by Hannah Emery
She nods and hums her way through the short conversation as Grace watches. After a couple of minutes, Elsie hangs up. She places the phone back on the counter and stares at it for a while.
‘That couple who looked round the house have put an offer in. It’s the price we wanted,’ she says eventually. Her voice is steady, but Grace can tell that its evenness is taking some effort. Elsie is even paler than normal and her violet eyes dart over Grace’s face as she waits for her sister to answer.
Grace takes a deep breath. ‘So, are we going to accept it?’
Elsie is still. She stares at the phone for a little longer, and then raises her face to meet Grace’s gaze.
‘It’s the right decision,’ she says eventually. ‘I think it’s something we all need to do.’
‘I feel like we are letting our last link to Mum go,’ Grace admits as Elsie picks up her phone and begins to dial the estate agent’s number.
‘Grace, we are always going to be linked to Mum. It’s just a house.’
It’s true, and it’s not true. Grace shakes her head, unable to do much more.
‘They’re going to start up a bed and breakfast,’ Elsie prompts. ‘They’re going to keep it as Rose House, which is quite incredible really.’
It’s not incredible. Rose House is just a name, Grace thinks. But for some reason, the sentence Elsie has just uttered makes her feel like things are getting back to the way they used to be, the way she has craved for so long.
She smiles at her sister, at her own face which stares back at her, unblinking, waiting for an answer.
‘Then let’s do it.’
When Elsie has called the estate agent back, and the twins have had a celebratory latte from the café across the road, Elsie stands up and takes her car keys from the counter.
‘I almost forgot! I have something for you! It’s in the car. I’ll just get it.’
When she returns, she is carrying a box that makes Grace’s head pound. She lifts her hand to her temple.
‘What’s wrong?’ asks Elsie as she hands Grace the box.
Grace shakes her head, making her mind knock against her skull. ‘Nothing. What’s this?’
‘Open it.’
Grace tears at the hot pink tissue paper, and then inhales sharply. Her head thuds. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘From Mags’s house. I went round the other week with some flowers to say thanks for the engagement gathering we had. I cut the stems for her because she was busy making us a drink, and I took them to the bin outside. I saw that she’d thrown Mum’s wedding dress out and I felt weird about it. So I sneaked round the back when we left and got it. I didn’t want to ask her why she’d thrown it out. It was obviously just upsetting her having it in the house.’
‘So do you want to wear it on your wedding day after all?’ Grace asks, hoping. Her throat is dry and the words burn her.
‘No. I want you to have it. You’ll get married at some point, and I think it’s more your style than mine. And we all know Mum would have rather you had it,’ Elsie finishes, with more weariness than malice.
‘You should have left it in the bin,’ Grace says. She’s only had the vision once since Mags threw the dress out. She hoped that it was beginning to fade away. But now, it’s more vivid than ever, the dress gleaming white and trailing behind her as she walks down the aisle with Eliot, married to him.
Elsie shakes her head, stuffs the dress back into the box. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘You haven’t,’ Grace says, wincing at the rustle of the dress as Elsie folds it down, the rustle she knows so well. ‘It was a lovely thing to do.’
Elsie gives her a small smile and pushes the box towards Grace. Grace smiles back, feeling like a strand between them has been pulled tighter. But as she smiles, her head splits with pain, her chest is tight and the words she can’t forget spin around in her mind.
You cannot change what is meant to be.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Louisa, 1983
Louisa took Noel’s hand as they walked over the ornate bridge in Stanley Park. He was almost twelve: a little old to be holding anyone’s hand, but he didn’t seem to mind, and the twins would never give her the contact she craved.
Louisa’s first guests weren’t booked in until early August. Package holidays, she told anybody who might be interested, had a lot to answer for. Blackpool’s popularity had changed in the years since she had moved back. It attracted different kinds of people now, and Louisa’s boarding house was seeing more empty rooms each summer. The money that her father had left her when he died was dwindling down to nothing and the repairs needed in the house were growing like an overfed cat.
