‘Like the fairy tale. She had the most wonderful complexion, didn’t she? Translucent. Or perhaps pearlescent is an even better word.’
Uncle Ian smiled. ‘I never ceased to marvel at how a combination of her mother’s and my genes could have produced someone like Rose.’
‘I don’t remember what Rose’s mother looked like.’
‘She was striking, I think one would say, rather than beautiful.’ He shifted uneasily and made a little grimace.
I asked him if he was all right and he said he thought it was time we moved on. I got to my feet and reached down to help him. He snatched at my hand like a fish snatching at bait and I bent down lower until he got a firm grip of my wrist. I gave a little tug. He remained seated. I pulled harder, gripping his arm with my other hand. I pulled as hard as I dared and he lifted an inch or so off the ground before collapsing back down with a small groan of discomfort.
‘One more time,’ I said, but still I couldn’t get him to his feet. I avoided his gaze. I knew he would feel embarrassed. It was just no good having to be helped, no, worse, failing to be helped to your feet by someone you had once dandled on your knee. Or perhaps not dandled exactly, but he had most certainly sent me to my room on at least one occasion. For the purpose of embarrassment it was much the same thing.
Above our heads a pair of magpies squabbled.
‘How about I get behind you,’ I said and I did just that, hooking my arms under his. I thought my back would go as I heaved him a few inches off the ground and I had to let him slip back down.
‘Actually,’ Uncle Ian said. ‘Why don’t we sit here a while longer? It is a beautiful day. The sun still has plenty of warmth in it.’
Sitting back down myself I said that it was indeed a beautiful day and one that it was a shame to waste. ‘Anyway, we need to sober up before we face Katarina.’
He smiled a young man’s smile. ‘You’re right about that.’
Of course we would have to get up and leave eventually but how I was going to get him to his feet I did not know. I was thinking that I might make some excuse and sneak off with my mobile to give Katarina a call when Uncle Ian said, ‘Was she happy the night she died?’
I started. ‘Was she happy?’
‘It’s a simple enough question, is it not? All I’ve heard about that day is how she died. I want to know how she lived in those last hours.’
I found myself smiling suddenly. ‘I think she was. She was excited about the dance, of course. We all were. And we had decided we were in love. Not that the boys were very important in the scheme of things.’ I laughed. ‘I would say they were more like extras in our little drama. The main players were Rose and I and of course Romance. She was wearing the dress you had bought for her. Do you remember that dress? And she had flowers in her hair. You should have seen her . . . We had all helped to decorate the assembly hall . . .’
He was asleep. Uncle Ian was asleep, his back against the trunk of the tree, a sweet smile on his face like a child who’d been told his favourite bedtime story. I touched his cheek. It was warm, as were his hands. I decided to let him sleep.
Rose had been happy that night. Happy in that fulsome, reckless way you can be when you’re very young and everything seems possible and when you really do believe that you are the centre of the universe while all else spins worshipfully around you.
And then there was Ovid. ‘Blame it on Ovid.’ Had death been a comedy that is what this particular one might have been called, Blame it on Ovid. We had been high on nymphs and gods at the time, an ancient menagerie of illusionary creatures to add the already familiar ones given to us by Grandmother Eva.
We had worked it all out. If the boys had not played their part, that is, danced with us, kissed us, done whatever the perfect hero in the perfect romantic novel would have done, by the time the dance was drawing to a close, we would go off to the lake. Portia was going to follow a little later, bringing them with her under some pretext or other. And there we’d be, Rose and I, nymphs as naked as the day we were born, splashing playfully in the dark waters of the moonlit lake. Overcome by our innocent beauty the boys would rush into the water and take us in their arms to be our adoring slaves for ever, or at least to the end of term.
But by ten o’clock the boys had done nothing much more than glance in our direction a few times. Mostly they had just hung around the buffet table, sneaking outside now and then, to swig from some bottle stashed away in the shrubbery. So Rose and I signalled to Portia and then the two of us went ahead to the lake.
We were undressed, ready to get into the water, when we thought we heard them. And I, the begetter of the whole stupid thing had, faced with the reality as opposed to the pretty picture fantasy of appearing naked in front of two boys, lost my nerve.
I grabbed my dress and ran off in the opposite direction.
And then what happened?
I think I called to Rose to come with me and, as I ran off in a muddle of laughing panic, I think I believed she was following. Did I hear the splash? I don’t know. I might have or else I had simply been told that I would have; either way I no longer knew what was memory and what was supposition. And if I had heard the splash I must have assumed that she had decided to go ahead as planned without her feckless friend. Then she called out something. I do remember that she called out something and I believe that what I heard was her laughing and calling me a wimp. That was what I believe I thought I heard at the time. So, Uncle Ian, I didn’t stop. I kept on running.
Then they found her and details that would otherwise not have merited a second thought became weighted with terrible significance and I ceased to be sure of anything at all. I went over and over those moments in my mind, playing out different scenarios until I thought I would go crazy, because in the end both the ‘real version’ and the ‘supposed version’ were as familiar as a memory. But the police told me they believed she had been intending to follow when she slipped and fell. No one said but we all knew that while that was happening, I, her best friend, I who loved her, had kept on running.
