The House on Candlewick Lane

by Amy M. Reade

  I leapt from the car and ran up the walk, took Ellie from Janet without so much as a hello, and held my baby for a long time. When I looked up, Neill was going into the house. I was sure Ellie recognized me, but I felt a lurch of alarm and jealousy when she reached out her chubby arms for Janet. Janet gave me one of her sly smiles, and I took Ellie with me into the house. I went directly upstairs and sat with Ellie in our rocking chair and held her until she fell asleep in my arms.

  My daughter loved me, and I was never going to let Janet near her again.

  It seemed even Neill had had enough of his mother by the time I was released, so he was all too happy to pack up the car and head for Dumfries. We didn’t speak to each other on the way to my mother’s house, but we both concentrated on keeping Ellie entertained.

  Mum was thrilled to see me when we arrived in Dumfries. She cried and sniffled while we all piled into the house. Even Sylvie was happy to see me, though she came forward to hug me tentatively, as though she actually believed I had belonged at the center.

  Mum and Sylvie gushed and exclaimed how much Ellie had grown in the weeks she had stayed at the farm, while I basked in their love of her and the comfort I felt in their home. Even Neill seemed more relaxed than he had been at his parents’ house.

  We stayed with my mother fora few days before returning home. We needed to get back into the routine of work and home, but we couldn’t do that until we had sorted out the many problems with our marriage.

  We both knew we were headed for divorce, but for some reason we put it off as our jobs, our individual lives, and spending time with Ellie got in the way of talking to each other.

  And something about Neill had changed. He stayed late at work quite often, or at least he said he did. I would have thought he was seeing another woman, except that he started to care less and less about his appearance. He obviously wasn’t trying to impress someone else. Not that I would have cared—I was beyond feeling any love for him. I cared about him only as Ellie’s father. Our marriage was more like the relationship between roommates who only ran into each other occasionally.

  I never questioned Neill about coming home late from work or letting his physical appearance deteriorate as the next several months passed. I probably should have felt some concern, but I just couldn’t.

  The phone rang late one evening when Neill was out. Ellie was asleep and I was grading papers. Assuming it was Neill, I never checked the caller ID. It wasn’t Neill—it was a man looking for Neill. When I told him Neill wasn’t home, the man hung up on me. I didn’t really think much of it, but when Neill finally came in about an hour later, I told him he had missed a call.

  “Who called?” he asked, suddenly alert.

  “I don’t know. Some guy. He hung up on me when I told him you weren’t home.”

  “You should have told him I was working late.”

  “How was I supposed to know what to tell him? I’m not your secretary. Who do you think it was?”

  He shook his head as he checked the dead bolt on the front door. It was unnerving to watch.

  “Who was it?” I repeated.

  “Just a guy who wants to talk to me about something.” I could see sweat forming on his upper lip. He rolled his head, cracking his neck.

  “About what?”

  “It’s better if you don’t know.”

  Now I was worried. “Is this something that could harm Ellie? Is someone coming over? What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “Just don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll take care of it.” He went upstairs without another glance at me, and I heard the guest room door close. I tried to get back to grading papers, but my concentration was broken and now I had another priority.

  The next day I woke early to talk to Neill before he left for work. He had gotten into the habit of leaving before I went downstairs in the morning, probably to avoid me. I found him in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. His shoulders slumped when I walked in.

  “Neill, we need to talk about last night.”

  He sighed. “I told you I’d take care of it. What do we need to talk about?”

  “I need to know that Ellie and I are safe in this house when you’re not here, which is almost always lately. I need to know if you’re in some kind of trouble. I have a right to know. We’re still married, even if we don’t act like it.”

  “I can’t tell you about it. I have everything under control.”

  “Then why did the mere mention of a telephone call last night give you the sweats?” I lifted my chin, challenging him to answer me truthfully.

  He spread out his hands and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  I sat down across the table from him. “Neill, I know something’s going on. Maybe I can help you if you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  He stared at me for several seconds. I could see he was at war with himself over whether he should tell me his secret. Finally, he drew in a deep breath. “I lost some money to a guy, and I don’t have enough to pay him back right now.”

  “How much?”

  Silence.

  “Neill, how much? And who is this guy? Is he the one who called last night?”

  Silence.

  “Neill, we have some money in the savings account. You can use that to pay him back.”

  He shook his head and spoke in a barely audible whisper. “That money is gone.”

  I wished I had misheard him, but somehow I knew I hadn’t. “Gone?” I asked, matching his whisper. My stomach lurched.

  He nodded and looked away.

  “Where did it go? And why didn’t I know about it?”

  “I took the bank statement from the mailbox a couple weeks ago.” I could barely hear him.

  I hadn’t even realized the statement was missing. I lowered my head. “Neill, there was a lot of money in that account. It’s all gone?”

  He nodded again.

  “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. Where did the money go?”

  “I owe some people.”

  “Who? And why do you owe them money?”

