Seeing him in the house would be an ordeal. She didn’t know how to prepare for it. She tried to picture him at the door, in the living room, but the mind’s eye wasn’t working. His image was fixed forever in the dressingtable mirror.
Instead she saw the living room through the eyes of the invader and noticed for the first time how dingy it appeared. She would have been happy to leave it so, but she knew that its look of sad neglect would be seen as her state of mind. People were too much interested in her state of mind. Reluctantly she moved the rug on its frame into the computer room and, feeling aggrieved, she washed, dusted and polished until cedar glowed, glass sparkled and silver shone, too brightly after all for the occasion. All we need now, she told herself sourly, is a nice floral arrangement and WELCOME on the mat.
*
When the doorbell sounded at 8 o’clock precisely, she opened the door to the unexpected sight of a couple engaged in conversation.
It can’t be. It can’t be. The nerve of the woman. The nerve.
Louise turned her untroubled face to Ella and said, ‘Good evening. May we come in?’
The shadow beside her said nothing.
Incapable of speech, Ella stood back and motioned them in with a gesture which, to her annoyance, expressed her helpless dismay.
Before they moved, David and Mary had arrived behind them. He, too, jerked with shock at the sight of Louise.
Someone must speak.
Ella managed to croak, ‘Come in.’
The awkward knot on the threshold was loosened as the first pair walked past her.
David said, ‘We meant to get here earlier.’
‘My fault entirely,’ said Mary. ‘I’m to blame. I had a client on the phone and I couldn’t get away.’
‘Thank you for watching my interests,’ said Ella, almost normally.
‘It’s been a privilege.’
They followed Ella into the living room where the other pair were standing, she with her hand protective on his arm. Ella was pleased to think how that gesture must irk him. She got some satisfaction, too, from the cold, hostile stare which Louise directed at Mary, who met it with an affable smile, then tapped her briefcase and said, ‘Where do I set out my papers?’
‘In the dining room?’
‘Fine.’ She said to David, ‘Principals only?’
He nodded, relieved, and was offering a chair to the baffled Louise as the principals followed Mary into the other room.
So there they were, seated one on each side of her as she read to them from a suitably imposing document the funeral service of their marriage.
Nobody could have devised this misery – not Grape Eyes, she couldn’t have thought it up. Smart as she might be about microbes and such, she could never think up a thing like this. She didn’t know enough about other people’s feelings.
What could he be thinking? Didn’t he have a thought about the first time they had signed their names together? She writing Ella Ferguson, so proud in tulle and white organza, Beryl in apricot – what a fuss there had been about those bridesmaids’ dresses, redheaded Beryl wanting aqua, which made dark Marian look bilious, until she had persuaded them into the apricot that suited them both. So much work and worry had gone into that wedding, it should have lasted a lifetime. She had made a scene about the stupid toy bride and bridegroom on the three-tiered wedding cake, thinking his brilliant friends would laugh at it, though his brilliant friends had been quite an embarrassment, drinking too much and yelling and cheering at the very unsuitable telegrams they had sent. ‘ON, FERGUS, ON’ had been a great success; she hadn’t quite known why. Her uncle had muttered, ‘Medical students. What can you expect?’ and sent the best man to quiet them down. How odd that medical students turned into doctors.
She hadn’t wanted to throw them the garter. She had thrown the bouquet of frangipani and apricot-yellow roses to the spinsters and Marian had caught it – not by arrangement, though Beryl had been suspicious of them. She was standing on the stairs looking down at the rowdy young men, who were shouting, ‘The garter. Throw the garter!’ She had sensed hostility in that shouting, so that she had been quite frightened and had hidden her face as she pulled up the huge ruffled skirt and the starched petticoat – heavens, one showed much more at the beach – had slipped the white satin garter off her leg, tossed it and run, not waiting to see who had caught it. Of course she had been frightened. Sex was the great unknown. No camping trips for her.
Frightened, yet trusting.
Oh God, hold on. Don’t cry. Breathe deep and steady. Tying his tie. Tying his tie. I can be as steady. Please explain the increase. Tying his tie.
The ordeal was nearly over. They had listened, read or seemed to read, signed their names to each document and that was that.
He said, tonelessly, ‘I have here a cheque for your client in complete settlement of all claims.’
Mary handed the cheque to Ella. Reading the amount on it, she thought, ‘No, one wouldn’t feel very sentimental handing that over.’
Then they stood up and walked across the hall into Louise’s living room. It was clear at once from her kindly smile of welcome that she was the hostess. And I polished it up for her, thought Ella in rage. What a fool. What a fool I was.
She sat down before she could be invited and David got up to offer Mary his easy chair.
Louise said sharply, ‘Sit down, Bernard, do,’ then brightly to Mary, ‘All settled then?’
‘Except for the contents of the house. I understand that you have agreed to make an equal division of the contents.’
‘We don’t have to think about that for a long time yet,’ said Louise. She turned to Ella and said earnestly, ‘We’re going abroad next month and we’d be happy to have you occupy the house while we are away. We won’t be moving in until November.’
Ella managed at last to say, ‘Thank you. No.’
‘But truly, you would be doing us a favour. We don’t want the house left empty while we are abroad. It’s an invitation to thieves and vandals. And you would have plenty of time to look for somewhere suitable to live, without wasting money on rent.’ She frowned at Ella. ‘Shouldn’t we be trying to do what is best for everyone?’
Mary broke the silence.
‘There may be other considerations beside the financial.’
‘Well, it’s very awkward. We barely have time – we can’t find a tenant at this late hour. We have to give a month’s grace as it is and we’ll be gone before the month’s up. This is putting us in a very awkward situation.’
