Through the Dark Keyhole

by Rosalyn Richardson

  I did risk ringing Neil and telling him. I wanted him to know that I could be successful and that I had moved on without him, but also, I wanted to tell him almost like a friend.

  Neil answered his phone and I knew immediately that it wasn’t an opportune moment, as he replied, “Oh, very good, Mrs Fairbrother. I’m really pleased you managed to pass my accounts for processing.”

  In the background I could hear Oksana shouting, “More!” Then the phone went dead.

  I gave a small giggle. Was that the only English word she had learnt? Neil did seem to be under her thumb, and not just her thumb at that!

  I grimaced at the thought and then smiled; at least Neil looked as though he had received the gist of my call and in his response, he did seem pleased, even though having to handle his companion at the other end in the process.

  I had also rung Alison at work and told her, and she was delighted for me too. I realised how pleased she was for me when I arrived back home.

  Mary greeted me at the entrance and Alison was there with her. “Come on,” said Mary, “we’ve made a celebration tea for you.”

  Mary and Alison took hold of my hands and led me through to the beautiful grounds at the back, where a long pasting table stood which was now converted into a picnic table, which was laden with an array of different foods for a buffet.

  I was completely overwhelmed. It was lovely to be with everyone at once, and even Mike had managed to be there.

  I thanked everyone for their lovely surprises and all the effort that had gone into it for me. I even managed to get to speak to Jo at last.

  As we started to talk, Jo was telling me why volunteering down at the hospice and all the other activities involved in it were so important to her. Her beloved husband, Lee, had, at a very young age of thirty-two passed away from bowel cancer. Jo had nursed him at home until he died.

  I said that I was glad to get to speak to her and ended our conversation with an invitation to meet up and have coffee somewhere, to which Jo seemed agreeable and so I left it in her hands when she could fit me in.

  Mike had apparently, arrived back that morning for a brief break. He was not much taller than me, and he was quite portly which did seem to make him look older than he was. His hair was greying as was his beard. He was pleasant enough. He was a bachelor, which I reasoned with his work, and being away for such long periods was a bit of a hamper to meeting anyone. He seemed a kindly enough person, but I must admit, after our initial pleasantries, I did have to stifle a few yawns as his favourite subject was politics, and this was not something I really had heavy debates on, but to him it was almost a hobby.

  As our tea party came to an end, I couldn’t help but notice that Clare was still being her reserved self and on guard. It felt that she was being there more out of politeness than joining in with the rest of us. I had learnt a lot on this counselling course, and it had given me a lot of insight into all sorts of areas, including, mental health and psychology etc.,

  Ian did briefly come across to shake my hand and to say, “Well done.” Clare just seemed to give a watery sort of smile.

  Despite feeling desperately lonely at times, and longing to find work with my new qualifications, we all seemed to get on as neighbours and we looked out for one another.

  Grace was finding business a bit slow and finding it hard to get off the ground at first, so we agreed to book a holiday in Devon for a week, and I couldn’t wait.

  I had to admit that Neil had been very generous in one of his more recent brief conversations with me, and he had sent me some money to keep afloat. It was probably a guilt trip here and there, but I wasn’t complaining.

  Grace picked me up and we set off in the warm sunshine for a glorious week of being pampered, and having all our meals prepared.

  However, I did have a surprise in store on my return that would shape and completely improve my foreseeable future, but also endanger me at the same time.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On my return, as I walked through the door that led into the large reception hall of the apartments, I could hear laughter and gaiety coming from the rear grounds.

  I quickly opened my front door and just dumped my bags down on the bed, and nosily hurried to see what was going on in the gardens.

  All the neighbours were there except Mike who was now back at work.

  It looked like a celebration of some sort. I arrived in the gardens and said a cheery hello to everybody.

  As usual on these occasions, Mary, probably doing most of the organising, had prepared a large picnic.

  Alison came rushing over to see me and said, “Hi Natasha, did you get my email about the party today? We arranged it so that we knew you would be back to join us.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry Alison, I haven’t read my emails these last few days. I was determined to have a complete break and not be tempted to go onto my laptop,” I replied apologetically.

  Before Alison could continue, Mary came over towards us, beaming and said, “I’ve a lot of knitting to do and I’m going to be extremely busy,” she told me excitedly.

  I didn’t twig straight away as I knew she helped Jo out quite a bit and often knitted little things for Jo to sell at the stall that she sometimes hired.

  Without saying anything, Mary caught my arm and led me across to see the large banner that had been put up. It read, “CONGRATULATIONS” with a picture of pink and blue storks in flight.

  “Ah,” I responded thickly.

  Well, I thought to myself, I somehow didn’t think it would be Alison that was pregnant, she and Chris had plenty of plans set in place before their wedding, which they had started to arrange, and I was quite sure that children weren’t on the agenda just yet.

  It wouldn’t be Jo, unless it was Immaculate Conception, so it could only be Clare. I thought I better just whisper and check with Mary first before I put my foot in it, and she assured me that I was right.

