Falling For You (14 page)

I smile at him, suddenly full of gratitude.

‘I need help,’ I get out, my voice all croaky because it’s something that I wouldn’t normally say. We’ve reached the front door of the house but something makes me hesitate, pushing the key into the front door. I turn to him.

‘I’d appreciate that, if you could all help me … I mean, make some decisions about what to keep and what to give away. Every time I ever thought about it it’s all felt so overwhelming, like I was … I was chucking bits of her away, like I was rejecting something when really all that’s left in there are her
things
…’  Suddenly, unexpectedly, I feel a little liberated though, at the thought. That it might actually be possible to open up that room, let some new air come rushing into it, not to have to worry so much about losing anything precious that might have been left over in there from before, to just … let it all go.

I’m pushing the front door open, relishing the rush of comfortable heat from the house, full of a lovely warm feeling of being included; of being supported,
that I don’t have to do it all on my own
, when I stop.

I’m suddenly aware that something’s wrong.

Something is not the way it should be; like a bone pulled out of its socket, like a note in a beautiful song that is being sung slightly out-of-key;
something’s wrong
.

From here I can see that the door to Mum’s room is already ajar, that’s what it is. How could it be open? I can feel my heart hammering faster in my chest.
Who
could have opened it? Standing there, rooted to the spot I slowly become aware that I can hear voices coming from within, women’s voices. It’s Carlotta and Sam, I know it is. What is going on here?

I didn’t … I look at my uncle in panic. I didn’t mean for anyone to go in and start barging around and interfering in there without me being present.  

‘What are they doing in there?’ I grab at my uncle’s arm and the distress fluttering in my stomach feels like the half dozen pigeons I once surprised up in our loft, scattered and aimless and shocked. They shouldn’t be in there. We’ve only just spoken about this. Nobody gave them any permission yet …

‘Oh!’ he says, surprised, as his wife comes out holding a can of furniture spray aloft. She’s got a bandanna of some sort wrapped around her head.

‘What are they doing?’ I look at my uncle accusingly.  ‘What on earth do you think you two are doing?’ I swallow, squaring up to my aunt angrily.

‘It’s quite all right, Rose,’ Carlotta misunderstands the shocked look on my face. ‘Your Mrs P had to go. But we’re not above getting down and doing a little bit of dirty work ourselves …’

When I push past her and look inside, there’s already one black bin bag propped up against the wall beside the door, jammed so full that its contents are half spilling out. Samantha looks up guiltily, about to cram in Mum’s
besom
- which she’s just sapped in two, to make it fit inside the bin bag. I walk over slowly, my legs feeling strangely heavy. I pick up one end of the black bag and give it a little shake so I can see what else they’ve dumped. The sight makes my eyes water.  All Mum’s beautiful candles have been tipped in there, too. Her books. Her crystals. Her incense sticks,
everything …
    

‘I thought it was quite obvious that this is where you’d have to put us up,’ Carlotta pushes her bandanna back a little and a coiffeured curl falls forward. ‘So I thought I’d better make a start.’   

A painful lump arises in my throat and for the moment I can’t speak. I can’t even say a word. Even from here I can see another cardboard box full of broken bits, those look like Mum’s porcelain animals, so many of her things, the very things he just promised me they’d be careful with.

‘You weren’t supposed to do this,’ I put my hand over my mouth. ‘… come in here without me. You weren’t supposed to chuck anything way.
These are Mum’s things.’

‘Rose?’ Carlotta looks a little bemused at how upset I am. ‘Well. We haven’t actually chucked anything out. We used the black bags because we didn’t have anywhere else to put them but
... most of those animals in the box had little chips in them. Everyone knows chips breed germs …’

Right now I’ve got the same searing feeling in my belly as if I’d walked in to find burglars had turned the place upside down. The room has been tarnished, somehow, invaded. They didn’t have any right to come in here and just fumigate the place for their own use; how could they?

‘Quite unhygienic, to be honest.’ Carlotta looks down at the brush and dustpan in her other hand. She looks a little cowed. ‘I thought we’d be doing you a favour, Rose.’

