by Amanda James
I focus on a display of jewellery instead of a thread on my sock this time, and then up from my gut, riding on a rush of adrenalin, come fighting back. After everything I’ve tried to do for her, the terrible secret she foisted on me, and now … and now this. My horns are out. I’m no longer the girl in the playground and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow her to send me back there. I smash a fist on the counter so hard that a box of silver cleaner jumps to the floor.
‘How dare you scream in my face and prod me like that?’ My face is inches from hers.
Mel’s jaw drops and it’s her turn to take a step backward. ‘I-I—’
‘Oh, stop it with the I. Everything is always about you, isn’t it? You never stop to think what your bloody self-obsession does to me, to your daughter!’ I watch her deflate, her face drain, her shoulders sag, but I can’t stop. ‘And now’—I fling my hands up,— ‘now you seriously believe that Evelyn, one of the loveliest women I have ever met, is a thief. Even though I’ve only known her five minutes, I refuse to entertain that ludicrous idea!’
Mel wipes her eyes on her sleeve, backs up to the till and sits down heavily on a stool. ‘But … but I can’t think of another explanation.’ Fresh tears well and overflow. She lets them run silently down her face, perhaps imagining that I’ll feel sorry for her, all mascara smudges and haunted eyes. Instead I just think she looks pathetic. Pathetic, and I’ve had enough.
‘What do you think she stole?’ I say through a small mouth.
‘Well … she admired the new Navajo necklaces so much, remember? She said she would love one but that her husband would hit the roof.’
I look at the black velvet cloth with the necklaces on it. Two. Not three. There has to be a simple explanation. The cloth is much closer to the end of the counter than it was earlier and in my mind’s eye I see Mel move it along to make way for the tray of tea and biscuits. ‘Have you checked behind the counter? One could have slipped off.’
‘Of course, … that’s the first thing I did when I noticed one had gone.’ Her voice is contrite and soft, but my heart is hard.
I walk over and look on the floor, in boxes under the counter, and even in the offshoot. But it has to be somewhere. It has to be. I go back into the shop, drop to my knees and check the cracks in the floorboards. It’s an old shop and I’d noticed that one of the knots in the stripped floor was loose the other day; perhaps the necklace had … I glance up at Mel to ask if she has a screwdriver and the mystery is solved.
She has a tissue out, her back to me, blotting at the smudged mascara in a hand mirror, and there, hanging from the lace on her top, is the missing necklace.
The idea that Evelyn had actually stolen it never once crossed my mind, but the fact that it has been found sends relief rushing up to calm my panic. If it had been lost somehow, there was no way that Mel would listen to reason. Evelyn would have been to blame and that would have been that.
I take a step forward. It’s clear to see what’s happened. The necklace’s clasp is shaped into a silver sun; its hook-like rays must have attached themselves to the lace as she brushed past or leaned against the end of the counter.
‘It’s stuck to the lace hem on your top behind you,’ I say to her eyes through the mirror and pinch my mouth shut.
She turns around and cranes her neck. ‘What is?’
I step behind her, unhook the necklace and place it back on the velvet cloth. I say nothing; my eyes do all the work.
‘Oh,’ she says in a very tiny voice. Scarlet blotches spread across her cheeks and her gaze dances across my face like a butterfly trying to settle on an unfamiliar flower.
‘Oh. Is that all you have to say?’ I want to rage at her, slap that sheepish little grin to the floor.
The grin slides away as if I have done so and her bottom lip starts to tremble. ‘How can you ever forgive me?’ Mel shakes her head and puts her hands over her face. Her voice comes through the gaps in her fingers, muffled and raw with emotion. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I just saw red, and …’ She takes her hands away and gives a shuddering sigh. ‘Tell me what I can do to make it right.’
‘Nothing,’ I say, anger afire in my heart. ‘Right now, I want to get as far away from you and your pathetic excuses as I possibly can.’ I pick up my jacket and bag and hurry to the door.
‘Lu, please! I’m so sorry! Stay and we’ll talk it through!’ she sobs, grabbing my arm as I step into the street.
I shake her off. ‘Don’t touch me!’