Thirty-three
Sandra/Cassandra
The way everyone carried on you would have thought they were preparing for the second coming, not a school dance. I wasn’t going. In fact I had thought I might kill myself. Hanging most probably, blue tongue lolling, eyes popping; or slitting my wrists, the blood creeping along the bathroom floor, seeping through the gap in the door. Or I could set myself on fire in the hall. Any of those options would have stopped the dance. And I would have made sure everyone knew why I had done it. I would write a letter and I would pin it to my chest. My last words would be a judgement on those who had betrayed me.
What stopped me was the realisation that I wouldn’t be around to see them suffer. I think people forget that bit when they go off and kill themselves, I think they forget that they won’t actually be around for the fun. But I remembered. Just in time.
And there was something else, a part of me that would not accept that Julian had meant what he said and that he still wanted me. It was a blow when my period arrived, because a baby would have solved everything, but I still could not believe that I wouldn’t get him back, one way or the other.
Auntie Gina had sent me a dress for the dance. There was a note too. Trust your old Auntie Gina; this will knock the socks off the competition and make that boyfriend of yours eat out of the palm of your hand. I wish I were your age again. Have fun for the both of us.
The dress was a gorgeous metallic blue. It was perfect except for the shoulders. Auntie Gina was a huge fan of Dynasty.
Eliza passed my cubicle as I unpacked. I should have drawn the curtain. She poked her head round. ‘That’s beautiful. Did your mum send it?’
I shook my head. ‘My Aunt Gina.’
‘Bad Aunt Gina?’
‘She’s got nicer.’
‘May I?’ Eliza stepped forward and took the dress, holding it out, inspecting it. ‘It’s real silk.’
‘I’m not weari
ng it,’ I said.
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because I’m not going.’
‘But you must.’ She sat down on my bed, the dress still draped over her arms. ‘You mustn’t miss the dance.’
‘I mustn’t do anything.’
‘OK, obviously you don’t have to go but I think you’d be mad not to.’ She knitted her tawny eyebrows together in a frown. ‘Oh Cassandra, you’re not still hung up on . . . well, you know, a certain person?’
I forced myself to smile. ‘No. Of course not. It’s simply that dances and parties and stuff have never been my thing.’
‘But . . .’
‘So what are you wearing?’
That deflected her. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve got the material. It’s velvet and sort of moss green. It’s from an old dress of my grandmother’s. But I haven’t decided on the style yet.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t gone for the curtains in the common room,’ I said. That made her laugh.
‘And Rose?’ I bit down on the name and had to turn away so that she wouldn’t see my grimace.
‘Oh, it’s lovely. Uncle Ian let her . . .’ It seemed to dawn on her that she was being tactless because she stopped herself, saying instead, ‘But yours is heavenly too. You’re completely going to be the belle of the ball.’
There was no dress in the world that would make me the belle of the ball, not with her and the other princesses around, and we both knew it.
She put her arm round me. ‘Do come. It’ll be such fun. And there’ll be heaps of other people.’
By people she meant boys. I thought for someone so smart she was really very slow. She really had no idea what it meant to properly love someone. None of them did. They were virgins, for a start, even brash, confident Portia. I knew because I’d heard them all talk about it. I asked her, ‘Has Rose seen Julian again?’
Her cheeks coloured, clashing with her hair. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Of course you know. How stupid do you think I am?’
‘Cassandra, please.’ She placed her big hand on my arm.
My face set hard. ‘So she has seen him.’
‘That’s not what I said. I just don’t think we should be discussing it. It’s their business whether they see each other or not.’
‘Them, their.’ She spoke like they were already a couple. I slept with him, I wanted to tell her. I might have had his baby. What is Rose’s pathetic little flirtation compared to that? But I didn’t say any of that. Because she would tell Rose and then Julian might hear and he’d get even more furious with me and I wasn’t going to risk that, not while there was still hope. Instead, I picked up my dress and held it out. ‘You’re good at stuff like this. Could you do something about the Krystle shoulders?’
She pinched and tweaked at the dress and studied the seams of the sleeves. She looked up and smiled that wide open smile she had which made me think no one had ever been mean to her in her life.
‘I could take the sleeves off altogether. It would make it younger and get rid of the shoulder problem.’ She stepped back, looking at me now. ‘You’ve got good arms. Yup, that would do it, I reckon.’
I smiled back at her. ‘That would be great.’
‘So you’ll go.’
I nodded.
‘Good.’ She walked off with the dress in her arms, turning in the doorway to give me another beaming smile.
She brought the dress back the next day. ‘Try it on.’ She looked excited.
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry. I mean, after you’ve taken all that trouble and everything, but I’ve decided not to go after all.’
Her face fell. She looked as if she had failed at something. She held the dress out to me. ‘At least try it on. I think it’ll be lovely on you now.’
‘It’s not about the dress. I’m just not feeling well, that’s all. The curse. Cramps, nausea, the lot.’