‘This room is never opened,’ I get out. ‘We keep it closed, we keep it … special, to her memory.’

Carlotta exchanges a defensive look with my
u
ncle.

‘Your Mrs P told us this place had been closed up since your mother passed away?’

‘That’s right.’   

‘
Someone
has been in here, though. There were dust trails all over the table. New ones,’ she turns to Uncle Ty. ‘Someone’s been in here recently.’

I don’t answer that.

‘I thought maybe … it would be easier for you if someone else did all the clearing-out work in here. You could give this room a whole fresh start. Unless, of course,’ she looks up at me through her mascara-thickened lashes and, even though her tone is neutral, almost contrite, there’s the tiniest spark of challenge in her eyes, ‘you’re already using it yourself from time to time?’  I can almost feel my uncle’s intake of breath behind me at that.

Using it for Wicca
, she means, even though she hasn’t said that. It’s what they’re all thinking.

‘You’re not, are you, Rose?’ Ty has taken my arm and turned me to look at him and in the panic and distress in his eyes I see a whole host of unsaid, unsayable fears rise up to the surface like bubbles in a tall-stemmed glass. It is as if he fears, for one split second, that all the secret worries the Clare family harbour about me, Isla’s daughter, might have some foundation after all.  

But they needn’t worry about that.

I shake his hand off my arm. There are other things they should be worrying about. Like preserving other people’s dignity, like being careful with other people’s memories, which is what Uncle promised me they would be if I let them use the room. 

But they aren’t careful people, are they? They won’t be careful with our hearts, with what Mum’s belongings mean to us. And they won’t -  I run up the stairs, so they can’t see the stupid tears of disappointment that have sprung into my eyes - they won’t be careful with my dad either, if ever they’re left to be in charge of him.

I need to be honest with myself about that much.

Christmas Day

‘Pass the gravy boat, will you Isla dear?’ The second time Dad says it I almost choke on my over-cooked turkey. Carlotta puts the gravy boat down and looks over at me with a tight little smile.

‘I don’t really look like your mum, do I?’

‘Of course you don’t.’ Ty rallies round. ‘It was a mistake, darling. He’s probably reminiscing on Christmases past, eh Jack?’ 

‘Here you go, Dad.’ I snatch up the gravy boat and pour it for him myself, acutely conscious of the fact that his hands are trembling. I saw it when he raised his wine glass earlier. I’m pretty sure Ty noticed it too, even though he hasn’t said anything.

‘I’ll have a bit more too. It’s delicious, Carlotta,’ I make a point of commenting. ‘You’ve done a great job with the meal.’  Carlotta adjusts her orange paper hat and acknowledges the compliment with a small nod. The fact is, she
has
done a great job.  Okay, so some of the vegetables got burned to a crisp, and two of dad’s special wine glasses got smashed when they were taking them out of the cupboard earlier. She’s still managed to pull off a feast.

‘This
is
almost like the old days,’ I agree with Ty, getting caught up in a sudden shot of nostalgia. ‘When we used to have a proper Christmas. When Mum was still with us.’ When I look around the table, everything looks so festive and special. I showed Sam earlier how we used to adorn the table with berries and white paper flowers and I have to admit - even with the limited resources we had available - we’ve all done a pretty good job. I made a point when I got up this morning of putting Mum’s room right out of my mind. What’s done is done and I need to move on past all that now. Seeing all Mum’s things in binbags yesterday was hurtful, yes, but I have to believe they didn’t mean any harm.  Dad smiles at his brother suddenly, reading out a really corny joke from one of the Christmas crackers and they both laugh loudly. I tuck in, enjoying the meal. It’s
good
to have the family round, I think. If only this kind of get-together could happen more often ...

‘So. Did you used to celebrate Christmas like this before then - with all the trimmings?’ Carlotta queries innocently now. ‘With Isla being a pagan, I mean?’

I look up at her in surprise.

‘Course they did, Carlotta. Jack’s not pagan and neither is Rose,’ Ty reminds her. She already knows this.

