by Amy Cross
“I never said you were,” I reply, “but either you agree to go into hospital for a few days, just so these wounds can get looked at properly, or...” I pause for a moment, considering the options. “Or I'm going to have to stick around until I'm sure you won't get infected. We're family, I can't possibly leave you alone like this.” I wait for a reply, but I can already tell that she isn't in a mood to back down. “So what's it going to be?”
***
“Are you kidding?” Scott asks, sounding just a little disappointed. “Everything's booked, Becky! You can't cancel now!”
“I can't leave her like this,” I reply, keeping my voice down as I make my way across the dusty kitchen and grab the kettle. “Her legs are -”
“You said you were just stopping off to check on her,” he continues with a sigh. “You said you'd spend an hour or two with the old dear, and then you'd meet me here at the hotel.”
“And that was the plan, but -”
Hearing a creaking sound nearby, I turn and look toward the door that leads into the hallway. I wait a moment, but there's no further sign that Emily is up and about, so I turn and pour water into two tea-cups.
“She hasn't been looking after herself at all,” I tell Scott. “You should see the wounds on her legs, she's let them go untreated for weeks. If I hadn't shown up when I did, she might have been in real trouble.”
“What happened?” he asks.
“She won't tell me,” I mutter. “Something about falling on the stairs, but apart from that, she's clammed up tight. I need to make sure they don't get infected, or even necrotic. Plus, she's not right in the head. I think she's developing dementia.”
“This hotel room is non-refundable.”
“I know, and -”
“I'll be stuck here for the weekend alone.”
“I know, and I'm sorry but -”
“I had plans for the next few days,” he continues. “Things I wanted to do with you. Special plans, Becky. Please, can't you just sort your aunt out and then come meet me? Shove her into hospital if that's what she needs.”
I pause, wondering whether those 'special plans' have anything to do with the ring I accidentally spotted hidden away in his sock drawer. I have to admit, for a brief moment I actually catch myself wondering whether there's any way I can leave Emily alone and go to Scott, but those thoughts quickly fade from my mind. I'd never be able to live with myself if anything happened to her, and I'm pretty sure that if she's left alone for much longer, something will happen. For one thing, her leg might already be infected. She's been ignored and abandoned for long enough.
“She doesn't have anyone else,” I mutter finally. “I have to help her.”
He sighs.
“I'm trying to get her to go into hospital,” I continue, opening a door in the corner of the room and finding a pantry filled to the brim with hundreds of soup cans. Clearly, Emily must have planned ahead. “You never know, she might -”
Hearing another creak, I turn and look at the door again. I wait a moment, before figuring that the old house is simply settling a little.
“She might change her mind,” I add, heading over to the door and peering out into the hallway, just to make absolutely certain that my aunt isn't nearby. Seeing no-one on the stairs, I make my way back over to the tea-cups in the kitchen. “I'm going to work on her. She needs to be in hospital, but she's stubborn. There's a good chance I can be out of here tomorrow, and then we can salvage part of our weekend away.” I wait for him to say something, but I can tell he's feeling let down. “I really want to be there,” I tell him. “More than you can possibly imagine. Please, you have to believe me.”
“I do,” he replies, sounding tired, “just... Don't hold back with the guilt trip, okay? Tell the old dear that her obstinacy has seriously screwed with my plans for the weekend. Make sure she feels really, really bad about that.”
“I will,” I reply with a faint smile.
“Tell her there's a dashing gentleman waiting for you in Bath,” he continues, “and that he's planned a whole romantic weekend, and that until you get here he's all alone in a big suite.”
“Sound like hell,” I tell him.
“And now I have to go,” he adds. “I believe they have lobster in the restaurant here, and I intend to sit all alone at a table, with a book and a glass of wine, and look utterly sad. I've been saving money for this trip, and I intend to enjoy myself. I'll let you know how delicious the lobster tastes.”
Once the call is over, I fish the tea-bags out of the cups and then get a tray ready to take upstairs. I hear a couple more creaks in the distance, but I tell myself not to worry too much. Auercliff has always been a large, slightly creepy place, and years of neglect haven't exactly improved the atmosphere. After a moment, I hear a faint bump from somewhere above, accompanied by the sound of bed-springs creaking, and I realize Aunt Emily is shifting.
As stubborn as she can be, I know there's no way I can leave her alone in the house, not until she agrees to go into hospital. Fortunately, she's not the only one who can be stubborn.
Chapter Three
“I haven't talked to Mum since...”
Pausing as I rub more lotion into the larger of Emily's open wounds, I realize that it must have been almost five years since I last spoken to my parents. Even though the decision was entirely mine, I feel a shiver pass through my body at the thought that I really, truly cut the cord.
“It's been a while,” I add finally, trying to force a smile. “It's complicated.”
As I continue to work on the wound, I glance at Emily and see that she seems to be paying no attention to me at all. Instead, she's looking over at the door. Following her gaze, I realize that I left the door wide open when I returned to the room.
“I'm sorry,” I say, hoping to get her attention again. “I can shut that if you like.”
