Текст книги "Lost Girls"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

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Chapter Six

“So, how have you been?”

My therapist always opened our sessions with that question. I pondered the answer, looking across at her seated in her sagging leather armchair, her legs neatly crossed. Margaret Greggs had clear, grey eyes and she always wore brightly coloured blouses.

I told her about being alone for the past couple of days while Matt was in Brighton. I told her something of what happened at the funeral. She nodded occasionally but mostly she just sat there, calm as a Buddha statue, letting the words spill out of me. I normally found this room relaxing but today I could feel myself hunching in my chair and biting at a shred of dry skin on my lip.

“You seem anxious, Maudie. Is there something in particular that’s bothering you?”

I was silent. I had been thinking about mentioning the thin, blonde woman, the woman I’d seen outside the flat.

“You know this room is a safe space, Maudie. There will be no judgement, no pronouncement on you. You can trust me.”

I struggled for a moment and gave in. “I’ve been seeing this – woman,” I began. “I’m not sure – I mean, it’s hard to say–”

“Go on. Take all the time you need.”

“There’s this woman. I keep – seeing her.” I suddenly realised how that sounded. “I don’t mean seeing her. I mean–” I stopped for a moment, flustered. “I don’t mean seeing her as in sleeping with her, or anything. I’m not sexually seeing her. I mean–” I stopped and took a deep breath. “I mean, I’ve been really seeing her. I look, and she’s there. You know.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows encouragingly. “How do you mean, Maudie?”

I swallowed. “I actually see her. In real life. Oh God, I’m not explaining this very well. I mean, I suppose, that I keep noticing this woman. She keeps – turning up. Outside my flat.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Well, she has once,” I said. “I mean, I’ve seen her once.” I was floundering a little. It all sounded so insignificant. Would I be able to convey to Margaret just how frightened it made me feel?

“It’s just – it’s that – I’m not sure if she exists or not.”

There was a moment’s silence. I replayed the conversation in my head and clenched my teeth. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve seen her standing in the street. And – oh, I don’t know – it’s as if she... hates me – or something. Some really strong emotion. She has this intense stare.”

Margaret said nothing. She sat there, inscrutable in her shabby chair, fixing me with her gaze, nodding slightly every time I paused.

“I thought I saw her at the funeral, but I didn’t – I thought it was someone else but actually, it was me–”

Margaret held up a hand. “Sorry, Maudie, could you repeat that? I don’t quite understand.”

I told her about the mirror mix-up, smiling as though it was a mildly funny anecdote. She didn’t smile, just gave me a crisp nod.

“Then I had a bad dream a few nights later, at home, and got up to get myself a drink of water. I saw her in the street – I mean, I saw her really for the first time. She was looking up at the flat, staring right at me.”

Margaret frowned. “And do you think she wasn’t really there?”

I chewed my bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“And you haven’t seen this woman since?”

“No. Although I keep thinking I see a flash of blonde hair and tense up, thinking it’s her.”

“You don’t know who this woman is? Until recently, you’ve never seen her before?”

“No.”

“So you have no idea who she is?”

I looked down at my hands. Somewhere deep inside me, I wanted to answer in the affirmative. I couldn’t bring myself to do so. That would mean acknowledging what I knew to be impossible.

“No,” I said, again.

There was a short silence. I looked down at my hands, noting I’d chewed most of the polish from my nails.

“Do you have any thoughts?” I said, quietly, not sure whether I wanted an answer.

Margaret put a hand up to her face, rubbing a finger along her jaw bone. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I have to say this is a bit odd, Maudie. Now–” she held up a hand as I looked up in panic. “Now, I’m not saying there’s anything to be worried about. But, I have to be honest, I would be easier in my mind if you could confirm that someone else had also seen her. Although I’m sure there is a perfectly rational explanation.”

I nodded, miserably.

“But,” said Margaret, “I also think we need to ask ourselves the question that doesn’t seem to have occurred to you, just yet.”

“What’s that?” I whispered.

She smiled at me, kindly. “Well, what is it that she wants? Why does she keep appearing?”

