by Nina Manning
‘Helen.’ Ava sounded like a robot.
‘Oh, Helen, that was it.’ Josephine clapped her hands. ‘An absolute angel. You remembered Helen, but do you remember the birth of your eldest?’
Ava held a steely glare. ‘My eldest?’
I detected a small, hateful laugh imbedded in Ava’s comment.
‘Yes, dear, Caitlin, she is your eldest child. You have two others, Troy and Abel. Have you been on the brandy this afternoon?’ Josephine laughed loudly this time.
Caitlin’s dress crinkled next to me. I turned to see beads of sweat creeping across her forehead. I wondered if she would change before we went outside. Maxwell cleared his throat. Ava looked down at her little cake plate.
‘Well, anyway,’ Josephine continued a little more sombrely. ‘You’ve had us at your beck and call ever since, my dear. And what a delight you are.’
Caitlin smiled. ‘Thanks, Granny.’
‘One of a kind,’ Josephine added quietly.
I heard Ava draw her breath in deeply and let it out in a staggered flow. She was wringing her hands.
‘Shame the boys couldn’t be here – they would have loved this little lot,’ Beverly said as she arrived back in the dining room. I felt the atmosphere lift a little. She came with a few more plates of cakes and sandwiches, which she placed around Josephine’s handwork.
‘Troy and Abel are having a perfectly lovely time with Natalie, so we can have a civilised time with our big girl.’ Maxwell adjusted his black and white chequered tie and smoothed his brown hair. I noted how he had added a red carnation to his lapel, and I thought it a sweet and subtle gesture. ‘I cannot believe my little girl is twelve. How did that happen? I feel perfectly ancient.’
‘Time flies when I’m with my nanny,’ Caitlin said coldly.
Maxwell cleared his throat and let out a small sniff. ‘Now, Caitlin, you know your mother and I have always done our best for you.’
Caitlin looked awkward and uncomfortable.
Josephine piped up. ‘Natalie is a wonderful nanny. You’re lucky she has stayed with us for so long.’
‘Since I was just a few months old,’ Caitlin said in a copycat voice and looked at me this time. I shifted in my chair, unsure of what to say.
Maxwell leant across the table and patted Caitlin’s hand. I thought about Dad and how he would still lift me up into his arms, even though I was a ‘bleedin’ weight and a half’ and would sit with me, long after Hunter had gone to bed and Mum was sitting watching Coronation Street, and just chat about our days. I don’t think Caitlin had ever experienced that kind of relationship with Maxwell. He seemed like a nice man, quite gentle and kind with his words on the rare occasions that we came into contact with him. But as Maxwell made more references to the marvellous display of cakes and Beverly basked in the compliments, I noted how Ava had grown even more subdued. Her hands were bright red where she had been wringing them. She was looking right past Caitlin, through the window and across the courtyard towards the stables.
‘We will be sure to save some for the little monkeys so they can have their own chaotic tea party without us.’ Maxwell pulled his chin in in that comical way; it made his eyes look as though they were about to pop out of their sockets.
‘It looks lovely, thank you, Beverly,’ Josephine said.
‘Righto, Mr and Mrs Anderton. Can I get you anything else now?’
‘No, Beverly, it looks so splendid. I think we’ll be fit to burst afterwards. Ava? Ava, dear?’
Ava pulled her attention away from the window and looked around the table and then towards her husband. It seemed to take her a few seconds to realise where she was. After a moment, she gave her hands a light clap and held them in front of her for a moment in a prayer style.
‘Oh, yes, yes, a triumph as usual.’ She smiled and looked around the table again. But it was a half-smile, and she only did it with her mouth, not with her eyes, which is how I knew she could not truly mean it.
‘But do you need anything, dear? Beverly was asking.’ Maxwell looked at Ava perplexed.
‘No, no, absolutely not. Just look at this feast,’ Ava said.
‘Exactly what I said.’ Maxwell took his napkin and tucked it into the collar of his shirt.
‘Papa,’ Caitlin said with a shy smirk. She glanced at me awkwardly.