  “How wonderful!” I said to Mary. “They’ve been through so much.”

  I gave a quick glance over to where Ian and Clare were standing. Clare was beaming, even though it was still a shy smile.

  Mary nudged me and nodded towards Clare, encouraging me to go over. I made my way over to them both and said my congratulations to them.

  “I’m so pleased for you,” I said.

  “Yes, thank you, we are ecstatic,” replied Ian on behalf of them both.

  I knew Clare would obviously feel the same. She was such a complex creature, and so hard to get to know. She was a deep well. Clare did surprise me when she spoke to me. “I’m just over three months and I’m due on the twentieth March.”

  “That’s lovely, a spring baby. What a lovely time, I’m really pleased for you both,” I replied.

  After that small, but meaningful communication, I began to mingle with the others that were there, which included some from the surgery, I was told.

  I really felt for Clare, but knew that she would have the best of care, especially having her husband as a GP. I really hoped and prayed that for once, things would go right for them, and that it would soon be March and I would see Clare holding that longed for baby in her arms, who would be smothered with love. I was quite sure that that would make her a new person and bring her out of herself and it certainly would be a life changer.

  However, life can be so cruel at times, and dark days lay ahead.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next two months were spent between working on temporary counselling jobs, meeting up with Grace, the occasional weekend away at Jayne’s and a meal here and there with Alison and

  Chris.

  I very occasionally saw Ian and Clare. Mind you, their hours could be very long and at times very different to mine. I would often see them setting off to work together, early in the morning, and would occasionally get a chance to say good morning to them.

  It did go through my mind that Clare had begun to have an olive tinge to her face, and had begun to look rather drained and tire
d, but I just assumed that this would soon change and the “blooming” period that people often talk about, would soon follow.

  I had just finished a temporary contract at the high school in town. It was now late October and the light was now fading at around six p.m.

  That evening I had pulled into the grounds of Marton Manor and immediately became aware of an ambulance flashing blue lights in front of the main door. My first thoughts were of Mary and that George or she must be ill, given their age.

  Just before I walked into the entrance, two ambulance men came out with Clare in a wheelchair. She was crying uncontrollably, and Ian was hastening his step behind them.

  I stood back, out of the way. As I made my way into the foyer, Mary approached me, her face drained of colour, and began to explain.

  Ian had brought Clare home early as that morning she had begun to have contractions at work. He knew he had to get her home to bed and to rest and to see how things went from there, and the specialist who had been looking after Clare had been out and advised the same at this stage.

  Obviously, this had now progressed to an emergency admission to hospital. My heart ached for Clare.

  Although my miscarriage had been early in my pregnancy and was for a totally different reason, it was still very much a bereavement and loss. Clare had been through so much to have a baby, and now everything was hanging in the balance.

  I didn’t see much of Alison and Chris around that time. I did see Jo on her way to work, and she seemed well.

  It was usually Mary I saw with my coming and goings from my apartment, and it was usually evenings. She would hear me arrive home and update me on how Clare was doing.

  I didn’t see much of Ian either, but I supposed that he was on a bit of a treadmill with going between work and then on to visit Clare.

  My last temporary post had now come to an end and I had been invited down to Jayne’s for a few days, which was very welcome.

  As I was crossing the car park, I saw Ian pull up. He smiled, but his eyes, and the look on his face told a story of thorough exhaustion. “How’s Clare?” was my immediate reaction and concern.

  “She seems to be going the right way,” Ian then sighed with relief. “Fingers crossed, she may be home tomorrow, but on strict bed rest,” he added.

  “Well that’s something,” I said trying to sound encouraging.

  I told Ian that I was going to see my friend for a few days, and to please tell Clare that I was thinking of her. I said that if I could be of any help when I came back, just to let me know.

  Ian said he would pass my message on to Clare and thanked me for my concern. “I will keep that in mind. Have a safe journey,” he said kindly before I drove off.

  Time does fly when you are enjoying yourself and all too soon it was time to say goodbye to Jayne and her family, and make my way back home.

  On my last evening there, Jayne had arranged a small dinner party. There were people there who I had already met but now I had the opportunity to get to know them better.

  When I arrived back home, Mary, bless her, had made some buns and presented them to me and took her chance to update me about Clare.

  “Clare’s back home,” Mary told me. “We’ve been taking turns, mainly Alison and I, going in and making light meals for her and doing a bit of housework. The district nurse pops in and sees her regularly too.”

  When I saw Ian the next day, he told me that Clare’s mother, Pam was coming up for a week or so on the following Monday, but he was trying to keep a rota going until then. So, I reminded him that I would be happy to help too, and this he seemed to accept gratefully, and as a result, I went in to look after Clare from five till seven p.m. until Ian got back from work.

  On my visits, Clare still seemed quite reserved, but did eventually start to communicate a bit more.