“When are you leaving?” she asks suddenly, turning back to me.
I pause, shocked by such a blunt question. “Well...”
“When are you leaving?” she asks again, before looking over at the window, where the sky is already darkening as evening crawls in.
“When you're better.”
“There's nothing wrong with me.”
“Care to go into hospital for a few days to prove that?” I ask. When she fails to reply, I grab some more lotion and rub it into the wound, figuring that I need to try a different approach. “There's no need to be worried,” I continue. “The longer you leave it, the more dangerous these wounds might become, but if you were to go into hospital today you'd most likely be out by Tuesday or Wednesday. If you're worried that you'd end up -”
“Where are you staying tonight?” she asks suddenly.
“Well, I was hoping -”
“There's a pub in the village,” she continues. “They have rooms.”
I can't help smiling as I focus for a moment on applying more lotion. “You have a lot of rooms here,” I point out finally. “I was hoping -”
“The King's Head,” she replies, interrupting me. “That's the name of the place. It's good and clean. The landlord's something of a prig, but beggars can't be choosers. You should get there early, though, in case they fill up.”
Shifting the hem of her nightdress up a little, I begin to rub lotion into the second wound.
“What if I stay in one of the rooms here?” I ask, trying to be diplomatic. “Would that be okay? I'd rather not drive all the way into the -”
“The King's Head,” she says again. “It's a good pub. They have rooms.”
I open my mouth to try another approach, before realizing that she seems to be really, really opposed to the idea of me staying the night. I know I shouldn't be offended, since it's been many years since I last visited my aunt's house, but at the same time I feel as if she's deliberately pushing me away.
“I can stay at the pub,” I say finally. “No problem. You won't get rid of me that easily, though. I'll be back in the morning to check on you. I don't think
you quite understand how bad these wounds are, Emily. If you get an infection, and then if the infection reaches your bloodstream, you could become very seriously ill. If you're really determined to stay here at Auercliff and live on your own, and retain your independence, you have to look after your health.” I wait for a reply. “Either you go into hospital for a few days now, or I'm worried you'll have to go in for a much longer stay after a week or two.”
Looking over once again at the open door, she seems to have barely noticed a word I've said. Her jaw is constantly trembling, as if perhaps she's suffering from the early stages of Parkinson's, and the whiteness in her eyes makes me wonder just how much she was able to see. I think her health might be a lot worse than she's letting on, although I know full well that I have to be tactful here.
“Aunt Emily -”
Suddenly I hear a bumping sound from over my shoulder. Turning, I look toward the open door, but of course there's no sign of anything. After a moment, however, I glance back at Emily and see that she's still watching the door. A moment later there's a creaking sound from elsewhere in the house, and I look toward the door again. For a couple of seconds, as the creaks continue, it's almost as if the house is alive. I've never been someone who's easily spooked, but I can't help feeling that Emily must have felt very alone in such a large, empty house.
“The King's Head,” she says after a moment.
I turn to her.
“You can't stay here tonight,” she continues. “There's a pub in the village. It's called the King's Head. You should hurry, though. You don't want to be too late to get a room.”
***
After setting the last plate on the rack, I pull the plug out of the sink and then quickly dry my hands on an old tea-towel. Cleaning up after dinner has taken forever, and I'd almost forgotten what it's like to manage without a dishwasher. For the first time in years, I actually had to scrub some cooking pans. At least I had time to think, and to contemplate my options now that I understand my aunt's situation a little better.
One thing's certain. I have to help her. If I leave her here to cope alone, she might not last more than a couple more weeks.
Looking across the dark kitchen, with only a single bulb to light such a large space, I realize that it's time to go. I've already called ahead to the King's Head and booked a room, even though I was half-expecting Emily to relent and let me stay. I've cleaned the kitchen thoroughly, and I'm planning to work on the rest of the house when I come back tomorrow, but in truth I don't much like the idea of leaving my aunt alone overnight. I just wish she could let me stay here with her, so I can make sure she sleeps okay.
Heading across the kitchen, however, I figure that she'll never succumb to pressure, which means that I'll just have to go to my car and drive a mile and a half to the nearby village. Checking my watch, I see that it's almost 9pm, and as I make my way out into the hallway I -
Stopping suddenly, I see an aged, arthritic hand on the stair-rail. A moment later I hear a faint gasp, and I realize Emily is making her way down.
“Are you okay?” I ask, hurrying around and then making my way up to help her. “Emily, I thought -”
“I have to make sure you didn't leave a mess in there,” she snaps, pushing me away. “Children are so ill-disciplined these days.”
“Children?”
I watch as she fumbles with her walking stick, and for a moment I hold my breath, ready to grab her arm if – as seems highly likely – she trips and falls.
“Where's everyone else?” she continues. “Did Barbara let you have the run of the place?”
“Aunt Emily -”
“These big visits are very tiring. I told Barbara I need more warning before you all descend upon me again. It's only common courtesy to call ahead and -”
Stopping as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she looks around at the gloomy hallway, and for a moment she seems genuinely confused. Finally, she turns to me.
