by Máire Fisher
Rafi’s standing next to the car and she’s looking worried and she’s saying, ‘Bye Bird, see you soon,’ and this time I can hug her back and say, ‘Bye, Raf.’ Then I’m in the car with Annie and Orville, and Busi’s waiting at the front door, and I think of course, she starts work today. Going back inside, the house feels cold, as if no one has lived here for a long time. And I look at Annie and Orville and Busi, and this time I can see myself in the mirror and I’m all there.
And then I realise what’s missing. What’s wrong. None of us are crying. Annie’s mother is dead, Orville’s mother-in-law, my grandmother, and we all look solemn, but no tears are streaming, no noses need blowing. Not like when Orville sagged against the wall when he heard about his mom and Annie rushed to comfort him and they both cried because they were so worried about Gran, and she wasn’t even dead. We’re shocked, but no one is sad. And I remember then to ask about Granny Little and Orville tells me she will be fine, the doctors are happy with her progress, and one small part of me feels lighter.
Annie and Orville lift Ma Bess’s body onto the bed. Then Annie and Busi wash her and I know I should be helping my mother, but I can’t. Later, when I look into the room, they have finished but they’ve forgotten to hang up her clothes. Her skirt, her shirt are just tossed onto the wheelchair and it looks as if they’re trying to find their way back to the body that sat there for so long.
Annie walks down the stairs, lifting each foot slowly and carefully as if she isn’t sure how her feet work any more. ‘We’re ready for the undertaker, now.’ Her voice is loud in the house and she covers her mouth with her hand. Busi follows and I say, ‘Come, I’ll show you where everything is.’ When we’re in the kitchen together, Annie and Busi and I, I say, ‘I’m sorry, Busi, this isn’t what you expected on your first day.’ And she’s saying, ‘A cup of tea for you, Annie?’ and I’m the only one who hears that she hasn’t said Madam.
9
I creep into her room and approach the bed. Her mouth hangs open, her eyes are closed. I look at her carefully, note each feature, see the bones of a woman who was once a great beauty. Her hands lie on her chest, crusted with rings. How is the undertaker going to remove those? Her feet poke out from under the nightgown, slender and veined in blotches of purple and blue. They look yellow in the gloom of the room. It is those lifeless feet that make me realise what I have done. Ma Bess is dead.
I take a blanket from the foot of the bed. I cover her feet.
‘It’s a narrow staircase.’ Annie’s voice floats upwards. ‘I don’t know how you’re going to get her down.’
Mr Leonides has arrived in his long black car. He brings a hush into the house with him.
‘I’ve brought my boys,’ he says. He and Annie and Orville climb the stairs.
I stand on the landing below and listen. Their voices are muffled. Mr Leonides’s highly polished shoes appear on the stairs.
‘Don’t you worry now, we’ll get her down, no problem. Why don’t you go for a nice walk, and when you get back it will all be over.’
‘Thank you.’ Annie’s hand rests on the black cloth of his arm.
Mr Leonides walks to the front door and issues a sharp command. Annie and Orville go outside with him and there’s another short discussion.
Annie finds me in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. ‘He thinks we should all go out,’ she says.
In the passage Mr Leonides is talking quietly to two men, as decorously dressed as he is, in dark suits with quiet ties.
I slip past them to join Annie and Orville outside.
We get into the car, Annie and Orville and I, and drive to the beach.
‘How long do you think it will take?’ Annie asks. ‘I should have asked when we could go back.’
‘Come along, darling.’ Orville tucks her under his arm. ‘We’ll walk to Lady’s Seat and back and then we’ll go home.’
‘I should have stayed.’ Annie is crying now.
Finally, I think. Some tears.
‘She’d have hated this, being manhandled down. I should have stayed to make it more … more respectful.’
I walk slightly behind them, see my father with his arm around my mother, comforting her, protecting her as always, his body the shield between her and the hard parts of life.
