by Cathy Glass
Turning her head slightly, she looked again at the clock on the bedside table. It was nearly 1.30 a.m. How long the night seemed when she couldn’t sleep. It stretched on forever. Lack of exercise was to blame, she decided. She didn’t usually have this problem sleeping; she’d spent too long in bed with just short walks to the bathroom. Tomorrow she needed to make a big effort and get dressed and properly on the move. She was over the worst of the flu now and all this lying around wasn’t doing her any good. The doctor had ordered bed rest, plenty of fluids, and paracetamol for her temperature and headache. Her friends in the village had been very conscientious in seeing his instructions were followed, but now she needed to get her old bones going again. Once she was up and about she was sure she would start to sleep better.
She turned her head the other way so she could see out of the window. She never closed the curtains at night. There was no need. Hers was the only cottage this far up the lane and flanked by the meadowland and wheat fields of Maybury there was no one to see her. She loved looking at the night sky, the stars twinkling far away and the moon waxing and waning on its journey across the heavens. When it was a full moon in a cloudless sky it lit up her bedroom with a brilliant translucent glow that reminded her of the night Peter Pan flew into the Darling children’s bedroom in the story she’d read so many times as a child. She still had that book somewhere. But now the moon was just a thin crescent which gave hardly any light at all. She propped herself on one arm and took a sip from the glass of water on her bedside table before lying down again.
She was still far from tired, so tomorrow she would get going, perhaps even go to church. She knew the Reverend or his dear wife, Elizabeth, would take her in their car if she asked, but she’d wait to see how she felt. She liked to retain her independence and usually walked to church and back again twice on Sundays. She was one of the Reverend’s best church-goers and hardly ever missed morning Communion and Evensong on Sundays.
She shuffled her body into a more comfortable position and then closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. A moment later her eyes shot open again. She thought she’d heard a noise. She listened intently but the sound wasn’t repeated. Hopefully the squirrels hadn’t got into the loft again, they’d done a lot of damage up there before. Apart from the wind outside there was nothing to be heard. Her hearing was very good; it was her eyesight that was letting her down now. Speaking of which, where were her glasses? She’d been looking for them earlier and usually kept them under her pillow at night, but things kept being moved with so many people in and out of her cottage.
She pulled herself up the pillow and switched on the bedside light. They weren’t on the bedside table or the bed. She checked under her pillows, but they definitely weren’t there. Her glasses were essential and she wished people would stop moving her things. She was grateful for their help – their concern and the hot food and drinks they brought – but if only they would stop tidying up and putting things in the wrong place. Before long she wouldn’t know where anything was. Yesterday someone had moved her front-door key from under the mat where she always kept it to a nearby plant pot, so that her next visitor had spent ages hunting around for it by which time her soup had been cold. She thought everyone in the village knew that her key had to stay under the mat so it could be used when necessary. It also doubled as her spare key if she locked herself out. Anyway, she mustn’t grumble. They all meant well and she couldn’t have managed without them when she’d been really poorly. But where were her glasses?
She heaved herself into a sitting position and then slowly lowered her legs to the floor and pushed her feet into her slippers. At least they were in their right place – beside her bed and beneath the walking frame. She could see her dressing gown too, draped over the end of her bed where she liked it. It was just her damn glasses. Gripping the handlebars of her walking frame she drew herself into a standing position, then once she had her balance she began a slow shuffle around the room. She crossed to the dressing table with its little crocheted mats and bowl of fragrant potpourri. Her library books were there but not her glasses. They didn’t appear to be in the bedroom and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had them. Perhaps someone had put them in the living room, although she couldn’t imagine why. If she was going in there she’d better put on her dressing gown; she didn’t want to go catching another cold – that could lead to pneumonia.