She recoils and leans her weight against the door, tears running into snot, her face a mask of anguish. I couldn’t care less. I turn my back and walk away.
23
It’s a clear day, yet unlike the last time I stood in this spot, I can’t quite make out the sentinel finger of the lighthouse. The edges are blurry, the white seeping into the blue creating an impressionist watercolour. Blinking doesn’t help, nor does taking deep lungfuls of salt air, but a man walking his dog towards me dries up the rest of my angry tears. We mustn’t show our emotions in public.
No. That would never do.
For good measure I turn around and pretend to examine the edge of my shoe until he passes, and then a familiar voice calls my name and leadens my heart.
‘Lu! Didn’t you hear me, love?’
I look up, wishing I hadn’t. Adelaide and Evelyn have appeared from the chapel and are fanning their arms at me. They exchange a few words when I don’t respond and then hurry towards me. I’m so bloody stupid! I should have gone to Seal Cottage, not come up here. St Ives isn’t the largest town in the world and it was likely I might run into them. Well now I have, and Adelaide will want answers.
Adelaide slows her pace as she gets nearer, studies my face and whispers something to her sister puffing along behind her. Evelyn nods and walks back towards the town. I heave a sigh from the bottom of my lungs and wait.
‘You’ve been crying,’ she says breathily. ‘What on earth is wrong, Lu?’ A hand on my shoulder. ‘I thought you were working all day. Has something happened with your mum?’
A burst of laughter escapes. ‘You could say that.’ My mouth tries to turn itself up at the corners, but gravity works against it. Adelaide’s concerned face becomes a watercolour.
‘Oh dear. Come on, let’s go and sit on that bench over there.’
On the bench I find a tissue pushed into my hand and my voice breaks through the knot in my throat after a few moments. I didn’t intend to tell Adelaide exactly what had happened, but as usual she drew hidden words up from the safety of my heart and out into the exposure of the day. ‘So, anyway … I’m wondering if I can live like this for much longer, Adelaide,’ I say to a dandelion clock a few feet away. I daren’t look at her. She didn’t say much while I was explaining, and it’s what she didn’t say that sunk in.
‘And I’m wondering if you should try. I am sorry to say it, I know the woman has mental health issues, but I think Mellyn is dangerous.’
That whips my head up. ‘Dangerous? What makes you say that?’ I know she is, she’d murdered her husband after all, but I’m baffled as to why Adelaide thinks so.
Her eyebrows are caught between a frown and surprise. After a moment she says, ‘It was a look she gave me.’ She holds a finger up. ‘Now don’t get me wrong. She was very nice to us, made us feel welcome, and I was relieved that she wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. But not long before we left, you were chatting to Evelyn, and she gave me this look.’ Adelaide pinches her lips shut and looks up to the left. ‘That look was so full of what I can only describe as … pure hatred. I was rocked on my feet, I can tell you.’
Sadly, I’m not surprised at this but say, ‘Are you sure? She can look a bit askance and …’
‘Yes, I’m sure. I knew somehow that she wanted to do me harm. I think she’s dangerous and not to be trusted under any circumstances.’
I want to say, ‘Well I’m sorry to say you’re right. She killed her husband in cold blood. She says he was a drunken bully th
at beat her, but perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps she lied.’
That thought is a new one.
I didn’t know that I’d even considered it. It must have slipped from a box in my mind marked ‘unknown’ and attached itself to the others. ‘I don’t know about dangerous, but she can be jealous sometimes,’ I say.
‘Jealousy out of hand can lead to worse,’ Adelaide says, and I wonder how she knows these things. ‘I think you should consider coming home’—she looks up at the sky—‘just until you’ve had time to think about everything.’
My brain latches on to that, but my heart baulks. Going home would be like running away, wouldn’t it? Running back to my old life just because the going got tough. The new me doesn’t run from things any more.
‘I think that might be a bit rash, Adelaide. I came here to meet my birth mother, build a relationship. I can’t just dump her because she has a few problems. A mum is forever, not just for Christmas.’