I could feel my eyes widening.

Margaret went on. “Had you thought of that?”

I shook my head.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s probably something perfectly explainable. I think you need to ask her what she wants.”

“But–” I struggled to find the words. “What if – what if I never see her again?”

“Do you think that’s likely?”

I thought for a moment and shook my head. “No,” I said.

Margaret brushed a lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Maudie, what do you think of the woman? What are your real feelings? How does she make you feel?”

I gnawed at my thumbnail, realised I was doing it and put my hand back down in my lap.

“Scared. She makes me feel scared.” I thought some more. “And guilty. And I don’t know why I feel guilty, except that’s my sort of default setting.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I looked at her quickly. “You know why.”

“Jessica?”

I nodded.

I took a taxi home from Margaret’s house. I couldn’t face the streets full of people, or any form of public transport, although she only lived a mile or so from my flat. I always emerged from a session feeling as though I were missing a layer of skin; I felt peeled, my nerve endings exposed to the outside air. And I was always cold, huddling myself into the taxi seat, my arms and legs crossed and hugged together for warmth.

I asked the taxi driver to drop me off at the end of the street. I needed to pick up a few things from the corner shop.

As I walked back along the street, I looked towards the flats, to the car park at the side of the building, hoping to see Matt’s car parked there but not really expecting it – I knew he probably wouldn’t be home until much later. His car wasn’t there. I sighed inwardly and looked towards the entrance to the flats and as I did so, a tall figure in a long black coat came out of the doorway. Their back was towards me but flowing over the collar of the black coat was a fall of bright blonde hair.

I felt my heart begin a fast and painful thudding. Laden as I was with carrier bags, I began to walk faster, then faster still. The blonde figure was walking quite slowly towards the pedestrian crossing at the other end of the street. I put on a final burst of speed and caught up.

I heard my voice say ‘excuse me’ in a high, breathless gasp but before the figure could react I saw my hand go out, the heavy bag swinging from my wrist. I grabbed at an arm, quickly and roughly.

The person I’d accosted gasped and spun round. Facing me, thinly plucked eyebrows raised high, was the face of a stranger, a middle-aged woman. I released my grip, stuttering out an apology. Close to, I could see the greying roots of her bleached hair.

“What is it? What do you want?” she demanded

“I’m sorry,” I said again. The carrier bags dragged painfully on my wrists. “I’m sorry – I thought you were someone else.”

I stepped back and one of the bags broke. A bottle of wine fell to the ground and smashed; a small tidal wave of merlot flowed like blood over the concrete. I let out a cry. The woman looked at me and looked at the wine that had just splashed her shoes and her face twisted in something that was almost disgust. She shook her head and walked away quickly.

I hurried back to the flat, holding the remaining carrier bag close to my chest. I was shaking. I pictured the wine puddled on the pavement, little rivulets running into the gutter. I had picked up the pieces of the bottle as best I could and cut my finger in the process. I was a mess.

Where was Matt? I missed him as much as I had ever missed him. I turned the heating on high, put on some classical music, lit some candles. I opened one of the remaining bottles of red wine and drank the first glass down quickly, wanting the anaesthesia. I needed to feel safe.

Matt returned home an hour later and I felt a rush of relief at the sound of his key in the lock.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, throwing my arms around him a minute later.

“I’ve missed you too.” He gave me a squeeze and his hands slipped down my arms to take mine. I winced and pulled away as my sore finger was touched.

He kissed my finger gently. “There. All better now?”

I laughed. “Yes, thanks.”

He went to the drinks cabinet and rooted about inside. He was wearing his tweed jacket and, for once, a tie with his shirt. “Could I have one of those?”

“Aren’t you already on the vino?”

“Yes,” I said and fiddled with the controls of the stereo, turning away slightly. I didn’t want to tell him I’d almost finished the bottle. “I just fancied a whisky, that’s all.”