Guiding the frame to the foot of the bed she slipped on her dressing gown and then went slowly into the hall. The night light gave a welcome glow; thankfully her last visitor had remembered to switch it on so she could easily find her way to the bathroom in the night. The door to the living room had been shut tight, despite her asking everyone to make sure none of the doors was fully closed as they were difficult to open with her arthritic hands. She reminded herself again she mustn’t moan. They’d all been so kind. She inched the walking frame to just in front of the door and then gripped the door knob with both hands, pushing the door open as far as it would go so she could get the frame through. Halfway in she reached up for the light switch on the wall. As she did she heard a startled cry, then there was an excruciating pain in her head and nothing. A sense of falling and blackness engulfed her.
Chapter Twenty
At 8.30 the following morning Suzy Richards, the granddaughter of one of Mary’s dearest and oldest friends, arrived outside Acorn Cottage. She was home from university for the weekend and had offered to bring Mary her breakfast before she returned to uni. She always tried to see Mary when she was home and looked upon her as another grandmother. She was concerned to hear she’d been poorly. She set down the Thermos bag containing the porridge and freshly brewed tea and removed the key from under the doormat. You couldn’t have kept your front-door key under a mat where she lived in the digs. You’d have been robbed for sure, but here in the village it was different. It was like a time warp, she thought, quaint but sometimes boring. Nothing ever happened here which was why she’d picked a city university.
Having opened the door, she returned the key to under the mat, then went into the small lobby, closing the outer door behind her. Mary kept her umbrella, walking shoes and boots in here. It hadn’t changed in all the years Suzy had known her. The inner door was never locked and she entered the living room, with its solid 1950s furniture that was now in fashion again. Daylight crept in through the small latticed casement windows.
‘Mary, it’s Suzy,’ she called, not wanting to startle her by suddenly appearing. ‘Are you in bed?’
She started across the living room and then stopped dead. ‘Oh Mary! What’s happened?’ Dropping the Thermos bag, she rushed to her side. ‘Mary? Can you hear me?’
Mary was on her back, half in and half out of the living room. Her eyes were closed, her legs and arms splayed out awkwardly, and she was bleeding from a head wound. ‘Mary, can you hear me?’ Elizabeth said again, taking her hand. It was freezing cold.
Delving into her pocket, she grabbed her phone and dialled for the emergency services. The operator asked if she required police, fire or ambulance.
‘Ambulance,’ she cried.
‘I’m connecting you now.’
‘She’s ninety-two and I’ve just found her,’ Suzy babbled as soon as she was put through. ‘She might have been here all night. I don’t know. Please come quickly.’
The call handler talked calmly, asking for her details and the address of the property. ‘An ambulance is on its way,’ she reassured her. ‘Is the lady breathing?’
‘I think so.’ She put her face close to Mary’s and felt the faintest draft of a warm breath on her cheek. ‘Yes, she’s breathing,’ she said, relieved.
‘Good. Is the wound still bleeding?’
‘No. It’s congealed, dark red. But she’s so cold. She’s in her nightwear.’ She was fighting back her tears now, trying to stay calm so she could understand what the call handler was asking her.
‘Is there something in the house you can cover her with, a du
vet or blanket?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She should have thought of that.
‘I’ll stay on the line while you find something.’
She rushed into Mary’s bedroom and dragged the eiderdown from her bed and into the living room, laying it over her. ‘I’ve covered her. Shall I get a pillow for her head? She’s on the hard wooden floor.’
‘No. Don’t move her in case she has a neck or back injury. The ambulance is on its way. It will be with you soon. Are you a relative?’
‘No, she hasn’t got any relatives. She’s my gran’s friend.’
‘So she lives alone?’
‘Yes. I came in to bring her breakfast and found her like this. She hasn’t been well. She must have got up in the night and fallen.’
‘All right love, stay calm. The paramedics will be with you soon. Can you stay with her until they arrive?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good girl. I’m going to take another call now but I’ll leave the line open and I’ll check with you again in a minute. OK?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Suzy continued to kneel beside the old lady, gently holding her hand. She wasn’t allowed to move her but she looked so frail and uncomfortable lying there on the floor. Her face was pale, bloodless, like porcelain. Suzy had thought she was dead when she’d first walked in.
