‘I’d better put them in water.’ She went over to a vase of shrivelled holly left over from Christmas. ‘This’ll do.’
She fumbled as she tried to take the holly out, still holding Grace and the snowdrops, so determined not to drop anything that she didn’t notice David getting to his feet.
‘Let me help,’ he said.
She let out a little cry and dropped the vase. At once the room was filled with the dank smell of stagnant water. Grace began to scream.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ Rose’s face was blotched with embarrassment.
‘It’s only water,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll clear it up.’
She flushed darker. ‘I spilled it. I’ll do it.’
‘You keep hold of Grace. I’ll get a cloth. I’ll be back in a minute.’
He left the room. Rose came over to the bed and sat down.
‘I can’t stand this,’ she muttered.
She was trembling. I felt a sudden affection for this girl who had brought me back into the world. I put my hand on her arm.
‘He’s so nice. But I know it’s just like you said. He’s paid to do it. There’s no point me saying anything. It would just make things awkward. We need him here to look after you. That’s what important, not my stupid crush.’
I was lost for words. My demons had joined forces with my illness to bring back the past, blinding me with old suspicions and preoccupations. I was suddenly ashamed of my jealousy.
That night I drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Ghosts slid before my eyes, taunting me with the things I’d done. I saw myself as a girl, reciting the catechism on my knees.
My duty towards my neighbour is to love him as myself and to do to all men as I would they should do unto me:
To love, honour and succour my father and mother:
To honour and obey the King, and all that are put in authority under him:
To submit myself to all my governors, teachers, spiritual pastors and masters:
To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters:
To hurt no body by word nor deed:
To be true and just in all my dealing:
To bear no malice nor hatred in my heart:
To keep my hands from picking and stealing, and my tongue from evil-speaking, lying and slandering:
To keep my body in temperance, soberness and chastity:
Not to covet nor desire other men’s goods: but to learn and labour truly to get mine own living, and to do my duty in that state of life, unto which it shall please God to call me.
I had broken every promise of the catechism. I had coveted and I had desired and it had led to terrible things. I had caused damage that could never be undone.
My shame grew worse as I realized the truth of it. I had meddled with Rose as I had meddled years before. I had wanted the same things as I had wanted then. All my life I had tried to be part of a family, but now I could see that I had broken them up all along. I had refused to go back to my mother, I had taken Grace from Mrs Rivers, I had helped Grace to kill her child.
I had told myself that I was helping Rose, that I was making up for the past. But it hadn’t been quite true. I suddenly felt exhausted. My demons had governed me for long enough. I wanted the damage to stop. I wasn’t so foolish as to be sure that a romance between David and Rose would work out. I’d read too many books to believe in happy endings. But I knew that they liked each other. It was a start.
I didn’t have much time left, I knew. The pain was constant now, the disease clawing at me, gobbling me up. I resolved to talk to Rose.
My chance came a week later, when David had gone to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine. Rose was building a fire. She had brought up a bucket of coal and some sticks, which she was piling on top of one another, balancing them over more paper, crumpled up into balls.
That morning I’d felt something new in my chest. It was as if my lungs were beginning to silt up with something that I knew would choke me in the end. I wanted to sleep, but instead I raised myself up slightly on my pillow.
‘Rose?’ I said.
She went on scrabbling about in the fireplace.
I tried again. ‘Rose?’
She jumped as if I’d startled her. ‘Sorry, Nora, I was miles away. Do you need something?’
‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘But I want to talk to you.’ I patted the bed. ‘Come and sit with me.’
She came over, wiping her hands on her trousers, new ones, I noticed. She had put on weight since David had taken over the cooking. It suited her.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s about David.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s no good, Nora. It wouldn’t work. And I’ve got other things to think about. You and Grace, for a start.’
I tried to reassure her. ‘Grace is all right. She’s a happy little thing. And I won’t be here for much longer; we both know that. Don’t think about me. There’s no point to it.’ I paused, trying to judge how much to say. ‘Think of the future. You could have one together.’
‘He doesn’t want me,’ she said. ‘I’m making a fool of myself. You saw me drop that vase last week. Whenever he’s near, I get so nervous, I feel as if I’m going to be sick.’
‘But if you feel like that,’ I said, ‘then you won’t be able to give him up. Feelings like that don’t just go away because you want them to. They just don’t.’
‘How would you know?’ she said, and then looked embarrassed.
I was silent.
She looked at me closely. ‘Nora?’
A terrible, choking panic rose in my throat.
‘Nora, what is it? Do you know what it’s like? Were you in love with someone you couldn’t tell? What happened?’
I should have known she would ask. I began to sweat.
‘Was it when you were married? Did you have an affair?’
I wondered if it counted. I had loved the memory of her. I had been unfaithful in my thoughts every night. But I had touched no-one and no-one had touched me.
‘No,’ I said, slowly. ‘I never did that.’
She shook her head.
‘Then you don’t understand,’ she said. ‘He’s not interested in me and I’m not going to say something stupid.’