Still, she thought, swinging Noel’s arm backwards and forwards with her own, she needn’t worry about the guests and the repairs right now. It was a gloriously warm spring day, and she was with her family and friends.
Mags turned to Louisa as they walked. ‘Where have the twins gone?’
‘They’ve gone to look at the swans. They won’t be far away. They’re getting no better at walking along with me,’ she sighed.
‘They’ll calm down with time. They’re only four. It’s still very young, you know.’
‘I suppose,’ Louisa said. ‘I find them so hard to control, though. I thought it would be easier than this.’
Mags gestured to the ice cream hut and rooted in her bag for some change. ‘I know what you mean. Noel, what flavour do you fancy?’
‘I’m constantly thinking of what the right choice is. It’s driving me mad,’ Louisa whispered, almost to herself. She rubbed her temples. Her headaches were coming back these days, but with no visions following them. She normally took some aspirin before she went out anywhere, but she’d forgotten today.
‘Lou, what flavour are you getting?’ Noel asked, tugging on Louisa’s hands.
‘Oh. Chocolate, I think.’
Noel smiled up at her. ‘I knew you would. Chocolate’s the best,’ he continued as they queued up to order. ‘You always make the right choice. So don’t worry.’
Louisa stared down at him. ‘Thanks, Noel.’
When they had eaten their ice creams by the lake, they all settled on a patch of grass overlooking the water. Mags put on her sunglasses and lay back to read a magazine. She had rolled up her trouser legs in a bid to catch the sun, revealing stubbly white calves. Louisa lay next to Mags for a few seconds, but couldn’t settle. She could hear Elsie and Grace squabbling over something, and Noel speaking calmly to them. She gazed across the grass and watched for a few minutes. Elsie was pushing Grace down the small hill, and Grace was co-operating by propelling herself down in joy. Louisa gazed at her daughters: their gleaming black hair, their porcelain skin and chaotic movements. Grace caught her mother looking and smiled warily. Louisa smiled back, hoping that her indescribable love would somehow be transmitted.
‘So,’ said Mags from behind the magazine. ‘How are you?’
Louisa stared at Mags. ‘What do you mean?’
Mags sat up and shrugged. ‘Well, it’s been a long time since Lewis disappeared. I know the girls can be hard work. It must be difficult on your own.’
Louisa narrowed her eyes. ‘It’s not like you to talk like this.’
Mags flipped the magazine shut. ‘I know. I hate this type of conversation. But I’m worried about you, Lou. You seem preoccupied. You barely talk to me about stuff these days.’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Men. The twins. Your psychic stuff. Anything.’
Louisa shrugged and stared out to the calm blue water. Swans glided over the surface as though it was ice. ‘There’s nothing much to say.’
‘That proves it! You always have something to say, Louisa. So something’s definitely wrong.’
Louisa picked a daisy and twiddled it in her hand. She thought of last night. She’d had the dream about the twins again.
‘I’m not sleeping well.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Louisa replied quietly. She picked the daisy apart and stood, brushing its crushed petals from her jeans. She hadn’t thought Mags ever really listened to her. But it was nice to know that she noticed when Louisa stopped talking.
‘I’ve been having bad dreams. And I still miss Lewis so much. I just wish I knew where he was.’
‘He’s still sending you postcards, is he?’ Mags asked, lighting a cigarette.
Louisa nodded. Every so often, Lewis sent Louisa a card from wherever he was staying at the time. Every time Louisa heard a postcard waft down from the letterbox onto the tiles on the hall floor, she rushed out to retrieve it. She would squint down at the postmark, trying to make out the blurred stamped letters. But even when she could make them out: Minorca, Herts, Beds, she still had no idea how to find him. He still didn’t know about his twins, because Louisa had never been able to speak to him. His postcards always said the same.
I still love you, Lou.
Louisa hoped that one day Lewis would say it in person.
‘At least you know he’s out there somewhere, thinking of you.’
Louisa snorted. ‘You don’t mean that.’