He handed me my drink and sat down on the sofa with a long sigh of exhaustion, dropping his head back. I hesitated and then sat next to him. I told him about Becca coming for dinner, about seeing my therapist, about the new film I’d watched the other night on my own. I didn’t tell him about the blonde woman. Perhaps I should have, but I so wanted him to think of me as stable, and capable; not someone to be pitied.

“How was your session with Margaret?” he asked. “Do you think that new thing she’s got you on is doing any good?”

I picked up the TV remote and tapped it against my palm. It always made me awkward when Matt and I talked about my medication. I wanted to forget that I took pills.

“I think so,” I said, not really caring whether it was true or not. “I feel fine, anyway.”

“Don’t do that,” Matt said, taking the remote away from me.

“Sorry.”

For a moment there was just the sound of a violin concerto coming softly from the stereo in the corner.

“So how was the conference?” I asked.

“Oh fine,” said Matt, “Some quite exciting lectures, actually. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Great,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He had closed his eyes while he was speaking and I took the opportunity to study him. He really did look tired, his skin dull and papery. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, visible even behind his foggy glasses.

“Oh, by the way,” said Matt, opening his eyes. I leaned forward, smiling, eager. “Did you call the solicitor?”

“The solicitor?”

“Mr. Fenwick, darling... Did you call him like I asked you to? We were supposed to contact him to discuss the estate and so forth, this week.”

“We were?” I said, blankly.

“Yes, I asked you to do it before I left. When we were having dinner. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” I said, feeling guilty. Not only had I forgotten to do what I was asked, I’d forgotten Matt even asking me to. I must have been more pissed than I realised.

Matt frowned. “But I asked you specially. I distinctly remember asking you. You really can’t remember?”

“No,” I said. “Sorry. I’ve–”

“You’ve what?”

I reached for the whisky bottle again and topped up my drink.

“I’ve had a lot of my mind lately,” I said. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” said Matt, “It just worries me how much you forget things, that’s all. It really does. I can’t believe anyone can be so absent-minded.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll phone him first thing tomorrow, I promise I will.”

Matt sighed. “Oh, I shouldn’t be so hard on you,” he said, reaching out his arms. I settled gratefully into them. “You’ve had a tough time of it lately, God knows.”

That was when I should have told him. I should have confessed my worries, my anxiety that I was slipping. I didn’t. He began to kiss me and, with relief, I kissed him back.

Chapter Seven

I asked Matt to marry me on Boxing Day, six months after we met. It came as something of a surprise to me, as well as to him, but it wasn’t the first time I’d done something life-changing on impulse.

We were walking in the garden at Caernaven, trying to work off some of the Christmas dinner of the day before. Our breath steamed away before us; the ground was brittle with frost. The sky was grey and low and as we walked, and I watched a solitary crow flap across the clouds, a little moving inkblot against the dirty white sky.

“Oh, the fish pond’s frozen,” I said, as we turned the corner of the walk and came back onto the terrace. “We’ll have to pour some boiling water on the ice so the fish can breathe.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to smash it?” said Matt, who was stamping his feet and blowing into his cupped, gloved hands.

“No, the shock waves can kill them,” I said, happy to tell him something he didn’t know. We both looked at the frozen water, grey ripples of ice powdered with a dusting of snow. A blackened water lily leaf protruded from the surface.

“Come on,” I said, somehow saddened by the sight.

“Your whole childhood is here, isn’t it?” said Matt as we walked away.

“I suppose so.”

Cornwall came into my mind. Eight weeks out of a lifetime spent there, just two short months, and yet it had affected the rest of my life... I wasn’t going to tell him that yet, though. Suddenly it came to me that I would be able to tell him one day; that I would be able to tell him everything about me, and be comfortable doing it. I stared at him as we trudged through the frosty grass, dazzled by the realisation. As I had this revelation, my path forward became clear. I wanted that one day to be this day. I wanted our future together to start right now.

“Matt, will you marry me?“

The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to laugh, they sounded so silly. Matt stopped walking.

“What?” he said.

I cleared my throat and asked again.