Adelaide looks at the half smile I’ve fixed but doesn’t return it. She doesn’t even attempt one of her ‘blink and you miss it’ ones. ‘A few problems is an understatement, love.’ She touches my face briefly and I have to look at another blurry dog walker on the path. ‘I’m worried for you. Just come home for a while, just until you can think clearly. You can’t do that in the middle of it all.’
I don’t know what to say. I have a ball of cold spaghetti where my decision-making thoughts should be. Tangled, mixed up ends that are too slippery to grasp. ‘I’ll have to think about it, Adelaide. I’m so confused right now.’
She twists her mouth to the side and blows down her nostrils. ‘Okay. I can see that, I suppose.’ Then she turns to me and searches my face with those wise miss-nothing eyes. ‘Just don’t wait too long to decide. You could even come back with us on the coach. We leave here tomorrow, but we’re finishing our trip in Mevagissey. We managed to change the dates of the tickets, so we’ll be here for a few more days.’
Smiling at her hopeful face I nod and say, ‘Okay. I promise to think about it. Thank you for being here, Adelaide … I don’t know what I would do without you.’
‘Nor I you, my dear.’ Her voice cracks on the dear and she looks in her handbag without really looking. ‘I was never blessed with children and, well, you’re like a granddaughter, in way.’
I put my hand on hers. We look out at the lighthouse, neither one of us speaking, yet our hearts hear every word.
I notice that the shop has the closed sign on it as I walk past on the way to Seal Cottage. It’s only three thirty, so Mel must have been too upset to work. Anger still simmers in the pit of my chest, but it’s tempered with sympathy. Mel obviously couldn’t help herself and I was floundering. I had gone for a walk after Adelaide had left for the hotel and I had arrived at an idea. As I walk up the path to the cottage I decide it will depend on what my mother has to say to my idea and suggestion as to whether I stay or leave.
The cottage feels empty, a bit like me. No sign of Mel downstairs. As I cross the kitchen to the stairs, through the window I catch sight of chestnut hair lifting on the breeze. I peer outside. She’s in the garden with a glass of wine – oh, how marvellous. Eyes that look as if they have seen hell stare at nothing and her mouth worries at a nail. I step through the door and she jumps up.
‘Oh, thank God! Thank God you came back! I wasn’t sure if you would …’ She stretches her arms out to me.
I don’t walk into them. ‘I wasn’t sure if I would either. We need to talk, but first I’m going to take that wine glass away from you.’ A flicker of annoyance passes her eyes, but she doesn’t comment or resist when I take the glass and put it in the kitchen.
‘I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,’ she says as I draw my chair up to the table.
‘I think you should try.’ I fold my arms and set my mouth.
‘I know you’re furious, and I don’t blame you. It’s just that I jump to conclusions sometimes. On the surface I was polite and pleased to see Adelaide and her sister, but underneath I felt insanely jealous. So, when I found the necklace gone, I didn’t even consider that Evelyn hadn’t taken it.’
‘Why were you insanely jealous?’
‘Because Adelaide has known you longer than I have. She watched you grow up when I didn’t – me, your own flesh and blood.’ A sniff. ‘Your own mother. Your real mother.’
And whose fault is that? is desperate to join the conversation, but instead I say, ‘I left everything behind, came here to find you. Then I chose to stay here … with you. Doesn’t that mean anything?’
Mel nods emphatically. ‘Yes, yes it does. I’m just irrational sometimes. I can’t think logically when anger takes over.’ Her eyes dart away. ‘I am so, so sorry about prodding you on the shoulder. I feel so ashamed.’
‘It was the look in your eyes more than the prod,’ I begin, and then slam a door shut on more tears. I’m sick of it, quite frankly. ‘I had a long walk and a think about what to do next. You need help and I can’t give it to you. Therefore, you must go back and see Doctor Henver or someone. You need professional help.’
‘I’m not sure that’s necessary. I’ve been improving lately, you said so yourself the other day, and—’
‘Improvement punctuated by unpredictable and increasingly worrying behaviours is not good enough, Mum. We need to do something.’
‘Everything is shaken up now you’re back in my life. It will all settle soon.’ She sighs, then probably realises that exasperation isn’t a good idea and gives me a bright smile.