What a terrible look David had for his father. Sadness and contempt.
That look must have spurred him to speech.
‘Perhaps Sophie. With a few friends.’
Louise spoke decisively.
‘I wouldn’t care for that.’ She looked around the room, making an inventory. ‘Young people can be very destructive.’
David and Mary looked at her in wonder. The doctor looked at no-one while a blush mounted from his chin to his hairline.
Louise had noticed an unusual quality in the silence.
She amended hastily, ‘Not Sophie’s friends, of course. I’m sure they must be very nice.’
Ella had seen the blush of shame but could take no satisfaction from it because of a hideous sensation which was rising from her chest through her throat growing like a shrub, puckering and distorting her face, reddening her skin and glaring through her eyes. She got up and hurried into the kitchen.
This was madness and all her pathetic little ploys were useless against it. All she could do was hide the grotesque mask it had made of her face.
David followed and found her at the sink, holding a wet teacloth to her face.
‘Mum, I had no idea. I didn’t know he was going to bring her. I thought he … she’s not real, that woman.’
She mumbled through her distorted mouth, ‘It’s all right, dear. Don’t worry.’
‘I’ll get rid of them. Mary might be doing that already. Then we’ll have a cup of coffee or a drink or something.’
From behind the teacloth she mumbled again, ‘David. Would you all go, please? I just want to be by myself for a while. It’s all right, dear. Just go.’
‘Mum, are you blaming me? If I’d known – ’
‘No, dear, no. Of course not. David, please go.’
He put his arms round her and held her for a moment.
‘I’d better look after that cheque. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
As soon as she was alone in the house, the madness walked her upstairs, fetched, packed and closed the suitcase, put the handle in her hand and walked her down again without slackening its hold. Her face was still set rigid. She had not dared to look in a mirror. She had fetched her toothbrush from the rack with her eyes averted.
She cut Becky’s rug from the frame and rolled it round the balls of wool and the hook.
‘I’m never coming back. Never coming here again.’
She carried the bundle out to the car and shut it in the boot.
Then she looked at the car with dread. Could she drive it safely? Could she keep the madness away from the controls?
Someone had said once, carelessly at a party, ‘Drunk driving isn’t so dangerous if you remember that you’re drunk.’ She had to have the car. She must go carefully, mindful at every moment that she wasn’t sane.
Handbag, suitcase, coat. She checked the windows, set deadlatches, put out the lights and shut the house behind her.
She drove slowly and carefully and at the first VACANCY sign turned into a motel on the highway.
The woman at the reception desk looked at her with curiosity, which showed that she had done well to avoid mirrors. She noted that her hand accepting the key was steady but moved slowly, as if she thought the key might burn her. All physical details were important evidence that this was an illness, which would pass. She had learnt that it would pass.
In the strange bedroom she lay down on the bed, thinking, ‘Play possum. Lie doggo. Let the time pass.’ Then suddenly she fell asleep.
The sleep lasted two hours and left her wakeful in a desolating loneliness. She had put her hand out groping for someone. No, not that one. Rob.
That came of waking up in bed with her clothes on. Trick of the mind.
Have no feeling. Play dead. Lie doggo.
She did eventually decide that she could play possum more comfortably in her nightgown, and some unmeasured time later got up and acted on the decision. Once dressed for sleep, she slept again.
By daylight she examined her face. The glare was fading but the muscles were still rigid. It was not yet fit for display.
Fortunately her voice was more manageable than her face. There were two phone calls to navigate, the first to Caroline, since there was no need to convey warmth.
‘It’s Mother here, Caroline.’ Mum was an entity gone for ever. ‘Just letting you know I’ve moved out of the house. I’m staying in a motel at the moment. I’ll let you know when I’ve found a place to live.’
‘You’ve moved out? Isn’t that rather sudden?’
‘I thought it best.’
‘I’m sorry you feel like that about it. I’m sure the offer was kindly meant.’
Caroline no longer troubled to conceal her intimacy with Louise.
Feel nothing. Play dead.
‘You’ll let your father know, will you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be in touch.’
That was that. Easily done.
Minimal human contact: cash from the automatic teller, lunch at a cafeteria, a walk in the Gardens, which proved therapeutic and prepared her for the phone call to David.
‘I’ve moved out of the house. I’m staying in a motel for the moment, while I’m looking for a place.’
‘I’m still kicking myself for letting it happen.’
‘You couldn’t possibly have foreseen it.’ No matter what her face was doing, her voice was behaving well. ‘It made things easier in a way.’
She had borrowed that from Sophie.
Sophie.
‘I can’t get in touch with Sophie. She’ll be ringing home and get no answer. She’ll be worried.’
‘That’ll do her no harm. Let her sweat a bit.’
‘David!’
‘She won’t worry long. She’ll ring us when she has to. What about the furniture and stuff, Mum? You can’t walk away and leave it all.’
‘Nothing. I don’t want anything. Let them have it. I’ll have to move out some personal stuff. I’ll see to it later.’
Her voice was no longer behaving so well.
Though David protested, ‘You have to be practical,’ he let the subject drop.
‘I’ve lodged the cheque, Mum. I got to the bank at lunchtime. Don’t forget, you’re a rich woman now.’
‘Always look on the bright side,’ she said shakily and put down the phone without another word.
She risked dinner at the motel restaurant that night and tried the curative power of a half-bottle of claret.
When she woke next morning, she felt with relief the relaxation of her facial muscles, but the mirror reflected her face pale and puffy, still unfit to be shown to her familiars but normal enough, she thought, to pass with strangers.
After breakfast, she set out to visit estate agents.