‘But if you don’t say something he’ll leave as soon as I die,’ I said. ‘He’ll go to his next job and you’ll never know.’ My voice had risen and I sounded desperate, even to myself, but I had to go on. ‘He likes you,’ I told her. ‘I can tell.’
She was stubborn. ‘I’m sorry, Nora. I won’t do it,’ she said, going back over to the fireplace. ‘There’s no point.’
Twenty-Six
My ears were filled with a terrible howling. I was drowning in noise but I couldn’t stop. I howled on and on for everything that had happened since the day I left Ma. I didn’t care who heard me. I howled until my throat was tight and sore and blood was hammering in my temples. Then I slumped back on the bed. As I lay there next to Grace, the horror of what I had done started to dawn on me and I began to cry fat, painful tears.
‘Thou shalt not kill,’ I whispered, stroking her hand. I had broken the first rule, the most important one of all. I closed my eyes and began to recite the words I hadn’t said since I had left Ma.
‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned.’
But it was no good. I didn’t believe in it. I had no faith left. I had made a bargain with God and he hadn’t kept his side of it. I didn’t want his forgiveness. It wouldn’t make any difference. I had no-one left to lose, not Grace, not Ma, not the baby, not God. They were all gone.
I took Grace’s hand and kissed it, pressing my lips to her skin. I stroked her arm with my fingertips and traced the line of her collarbone. I unhooked the pearl earrings and rubbed her earlobes gently. Then I wound my fingers in her hair and held her close to me, rocking her like a child.
By the time I laid her back against the pillow her body was starting to stiffen. I looked down at the sheets, soaked with blood. It gli
stened in places, still wet. I didn’t want anyone to see her like that. It would be our secret, the last one we shared.
I boiled water and brought it to the bed in a bucket. I found a bar of soap that smelled of roses, one that I had given her for Christmas. I took a pair of scissors and put them to the hem of her nightdress. I watched my hand as if it belonged to somebody else, working the scissors, slicing the material from the hem to the collar, then across the shoulders and down each sleeve to the cuff.
Grace lay exposed, as frank and unconcerned as when she was alive. The thought of her body had occupied my mind and filled my dreams since that first day by the lake. Now the memory of it would stay with me forever. Her breasts were full and her belly slightly curved from the pregnancy. I had to force myself to look at the rest of her. The blonde hair between her legs was matted and stained with congealed blood. Her thighs were streaked with red and her knees were marked with bruises where she had banged them together in frustration at the pain.
I used the scissors to cut strips off the end of the sheet. I dipped one into the water and wiped her forehead with it, then passed the damp linen over her cheeks and across her cracked lips, kissing each part of her as I washed it, fixing her taste in my memory. I washed every inch of her body very carefully, rinsing out the strips of sheet in the bucket and changing the water as it thickened with blood. When I was finished and the evidence washed away, I took away the sheets and brought new ones, smoothing them out underneath her. I took my own nightdress and brought it over her head, pulling her arms through the sleeves. I brushed out her tangled hair and then laid her back down against the pillows. She looked like a bride in the white gown, all dressed up for her wedding day.
‘I would have married you,’ I whispered. ‘He wouldn’t but I would, if you’d let me. I would have promised you everything. For better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. Until death us do part.’
I leaned forward, kissed her and drew the sheet over her face.
It was very hot in the flat, and very quiet. I switched on the wireless in the corner to distract myself from my thoughts. I remembered sitting in the pew next to Grace, six years before, listening to the crackle and hiss of the airwaves, then hearing grave words from a careful man.
I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at Number Ten, Downing Street.
Just as there had been a moment when the war had begun, there would be a moment when it ended. Mr Churchill would announce it soon, at three o’clock. I didn’t know when our story had begun. If there had been no war then this might not have happened. If I hadn’t been sent to the village then she might have been all right. If I hadn’t loved her so much that I couldn’t bear to leave her behind, she might still be alive.
An organ was playing a hymn that I recognized.
Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things has done, in Whom this world rejoices;
Who, from our mothers’ arms has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.
I didn’t feel like thanking God. He hadn’t blessed me with countless gifts of love. He had taken them all away. He had taken me from Ma, I had taken Grace from Mrs Rivers and now he had taken Grace away from me. I switched off the wireless and stood looking at the clock, watching its hands inch forward. I didn’t know what the time had been when she died. I hadn’t thought to look. I would never be able to say for sure when her life had come to an end.
Despite the stuffiness in the room, I shivered. I sank into one of the armchairs, drawing up my knees and resting my chin on them. I wrapped my arms around my legs as if I might be able to hold myself together.
As midday approached and the room grew even hotter, I tried to pretend that I was somewhere else. I thought of the fields in Kent; the most space that I had ever known. I remembered the thrill of running as fast as we could through the grass, with no limit to how far we could go. I remembered swimming in the lake, my body slicing easily through the water. But then the fields and the lake became the church, with its door closed tight against the world outside. I remembered crying for Ma and praying to resist temptation. I remembered making my bargain with God. I remembered Reverend Rivers’ hand on my head and his arm against mine as he led us in prayer for our souls. I remembered the things that he said next, the secret that had festered inside him, the one he had passed on to me.