‘You’ve always sent us Christmas cards, haven’t you?’ I lean over and adjust Dad’s plate now so it’s a bit nearer to the edge of the table. He’s un-coordinated today, seems to be having a bit of trouble with his knife. I see from my aunt’s expression that this hasn’t missed her scrutiny, either. She doesn’t comment, though.

‘Well yes,’ Carlotta wipes delicately around her mouth with a napkin. ‘I thought it best to err on the side of caution ...’

‘And you
do
know Christmas is based on an old pagan festival anyway, Mum,’ Sam pipes up. Carlotta gives her daughter a withering look.

‘You don’t normally put so much salt in it though, dear.’ Dad pulls a sudden face as he tastes the gravy. He puts his fork abruptly back down on his plate and Ty leans in towards me a little, muttering in my ear now.

‘He
is
all right, isn’t he?’

‘Sure.’ We both know that Dad has never tasted Carlotta’s gravy before and this is another reference to Isla ...

‘It’s just that Jack seems a little more distracted today than I remember seeing him before.’

‘You don’t see him all that often,’ I counteract. Ty shrugs, acknowledging that, and moves back towards his own seat. It’s only been forty-eight hours since Dad took his last red tablet, I think uneasily. Despite my protestation, Ty is right. Dad isn’t quite himself today. It can’t be
that
, can it?  The more I dwell on it, the more the thought grows worryingly large in my mind.  If it’s lack of medication that is causing this, then things are only going to get worse and every single time I look at Carlotta, her eyes are always on my dad. She’s going to notice something’s up. They’re already noticing.

It’s gone uncomfortably quiet at the dinner table suddenly. Then I add; ‘I guess we’re not much used to having company anymore. It’s all a bit overwhelming, that’s all.’

‘I imagine it must be,’ Carlota muses. She’s sounding faintly hurt. ‘We’re not where
we
expected to be, either, Rose.’ She makes a sudden move to start clearing some of the finished plates away.

‘I’ll get those in a minute. You’ve done quite enough already and we do appreciate it,’ I soothe. ‘I can imagine it would have been an easier Christmas for you if you’d made it to Guiliana’s
...’ My aunt sighs quietly, and I’m reminded that for all the show they’re putting on, spending Christmas stuck out here in the sticks here with me and Dad was never their first option. It never will be. ‘Maybe next year, eh?’

‘I haven’t quite given all hopes up for this year
yet,
Rose.’ I don’t answer her. If she hasn’t looked out of the window so far this morning then I won’t burst her bubble. Maybe Guiliana’s is a several-day long event?  ‘On the other hand, I can’t help but feel it’s not an entirely bad thing that we’ve been diverted up here?’ she adds unexpectedly. I see my cousin’s eyes open wide in surprise.

‘Not at all,’ I agree heartily. I spear the last roast potato on my plate.

‘I’ll be honest, Rose,’ she looks at me candidly. ‘It’s been in my mind for quite a while now that we Clares should be taking a keener interest in yours and Jack’s affairs.’ My uncle shifts uncomfortably in his seat and my stomach does a sudden flip. I swallow the potato in my mouth down in one go. Has he told her about our conversation in the log shed yesterday, or hasn’t he? I can’t believe they’d have had much chance to discuss it yet, even if he’d brought it up. From the discomfort on his face, I’d say he has not.

‘Hear, hear,’ Ty says. He holds his wine glass aloft suddenly, as if keen to cut across whatever it is he fears she might be coming to. ‘Salut, everyone! And you’re right, Lottie. Now that we’re all spending this happy time together, I intend for us to keep up the momentum in the New Year.’    

‘Salut!’ we all chime. Dad’s drink wobbles so much in its glass as he raises it, I’m amazed there isn’t a third wine glass mishap. Ty takes his wrist and helps his brother place the glass safely back on the table.   

‘Exactly,’ she agrees. ‘And if Jack’s condition is deteriorating then it’s important we all keep abreast of it.’ Ty shoots her a warning look, but Dad seems oblivious. He’s back shuffling through the jokes again, his got a little pile in front of him that he’s gathered from the rest of the table.