“Are you being serious?” he said. He’d turned to face me fully; his eyes were darting from all over my face, trying to read my expression. He was trying to spot the hidden smirk, the inward smile that would signal to him I was joking.

“I’m not joking,” I said. “I’d like to marry you. Would you like to marry me?”

I think it started sinking in then. He put a gloved hand up to his mouth and I saw his breath huff out in a surprised cloud.

“You are serious.” A smile started to break through on his face. “My God.”

“So what’s your answer?”

I felt irresistibly light hearted, all of a sudden, nothing like the solemnity the occasion was supposed to provoke.

Matt started to laugh. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

I began to laugh too. We didn’t touch each other, not then; we just stood there, laughing at each other’s expressions, our high spirits visible on the frosty air as smoky white clouds. Despite the cold, I had warmth blooming within me, as if a giant sunflower had spread its yellow petals in my chest. I was going to marry Matt. I felt light-headed, oddly dreamlike.

We carried on walking, holding hands. Every so often a giggle would bubble out of me. Matt kept glancing sideways at me, half incredulous.

“I keep thinking you’re going to say ‘got you!’” he said. “And it’ll all have been a hilarious joke.”

I turned to him and put my gloved hands up to his face. The pale winter light bleached out his skin, removing the crows’ feet from the corners of his eyes. His stubble looked very dark; I could feel it catch on the wool of my gloves.

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” I said.

He kissed me and then drew back. “Aren’t I supposed to ask your father for your hand in marriage, or something?”

I’d been smiling and, at his words, I could feel the smile die on my face. I hadn’t thought of Angus once since I’d asked my question; a small miracle. Was I scared of Angus’s reaction? I wasn’t scared of him, I decided, I just couldn’t stand his relentless negativity. I just knew he wouldn’t approve of what I’d done. Maybe – and this was another thought I pushed away as soon as I’d had it – maybe that was why I’d done it.

“Oh, don’t worry about that nonsense,” I said as carelessly as possible. “I’m a modern girl, I’ll go and ask him. Tell him, I mean.”

Matt looked uncertain. “If you’re sure–”

I nodded and took his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’ll all be fine. Leave it to me.”

Angus was in the sitting room, in his usual chair by the fire. The door was fully open. I paused in the hallway, out of his line of sight. Matt stood beside me and I turned and whispered to him to leave me.

“Are you sure?” he asked. I nodded. He walked away and I watched his long, flat back disappear around the turn of the staircase. Then I took a deep breath, and knocked on the open door.

He looked up from his paper. I had a smile on my face that at once felt forced and over-bright.

“Maudie,” he said, nothing more than an acknowledgement.

I remembered him sitting by the side of my bed, during the bad time. The bedclothes were tight about me; I couldn’t move my arms properly. He said something to me; what was it, now? You’re all I have. That sounded like something born out of love, but was it? Perhaps what he meant was that I wasn’t enough.

“Angus,” I said, hesitantly.

“What is it?”

I stepped forward and warmed my hands at the fire so I didn’t have to look at him directly. All of a sudden I was quaking.

I took a deep breath. Angus had put down his paper and was looking directly at me.

“Maudie?”

I forced a smile on my face as I turned to face him. “I’ve got some wonderful news. Matt and I–” my throat closed up suddenly and I couldn’t finish. I coughed and tried again. “Matt and I are going to be married.”

It still sounded ridiculous. Angus was very still.

“Is that so?”

I nodded, again unable to speak. There was a long moment of silence, but I kept the smile on my face. After a while, my cheeks began to ache.

Angus still said nothing. His hard grey eyes were fixed on my face, his gaze pinned to mine.

“Aren’t you pleased?” I asked, immediately cringing. Why had I said that? Why did I say things like that, why did I ask, when I knew the answer was never, ever what I wanted to hear? Why did I lay myself open, scraping and bowing for his approval, when it never, ever came?

There was another moment’s silence. “I assume by your demeanour,” he said, “that you’ve replied in the affirmative?”

He didn’t need to know that I’d actually asked Matt, rather than the other way round. I could just imagine his incredulity at the idea. I made a mental note to warn Matt not to say anything.