  “Greer, I don’t have time for this conversation right now. I have to go to work.” He stood up and walked out of the room. I sat for several minutes in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, my head in my hands, wondering how we lost our savings and our marriage. Truth be told, I knew why our marriage had failed. I hadn’t forgiven Neill for hitting me at his parents’ house, and I hadn’t forgiven anyone for forcing me into the center. Neill never apologized, and I didn’t like to speak about either of the ugly subjects. He must not have felt anything was wrong with his detestable behavior or that of his family, but at least he hadn’t hit me again.

  I could hear Ellie calling me from her bedroom, so I went upstairs and cuddled with her for several minutes. Eventually I put her down so she could toddle behind me as I began our morning routine. Neill had been sleeping in the guest room since our return from Scotland, and I always started the morning chores by opening the blinds in there. He should be doing this himself.

  Ellie sat down on the floor in the guest room and busied herself with a small piece of paper she had found. I turned around just in time to see her put the paper in her mouth, and I grabbed it out. She started to cry. I picked her up and bounced her on my hip, glancing at the paper before setting it on the nightstand next to Neill’s bed.

  IOU. $5388. Neill’s signature was scrawled across the bottom of the paper.

  My knees started to fail. Neill owed someone over five thousand dollars? Was this amount part of the money Neill had withdrawn from our savings account, or was this over and above that? We had had more than that in the account, but if Neill owed this on top of the money in the savings account, how was he going to pay it?

  While Ellie ate her breakfast, I called Neill at his office. I was a bit surprised when he answered his phone. Given his recent behavior, I suppose I hadn’t expected him to be at work.

  “I found an IOU on the f
loor in your room,” I began.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Don’t need to worry about that?” I repeated. “How can I not worry about that? Did the money from the savings account cover it?”

  The long pause that followed answered my question. “You owe this to someone and our savings account is empty?” I said slowly.

  Again, silence. That’s when I knew he had a gambling problem.

  “Neill, have you been gambling?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “That means yes,” I accused. “What are you thinking? What about Ellie?” I knew how angry I sounded, but I didn’t care.

  “I can make it up. I just need some time.”

  “You’ve put our daughter’s future in jeopardy because of a silly bet?” My voice was icy.

  “It’s not like that. I can make that money back, plus more.”

  “You haven’t done a great job of it so far.”

  “Just give me a little time,” he pleaded.

  “I’m going to see a lawyer,” I told him. “You can take all the time you need. You cannot do this to me and Ellie.” I hung up on him. He tried calling back right away. Ellie looked at me, then looked toward the phone, but I ignored its relentless ringing. Instead, I found my mobile phone and called our lawyer, who recommended a divorce attorney.

  That afternoon I had my first appointment with the divorce attorney. And after that things moved quickly. Neill moved out, and within a year, our divorce was final.

  CHAPTER 17

  Everything that had happened in the past several years had brought me to Edinburgh in search of my little girl and my ex-husband, neither of whom had been heard from since the late-night phone call from Neill warning me to leave town. And now Sylvie was hurt and Seamus was acting strange. I didn’t know how to begin sorting out the threads of events.

  My thoughts kept coming back to Gerard. Thankfully, my dealings with him had been limited and terse. If, as he had told my landlord, he really wanted to surprise me, it would certainly not have been a good surprise.

  Why did he want to get into my flat? Had he been in touch with Neill?

  Neill…was it possible he had been in my flat, not Gerard? Had Neill been trying to get in touch with me, and been spooked by Sylvie? If Neill had been in my flat, Ellie would have been close by, too. What could Neill have wanted?

  Then there was Seamus. He had not been acting himself since I told him of Sylvie’s accident. It was possible he knew more than he was saying. Would he have hurt Sylvie? What if he knew she had told me about his past and exacted revenge on her?

  I shook my head. Anyone watching me would have thought I was arguing with myself, and I suppose I was doing exactly that. Seamus wouldn’t risk going to prison again, and certainly not just because I knew about his past. Would he? But why was he so keen to figure out if Sylvie had seen someone in the flat?

  And what of the man who had attacked me in St. Giles Cathedral and in the Gardens? He remained a mystery. He said he knew where I lived, and perhaps he’d even been there once before Sylvie’s attack. Could he have been the one who hurt her?

  The tech wheeled Sylvie back into the room a few minutes later, Seamus right behind them. Frowning, he shook his head, muttering to himself.

  “How’d it go?” I asked the tech.

  “Just fine. The doctor is looking at the films right now, and he’ll be in to talk to you soon.” He turned to Sylvie. “You take good care of yourself, lass.”

  She gave a wan smile. “Thanks,” she croaked. She turned her head to look at me, and I took her hand in mine. Seamus walked quickly over to the bed and took her other hand. He looked at me over her bed. Was he challenging me?

  I ignored him. “Sylvie, do you need anything? A drink or some food?”

  Seamus answered for her. “The tech said she shouldn’t eat or drink anything because of what they might find on the x-rays. I guess in case she needs surgery or something.”

