Day of the Accident

by Nuala Ellwood

  A chill flutters down my spine as I reach the end of the lane and see the field up ahead. This stretch of land links Ketton House Farm to Larkfields. It was where I used to meet Ben after school and later we would walk across the field to reach the river. I shudder as I remember: two alder trees bending towards each other, the river trickling away.

  Most people would think I was crazy to return to the place that held so many bad memories but Larkfields had always exerted a strange hold over me. When I lived in London the house would return to me in my dreams, like an unfinished puzzle I had to solve. When I saw that it was for sale it felt like fate. We could go back and make everything right again. And for a few years it seemed like we had. Elspeth’s presence at Larkfields turned the bad memories into good. She loved the land around it and claimed it as her own. It was where she felt safest.

  The wind rushes into my face as I reach the field and I take great gulps of it, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. I brush my hair out of my eyes and then I see them again: Elspeth’s stones.

  I crouch down next to the biggest one, running my hand along its rough surface.

  ‘Hello, Edwin,’ I whisper as I settle myself on the grass. ‘What have you been up to today?’

  And then I hear her voice fluttering across the breeze.

  ‘Here lies the body of Sir Edwin Chatto, Gallant Knight of Sussex.’

  My heart freezes as I recognize the line. It was what she would always declare as she reached the meadow and saw the stones. It was as normal to her as saluting the magpie. She’s quiet now, waiting for my response.

  ‘And here,’ I say, wincing as I get to my feet and step across to the smaller stone, ‘is his beloved Lady Vivien, the fairest maiden in all of –’

  I don’t manage to get the word out because there, sitting on top of Lady Vivien’s stone, is Elspeth.

  ‘The fairest maiden in all of Sussex,’ she says, expanding her arms towards the sky. Her purple dress is a wash of colour against the mottled grey stone.

  I step towards her, my hands shaking.

  ‘Elspeth,’ I whisper. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I want to play hide and seek,’ she says, jumping down from the stone. ‘Try and find me.’

  ‘No, Elspeth, come back,’ I call, but she is already making her way down the hill. ‘Please, darling, come back.’

  I go after her, keeping my eyes fixed on the flash of purple as she darts left and right looking for a hiding place, but my legs are too weak, I can’t keep up. When I reach the narrow lane that leads back to Larkfields, I call her name.

  ‘Elspeth. I don’t want to play any more. Please come out.’

  And then I hear it. A scream. Cutting through the air.

  ‘Elspeth, what is it? What’s happened?’

  I pause and listen. The noise comes again, sharper this time.

  ‘Elspeth,’ I cry. ‘It’s okay, darling, Mummy’s here. I’m coming to find you.’

  And then I look up and see a straggly crow perched on a branch in the oak tree above me. It opens its beak and lets out a caw so high-pitched and pitiful it could be mistaken for a child’s cry.

  ‘No,’ I scream up at the bird. ‘No, no, no.’

  22

  There’s a screech of brakes. A door slams and footsteps crunch on gravel. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Hello?’

  Elspeth.

  ‘Can you hear me? Are you okay?’

  I open my eyes, pain ripping through my head and spine.

  ‘Elspeth?’ I whisper. But as the face comes into focus I see that it is not Elspeth, it is a woman; the woman from the house.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she asks, her voice firm and brusque.

  I shake my head and try to get to my feet.

  ‘Hold on,’ she says, keeping her hand on my arm. ‘I need to check that you’re not injured. Goodness, what’s happened to your fingernails?’

  I yank my hand back.

  ‘I was in a car accident. Sorry, I have to go.’

  She stands back as I stagger to my feet. Flashes of white light dance in front of my eyes and I put my hand out to try and steady myself. The woman rushes to my side and takes my arm.

  ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘I’m taking you back into the house. You need to sit down and have a glass of water and I need to check you’re okay.’

  ‘No,’ I say, pushing her hand away. ‘I can’t …’

  ‘Well then, at least let me drive you home,’ she says, gesturing to her car, which is poking out of the driveway, the driver’s door wide open. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Look, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to catch my breath and then I’ll walk back.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that,’ she says firmly. ‘I’m a doctor and I can clearly see that you are in no fit state to walk anywhere. I insist.’

  I glance at the long country lane that leads back to the village. She’s right. I’d never make it, not the way I’m feeling right now. I hate being like this, unable even to help myself.

  ‘Lewes,’ I say, looking down at my feet. ‘I’m staying in Lewes. In this place.’

  I open my bag, take out the crumpled B & B brochure and hand it to her.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ she says, frowning. ‘Now, why don’t you get in the car and I’ll drive you back. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘It’s Maggie Allan,’ I say as I follow her to the car.

  ‘I’m Julia,’ she says, opening the passenger door for me. ‘Julia Mathers.’

  She gestures at me to get in the car. I step forward but as I grab the door my heart lurches in my chest. I’m back at the riverbank, holding on to the car with all my might. I hear screams, desperate screams. It’s Elspeth. She’s trapped.

  Mummy!

  Elspeth. No!

  ‘Maggie?’

  I turn round and as I look at Julia’s concerned face I remember something: a figure in red.