  One evening, I had the privilege of taking a tour of the nursery that was all prepared. I told Clare that it looked perfect! Clare really seem to warm to my praise. I noted from the colour scheme of cream, that they had decided on this colour until they knew the sex of the baby and I must say, I would have done the same.

  On one of her chatty days, Clare was telling me that she started her student training at the main Queen Elizabeth Hospital near Birmingham, and that she lived in New Exley with her mother and that her mother still lived there in the same house.

  Her father had been on the hospital trust board and was a well-known micro biologist. Her mother had been a deputy manager at the local council offices.

  Their lives had been thrown into complete grief and despair when Clare’s father had died. He had been on some course miles away in Inverness. Their concerns had heightened when he hadn’t made his daily call one evening. Apparently, he always used to ring just before his evening meal as he would always have a walk before eating, to clear his head and especially after sitting in an office all day; it gave him an appetite for his meal. Come rain, sun or snow, he would go out regardless.

  Apparently, the weather hadn’t been very kind that week and her father had not been that healthy, and was overtired. Her mother had managed to ring one of her father’s colleagues who was on the same course and at the same hotel. An alert was put out and her father was soon found on the pavement not far away. Once the emergency services had been called and he was rushed to the hospital, it was confirmed that he had had a massive stroke and sadly, he quickly passed away.

  Clare’s mother had a breakdown shortly afterwards and as a result resigned from the council. Clare had taken extended leave to care for her, but found it a struggle when she did go back to work; caring for her mother and working as well.

  Clare’s mum accepted help from the hospital and agreed to have regular check-ups with the psychologist and had many sessions with a bereavement counsellor. Clare always tried to manage her work so that her mother had her support when attending these various appointments.

  On one such occasion, she had her first encounter with Ian. Clare had been waiting for her mother to come out of one of these visits, and wanted to ask one of the other doctor’s there, who had on occasion seen her mother on an appointment, a query she had about her mother’s medication. Ian had happened to be in the room at the same time.

  Clare had noticed what a pleasant person he seemed to be. One day, he came up to Clare in the waiting room and sat beside her and said, “Aren’t you Clare Brighton? You work at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, don’t you?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” she had replied, although rather taken aback.

  “I’m Dr Crowther. I was so sorry to hear about your father; he was a brilliant man.”

  Clare said she had begun to get used to these comments about her father, they were welcome.

  “The rest is history,” laughed Clare, meaning that she and Ian had progressed in their relationship from then and gone on to marry.

  She had explained to her sister, who didn’t live that far away from their mother, that she and Ian wanted to move further up-country after their wedding, and that Ian had seen an advert for a vacancy up here in Hampshire. It was a lot better paid, and Ian would now have a chance to be a partner in his own practice. Ian received notification before the wedding that he had the position and so everything started fitting into place.

  Clare’s sister had said that she would help their mum out more but Clare wasn’t totally convinced, especially with her previous record.

  Clare looked at me and said with sad eyes, “I really thought that she was going to end up in a home.”

  Apparently, as if by a miracle, her mum started going out more with a group of old friends who she was now back in touch with regularly and that is where she met someone new.

  “She’s a different person and back working again,” said Clare, her eyes lighting back up, a wonderful transformation.

  Clare and I heard the key in the front door, and Ian came in smiling. “You two look as though you’ve been having a good chinwag,” Ian said pleased.

  Clare smiled, a
true and warm smile and looked at me and then at Ian and said, “Yes, we have.”

  It felt amazing that someone who had hardly said one word to me in all the time I had lived downstairs had now practically told me her life story, and the trust that she had suddenly decide to place in me was amazing. That had really made my day and I hoped that Clare felt better for it.

  I told Clare that I had really enjoyed her company and to take care, saying that I would see her the following evening.

  The next afternoon soon came and I was back again with Clare. I had taken her some homemade ginger cake and proceeded to make us both a cup of tea, before I went and sat in the easy chair by the bed.

  “Well Natasha – what about you? I’ve bared my soul to you, and I know so little about you,” Clare suddenly said.

  I was a bit taken aback, but she did have a fair comment. I had never really liked talking about myself. I preferred to listen. In my counselling training, I was taught never to talk about yourself, even if you were tempted to do so, but this was different, and the transformation in Clare made me feel that I could talk to her.

  “Well,” I started slowly, “I’ve never thought of my life as being that interesting. I do have some affiliation with you though Clare, in that I was pregnant a few years ago, but I miscarried my baby very early in my pregnancy, and I can only imagine the mixture of emotions that you must have been through the other week, when the prospects looked so bleak for you and your baby.” I paused momentarily. “I never got to the stage where I could feel my baby move, so it was very different in some ways with me.”

  Clare looked shocked, but her expression was one of sympathy, and she went on to ask what happened.

  I didn’t want to go into details. I didn’t feel or want to talk about Andrew and the past so I just said that it was because of a nasty fall down the stairs leaving out the fact that I had been pushed first.

  I did mention that I was just under ten weeks pregnant and that nobody could have done anything to save the baby, as the miscarriage had followed very quickly afterwards.