34.

Terri phoned Biddy at eleven o’clock on the dot the next morning, half expecting her not to answer. She was slightly worried that after her emotional breakdown on her second visit, she might have lost her. But, to her surprise, Biddy picked up on the second ring, and agreed without any hesitation to come back to Cove Cottage the following Wednesday. Yes, she told Terri, Wednesdays were good. The only proviso was that their appointment should be in the early afternoon, as Biddy said she couldn’t leave home before 12.30, and needed to be back by 5 p.m. Terri was intrigued, wondering what required Biddy to be bound by those hours, but the arrangement suited her well, as she liked to potter and bake in the mornings. No doubt she would unravel the mystery in time. The telephone conversation was short and devoid of any small talk, but Terri understood that chitchat was not part of Biddy’s language. She had to let her open up at her own pace, no matter how long it took. That familiar tingle of excitement rattled through her again: she was already in her element.

It was, just as Terri had expected, a slow process; but gradually, over the next few months, Biddy revealed some of the shocking details of her life as Bloody Weirdo. Some days, she would recount a particular incident in meticulous detail, as though it had only just happened. On other days, her memories were disjointed, fragmented and agitated. Sometimes Biddy said virtually nothing at all, and then there were days when she repeated the details of events she had already recalled. But Terri understood the benefits of patience. There was no rush. Biddy’s wound was obviously so very deep and still, despite the passage of time, so painfully raw that it would take a very long time to heal. It had never been properly tended to. But heal it would. Of that, Terri was sure.

On Biddy’s fourth visit to Cove Cottage, she told Terri about Red Paint Day. That afternoon, as rain pelted at the window of the study and the flames of the fire raged wildly, whipped up by the wind from the chimney, Biddy talked non-stop for almost half an hour. She hadn’t ever spoken at such length before – not just to Terri, but to anyone; not even Miss Jordan. She never believed herself capable of finding so many words to say out loud. A lifetime of virtual silence was shattered in one afternoon. She hadn’t even realised that she’d remembered the incident so clearly; but it was all there, to the last detail, locked inside her own private memory box with so many other hideous recollections, which were finally being given the chance to escape. Like birds flying the nest.

When she was done, Terri let silence sit in the room for a few seconds, waiting while Biddy emerged from the trance-like state she’d been in. When Biddy finally looked up, her eyes clear of tears but brimming with sorrow, she let out a long, slow, heavy sigh.

‘Would you like to hear about the disco now?’ she whispered.

Terri stood up and went over to Biddy’s chair. Kneeling down she clasped Biddy’s folded hands in her own and looked her in the eye. ‘Let’s save that for another day, Biddy,’ she said gently. ‘I think you’ve had enough for now. How about I make a pot of tea? I baked a chocolate cake this morning for the first time in years. I think it tastes rather yummy, but I wouldn’t mind a second opinion, so let’s go through to the kitchen, shall we?’

At the next few sessions, Biddy reverted to form and barely spoke at all. But Terri wasn’t concerned. She simply decided that they should cut the ‘official business’ short and retire instead to the kitchen for refreshments. Apart from the fact that Biddy responded well to her baking, it was proving immensely pleasurable for Terri to have someone to experiment on. At last her cookery books were being put to some, if limited, use, and, thank God, she didn’t have to eat those bloody Kimberley biscuits every week. And she was happy to chatter away about this and that and anything at all, while Biddy ate, and listened, and smiled. Those smiles, they melted Terri’s heart. With every week that passed, Terri could see the change in Biddy. Yes, it was subtle, sometimes barely visible at all – but all the same, it was there. It was like watching a china doll slowly come to life.