I kick my feet in the sand. I don’t want to walk any more. I sit on the beach and watch Annie and Orville blur into one shape as they walk away from me. The sand is cold under my fingers, dampness seeping through my jeans. Cold grey grains on my fingers. Rubbing them into the palms of my hands like emery paper, feeling the grit.
If I concentrate on this feeling, feel only my fingers, digging deep into the sand, I won’t have to think about anything else. I can block it all out. Be able to look down the beach and be happy for my parents that they have each other. If I centre on this, and this only, I can balance my mind again. I don’t want to feel this anger, little white teeth, sharp and snapping at my mind. Biting holes into the way I saw things before Dirk Stone, before I knew about Ma Bess and my brothers. I have to find somewhere for this anger to go – let it go, the way I set Ollie and Oz free on the harbour wall.
Annie and Orville are on their way back. There’s concern on Annie’s face. ‘Are you okay, Bird?’ she’s asking me.
I look up at them, backlit by the sun, framed in dazzling brightness. Orville’s arm is around Annie’s waist, she leans into him, he holds her upright. Her body is sagging, and I see she is bone weary.
I stand, brushing rough sand from the seat of my jeans. ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I’m sure it’s okay to go back now.’
When we get home, the hearse is still there. The men are leaning against the car. One of them takes a cloth from his pocket and wipes his face. He says something to the others and their mouths open wide, wide, wide. Glistening red mouths, white teeth flashing in laughter. Annie and Orville don’t see this. They are talking to Mr Leonides again. They shake hands with him, and Mr Leonides and his helpers pile into the hearse. It settles onto its wheels and proceeds sedately down the street. All very respectable.
I wander around the back of the house, into the mountain garden. I stare at the places where I buried Ma Bess’s meals, feel again the heft of the spade in my hands, the weight of her key in my pocket. I stand there, searching my heart: Nothing. My mind: Nothing. My soul: Nothing. Not a flicker.
That night I have another dream. A new one. I’m in Ma Bess’s room, and it’s empty. I’m desperate. I know I’m being stupid as I search here. There’s no way she could fit into one of the drawers, or even under the bed. She can’t be hiding behind the gauzy curtains or have slipped paper-thin between carpet and floor. But I’m the one who has lost her. I know she’s here somewhere and I search. I become frantic, looking into all the impossibly small places.
VI
1
In the hush of the church, the minister who knew nothing about Ma Bess gave a short eulogy. There was no coffin, no need to find pallbearers for a conventional, hoist-the-coffin-up-on-shoulders slow walk down the aisle. Our small gathering of immediate family, dressed in our darkest best, hardly filled the first two rows. The order of service was printed on a simple sheet. A photograph of Ma Bess, taken one day by Orville when she wasn’t looking: she looked younger than her years, still beautiful, though her eyes showed no warmth. A photo, a prayer, and one hymn, ‘Abide with Me’. Except she didn’t abide with us. Not any more. Annie and Orville were rich now – well, Annie was, rolling in it, oodles and oodles of boodle as Anthea said when the will was read.
I looked to where Annie was standing, supported by Orville. Mom and Dad are free, I said to the boys in my head. Was it worth it, though? They were prisoners for so many years.
I am glad she’s dead. Of course I am. But it all happened so fast. Suddenly we’re all free. What will we do, now that she’s gone?
After the funeral, we all went back to Marchbanks, even Pa God, whom I had seen hanging around at the back of the church.
‘I’m not sure if I should. Ann might be upset if I do.’
‘She’d be even more upset if you don’t,’ I said bluntly. He hesitated. ‘It’ll probably be uncomfortable for you,’ I added. ‘Is that why you’d rather not?’
He smiled wryly. ‘Touché, Bird. You don’t pull your punches, do you?’
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I was glad to see his car pull up a few minutes after most of the guests had arrived. Not that there were many of them. Dr Woods, Ma’s lawyer, Mr Leonides, Mrs Franco and Rafi. Paolo too. He looked at me and smiled, and I smiled back, a lift in my heart. I grabbed my courage tight, willed myself to go and speak to him, but then there was Pa, walking through the door. He walked over to Annie and Orville and spoke to them briefly, touched Annie’s shoulder, then sat down next to me.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Is Madge not here?’