Mags laughed a dry laugh, and tapped the ash of her cigarette onto the grass.
‘You got me. I don’t. I think you should forget Lewis, and find someone as boring as bloody Charles. Then you’ll have more to worry about than bad dreams. Do you know, he’s made me host seven dinner parties with his colleagues in the last two months? I spend half my life crumbling Flakes over trifles these days. I’m sure I’m destined for bigger things than that, you know.’
Louisa smiled but stayed quiet. She’d give anything to have Lewis back, and to be hosting dinner parties for him. She wished she hadn’t lost him. Her gift hadn’t helped her keep her mother, or her father, or Lewis. She gazed over at the twins. She would have to be more careful with them. Much, much more careful.
As it happened, the warm spring weather brought some guests to Louisa’s boarding house that very night. It was a group of friends celebrating a thirtieth birthday. They had decided to extend their day trip to the evening and wanted somewhere to stay.
‘It’s all a bit last minute,’ said one woman with wide eyes, clearly overexcited by the spur of the moment holiday.
Once Louisa had showed the group to three different rooms, she served them tea and coffee in the guest lounge. She breathed in the smell of polish as they entered. She had given it a quick wipe over and opened the windows whilst the guests had been unpacking. She hadn’t been in there in months and the bright wooden surfaces had been fluffy with dust. She looked around as the group settled themselves in various chairs, and suddenly saw with an unpleasant shock how dated it all was. Orange velour curtains hung like two flames either side of the bay window, their colour merging with the pine and yellow wallpaper. Louisa hadn’t changed the decor since she had moved in, and until this very moment, had never felt she needed to.
‘I’m redecorating in here,’ she found herself saying to the woman who had been excited upon arriving.
The woman smiled politely. The man next to her nodded, moving his head slowly around in order to survey the decor.
‘What kind of thing are you going for?’ another of the women asked.
Louisa waved her hand towards the curtains that suddenly offended her so very much. ‘Oh, you know, something much slicker. Smoked glass, leather sofas, that kind of thing.’
‘Must be expensive to keep on top of the trends. You know, with a big house like this?’ said one of the men, smirking.
Louisa smiled. He was right. It was expensive. But what he didn’t know was that he and his friends would begin the funds for the refurbishment of Rose House that very night.
It was past midnight when the friends returned from their night out to Rose House. They’d been walking along the beach, and they all insisted on taking their shoes off at the door, not realising that the last thing Louisa wanted was a collection of stinking trainers and stilettos sprinkled with sand jumbling up the hallway.
‘Would you like any hot drinks? Or a nightcap?’ Louisa asked. ‘The only thing I ask is that you’re quiet once you get upstairs. My twin girls are asleep, you see, and they might wake if you’re noisy. But if you stay down here, in the lounge, you can talk as loudly as you like.’
‘Wonderful!’ said the excited woman. It seemed that her excitement was a permanent feature, as it was still in full swing. She stood swaying as if she was dancing, running her fingers through her crispy perm.
‘Come on, Brenda. You’ve had too much to drink, love. Come and sit down.’ The man Brenda appeared to be dating patted his knee, but Brenda shook her head.
‘No!’ she pouted, reminding Louisa of Elsie. ‘I want to have fun. Stop trying to ruin my fun.’
The man rolled his eyes, retracting his hand and the offer of his lap.
‘Sorry,’ he said to Louisa. ‘She always gets like this. She never wants the night to end. But there’s nothing for us to do now but have a quiet drink and go to bed.’
‘Actually,’ said Louisa, feeling all eyes suddenly on her, ‘there’s something I could do for Brenda, if she’d like. It’d be fun. But I’d have to charge.’
Brenda lurched over to Louisa and took hold of her hands. ‘What is it? Tell me!’
‘Well, I could tell your fortune. But I would have to charge extra, on top of the rate for bed and breakfast.’
Brenda’s heavily made-up eyes gleamed with delight. ‘Yes! Yes! Where shall we go? One of the bedrooms? I’ll be quiet, I promise.’