I heard him call me a consolation. I saw that small, peculiar smile. I felt the scratch of stubble and smelled tobacco, I felt grass brushing against my legs as I ran through the graveyard. I saw myself, sitting on the floor next to the lavatory and feeling my skin crawl.
I got to my feet and went to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror was startling. My face was streaked with blood, great smears of it, clotted in my eyebrows and crusted about my nostrils. I looked wild, like something not quite human.
I was suddenly possessed by a strange, furious energy. I tore off my clothes and ran into the kitchen, filling all the pans that I could find with water and lighting the stove. When each pan had boiled I poured the water into the bath like I had done for Grace when we were trying to get rid of the baby. I stepped into it, ignoring the scalding heat that shot up my legs. After a moment, I made myself sit, forcing myself to bear it.
This time I didn’t scrub my thighs until they bled. The water turned red from her blood, not mine. As I washed it off, I began to realize what I had done. I thought of Mrs Rivers, smiling down at me as I crouched in the cattle-pen at the station. I had taken her daughter, the only one she had left. I was the one who had found out the telephone number from Mary, who had arranged for Mrs Pitts to come. I had pushed away the thought of asking Mrs Rivers to help us because I’d wanted Grace to myself. Now she was gone forever and there was no way back.
As I moved my hands over my body I felt anger quicken inside me. Reverend Rivers had started it all. He had made it impossible for me to stay. Grace had followed me because she had thought he didn’t care. Now she was dead and I was alone again. My head began to pound.
‘You made me into this,’ I said. ‘You killed her. Your own daughter, the only one you had left.’
I knew that there was nothing I could do to make him pay. I held onto my knees and let out a long scream that echoed off the walls and rang in my ears.
I went to the chest of drawers and took out the gun. I slid the bullets into it. Then I sat in the armchair, thinking of William’s shy smile. I remembered how he had stood behind me, showing me how to fix the target in the middle of the sights and squeeze the trigger gently. William shot scarecrows and small animals. He would have been upset to see me like this. But William was from the past and from a kinder place, from the days when Grace and I were together, when Ma was still alive.
All that had been taken away from me. Now I wanted someone to suffer.
There was someone who deserved it. He had blood on his hands like Reverend Rivers. She wouldn’t have been dead if he hadn’t wanted her. She had got rid of the child for him and she had died for it. She had wanted to be with him more than anything. It was what she had wished for. I’d always given her what she wanted. I would make her wish come true.
He would be coming in time to listen to the announcement on the wireless. He had told her to expect him. I watched the clock. I waited. I took long, deep breaths to steady my nerves. I heard steps. I took aim. The key turned in the lock. The door opened. Bernard came into the room. I shot him.
It was as if the bullet carried everything, all the important things, about Grace, Reverend Rivers and Ma. As soon as I had squeezed the trigger they were gone, leaving only emptiness. I felt nothing as I looked at him, just a body now, lying on the floor. I walked over to the door and closed it, switched on the wireless and went back to my chair. Big Ben’s chimes struck three. A man began to speak, Mr Churchill, I supposed.
Yesterday, at 2.41 a.m., at Headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the
German High Command, and Grand Admiral Doenitz, the designated head of the German State, signed the unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied Expeditionary Force, and simultaneously to the Soviet High Command . . . Hostilities will end officially at one minute after midnight tonight but in the interest of saving lives the Cease Fire began yesterday to be sounded all along the front and our dear Channel islands are also to be freed today . . . The German war is therefore at an end . . . Long live the cause of freedom. God save the King!
The war was over. We had so nearly got away with it, right up to the end.
But not quite, I thought.
My hostilities had ended a minute before but not in time to save lives. The country was officially at peace but I couldn’t feel any of it. All I wanted was to get as far away as I could from the flat and from everything that had happened. I wanted to forget, to hide away and give in to the heaviness that weighed down my body. I wanted to sleep.
I got to my feet and went over to the wireless, which had started to broadcast a church service. I silenced a bishop halfway through a prayer. Then I took out the pillowcase from the chest of drawers. This time I put in Grace’s things, as if I were packing for her, not me; her ration book, her hairbrush with a few strands of hair still caught in it, a lipstick engraved with her initials and a matching powder compact, a bottle of scent, a silver case for cigarettes. I pulled a nightdress from the pile of dirty laundry in the corner and wrapped a tangle of jewellery in it. The only things of my own to go in were the tattered copy of Rebecca and Shakespeare, the only friends I had left.
The gun was on top of the chest of drawers. It made me sick to look at it but I knew I didn’t dare leave it behind. I picked it up and pushed it into the pillowcase next to the books. I looked around the room to make sure there was nothing that could be traced to us, nothing to show who we had been.
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