gleaming, beaming, great big stupid eyes on me, all filled with tears, and she said, “Oh Beth, aren’t I just the luckiest girl in the whole wide world?” And I smiled and agreed, but I couldn’t say a word, and then Papa was saying, “To the happy couple!” and I was tinkling out the words, “To Kitty and Godfrey.” I wanted to be sick, but no one noticed and no one knew.
‘No one knew! And that’s where I had the advantage. As I sipped my champagne, a plan formed. It might just work. Or it might backfire terribly …
‘I raised my glass with the rest of them, and chatted gaily about wedding plans and honeymoons and living arrangements once the newly wedded Marchbank-Halls came home from their idyll in Venice. Venice! I could think of no place in the world that I would rather be than in Venice with Godfrey Hall.’
Ma Bess fell back against her chair and sucked in a huge shuddering breath.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t I call—’
‘Oh please.’ She stopped me with a short laugh. ‘Spare me the concern. Just keep quiet and listen. I know you, you little eavesdropper, you little scavenger, digging for scraps of family history. You want to know what happened next, don’t you?’
She was right. Something terrible was waiting to be told, and Ma Bess was going to tell me what it was. Then I’d be able to tell the rest of the family our history – explain the darkness that filled Marchbanks whenever her name was mentioned. And once we all knew my grandmother’s story, her secrets, she would lose all her power. Ma Bess would become nothing but a scrawny old lady, living alone at the top of our house.
‘Well, girl?’
I nodded and she continued.
‘Of course, Papa was delighted. Godfrey was the youngest son of an acceptable family. He’d done well at Oxford, he was city-bound for a job with a most prestigious bank. Everything had fallen neatly into place. The future of Marchbanks was assured and soon Kitty could get down to the serious business of providing the next generation of successors.
‘That night, if I laughed a little louder than usual, and my glass was filled too frequently, no one noticed because they were all too taken up with Kitty and Godfrey. Kitty and Godfrey. Kitty and Godfrey.’ She growled, a strange guttural sound. ‘I could not bear it. I could not bear to think of him in her bed.
‘Finally Mama was saying, “I am so very happy for both of you,” and Papa was beaming and saying, “There’s so much to be discussed. But now it’s time to retire.”
‘“Bed for you too, my darling,” Godfrey said. He whispered in her ear and the silly little bitch blushed and all I wanted was to strangle her.’ Ma Bess closed her eyes again and a slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Make no mistake, girl. I knew exactly what happened between the sheets when the lights were out. You can’t live in the country without seeing animals rutting, and that’s what my sister and her darling Godfrey would be doing soon enough – rutting. That was a picture I couldn’t get out of my head. But all I said was, “Good night” and my voice was quiet and Kitty asked, “Are you all right, Beth?”
‘“Just tired. It’s been such an exciting weekend.”’ Ma Bess imitated a high, girlish voice. ‘And as I ran from the room, I heard him saying, “Sleep tight, my little love.” I wanted to peep through the crack in the door, to see if they kissed, but I didn’t. I ran up to my bedroom and threw myself on my bed. I had to think.
‘Later that night, much later, when all the house was asleep, I opened the door to his room and made my way to his bed. He was on his back, breathing deeply, and I stood there for a moment watching him. He was asleep and he was beautiful, and hatred surged through me at the thought of Kitty owning such beauty.’
I looked at my grandmother in dumbstruck horror. Was she really going to tell me this part? I slid a glance to my left to where the door stood firmly shut. Now would probably be a good time to make a getaway. But, layer by layer, Ma Bess was peeling away her secrets. I didn’t want to stay, but I couldn’t leave either. My eyes were drawn back to her face. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and her hands lay still, almost relaxed. Her voiced slowed, became quieter, and despite myself, I leaned forward to hear her.