‘What?’ Maxwell said, smiling back at his daughter. ‘I’m not embarrassing you, am I? I don’t wish to spill any egg mayonnaise on my good shirt and tie.’
‘Well, happy birthday, young Caitlin. Enjoy,’ Beverly said and walked away.
In the garden, I could hear the squeals of Troy and Abel as they played in the courtyard, and I thought it a shame that they couldn’t be here with us now, enjoying the food. I knew for a fact their presence would liven things up. But I also knew that was exactly the opposite of what either Maxwell or Ava wanted. Still, I felt very privileged to be attending Caitlin’s birthday tea and to be accepted as part of the family for the day. My mother’s parting words rang in my ears, but if she could see me now, she couldn’t deny that I just seem to fit in with this family.
‘How are you finding living on the estate, Sasha? It must have been terribly boring before our Caitlin arrived.’ Maxwell let out a short, sharp guffaw.
I stopped myself just before a slice of Battenburg made its way to my mouth, talking with my mouth full would have been acceptable at home in the cottage with Mum, Dad and Hunter, but not here.
‘I find it most relaxing,’ I said, my cake hovered above my plate, and then I realised straight away how ridiculous I sounded, even more so when Caitlin’s eyes starting boring into me. But the more time I spent with Josephine Clemonte and the Andertons, the more I felt I wanted to be like them, and so I found that the reply slipped out that way because I wanted it to. I could listen to their voices all day. The way they pronounced their words and constructed their sentences, it was so alien yet so addictive. But Caitlin obviously thought I wasn’t good enough to speak the way she did.
Every now and again, Caitlin would let out a snigger before she took a bite of her sandwich or cake. I stretched my back up against the high-back chair; it was aching and I longed for a slouchy sofa. I had never sat so upright for so long. I felt Caitlin’s leg on mine, giving it a playful kick. I let out a slight snigger, too. Maxwell did a good job of pretending he couldn’t see Caitlin egging me on. Maybe he was giving her some free ground, as it was her birthday, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ava was becoming increasingly agitated.
‘Oh, Caitlin, do stop sniggering – you sound perfectly ridiculous,’ she finally said, her voice high-pitched and strained.
‘If a girl can’t snigger on her birthday, Ava, when can she?’ Maxwell said putting another dainty sandwich on his plate. ‘Tell us, Sasha, how do you like to keep yourself occupied? It must be lonely when Caitlin isn’t here.’ Despite what he had just said, I knew from Maxwell’s tone he was keen for us girls to stop the silliness and conduct ourselves in a more formal manner.
‘Sasha has been most helpful, haven’t you, dear? She loves to feed the hens and makes sure they are all safely tucked up at night.’ Josephine looked at me and smiled. Maxwell nodded encouragingly.
‘I didn’t know you were such a fan of the hens?’ Caitlin said, and there was a distinct hint of sarcasm in her voice. I felt my cheeks blush immediately. I had not told Caitlin about the amount of time I had willingly mucked in with the chickens. I found them interesting little creatures and enjoyed their company, but suddenly hearing and feeling Caitlin’s distaste, I felt silly. It was true that I helped Josephine on a few occasions when Caitlin wasn’t here or when she was having a piano lesson or doing her botanical drawing and I had begun to look forward to seeing them.
‘Well, someone needs to fill your boots when you’re not here, Caity, dear. And I’d say that black one is rather taken with you, Sasha.’ Josephine picked up a sandwich with her bony fingers; she had painted her long nails red for the occasion.
&nbs
p; ‘Very intelligent creatures, hens,’ Maxwell said, and as suspected, a blob of egg mayo slid from his sandwich and ricocheted off his napkin.
‘But they taste delicious too,’ Caitlin sang, and Josephine and Maxwell let out a sigh of agreement. She looked at me. ‘I can wring their necks, you know.’
‘Caitlin. Please,’ Ava spoke quietly.
‘Oh no, dear, it’s a very important skill to have at a such a young age – one cannot get too attached to livestock. I learnt that from my uncle Jeffrey,’ Maxwell countered. ‘He was the one who had the farm, Caitlin, but you probably don’t remember him. Dead now, heart attack. Too young to go, damn shame.’