  “Oh. Are you warm enough, Sylvie? Do you need me to help you with your pillow?” I didn’t know what to say, and I felt I needed to do something for her, whether it was to make her warm or more comfortable. I had a strong hunch her condition was somehow connected to me and Neill, and I couldn’t shake the guilt, which was invading my ability to think clearly and focus only on her.

  She shook her head. Seamus busied himself tucking in the sheets at the foot of her bed, as if he, too, needed something to do to feel useful.

  Sylvie waved her hand at him. “Stop. I’m fine.” He stopped, but stood looking around, probably wondering what to with himself. Finally, he sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed. The three of us waited in silence for a doctor or a nurse to come in and tell us what was happening. It seemed ages before Dr. Yarbrough came in to tell us that Sylvie had suffered some head trauma and deep bruising on her neck, back, and torso. I had seen the bruises on her neck; they had darkened and spread since arriving at hospital.

  “I can’t hear you,” Sylvie slurred to the doctor.

  “Are your ears ringing? Can you hear me if I talk a wee bit louder?” he asked, raising his voice. He took a penlight from his pocket and examined Sylvie’s pupils. Clicking off the light, he turned to me. “She is displaying all the signs of a concussion, and perhaps a serious one. As I mentioned earlier, we’re going to keep her here for observation. The tests we’ve run so far are showing no acute damage to her brain, but we need to know more about the extent of the neurological impact before we know for sure how best to treat her.”

  I cleared my throat. “Can one of us stay with her?”

  Dr. Yarbrough looked from me to Seamus. “Sure. But only one. You two decide. In the meantime, we’re going to follow a strict concussion protocol for Sylvie. That means,” he started ticking off on his fingers, “no stress for Sylvie, no arguments, no reading, no watching the box, no computer, no texting. She can’t even think too hard about anything. It has to be quiet around her. I don’t want her to go back to work for at least a week and certainly not until a neurologist has seen her again.”

  Seamus nodded, watching Sylvie out of the corner of his eye, while I typed on my tablet, trying to keep up with the doctor’s orders. After he left, the two of us avoided looking at each other. I brought up concussion treatment sites on my tablet and read them while Seamus pulled out his phone and began to text.

  Why aren’t we talking to each other? I trust Seamus…don’t I?

  It wasn’t long before a nurse and another tech came to take Sylvie to her room upstairs. Sylvie remained asleep for the short elevator ride and woke up as we entered her room. Panic surfaced in her eyes. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice raspy.

  “The doctors are going to keep you here for a wee bit,” Seamus told her. “This is your room.”

  She turned to look at me. The irises of her eyes were almost black from her enlarged pupils. “Where is Mum?”

  “She’s on her way. Don’t worry about a single thing. She’ll be here very soon,” I told her quietly. The last thing we needed was for Sylvie to start worrying about our mother.

  She closed her eyes again, and I looked down at her. My own unbidden tears started to fall. Seamus looked at me in surprise.

  “Why are you crying?” he asked in a loud whisper. Sylvie’s eyelids fluttered. I motioned Seamus to follow me into the hallway.

  “I don’t want her to know I’m crying,” I said in a low voice. “I’m just a bit at sea, I think. It’s my fault she’s hurt and I feel terrible about it. I want to help her and there’s nothing I can do.” I cried harder, embarrassed that Seamus should see me like this.

  He put his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t fret about it, Greer. You couldn’t have known Sylvie would be hurt. Besides, maybe it had nothing to do with you. Maybe it was a random break-in.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks for trying, Seamus, but we both know it has something to do with me. And Neill.
” I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Seamus handed me a box of tissues he had grabbed on his way out of Sylvie’s room. I smiled my thanks. How could I have doubted him?

  While we waited for Mum to arrive, Seamus and I took turns sitting with Sylvie. When my mother finally got there, she had a flurry of questions. I shooed her into the hallway so she wouldn’t wake Sylvie. I answered her queries as best I could, but I didn’t have much useful information for her. As I had anticipated, she wanted both of us to come back to Dumfries.

  “I can’t do that, Mum. I have to stay in Edinburgh to look for Ellie and Neill. I know they’re here somewhere, and I can’t leave until I have Ellie back. As for Sylvie, she’ll have to choose for herself, but I don’t think making a decision like that right now is a good idea. The doctor doesn’t want her upset or stressed or even to think very hard about anything.”

  Seamus wanted to stay overnight in Sylvie’s room, so I went home later that evening. The door was locked when I got there, so the landlord must have come by. The police had finished looking around the flat, but blood still stained the kitchen floor where Sylvie had fallen. I cleaned it up and tidied the living room and kitchen, all the while looking for anything missing or out of place. There was nothing.

  I poured myself a rather large glass of wine and called James. I sank onto the sofa cushions and told him the whole story. I felt better after telling him everything, and he came over right away. After he asked all the questions I couldn’t answer, we talked about nothing in particular for hours. He knew I needed a break from the constant stress caused by Neill and his behavior and from the threats and danger and violence that had enveloped me lately. I finally fell asleep leaning against him on the sofa, and it was almost noon the following day when I woke up to find him making pancakes for my breakfast.

  “You can cook, too?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.