One of the men snorted with laughter. ‘What makes you think your future needs to be a secret?’
‘You never know,’ Brenda scowled.
‘It’s up to you. We can go upstairs if you want, or we can go and sit in the dining room if you don’t want your friends to hear.’
‘Of course I don’t. If they know my future plans, then they might try to interfere in them. I’d hate that. Plus,’ she whispered, bowing her head so close that Louisa could smell fried onions and cigarettes on her breath, ‘you might tell us something that Brian doesn’t want to hear.’
‘I’m going to bed,’ Brian said, stifling a yawn.
Another of the women shrieked. ‘What, you’re not having your fortune read? I’ll go next, after Brenda.’
And so, Louisa sat in the dimly lit dining room until the early hours of the morning, until she had told each of the friends what she saw for them. It was the same as it had always been: weddings, babies, jobs, new houses, new hobbies, old flames. Brenda was the most excited by the news that she would marry Brian and have five children. Louisa wondered how she would take the news, since children had a reputation for spoiling adults’ fun, but Brenda whooped with joy at the verdict. Another of the women, Maureen, was amazed to find that Louisa knew she was married regardless of the fact that Maureen didn’t wear a ring. Maureen would remain married and would travel around the world with her husband on a boat.
‘Yes! That’s right! We’re looking into selling up and buying a boat! Wow, you really are spot on,’ Maureen gasped as she handed Louisa a creased ten pound note.
After the guests had gone to bed, Louisa cleared away their ashtrays and glasses and cups, and climbed the long, dark staircase. When she reached her bedroom, she undressed, before taking the duvet from her bed and clutching a pillow under her arm. She left her bedroom and silently opened the door of the twins’ room.
The room was heavy with the sound of Elsie’s and Grace’s deep, rhythmic breaths. They were safe in here: the guests were all tired and there was no movement coming from the other rooms. But still. Louisa squinted in the darkness so that she could see her daughters. Grace lay on her front, her comfort blanket abandoned on the floor beside the bed. Elsie was curled on her side, mouth open, strands of black hair strewn over her cheek, falling and rising with each breath.
Before Louisa climbed beneath her floral bedcovers on the floor next to the twin
s, she did a mental calculation of the extra money she had made that evening. It added up to fifty pounds. She smiled to herself in the darkness.
That night, Louisa had the dream. Again, Grace was an inch taller than Elsie. Again, Elsie was slightly thinner and had subtle streaks of bronze in her hair. Grace’s hair remained the glossy black of a raven. She wore a necklace of aqua stones, which lay flat against her collarbone.
The twins were in the guest lounge of Rose House. It was different somehow: beige and tired, empty. Candles flickered in the dim light and an exotic smell hung in the air.
The girls were in their twenties, just as they always were in the dream. They were beautiful. But there was something ugly in the atmosphere between them, something that made Louisa moan in her sleep, toss around in her tangled sheets. Elsie and Grace talked, their words clouded at first as the dream blurred into focus. Grace left the room, returned with a glass of something. Wine. Louisa could taste its acid, and could feel the alcohol deaden her senses.
Elsie spoke, her quiet, troubled voice so unlike the singsong chatter that Louisa knew so well. ‘Grace, I really need to know that you’re happy for me. I don’t feel like you are.’
Grace closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I just care about you.’
‘That’s not the same as being happy for me. I asked you if you were happy for me.’
‘I want things to be good between us.’
Elsie rolled her eyes. ‘So we’re now talking about what you want? You can be so selfish, Grace.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Grace’s voice rose above the other, watery noises of the dream: the television, the clanking pipes, and some vague, aggressive music. ‘I just mean I want us to get along. And I just want to do the right thing.’
Elsie frowned, her attractive features momentarily crushed. ‘I don’t even know what that means. I don’t know why you can’t just talk to me properly instead of speaking in riddles.’
Grace stayed furiously silent, a black tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away savagely. ‘I just sometimes worry about what’s meant to be.’