“Where are they?” she asks.
“Who?”
She pauses, and I can tell she's not entirely sure what's going on.
“It's just me,” I tell her. “I'm Rebecca, remember? I came by myself.”
“But you're...” She stares at me. “You're taller, you're...”
Her voice trails off.
“It's been a long time since I was here with my parents,” I remind her. “Not since that day with the... Well, the whole mausoleum incident. And I'm sorry I didn't let you know in advance that I was coming. I tried calling, but the phone didn't seem to be working. I think maybe it's disconnected.”
“What?” She frowns, as if she's genuinely shocked by the news.
“Aunt Emily -”
“I don't like visitors,” she mutters, suddenly pushing past me as she shuffles toward the next room. “They disrupt my routine. How many children are there, anyway?” Stopping in the doorway, she looks through to the empty kitchen and then turns back to me with a hint of confusion in her eyes.
“It's just me,” I tell her, stepping closer. “It's Rebecca, remember?”
“Is your mother here?”
“No, she's not.” I pause, feeling as if my aunt must be very confused. “It's not like the old days, Emily,” I continue. “The whole family hasn't turned up for the weekend. It's just me.”
She pauses for a moment, before shaking her head slightly and turning to head back over toward the stairs.
“I know that,” she mutters, sounding increasingly annoyed. “I'm not a fool, you know. I might be old, but that doesn't mean I'm losing my marbles.”
“I never -”
“You can't stay here,” she adds, fumbling to grab hold of the hand-rail. “Not tonight. There's a pub in town that has rooms, I'm sure you'll be able to get in. The King's Head, it's called.”
“I know,” I reply, “you already...”
My voice trails off as I watch her swollen, arthritic hand gripping the hand-rail. I remember how Emily used to be, how strong and quick, and for a moment I feel genuinely shocked that she's now so frail.
“You should go before it gets dark,” she stammers, as she starts making her way up, wobbling slightly on her bandaged legs. “You don't want them to run out of rooms. The King's Head. I'm sure they have room for all of you, so long as you get there early enough.”
Chapter Four
“Emily Switherington?” the landlord replies as he leads me up the narrow, twisty staircase. “Well, now there's a character, alright. Lady of the manor, so to speak.”
“But have you seen her around lately?” I ask, taking care on the bumpy, uneven steps.
“What, like in the village?” He chuckles. “She's never been one for coming in and mixing with us regular types. She even arranged to get food delivered out there from the shop, once a month, and do you know what the guy finds every time he arrives?”
Reaching the top of the stairs, he unlocks the nearest door.
“A paper check in an envelope,” he continues. “She doesn't even go out and give him the time of day. If you ask me, she's become something of a recluse over the years.”
“I can believe that,” I mutter.
“This is the room,” he adds, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let me through. “Like I said, the price includes a full English in the bar in the morning.”
“That sounds great,” I reply, taking a look around the room before turning to him. “So my aunt really never comes into town? And she never invites anyone out to Auercliff, apart from the delivery guy?”
“Keeps herself to herself,” he mutters. “Been like that ever since her husband died, from what I've heard. Shame, really. Auercliff used to be pretty important to village life, but these days most people have almost forgotten the house is still there. What kind of state's it in, anyway? I've kinda assumed it's starting to crumble by now.”
“You're not far wrong,” I tell him, feeling a faint shudder at the thought of my aunt sealing herself off in the house. “It's almost like she wants to s
pend the rest of her days just rattling around alone.”
Chapter Five
A little after 9am the next morning, I slam my car door shut and make my way across the gravel drive. Somehow Auercliff seems brighter today, as if the sun is having an easier job of breaking through the trees.
***
“And best of all,” I continue, as I take another bandage out from the First Aid kit, “the landlord actually has cellphones nailed to the wall above the bar. There's a sign saying anyone who's caught with their phone out will get them added to the collection. Can you believe that?”
“Old Simon Hughes has always been a Luddite,” Emily mutters, sitting up a little higher in the bed. “I remember a time when the King's Head didn't even have mains electricity. I think it wasn't until, oh, 1955 or 1956 that a connection was made. Of course, the pub used to be owned by Simon's father Geoffrey, who was even worse. Geoffrey Hughes was the rudest, foulest man alive. Simon is at least tolerable.”
Sliding the sock down on her left leg, I can't help noticing that Emily seems much more lucid this morning, and friendlier too. It's as if a night's sleep has given her the chance to get used to my presence.
“Do you mind if I ask you something that might seem a little personal?” I say after a moment, hoping that I'm not moving too quickly. Still, I need to get her on my side if I'm to have any hope of persuading her to go to hospital.
“And what might that be?”
I lift the bandage I put in place yesterday, revealing the wound beneath. It certainly isn't any worse, but I still want to find a way to get her out of here for a few days, so she can be monitored properly.
“How much can you see?” I ask finally.
When she doesn't answer, I look over at her face and see that she's looking toward the end of the bed. Her whitened eyes appear to be a little moist, almost teary.
“I can see as much as I need,” she mutters, a little defensively.