‘Maxwell, do you have to keep using such vulgarities in front of the children?’ Ava had started to look visibly stressed, and I noticed there was no food on her plate. I helped myself to three sandwiches and some more Battenburg.
‘Darling Ava, I am only emphasising the sadness at the loss of a very dear uncle. Please allow me to express my grief.’ Maxwell leant in and helped himself to more sandwiches.
Ava and Maxwell continued their slightly heated conversation about Maxwell’s use of language as Ava finally became involved in the meal and poured herself some tea, then filled everyone else’s cups, and a low hum of conversation began between the adults.
‘I can show you, if you like?’ Caitlin whispered to me.
‘What?’ I whispered back.
‘The hens, how I wring their necks. When they’re weak or old, that’s the best way for them to go.’
I screwed my face up. ‘Doesn’t sound like a very nice way to go to me.’
‘Well, it’s better than being pecked to death.’
‘Pecked?’
‘Yes. The stronger ones prey on the weaker ones and literally peck them to death. That’s where the phrase pecking order comes from. It’s survival of the fittest, where only the strongest of the species survive.’
Caitlin’s eyes widened, and I felt a weight to her words, as though she was trying to say more. The way she had forced the information on me made my gut twist as if she was wringing it like one of the hens’ necks.
‘What are you girls talking about?’ Maxwell said as he leant over and helped himself to a large slice of Victoria sponge.
Caitlin didn’t wait a beat to reply. ‘I was just telling Sasha that she was doing a superb job with the hens in my absence. Ooh is that Victoria sponge, Papa? May I have some?’
‘For the birthday girl? Anything.’
I watched as Maxwell cut a slice twice as big as his and put it on his daughter’s plate. Then I watched as Caitlin picked it up with her hands and took a mammoth bite. Ava eyed her with clear horror and disgust, but all I could think was how Caitlin had changed what she had said when Maxwell asked about our conversation. I tried to push away the awkward feeling that was swirling in my stomach and just concentrate on the fact that Caitlin had asked me to be here, which must have meant that she liked me enough.
Once we had been excused, we had the rest of the afternoon to ourselves, until Caitlin’s special birthday dinner with Ava, Maxwell and Josephine. I hadn’t been invited to that one, but after the tea, I was really quite full and thankful. The meal had been delicious, but the atmosphere didn’t feel the same as when I sat down with my family. Despite my fascination with the way they presented themselves, it was a relief to be out of the stuffy room that was not only filled with the heat of the afternoon, but with so many unspoken words.
Caitlin and I burst out of the house and into the courtyard like children released from school at break time, and I felt a rush of joy from finishing a formal afternoon tea with Caitlin’s family with barely a hiccup. It felt like such an accomplishment, not so much because I hadn’t ever sat down to a formal tea with anyone before, but because Mum had been so against the idea. Now I could tell her what a success it had been.
Caitlin was instructed not to wander too far as guests could be arriving anytime between now and late this evening. So, we meandered at no great speed towards the main formal garden. At tea, there had been a few outbursts and odd conversational topics from Caitlin, which I put down to overexcitement and all the attention being on her, but now we were outside, I noticed that overall, Caitlin was in an odd mood. As soon as we began walking, I heard Caitlin mutter something. I still hadn’t got used to her doing this and so instinctually I said, ‘Pardon?’ Caitlin looked at me over her shoulder, then turned and carried on walking ahead of me. And suddenly I realised this wasn’t just something that Caitlin did, this was Caitlin. She was a girl who talked to herself. Both Mum and Dad talked to themselves – Mum especially when she was trying to get ready and had a ‘million and bloody one things to think about’. But I tried not to think about how different it felt when I heard Caitlin talking to herself and how it made my tummy squirm and my spine tingle. I knew I needed to stop asking Caitlin to repeat what she’d said when I heard her mutterings because she only ever looked at me blankly as though she had no idea what I was referring to.