  I close my eyes and try to will the memory back. The car rolling. Elspeth screaming. Turning to cry for help. A flash of red. A figure? Or just my mind playing tricks on me? I shake my head in frustration. The memory had seemed so clear just a moment ago and now it’s gone.

  ‘Maggie? Are you okay?’

  I look up at Julia, another stranger taking pity on me.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say as I get into the car.

  But as we drive away all I can hear is the sound of Elspeth’s screams.

  ‘Is this the place?’

  Julia has stopped the car outside the B & B. I look out of the window and see the stone lions standing guard outside the front door.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, my heart sinking at the thought of returning to that empty room.

  I unclip my seat belt and open the door. I’m about to turn and thank her for the lift when I see that she is getting out of the car.

  ‘I’ll see you in,’ she says, shutting the door and locking it with her electronic fob. ‘You were out cold back there. I want to check that you’re okay before I leave you.’

  ‘There’s no need, honestly, I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Maggie, but I’m a doctor,’ she says as we walk up the path. ‘It’s in my nature.’

  I look at her. There is something in her face that draws me to her. She has kind eyes. I decide to trust her.

  She looks up at the door then turns to me.

  ‘Do we have to knock?’

  ‘No, I’ve got a key,’ I say, taking the bulky set from my pocket.

  I unlock the door and we step into the dark hallway. Thankfully the reception desk is unattended. Mr and Mrs Hutchinson will be having their tea.

  ‘It’s this way.’

  I gesture ahead, and Julia follows me down the narrow corridor to Room 2.

  I open the door and step inside.

  ‘Come in,’ I say, turning to Julia.

  She is standing in the doorway, a strange expression on her face.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ I say, shuffling a
cross to the kitchenette.

  ‘No,’ says Julia. ‘You sit down. I’ll do it.’

  She has a doctor’s voice, calm yet authoritative, and I do as she says. I watch as she boils the kettle and prepares the tea, grimacing at the pots of UHT milk.

  ‘Here you go,’ she says, coming over to where I am sitting on the wicker chair by the window and handing me a mug.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, taking it and wrapping my hands round its warmth.

  She sits down in the chair opposite me, watching as I sip my tea.

  ‘Maggie, I want to apologize,’ she says. ‘For the way I spoke to you at the house. I had no idea that you’d been in an accident. I realize something like that can result in erratic behaviour and … well, if I’d known I’d have been more understanding.’

  I put my mug down on the small coffee table between us then lean forward in my chair.

  ‘I’m really sorry I walked in like that,’ I say, clasping my hands together so tightly my knuckles go white. ‘It was wrong of me. But I came to the house today for a reason.’

  ‘Oh?’ she says. ‘What was the reason?’

  I look down at my fingers, the raw flaky skin where my nails used to be.

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘I wanted to remember,’ I say, my eyes filling with tears.

  And then it all comes out. Waking up to find that Elspeth is dead. That my husband is missing. That the house she is now living in used to be ours. The whole sorry tale. When I finish I look up at Julia and see that the colour has drained from her face.

  ‘Maggie,’ she says, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘I … I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.’

  ‘I thought coming back to Larkfields today would help,’ I say. ‘Thought I might be able to make sense of it all, but it just raised more questions than it answered.’

  ‘I didn’t realize,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘I feel terrible; like I’ve made you homeless.’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ I say. ‘And it’s not your fault. Oh Christ, I don’t care about the house. Nothing matters but Elspeth.’

  I slam my fists on my lap. The room feels like it’s closing in on me.

  ‘I saw her,’ I say, tears clouding my eyes. ‘She was up on the hill by the stones. I know as a doctor you won’t believe in all that stuff but I know my little girl and she was there. She asked me to find her. I’ve been having these strange dreams where she appears and begs me to help her and, you know, I can’t shake the feeling that … oh, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘No, do say.’

  ‘Well, it’s just I don’t feel that she’s dead. Not in here,’ I say, pressing my fist against my stomach. ‘As a mother you always know when your child needs you, when they’re hurt or in danger, and by that reckoning I would feel it if she was dead, I would just know. You may think I’m crazy but, no matter what they’ve told me, I feel like she’s somewhere out there.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ says Julia. ‘You’re processing your loss. It will take time, possibly even years, for you to come to terms with it.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s more than that. Today when I went up to the meadow I saw her by the stones. She was there … right in front of me.’

  ‘Grief can do that,’ says Julia, her voice calm and steady. ‘It’s the brain creating what it wants to see.’

  ‘It was Elspeth,’ I cry. ‘I don’t care if you think I’m mad, I know what I saw.’

  ‘I do understand, Maggie.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ I snap. ‘You could never understand what I’m going through. Have you ever lost a child?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘Of course you haven’t,’ I say, my skin prickling with sudden anger. ‘But that’s all people keep telling me: they understand. The doctors and nurses, the social workers, now you, and I want to scream and yell, no you don’t, you never will.’

  I slump back in the chair, exhausted by my outburst. Julia looks at me for a moment then leans forward, her head to one side.