“Yes,” I said. Courage came to me from somewhere. “And I’m very happy about it.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said, in a neutral tone. At long last he moved his eyes from my face to look at the fire and I felt as if two long sharp pins had been removed from my face.

I floundered for something else to say, to fill up the silence. “We haven’t set a date yet. Or where it’s going to be, or anything really. I don’t know exactly what you’re supposed to do first – do you have to register something? Or fill in a form? It’s all new to me, I haven’t a clue what you’re supposed to do.”

Angus picked up the fire tongs and added another log to the fire. Sparks flowered out of the glowing coals in the grate.

“I assume,” he said. “That you’ve already spoken about a pre-nup?”

I’d been watching the fire, half-hypnotised by the flames and didn’t hear him properly. Or, if I did, I didn’t understand him.

“Sorry?”

“A pre-nuptial agreement,” said Angus. “I assume you and Matthew have already spoken about one?”

“No,” I said blankly.

“If you haven’t mentioned it to him already, that’s the very next conversation you should have.”

I hesitated. I began to feel that familiar flutter of confusion, of not knowing the right thing to say. I knew I must have had that look on my face, the look that drove Angus’s voice to sharper, louder depths.

“Maudie, you must have thought about it. How could you not have?”

“I don’t – I mean, I hadn’t–” I started to stammer and shut my mouth.

“Maudie,” he sighed, exasperated. “I know you’re old enough to make your own decisions, wrong-headed as they might sometimes be. But I’ll tell you this now, I cannot sanction this marriage, or give it my blessing, unless you promise me to enter into a full and appropriate pre-nuptial agreement with Matthew.”

I stared into the fire. I could feel something, some emotion, begin to swell inside me and I couldn’t work out what it was. I took a deep breath, trying to choke it down. “You’re not serious,” I said.

He continued to look at me. “I am completely serious.”

I laughed a laugh that had no mirth in it. “That’s ridiculous.”

Angus stood up. I took a step back. I knew what I was feeling now; it was anger. My entire neck felt stiff with it.

“Maudie,” said Angus, quietly. “You are my only child. At some point in the future, you will be an extremely wealthy woman. It would be remiss of me not to give you every opportunity of protecting yourself for the future. You’re so naive about the world sometimes – you think you know everything about it, but you don’t.”

The anger had reached my throat, my voice. I couldn’t stop the words coming out. “And what I want doesn’t come into it?” I asked him through a stiff jaw. “Do you actually think I would be stupid enough to marry someone who’s just in it for my money? Do you actually think that little of me?”

“Maudie, listen to me–”

“No, you listen to me! How dare you say that about Matt? Do you think that he thinks like that? Do you think I am some stupid little girl who can’t even be trusted to pick out her own husband? Would you have preferred to get one for me yourself? Or would you prefer that I never had one at all? Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? Why can’t you just admit it?”

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic, for Christ’s sake,” said Angus. The contempt in his voice penetrated the fog surrounding me. I dropped my eyes to the dancing flames of the fire. I had more words inside me, a torrent of them, all the words I’d never said to him before. I put my hands up to my mouth, clamping it shut to stop them flowing out.

Angus sighed and sat back down. His hands fell loosely against the arms of the chair and I noticed for the first time how the bones of his fingers were beginning to protrude through skin growing papery. He’s getting old, I thought. I couldn’t work out if that made me feel better, or worse.

“You’re overwrought,” he said. “There’s no point having this conversation now, you’re not in any sort of mood to listen to me.”

I was shortly going to cry, hard. I had to leave before that happened.

“Just think about what I’ve said,” said Angus. His gaze was fixed on the flames, his body twisted away from mine. “That’s all I ask. Just think about it.”

*

I slept fitfully that night and woke at nine, feeling unrested. I wondered whether Matt had also passed a restless night. Just think, when we were married, we’d be able to share a room here. I missed his solid warmth in the bed. The house had never seemed colder.