‘Mary?’ she tried again. ‘It’s Suzy.’ But there was no response.
She should phone her parents but the call handler had kept the line open on her mobile. She’d use Mary’s phone. Gently tucking her hand under the eiderdown Rosie then crossed to the coffee table where Mary’s phone sat next to the fruit bowl. Her father answered, and her voice shook as she told him what had happened.
‘We’ll be straight over,’ he said.
She returned to sit beside Mary and presently she heard the ambulance siren in the distance as it entered the village. At the same time the call handler came back on the line and confirmed the ambulance would be with her in two minutes.
‘Thank you.’
She briefly left Mary to open the front door, wanting to be ready for her father and the ambulance crew. As she returned she thought she heard Mary murmur something, but it was so quiet she couldn’t be sure.
‘Mary?’ she asked, but there was nothing.
Both her parents came in at the same time as the paramedics, who introduced themselves as Nick and Dave. Suzy went over and stood beside her father and he put a comforting arm around her. They watched as the paramedics began their work.
‘Who found her?’ Nick asked as Dave checked Mary’s vital signs.
‘I did,’ Suzy said.
‘Mary had the flu but was starting to feel better,’ her mother explained. ‘She’d been getting up for short periods. I suppose she got up in the night and fell.’
He nodded. ‘As soon as we’ve finished checking her over and are happy she can be moved we’ll take her to the hospital. She lives alone?’
‘Yes,’ Suzy’s mother said. ‘She has many friends in the village and we all help look after her.’
‘That’s good of you,’ Nick told her as Dave examined the wound on Mary’s head.
‘I wonder if something could have fallen on her,’ Dave said after a moment, giving the room a cursory glance.
‘What makes you say that?’ Suzy’s father asked.
‘She’s unlikely to have sustained this injury in a fall. The wound is on the very top of her head.’ He placed the large sterile pad Nick passed him over the wound. ‘Something heavy, possibly a brass ornament falling from a shelf could have done it. Or one of those old-fashioned ceiling dryers.’
‘I don’t know,’ Suzy said anxiously. ‘I didn’t see anything. I just came in and found her there, then brought in the cover.’
He nodded. ‘Don’t worry, you did right.’ He threw her a reassuring smile.
Nick fetched a stretcher from the ambulance and they put a neck brace on Mary. ‘A precautionary measure,’ Dave explained. Then they carefully lifted her onto the stretcher and carried her to the ambulance. Suzy’s mother went with Mary in the ambulance while Suzy, still shaken, returned home with her father. They’d visit her in hospital later.
News always travelled fast in the village and by the time the congregation was filing into church at 10.45 a.m. most of them knew that Mary had taken a nasty fall and was in hospital. Those who hadn’t known soon did, and one of the congregation let the Reverend know before the service began so he could include Mary in their prayers and blessings.
At the end of the service the congregation filed out past the Reverend, who shook everyone’s hand and thanked them for coming. They never went straight home but stood in small groups chatting even when it was raining – as it was now. Church was the focal point of the village and they huddled together under umbrellas and exchanged their news. Today, understandably, much of the talk was about Mary. While they stood talking, one of the parishioners, Joan Roberts, received a text from Suzy’s mother, which she read out: Mary has regained consciousness although still a bit groggy. It was welcome news.
Five minutes later Sid Jenkins, chairman of the parish council and self-appointed leader of most issues connected with Maybury village, took a phone call from his son-in-law, alerting him to the fact that a police car had just parked outside Acorn Cottage. He shared the news and then left to see what they wanted. It was very rare indeed that a police car came into their village unless they were just passing through.