‘No, she thought it was better if I came alone. Easier for Ann.’
‘That’s kind of her.’ I looked over at Annie. ‘Well,’ I asked, ‘what’s the news there?’
Pa God spread his hands. ‘I tried. Your mother was very … polite.’ He smiled again, that small self-deprecating twitch. ‘I think she’d just as soon not have to talk to me.’
‘You can’t just give up,’ I said to him. ‘You have to keep trying. And you can’t blame Annie for not welcoming you with open arms. You caused a lot of damage when you left.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Believe me, if there had been any other way …’
‘There was,’ I said. ‘You could have stayed.’
I knew all about the conditions Ma Bess had imposed, but I wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy.
But Pa God was no fool and he parried neatly. ‘Did you love your grandmother, Bird?’ he asked.
‘God no,’ I said, without thinking. ‘She was vile.’
‘She was, wasn’t she?’ Pa God said, agreeably, as if we were discussing the relative merits of one type of apple over another. ‘Not the easiest woman to share a life with. But you know that only too well.’
He was right. But, more importantly, I didn’t want to waste any more time on Ma Bess than I had to. Time with Pa was precious, and I wanted to make the most of it.
‘She told me all about Kitty, you know.’
‘Really?’ Pa God’s eyes darkened. ‘I’m surprised.’
‘Not as surprised as I was,’ I said, and I explained about Ma Bess’s bizarre meander down memory lane.
Pa God laughed. ‘I’m glad some truth came out at last,’ he said. ‘Does it help you understand why there was no love lost between us?’
‘It does,’ I said. ‘I felt so sorry for Kitty. She sounds like a good person, just the sort Ma Bess would have hated.’
‘She was.’ Pa God’s eyes clouded again. ‘And that’s what kept me tied to your grandmother for so long. Not her money, and believe me, we had plenty of that. Her father might have despised what she did, but he made sure she’d be comfortable. As long as she was comfortable far away from the family.
‘I kept thinking of how good my Kate was – and that two sisters couldn’t be so very different. There had to be something we could rescue from the wreckage. Ann came out of that, an attempt at making things work. But there was nothing there. Trying to find her heart—’ he stopped suddenly and pulled a smile onto his face. ‘All old history, Bird, water long since passed under the bridge. I’m glad you learned about Kate. You’re a lot like her, you know, sweet and kind.’
‘But none of that explains my mother,’ I said. ‘How could you have left her?’
‘I ask myself that every day,’ he said, ‘and at the same time I know that if I had stayed, I would have died. Either that, or killed your grandmother.’
I looked at him quickly, my cheeks aflame. Did he know? How could he possibly know? But Pa God was staring down, his hands linked loosely on his knees, lost in contemplation of the past and all he had sacrificed to make his life bearable.
He was just an old man. An old man, a bit weak, but he needed to be forgiven. We all do terrible things we have to live with. All of us.
I placed a hand on Pa God’s knee.
‘I’ll talk to Annie,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to help.’
2
The day after Ma’s service, Angela, Alice and I walked up the stairs to Ma’s bedroom. When we reached the top of the stairs, we paused. It was impossible to believe we could open that door and let light into the place which had darkened so much of our lives.
‘I know she’s dead and buried,’ Angela said, ‘but I wouldn’t put it past her to still be there.’
‘I know,’ Alice said. ‘I can’t believe she’s finally gone.’
‘She’d die if she knew what we were planning to do,’ I said.
‘She has died,’ Angela said. And giggled. We all did, guilty stifled sounds as if her radar was still operational.
I looked at my two sisters: Angela as beautiful as ever, Alice even more so, her hair pulled back, her clothing plain and uncompromising. Anthea was downstairs. She’d flatly refused to help us, preferring to put a good dent into the bottle of gin she had brought with her. When I said we needed her help, her eyes flattened and she treated me to one of her best looks.