After breakfast, I asked Matt to come for a walk with me. I could see by smile that he thought I was taking him somewhere to celebrate properly, although God knows it was far too cold for any kind of alfresco antics.  We pulled on our coats and scarves and walked out into the garden, stepping back over the same ground we’d walked yesterday.

“Maudie?”

I realised I’d been standing still, looking at nothing for nearly a minute. Matt was observing me with a half-smile. His nose and cheeks had pinked in the cold; he looked younger than usual; more carefree, more boyish. Was that because of my proposal? It was a lovely thought, although there was something a little worrying about the fact that his happiness rested so firmly on a decision of mine taken on something of a whim.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was miles away.”

“Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No!” I said, a little too quickly. “Not at all. It’s just that–”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

I stood with my fists clenched for a moment. Then it burst out of me. “My fucking father–”

“Maudie!” said Matt, shocked. “What on Earth–”

“He wants me to have a pre-nup,” I said, talking over him. I clenched my teeth for a second. “It’s such a stupid idea, it’s so insulting, I won’t blame you if you’re furious, I can’t believe he’s making me ask you–”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” said Matt, putting both his hands on my shoulders. He put a finger under my chin and tipped my face up to his. He was frowning, but more in puzzlement than in anger. “Slow down, and tell me from the beginning.”

Falteringly, I summarised the conversation of the day before. Again, at moments, a choking anger overwhelmed me. Thanks, Angus, I thought. Thanks for managing to ruin what should be one of the happiest days of my life. If Matt broke off the engagement, would I be able to bear the humiliation? If he does, he’s not the man I thought he was, I told myself, but it didn’t really help.

After I finished speaking, I held my breath and waited for the explosion from Matt.

“Well,” he said, after a moment. “I can’t see that that would be a problem.”

I let out my breath in a gasp. “Oh Matt, really? You don’t mind? You’re not terribly insulted?”

That made him laugh a little. “No, Maudie, I’m not. I can’t believe you’ve got yourself into such a state over this.”

“You’re really okay with it?”

He nodded. Then he pulled me closer and kissed me on my scar. “You idiot,” he said, “You’re so daft, sometimes. You just don’t think about all these practical things, do you?”

“It’s not that–” I began. His words reminded me of what Angus had said. You’re so naive about the world.

“It’s alright,” said Matt. “God, darling, let’s not even think about such awful things as divorce, not today.”

“God, no,” I said, limp with spent emotion. “I don’t care about the stupid thing, it’s just that Angus–” I stopped myself. “It doesn’t mean anything, anyway.” I was babbling a little but mostly out of relief. “Money’s not important, is it, anyway?”

“Of course not,” said Matt.

“It’s all ours to share anyway. And-” I laughed lightly, “I’d never divorce you.”

He pulled me close to him again and kissed me, properly this time. His mouth was warm against my frozen face.

“And I’ll never divorce you either, sweetheart,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s never mention that word again.”

Later that afternoon, I went into the room that contained my mother’s clothes. I found myself at the wardrobe, staring inwards at the racks of garments, her dresses and jackets and coats. I ran my hand along the row of hangers, rattling them against one another on the rail. My hand stopped at the last hanger; my mother’s wedding dress, shrouded in rustling plastic. Slowly, I pulled it towards me and tugged at the zip. The long, silky white folds spilled out over my hands, glossy and cool against my skin.

I lifted the dress out and held it against me. I could never wear it – whilst beautiful, it was so obviously a dress of its time. I would look as if I were on my way to a fancy dress party. I hugged the dress tighter, moving so the slippery folds rippled against me. And I felt again the old, old longing, for a mother I couldn’t remember, for a person I’d never known. She should be here with me right now, laughing over her old wedding dress, talking to me about my own wedding plans. I let the dress slither through my fingers and drop to the ground in a cold puddle of silk. There were tears pressing at the back of my eyes.

Chin up, Maudie. Be happy. Matt will be your husband. Be thankful for that. I told myself all these things, as I put the dress back into its bag on the hanger and replaced it in the wardrobe, before I left the room to join my family, the two of them, the old and the new.