Excitement and speculation darted through the village like a bird on the wing, so that by the time most of the villagers were sitting down to Sunday lunch conjecture was running high. The police had been at the cottage for over two hours so they clearly suspected something. Acorn Cottage wasn’t on the main thoroughfare, which seemed to rule out a passing opportunist thief, as anyone who didn’t know the village wouldn’t have even been aware of the cottage’s existence. Besides, there were much richer pickings from the larger houses that were visible from the road. And why burgle Mary? As far as anyone knew she only had her pension, no valuables, and just enough savings to keep her cottage warm in winter. The buzz continued all afternoon until the news began to circulate that the police had found no evidence of a break-in, so had concluded that Mary had fallen, which was reassuring but a bit of an anticlimax.
The atmosphere in the rectory on Sunday was pretty good too. On returning from church Andrew had initiated the heart-to-heart with his son that he’d promised Elizabeth. Jacob had been reasonable and receptive, which seemed to confirm that Andrew had handled it just right. He’d waited until Jacob had showered and eaten before asking him to sit down for a chat. Jacob hadn’t protested and Andrew had begun his well-rehearsed speech by admitting that he might not have been as understanding as he could have been, and apologizing. This set the scene and started them off on the right footing, so that when Andrew brought up the subject of Jacob smoking and drinking – in a non-confrontational manner – explaining how worried he and his mother were, Jacob agreed to stop. Just like that. He also agreed to attend the hospital for the appointment he’d missed and to try to be more patient with his parents. Andrew asked how Eloise was and Jacob admitted they wouldn’t be getting back together again. Andrew said he was sorry but hoped he would now be able to move on, to which Jacob replied that he was working on it.
So all in all Andrew felt it had been a very productive chat, and when he told Elizabeth she agreed. Jacob had had dinner with them and asked after Mary’s welfare, which seemed to confirm that he’d finally turned a corner, and the old Jacob was returning. That night Andrew thanked the Lord for the direction he’d given him, and prayed that Jacob’s moods would not change again.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Monday morning the feeling of optimism continued in the rectory as Andrew kissed Elizabeth goodbye and left on parish business, and Jacob left in a cab to attend his hospital appointment. Elizabeth, aware that a number of villagers were going to visit Mary that afternoon a
nd evening, was planning on going the following day. However, she thought she would pop into Acorn Cottage later to check everything was all right and nothing was going off in the fridge or pantry. She’d also bring back any laundry that needed doing, and Mary’s mail, which she would take with her to the hospital when she visited.
The landline rang and she assumed it would be parish business as it usually was at this time of day. She answered the phone in the living room with a notepad and pen to hand ready to take any message for Andrew.
‘It’s Eloise’s mother,’ the woman said flatly.
‘Oh, hello. How are you?’ Elizabeth asked brightly, slightly surprised. They’d only ever spoken on the phone twice before. Yet already there was something in her tone which suggested this wasn’t just a social call.
‘If your son ever comes near my daughter again I’ll call the police,’ the woman said. ‘We would have called them straightaway, but Eloise asked us not to. You and your husband want to be ashamed of yourselves. That boy’s a monster.’
Elizabeth felt her stomach contract with fear. She went cold. ‘Why? What’s happened? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jacob hasn’t said anything to me.’
‘I bet he hasn’t!’ she scorned. ‘He’s an animal and wants locking up.’
‘But what’s he supposed to have done?’ Elizabeth cried, rising to his defence. ‘You can’t just accuse him. I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.’ But a small voice told her that, quite possibly, there hadn’t been.
‘That animal attacked my daughter. Her face is bruised and her lip cut from where he hit her as he raped her.’ Elizabeth gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth as she stifled a cry. ‘He forced her to do things, horrible things that she’s too upset and embarrassed to say. She can’t even tell us.’
‘But that’s not our Jacob,’ Elizabeth said, on a rising tide of panic.
‘Do you want to come and see her face for yourself?’ Eloise’s mother demanded bitterly. ‘Or shall I take a photo and send it to you?’