‘Rubbish. As Grandmother Eva always says, “Only housemaids have period pains.” ’
‘Well, there you are,’ I said. It was quite funny to see how embarrassed she got.
‘I didn’t mean . . . Oh, c’mon.’ She stuttered on, turning bright pink again.
I shrugged and gave her a brave smile. ‘It’s fine. I’m not ashamed of my roots.’ That made her blush even more. ‘Thank you for doing the dress for me, though.’
As she left she said, ‘Maybe you’ll change your mind again. I hope so, anyway.’
I drew the curtain across my doorway – the crazy old biddies that ran this place thought proper doors were ‘isolating’ – and tried on the dress. It was difficult to see because the mirror was so small but what I could see made me realise that she had been right, taking the sleeves off had made all the difference.
I found out about their plan by accident. I was going past Eliza’s cube when I heard low voices behind the closed curtains. I checked that there was no one else around and then I listened. That’s when I heard the three of them hatching their clever little plan to snare Julian, to take him away from me once and for all. I knew Rose was my enemy but what really hurt was how I had been taken in by Eliza yet again. I know I’d told her I was over him but if she were really my friend she would have known that I was just saying that. She would have known that I still loved him and she would never ever have betrayed me this way.
None of them, not even she, even mentioned me once during their little scheming session. I think that was what made me really hate them, the way I was airbrushed out of the equation. Had they even acknowledged the possibility that I might be a rival – then maybe I wouldn’t have had to get so angry.
Thirty-four
Eliza
Katarina came marching through the fairy-tale woods in a state of high agitation. ‘It’s damp on the ground. The warmth’s gone out of the day. What were you thinking of?’
She got Uncle Ian to his feet with ease and I looked at her and then at me, wondering where the secret of this woman’s strength lay. She read my mind and gave me a small smile. ‘Training,’ she said. ‘There’s a knack to it like with everything else.’
Once home, she called Hans, the district nurse. He checked Uncle Ian over and pronounced that no ill effects were apparent from the afternoon spent in the woods. I didn’t believe in God but that didn’t stop me thanking him with all my heart.
I was due to leave the next morning but I was reluctant to go.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ Uncle Ian said.
‘We have a very busy period coming up at work and I don’t know when I will next be able to take time off and come over.’
‘I might come over to see you,’ he said to me, with a look at Katarina. When Katarina didn’t rise to the bait he said again, louder this time. ‘I said, I might go over and see Eliza.’
‘I heard you.’
‘So why didn’t you reply?’
Katarina paused in her dusting and looked at him, her hands on her hips.
‘Bloody woman,’ he muttered.
‘Pay no attention. I certainly don’t,’ Katarina said to me. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’
Uncle Ian gave her a long look as she left, then he turned back to me, saying in that same loud voice as if he were hoping she could still hear him, ‘Yes, I’d like to see that house of yours.’
‘Why are you two bickering?’
‘Who’s bickering?’
I thought of the stories I’d heard of defenceless old people being mistreated by the very people charged with their care. It was hard to see Katarina in that light but I had to ask. ‘She’s not bullying you, is she?’
Uncle Ian looked at me as if I’d gone weak in the head. ‘Ha. I should like to see her try. No, of course she isn’t, poor woman. She gets on my nerves, that’s all.’
My shoulders relaxed and I sipped my coffee. I never would have thought it when I first came to the quiet house by the lake but I’d grown to like that bitter brew they served.
‘Anyway, where were we?’ Uncle Ian said. ‘O
h yes, me visiting.’
‘There was a time,’ I told him now, ‘when I thought I might not carry out any of the repairs but just live in the house and give the money to charity.’
He laughed. ‘Did you really? So what changed your mind?’
‘The realisation that you might do just that, come and visit. Plus I got seduced by the appeal of soft furnishings.’
He started to laugh and then the laughter turned into a coughing fit and I got scared and called for Katarina, who came rushing with a glass of water. ‘Drink this, Ian dear,’ she said and she held the glass to his lips with one hand, stroking his thinning hair with the other.
The coughing subsided and Uncle Ian sat back in the chair, his eyes closed. When he opened them again he frowned and said, ‘Both of you, stop looking at me as if you’re measuring me for my coffin.’
‘Best to get these things done,’ I said.
He glared at me. ‘You don’t have much of a bedside manner, do you?’
I had been glancing surreptitiously at my watch. The cab was not due for another twenty minutes. It was always the way, it probably was for most people, but however much I dreaded a parting, once that parting was inevitable I just wanted to get on with it, so that I could lick my wounds in peace and start counting down the days until the next meeting. The difference this time was that I feared that for Uncle Ian and me there would be no next meeting.
‘I said, don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine. And Eliza, will you promise me something, me and Rose?’
I had grown used to him speaking as if Rose were only in the next room so I simply told him, ‘Of course. Anything.’
‘Don’t waste any more of your life on regrets.’
I opened my mouth to speak but he raised his hand to stop me. ‘To my mind waste should be counted as the eighth deadly sin.’ He leant forward and peered at me. ‘You think I’m exaggerating?’
Drowning Rose Page 23