We walked through a small gate that led into the Clemontes’ large formal garden. There was a huge lawn, surrounded by flower borders, and at the end of the garden was an outdoor swimming pool. Caitlin was in front of me, still wearing her flamenco dress that looked as though it might pop off her at any moment, and so arrived at the edge of the pool before me. I could still hear her murmuring to herself. Then she got up on her tiptoes, her body leaning into the pool. I looked anxiously towards her, not knowing if I should get any closer or shout to her.
I went to walk towards the pool, but was stopped suddenly by a pair of tanned boots blocking my way. I recognised them immediately and my heart sped up a little and my mouth went dry. I looked up and saw the weathered face of Hackett. He had a large sun hat on and I thought he looked very funny in it. He was also wearing a white vest, streaked with sweat and stains, and there was a strong stench of body odour coming from him. I felt my body flood with adrenaline, and I looked at Caitlin by the edge of the pool; I didn’t know whether it was Caitlin’s precarious perch close to the water or Hackett’s presence that was heightening all of my senses. I could no longer hear Caitlin’s mutterings over the thud of my own heartbeat.
Hackett stared back at me. I knew I could step to my right and walk around him, and that another adult was within shouting distance and that surely here in the gardens where he worked, I was safe, that he couldn’t harm me, but with Caitlin looking as though she might dive head first into the pool, I felt the urge to holler for help. But my mouth was completely dry, and my tongue felt swollen.
I wanted my dad all of sudden, and I was ready to turn and run in the other direction, back to the outbuilding I had seen him in earlier, when I heard the splash I had been fearing. Hackett swung round, and we both saw a flash of red and black disappearing beneath the water. I knew Caitlin would barely be able to use her arms to swim and the number of petticoat layers under the dress meant she would be weighed down in seconds. I felt my heart begin to race and I looked around for help but Hackett was away and at the pool by the time I had processed all these thoughts. He yanked off one boot, falling off balance as he did. Once the second boot was off, he dived in with a kind of grace I hadn’t expected to see from such a large, sturdy man. I ran to the edge of the pool, and seconds later, Hackett was back at the surface with Caitlin’s arms around his neck, her face buried into it.
We sat on the grass, next to the pool, water dripping from Caitlin’s long dark hair.
‘I don’t understand what just happened. Why would you jump into the pool in that dress?’
Caitlin sat very still and I hoped the heat of the afternoon was warming her. I waited for her response. I could see Hackett coming back towards us; he had been into the main house to grab a towel. I noticed he wasn’t followed by either Ava or Maxwell. For whatever reason, Hackett had chosen not to inform them. Or they had chosen not to come.
Just before Hackett arrived next to us, Caitlin turned to me.
‘I
didn’t jump. I was pushed.’
Then she stood up as though nothing had happened and let herself be wrapped in the towel that Hackett had brought out. He gave her arm a few awkward pats.
I thought back to the moment when I saw Caitlin fall into the water. Hackett had been nowhere near her. Then I thought of the mutterings that were coming from Caitlin just before she went into the pool. I felt my spine tingle as my mind raced with thoughts of the dead bodies in the basement and their spirits that could be haunting Saxby. Could a ghost have pushed Caitlin?
The sun was bright and I could have blamed the glare of the low afternoon sun for mistaking her next move, but from the lower corner of my eye, I caught sight of movement beneath the towel and swear I saw Caitlin’s little finger momentarily graze the side of Hackett’s hand. Her body language had shifted, and she seemed to be inching closer to him. My body felt icky and uncomfortable, yet I couldn’t speak to say anything, even though everything about what I was seeing was telling me that there was something not quite right.
‘It’s my birthday today, Hackett, do you remember?’
Hackett scratched his head with the hand that wasn’t close to Caitlin’s.
‘Birthday?’ he spoke. His voice was gruff yet childlike.
When I had asked Mum and Dad about him, Mum had said, ‘He’s what we call a bit special, love. He’s harmless, but don’t bother him too much, okay?’
It was the fact that my mum said I should consider myself when I was around him that bothered me. Back home, I had seen some of the dodgiest characters appear from nowhere, yet not once had my mother told me not to bother someone. I had a strong built-in instinct for when to move away from danger that my parents had instilled in me from an early age, yet here I was, hundreds of miles from where I should have felt real danger, feeling more uneasy than I ever had.