‘As far as I’m concerned,’ she said, ‘the old bitch is dead. If you think I’m going to go up there and pack bits of her away— No way.’ Her hand shook as she lifted her glass, clinking with ice, to her mouth. ‘You girls go on up. I’ll sit here and drink a toast to the corpse.’
And so there we stood, before the white door.
‘Go on, Bird,’ Angela said. ‘Open it.’ Her pregnant stomach pushed into my back, firm and round, propelling me forward.
‘You’re the oldest,’ I said. ‘You do it.’
‘Oh come on.’ Alice moved forward. ‘We can’t stand here for ever.’ She pushed past us and leaned down on the handle.
The door swung open. The room was shadowy in front of us. Angela and I stumbled into the gloom, then looked at each other uncertainly.
Angela shook herself and shivered. ‘It’s creepy here,’ she said. ‘Switch on the lights, Bird.’
‘No, wait,’ I said. I moved to the window and grasped the curtains. In a huge sweep I pulled them open, and the weak winter sun shone into the room it hadn’t ever visited properly. A small cloud of dust rose up and glinted in the late afternoon light. The beauty of the sea and the mountains beyond lay framed by the large picture window. Beauty that Ma Bess had chosen to block out.
I turned slowly, took in every aspect of her room. I’d never realised exactly how large it was. Ma Bess had been so skilled at creating discomfort: never a place to sit, only the light behind her that lit us up and left her in shadow.
There was only one way to do this. I threw myself into her wheelchair and released the brake. I careened to the end of the room, turned sharply at the fireplace and barrelled back again. Then, in the best approximation of Ma Bess I could manage, I rapped out, ‘What are you girls waiting for? All this shilly-shallying. If there’s a job to be done, do it!’
Even Alice’s mouth was ajar.
‘Bird,’ Angela whispered. ‘You can’t do that.’
I looked at her. ‘Oh yes, I can, Angela. Oh yes, we can. To quote my slightly sozzled sister, the old bitch is dead.’
‘Yes,’ Alice regained control quickly, ‘and we’d better get on with it. Angela, you start with the cupboard. I’ll go through these boxes, and you, Bird, start on the chest of drawers.’
And so we packed Ma away. I wish I could tell you that I felt some pity as I pulled piles of underwear from drawers, then moved on to her shoes, then cleared the shelves of expensive creams. But I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything but an ever increasing sense of lightness as the boxes filled.
Until I came across the photographs, under a newspaper on the table beside her chair. The one of Kitty was on top of the pile. Her smiling face stared up at m
e, and I felt the shock of recognition, saw once again my resemblance to the great-aunt I had never known. All at once I found myself crying, for the waste and the hatred and the twisted mess she had made of our lives and hers.
‘What is it, Bird?’ Anthea asked. I looked over to the doorway. ‘Thought I’d see how you were doing,’ she said. ‘Just don’t expect me to pack anything.’ She put out her hand and I passed her the bundle of small black-and-white photographs. Anthea sat down on the carpet and we joined her as she leafed through the fragments of Ma Bess’s past.
Alice pointed at one. ‘Look at him,’ she said. A young Pa God gleamed out at us. ‘He was quite something,’ Anthea said. ‘No wonder Ma married him.’
‘He had to,’ I said. ‘He had to marry her. She’s the one he was supposed to marry.’ I pointed to the picture of Kitty. ‘She’s Ma’s sister,’ I said.
‘What do you mean, Bird?’ Angela asked.
‘Yes, Bird,’ Anthea nudged me with her foot. ‘What’re you talking about?’ I waited for a sign. Something, surely, would tell me that Ollie and Oz were okay with my sharing their story.
There was nothing.
I took a deep breath, and as I breathed out my shoulders dropped and the tension left my body. Even if it meant my sisters never spoke to me again, it was better to talk than ever keep another secret alive and evil in March-banks.
I looked around the room, saw how the late-afternoon sun spangled in Angela’s hair, and Anthea’s, and Alice’s. It was shining on mine too. We were sitting huddled together and I realised that, physically, we had seldom been this close before.