  ‘You’re right, Maggie, I’ve never lost a child,’ she says. ‘I’ve never been a mum. I’ve never been pregnant and given birth. I have no idea what it’s like to produce another human being, to hold it and nurture it and form an unbreakable bond with it. But I do understand loss of a kind because my mother died when I was a baby.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, wiping my eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘People say to me that it isn’t the same because I never knew her,’ she says, picking at a piece of cotton on the hem of her jacket. ‘That because I never had a relationship with her then I can’t feel her absence as keenly as someone who lost their mum when they were older.’

  I nod my head and imagine for a moment that Elspeth had survived and not me. The hurt she would carry for the rest of her life.

  ‘But it’s always there,’ continues Julia. ‘This mother-shaped hole, this absence. I’ve spent my life craving a mother. To have a relationship like the one Elspeth had with you; I wanted that. I needed that.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. And I mean it. It must have been hell to grow up without a mother.

  ‘Anyway,’ she says, sitting upright in the chair, regaining her composure. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I’m not just spouting platitudes. I do understand a fraction of what you’re going through and, if you’d let me, I’d like to help.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, as I told you, I’m a GP,’ she says. ‘Newly qualified but don’t let that put you off. My practice is here in Lewes, just off the high street. I don’t know where you’re registered at the moment but it would make me feel better – particularly as I’ve effectively made you homeless – if you sign up with me. I’ve had a lot of experience with depression and grief counselling and I think I could help, if you were up for that. But please feel free to say no, I won’t be offended.’

  ‘Oh, Julia,’ I say, sighing. ‘I know you mean well but no amount of talking or counselling is going to bring Elspeth back.’

  ‘That’s true,’ says Julia. ‘But like you said, there was a reason you came to Larkfields today. You wanted to trigger your memories of that night. You wanted to find answers.’

  I nod my head, thinking again about that flash of red, the person standing on the riverbank.

  ‘And your husband? Surely you want to find him?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Well, to do that you need to get better,’ she says. ‘Not just physically but mentally too. Now, where are you registered at the moment?’

  ‘Er … Newhaven.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s a long way to go to see a doctor,’ she says, screwing her face up.

  ‘We rented a place there when we first came to Sussex. We were getting some structural work done on Larkfields,’ I say, remembering those blissful few months in the little flat by the sea, me and Sean and Elspeth. ‘And then we just stayed with the practice once we moved. It wasn’t that far a drive.’

  ‘Yes, but now things are different,’ says Julia. ‘And with your limited mobility you definitely need somewhere closer. Hang on, let me just check something.’

  I watch as she takes her phone out of her bag and scrolls through.

  ‘Yeah,’ she says, looking up. ‘I’m technically not scheduled to start until midday tomorrow but I can book you in as an emergency in the morning. I’ll talk to the receptionist when I get in tomorrow. Shall we say ten thirty?’

  I nod my head. This is all happening so fast but my life since I left the hospital has been one long round of appointments. One more can’t hurt.

  ‘I’ll give you my card,’ says Julia. ‘This has the address on it.’

  She hands me the card and I put it on the table.

  ‘I must say, you’re looking a lot better than you did earlier,’ says Julia, standing up. ‘Your colour’s coming back.’

  She smiles at me and I see that flash of red again. Elspeth screaming. Julia must sense my uneas
e because her smile fades.

  ‘Maggie? What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say, getting up from the chair. ‘Just a twinge in my back, that’s all. I’ll see you out.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Julia. ‘I can take a look at your back tomorrow when you come for the appointment.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say as we walk to the door. ‘And thank you again for driving me home. I do appreciate it though I know I’ve probably messed up your plans for the day.’

  I take the latch off the door and pull it open, the smell of old cooking fat filling the air.

  ‘I was glad to help,’ says Julia, stepping out into the dank hallway. ‘See you at the surgery tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, smiling politely.

  Julia goes to say something but before she gets her words out Mr Hutchinson appears behind her.

  ‘Mrs Allan,’ he snaps, ‘have you read the information pack?’

  I look at him in bewilderment. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  ‘Sorry, I …’ I begin, but he raises his voice over mine.

  ‘It’s specifically stated in the information pack that all visitors must be signed in,’ he says, gesticulating with his hands. ‘If not, I don’t know what kind of characters might be skulking about the place. Rules are rules. I told that social worker of yours that if you didn’t comply you’d be out.’

  ‘Sorry,’ says Julia, turning to face him, her hands on her hips. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Frank Hutchinson,’ he says, standing back. ‘The proprietor of this establishment.’

  ‘Right, well, my name is Dr Julia Mathers,’ she says, her voice reverberating around the narrow hallway. ‘I’m Mrs Allan’s GP and I’ve been here on a scheduled home visit.’

  She is a good five inches taller than him and he seems to cower under her gaze.

  ‘Oh,’ he says, looking at me suspiciously. ‘Well, she should have told me. I don’t feel happy having unauthorized people in here. But as you’re a doctor I’m happy to let this one go.’

  ‘Good,’ says Julia. ‘Mrs Allan has suffered an unimaginable tragedy and is in a physically fragile state. She is staying in your “establishment” for a few days until her new place is ready and you are being paid well for it. So maybe you’ll offer a bit more empathy towards her for the duration of her stay.’