‘Sorry, but I can’t live like this.’ My voice has a cold edge that I’m not used to hearing.
‘I promise it will be okay. I realise I have a problem, and that’s the first hurdle, isn’t it? Look, what about inviting Adelaide and Evelyn over tomorrow night? I’ll prove to you that I—’
‘They’ll be gone by then. I said goodbye to her on the Island earlier. And all the hurdles have to be jumped to reach the finish line, Mum. You’re not even close.’
Mel folds her arms and says through a tight mouth. ‘You seem very cold all of a sudden. What happened to compassion?’
‘It left earlier today when you jabbed me in the shoulder and turned your eyes into little flames of hate.’
She unfolds her arms and reaches out a hand to me.’ I don’t hate you. You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.’ Her voice trembles and her eyes fill … again.
I don’t take her hand. ‘Then do as I ask, or you’ll lose me.’
‘You’ll leave if I don’t see a doctor?’ Her voice lends the tremble to the hand hovering over her mouth.
‘Yes.’ I watch her face closely; her skin, already pale, turns ghostly and down it runs silent mascara tears. It’s as if I’m watching a play. She reminds me of a Pierrot doll and I hate myself for feeling so detached, but I can’t help it. She either agrees, or that’s the end of it.
‘Okay. I will see someone. Anything to make you stay,’ she says so softly I have to strain my ears.
I can see she means it and I should be relieved, and I am to an extent. I have achieved what I set out to with surprisingly little resistance. There’s a little shot of ice water running through my blood though. A little shot of ice that warns of deceit, lies and double crosses. But if I’m staying then I have to trust her – what else can I do?
‘Adelaide? Oh yes, Adelaide. What a surprise.’ Rosie put a smile in her voice but furrowed her brow. Adelaide didn’t sound herself at all. Also, she hadn’t really expected a call. She’d just given her number in case Adelaide and her sister needed advice about places to eat or the area in general. Rosie cradled the phone under her chin and poured a glass of wine.
‘Yes, sorry to ring you when you’re at home, but as you know we’re off to Mevagissey early tomorrow and I needed to ask you a huge favour. There might not be time in the morning – you’ll be run off your feet as usual – and …’ Adelaide’s gunfire sentences ran out of bullets and Rosie thought she heard a sniff.
‘Okay, I’ll help if I can.’
‘I won’t go into detail but suffice to say that Lu has had a run-in with her mother. Not for the first time, I might add. Mellyn has issues, I’ll say no more than that. I know you’re her very good friend and if she wants to tell you more she will. Anyway …’ Adelaide sighed and fell silent. ‘Anyway, I asked her to come back to Sheffield, but she has just phoned to say that she’ll stick it out a bit longer. She has a plan to help put things right, apparently.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds serious if you wanted her to go back home.’ Rosie took a big swallow of wine. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. She also didn’t like the sound of Lu perhaps leaving either.
‘I might be blowing things out of proportion, but I just fell that Mellyn’s dangerous, somehow.’ Adelaide paused and her words took good effect. ‘That’s why I’m ringing. I would be extremely grateful if you would keep a very close eye on the situation for me. Call me if you think I’m needed … day or night.’
Rosie sat on the arm of her sofa and took another drink. ‘My goodness, you’re worrying me now. If it’s so serious should she be left on her own with Mellyn?’
‘If it was up to me she wouldn’t be. But what else can I do? Lu is a grown woman. I can’t drag her out of the house kicking and screaming.’
‘No. No of course not. Thanks for calling, Adelaide. I will be vigilant, I promise.’
‘Thank you, dear. I know that you think the world of her, just like me.’ Adelaide ended the call.
Was ten o’clock too late to give Lu a bell? There was no way she could sleep until she heard her voice. Rosie’s finger hovered over the keypad and then she put the phone down. It stood to reason that Lu must be fine because she’d just called Adelaide. Perhaps Adelaide had been a little melodramatic and a phone call might put Lu’s back up. She might suspect that Adelaide had said something too if she started asking about how things were with Mellyn.