‘He’s not deteriorating,’ I say in a quiet voice. Something about their demeanour seems to have knocked all the stuffing out of me. I stand up now, and start to collect the plates. Dad clearly isn’t keen on eating any more of his
with all that salty gravy.
If we can only get Christmas pud over and done with, without any more ‘Isla’ comments, I think with a sudden urgency, then I’ll get him in front of the telly with a glass of port. With any luck he’ll doze off this afternoon before we can have any more gaffes. It’s not his fault, of course. It is mine. I’m the one who should have remembered the tablets and I didn’t. Now I just have to live with the consequences. I’m not too sure about Carlotta’s sudden interest in our affairs, either. If she were a different person, I might be welcoming her concern. Even Ty knows she’s not going to take too kindly to the suggestion I put to him yesterday. That’s why he’s got to wait for the right moment to bring it up, I’m guessing. Dad’s odd behaviour today isn’t helping our cause, either.    

By the time I get round to Carlotta’s side of the table I’ve already made the decision that it’s best to come clean with them.  It’s only fair I should let them know that Dad isn’t always this discombobulated.

‘He’s not deteriorating.’ I repeat, as I come up alongside my aunt. ‘What you’re picking up on is because he’s missing one of his medications, today. The doctor warned me they’d go straight out of his bloodstream if he didn’t take them.’ I blurt out. ‘They help with his mood and his co-ordination and a few other things.’

‘But - how could that have happened?’ Carlotta comes straight out and asks. ‘What do you mean he’s
missing
them?’ For a moment I just stand there, feeling caught out. I can feel the plates piled high wobbling in my arms.

‘We’ve run out of them,’ I admit. I make to move on with the plates but her next words, addressed as much to my uncle as to me, stop me in my tracks.

‘How, though? Didn’t they have any at the pharmacy?’
She looks deeply concerned at the thought.

‘No, they
had
them.’ I feel my face going a little pink. I know where this is going. Mrs P told
me she
overheard Carlotta hinting yesterday that the place was looking run-down and we weren’t ‘coping’ and didn’t she? ‘We just - somehow - never picked them up.’

There’s a stunned silence while she and my uncle take in this piece of information.

‘Has this ever happened before, Rose?’

‘No, of course not ...’ I begin. ‘I know I haven’t had my eye on the ball as much as usual.  I’ve just had the most stressful week ever waiting for my Uni offer letter and Mrs P’s daughter is about to have her first baby which is probably why
she
forgot …’

‘She forgot.’ Carlotta nods, her face very serious. ‘And you didn’t remember either? And now we’re looking at going through the whole Christmas period with poor Jack not able to access the medicines he needs?’

‘I’ve done what I can to put it right,’ I assure her and Ty. ‘I spoke to the locum and he’s opening the dispensary specially. He’s agreed to take the tablets to a half-way point where I can collect them.’

‘You
will
, Rose?’ She pulls a surprised face. ‘How? Who’s going to drive you?’

‘No one.’

‘You won’t be able to get there then, will you?’

‘Actually I was planning on …’

 ‘It’s perfectly all right, Rose, you don’t have to explain.’ My aunt’s eyes are suddenly open, earnest, trying to persuade my
u
ncle of something it now seems obvious they must have been speaking about earlier. ‘It’s too much to expect a girl of her age to be on top of all of this, Ty. Even with that home-help of theirs ... ‘

‘I’m sure they do their best,’ he says quietly. He folds his napkin neatly on the table in front of him, smoothing it over with his long fingers and it’s clear he’s not comfortable. But Carlotta is muttering louder than she thinks about how Jack really needs ‘responsible adult’ supervision, and how forgetting his medicine ‘is not an option’. I can’t hear what Ty’s murmuring in reply. She takes in a deep breath suddenly.

‘I think you need to be
realistic
, Rose,’ my aunt tackles me now, a sudden purpose in her voice.

‘What do you mean, ‘realistic’?’ I look towards my uncle for support but he is focused on his wife, he doesn’t look at me. From the glance they exchange now I get the feeling this conversation has suddenly turned in a different direction altogether.  The plates that I’m holding are starting to feel heavy. I shift the weight of them in my arms.