Chapter Twenty-Three

 

“I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE FIONA, AMY ...She seems to be a very nice girl and it should take the strain and help you a lot in your care of Freya. Gerry and I both think she is the best of those we have interviewed.” Anna spoke with enthusiasm, but my heart was low.

“I’m sure you’ve made the right decision Anna,” was all I could say, “I hope she will be very happy here.”

I spoke sorrowfully and hoped that it didn’t show because I knew that I was giving over my charge of little Francesca, who was such a lovely baby to look after and taking on the full responsibility for Freya who was simply ... well, I could not bring myself to utter the word I felt to describe her, but I was indeed very, very sad and Anna didn’t help matters by going on about how she and Gerry were only thinking about me and how they realized what a difficult task it was to care for Freya ...and ... and ... and. ...finishing up by saying she knew I wouldn’t mind ...But I did mind ... It was my pride that wouldn’t allow me to show it.

“I’m alright now that Gerry and I have had a chat,” I lied as I went upstairs to the chamber of horrors ... but I still could not understand myself. I could not understand why I chose to stay to look after that abominable, insolent, insufferable monster whose character I could not; nor never would understand. I disliked her more as each day dawned and I was perplexed at the perversity of her ways. It made me stop to think what Trudie must have been like and I wished I had known more about her. Naturally, I wondered too about the father ...whoever he was ...and the mystery deepened the more I thought about it and meanwhile the wind continued to blow ... and dragged me along with it, wherever it cared to defy the elements.

I compared the hectic state of my existence now to the sense of peace I had experienced ...for a time ... at Bracadale, when I had relished the few moments of privacy when either Freya was asleep, or sitting silently in her wheel chair, where I could enjoy the beauty of the surroundings without interruption. I thought of one evening in particular when I had just bathed Freya and settled her down for the night. It must have been in the first few days of our visit there, when she was reasonably well behaved and I thought things were surely going to change. She settled down without fuss and I sat by the small window in the equally small lounge which also served as a dining room and part kitchen too, listening to the Gaelic singing in the little church nearby and I remember thinking how glad I was to be in that cosy little room as I studied the bleak, blustering wild, cold night outside. The wind was aggressive as it savagely mauled the earth with its insolent energy and I wondered what kind of people would go out of doors on an evening like that to attend a church service. I thought of the piper who had been playing his bagpipes earlier that day on the hill and who had surely by that time, returned to the warmth and comfort of his little croft in the mountains leaving me to the sound of the harsh wind and the faint voices of the faithful who had turned out to sing to their God. How peaceful was that world of mind ... and for so short a time.

The following day I had taken Freya for a stroll down by the sea and I could see the Black Rock outline in the sky as the feathery clouds touched the mountain top, as if to dust it back into a new dawn. I was sad when I looked at Freya ...Sad to think how she missed all this loveliness that was only a stone’s throw away from where she would be sitting and that her small world should be so barren with such breathtaking beauty in the nearby surrounds. I think it was this thought that made me resolve to stay with her for as long as I should be required, regardless of her apparent ingratitude. Bracadale was indeed very beautiful. It made me want to sing ...and when my thoughts returned to Glencara, I would take a long, lingering look at the silvery shimmering sea, glistening in the pale moonlight and my lonely heart yearned to return there ALONE one day ...”

 

***

 

Fiona did indeed turn out to be a very fine person if a little shy and reserved. A typical English rose with peaches and cream skin, blue eyes and a rosebud mouth to complete the picture. Her blonde hair would reach to her waist, but she kept it tied in thick neat plaits around her head and she fitted in extremely well, where she and Aggie got on like a house on fire. .Gerry, at this time, did not purposely try to avoid me, I’m sure ...but neither did he actually seek me out and whenever our paths crossed, he would smile ...almost apologetically, and lower his head. Perhaps that was a German custom. I never could be sure, but he did become much more retired and reticent after his confession ... However, life with Freya continued and never without an event of some kind. She would either be extremely quiet with her large wet eyes following me wherever I went, or in the other extreme ...making weird and peculiar noises with her snout and with her eyes jumping about wildly, like organ stops or a game of pin ball. I just had to wait and be patient until her moods subsided before I could perform any of my normal duties on her behalf and she had the unhappy and unfortunate knack of messing herself TO ORDER ...usually just after I had cleaned her or was going off duty. I thought her timing was something in my imagination until one day, Aggie remarked that she found it strange that every time she took over her duties to look after Freya from me ...she had to clean her arse ...to use Aggie’s own unabridged version of events . . .Aggie was not one to mince her words, gentle and ladylike though she was ...in her own fashion. I tried to explain and for quite some time Aggie reviewed my excuse with some trepidation and reserve, until one day I called her quietly into the en-suite bathroom adjoining Freya’s room, moments after I had changed her and she hid behind the airing cupboard. We watched Freya strain, red faced and grunting and less than a minute later, she had to be changed again. Dobbin made his contribution to the fiasco too. He would rock jauntily to and fro in accompaniment to the straining and had he been human, I am sure he would have needed to go at that time too. I was glad I was able to let Aggie see this scenario and she never doubted me any more, but the situation was becoming almost sacro sanct to that sombre chamber where the Queen Freya ruled and her subservient stallion obeyed.

It all seemed to be utter nonsense to me and I knew something would have to be done about it ...but what …and by whom? That was the question.