‘I pulled my nightgown over my head and inched back his sheets. I stretched out next to him and he didn’t stir. I touched him. I pulled him over and onto me and he was half awake and half asleep and he was muttering into my ear, “Kate, Kate,” and I let him say her name. It was all over so fast. Such pain. I tried to keep silent but I couldn’t – I cried out. His eyes flew open and he saw too late what had happened. I said nothing. I slipped from his bed, picked up my nightgown and left the room.
‘And if the maid who changed the sheets next morning noticed the bloody stain, she probably thought fair play to them. They’ll be married soon enough.
‘But they didn’t marry, did they?’ Ma Bess’s eyes gleamed. ‘Because my plan was the one that worked.
‘The next morning he tried to pin me down, talk to me, but I looked at him reproachfully and refused to speak. When he came to the house again, he didn’t say anything, just watched me as if I was a wild animal waiting to leap on him and tear out his throat. I wanted him to smile at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he held Kitty’s hand even more tightly.
‘One week passed, two and then – my monthly visitor arrived.’
I could hear my sisters’ voices inside my head. ‘Too much information, Bird,’ Anthea was saying. ‘Shut her up.’ And Angela, horrified, ‘She’s sick, Bird. Don’t listen to her.’ Only Alice’s voice was interested. ‘So what happened next, Bird?’
‘I stared at the blood, furious. But I was determined.’ Ma Bess swung out of her monologue, glared at me, then swung back without a blink. ‘And I remembered Hester, the housemaid, talking to Cook about how her cousin was six months gone, and still not showing. “One of those tall skinny types,” she said, “and she’s still wearing her ordinary skirts.”
‘I went into my bedroom and stood sideways in front of the mirror. Six months. I could do so much in six months.
‘And that’s how it came about. The next weekend he was back, and he was different – he looked like a man who had put a bad dream behind him. He was more loving with little Kitty-Kat than ever before. It was time.
‘Are you listening to me, missy?’
I started. ‘Yes, yes, of course I am.’
‘Good, because you and I both know what happens next, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You …’ my voice faded into the room and Ma Bess shook her head impatiently.
‘Can’t bring yourself to say it, can you? I threw the bomb up in the air and watched it explode. “I’m pregnant,” I said, “and he’s the father.” Kit
ty turned white. “That’s ridiculous, Beth, don’t be ridiculous,” but then she looked at him and he was stammering and a tide of deep red was washing up from his neck and he was saying “but, but, but” and Kitty knew. He couldn’t deny that night. Who would believe that he hadn’t taken advantage of me? Who could imagine a young girl lying about something like that?’
Ma Bess smiled and I felt my shock give way to revulsion.
‘But you weren’t pregnant,’ I said. ‘You were lying. You pretended so that he would have to marry you.’
‘Ah, yes,’ she answered. ‘But they didn’t know that, did they? Not then. Papa wanted nothing to do with him and his stuttered “buts”. Poor little Kitty-Kat lost her man. He wandered out in a daze and packed his case and she was left alone, with the diamond on her finger, and she was saying to me, “Beth, is this true?” And I was saying, “I don’t want to talk about it, I can’t.” When I looked at Papa, he turned away from me – there was something in his eyes I had never seen before, a sick, doubting disappointment. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the fact that Godfrey had to marry me. Not Kitty, me.
‘He did the right thing, of course. A private ceremony, rushed. The faster the better, before anyone discovered there was no baby. No pregnancy. Just Godfrey and me, and poor little Kitty out of the picture.’
Oh Kitty. I felt so sad for her, and for Pa God too.
Ma Bess stared through me, and then her eyes shifted as she registered me properly and we were back in 1995 instead of whatever year it was she stole Pa God. ‘It’s not like today, when girls spread their legs wide for the first boy who comes roaring up on a motorcycle. And then get rid of their little problem by visiting a backstreet butcher.’
The moment she stopped talking, I said I had to go. There were so many questions left unanswered, but I couldn’t handle any more. I had come upstairs seeking answers to one mystery and instead she’d blasted me with her past. The more Ma Bess exposed herself, the more I realised what else she’d be capable of.
I had to get out of there. ‘May I go now, please?’ I asked.