Chapter 18

Her current illustration was completed and, on an impulse, Erin decided to drive to Maeve’s house in the hope of meeting her mother. At this time of day, both Maeve and Diana were likely to be in. Was it idle curiosity or a wish to reassure Diana she was not a bad influence? But the real reason was because it was just possible she might discover what it was that Jon was keeping from her.

She had the address and thought she knew how to find the road but she checked, just in case, and was surprised to find it was in walking distance. Jon always brought Maeve in the car but that was because he picked her up from school, dropped her off, and returned to the university. Diana could have brought her, but for some reason she never did. Perhaps she was one of those reclusive people who disliked leaving home. Except Jon had said she worked part-time in a health food shop.

As she walked past Claudia’s car, it occurred to her she ought to take it out for a spin or the battery would go flat. Were the car keys in her desk? Claudia had driven badly, talking too much and not looking in the mirror, and her car had several scrapes and a dent in the passenger door. Once she had knocked a student off his bike. A shouting match had followed – Erin had been with her in the car at the time – but Claudia had apologised and the student had agreed it had been a bad plan, trying to overtake on the left. No harm done. The two of them had shaken hands. But could there have been other incidents, ones that had not ended so amicably?

She should have phoned Diana before she set out, but she wanted to surprise her. Why? Because she was afraid she would say she was busy, or about to go out, any excuse to put her off? From remarks Jon had made, it was clear she was very protective of Maeve, and fairly strict too. In fact, Erin had gained the impression she treated her like a much younger child, and there had been a battle to allow her to come to the classes. And now she thought Erin was corrupting her, allowing her to talk about unsuitable subjects, and answering questions she should have side-stepped.

Her phone beeped. The hospital? No, they would have phoned, not sent a text. Living off her nerves was bad for her, exhausting, but there was not much she could do about that. The text was an invitation to upgrade her car breakdown membership. Some hope. The standard one cost a fortune, exploiting drivers’ fear of being stranded on the motorway, or miles from anywhere in a dark lane.

Was she going in the right direction? Maeve had described the house in her usual fashion. Dad thinks it’s ugly but Mum likes it because it’s easy to keep clean. There’s a steep hill and you can see the school I’ll be going to next year. They’re not old houses like yours but they’re detached. That means they’re not joined to another one.

Earlier, it had been cold enough to have both heaters on in the loft. Now it had warmed up a little but she still needed her scarf and gloves. What had happened to the clothes Claudia had been wearing, her red coat and the purple beanie? The hospital had given them to her in a bag but she had forgotten what she did with them. Put them in Claudia’s bedroom, or the cupboard where she had kept her coats, umbrellas and a jumble of shoes and boots? Much of what she had done immediately after the accident had been wiped from her memory. She had acted like a zombie, too shocked to think what she was doing, too worried in case the hospital decided Ollie should be allowed to make the decision about the baby.

She ought to be thinking about what she was going to say to Diana. First, she would tell her how hard Maeve worked, and what good progress she was making. She always took her drawings home with her but did Diana look at them, or were they put in a drawer, or thrown away with the rubbish? Maeve had never mentioned any appreciative comments her mother had made.

When she checked the map, she had failed to spot a footpath that made the distance between Claudia’s house and Maeve’s even shorter. Small children were being pushed on swings, and dog walkers, who were not allowed in the play area, were exercising their pets, some on leads, others free to run about. A tiny terrier – so small you could almost have put it in your pocket – raced up to Erin and veered away and a small boy with a runny nose stopped to stare at her as though she was some strange species he had never come across before. One day, Claudia’s baby would be that age. Would she be taking her to the park, holding her steady on the roundabout, or would she have been handed over to a couple who wanted to adopt? When she was born would she be all right? Might she have brain damage? Would she be alive?

She carried on over a railway bridge and along a path next to a strip of grass and several detached houses with large front gardens. Two joggers passed, out of breath and with patches of sweat on their vests. It was hardly the day for such light clothing, but some people made a point of showing how hardy they were. The postman that came to Claudia’s house wore shorts, whatever the weather.

Up the hill, and, if she had not lost her sense of direction, one of the turnings on the right should lead to Maeve’s road. Erin thought of it as Maeve’s road because Maeve was her friend. Was Jon a friend? The tension between them was his fault, because he was secretive. He knew something – something about Claudia that was so bad he wanted to protect her from finding out?

Still speculating about what Claudia could possibly have done, she heard a squeal of excitement and saw Maeve running to greet her. ‘I thought it was you.’

‘Oh, hello. I was out for a walk and I had a feeling I might be quite close to your house.’

‘I was talking to him.’ She pointed to a cat, sitting on a wall. ‘He’s not ours, we haven’t got any pets. He’s called Rex and he lives at number twenty-seven. Mum was gardening but she got cold. She’s in the kitchen now, tidying. Come on.’ Maeve raced on ahead, calling over her shoulder. ‘She wanted to know what you look like and I said you were nothing like Claudia.’

‘You’re feeling better then.’

‘Oh that.’ Maeve’s hand moved up to her fringe. ‘Dad fusses. I wasn’t really ill. Only a sore throat and it was gone by the evening.’ She shouted through her front door. ‘Mum, Erin’s here! Mum!’

Diana came through the front door, pulling off her rubber gloves, and Erin found it difficult to disguise her surprise. What had she expected? An adult version of Maeve? Tall, slim, with brown, shoulder-length hair and dark eyes with enviably thick, dark lashes, she could hardly have been more different, apart from her nose which was small and slightly upturned. Perhaps Maeve looked the way she did because of her syndrome. No, not syndrome, just a mildly faulty gene that was more than compensated for by her determination.

Diana was wearing jeans and a yellow cable-stitch sweater, expertly-knitted, like Maeve’s always were. No make-up or jewellery, and Erin remembered Maeve complaining how her mother had refused to let her have her ears pierced.

Maeve was hopping up and down. ‘It’s Erin, Mum.’

‘Yes, I heard you, darling. Come in, Erin, it’s lovely to meet you at last.’

‘I was out for a walk. I came through that park, the one with a children’s playground, then a railway bridge.’

‘We go there often, don’t we, Maeve?’

‘You’re sure it’s not inconvenient?’

‘Quite sure. Give me your coat and scarf. I’ve been in the garden, getting rid of a euphorbia that made my skin come out in a rash. Maeve talks about you so much it’s ridiculous we haven’t met before. Come along through, we spend most of our time in the kitchen, don’t we, darling?’

The kitchen was at the back of the house, a room large enough to eat in, with an antique dresser and farmhouse-style table. A double sink, split level cooker and supersize fridge took up most of one wall and, on another, six blue and white plates, with pictures of woodland animals, had been balanced on a narrow shelf. Erin remembered Maeve telling her how one of them had fallen onto the tiled floor and broken and her mum had been upset but her dad had found a replacement.

‘Nice clock.’ Erin pointed at the mantelpiece. ‘I like it when they have a loud tick.’

Diana smiled. She had a small gap between her front teeth. ‘It belonged to my mother. Maeve think it’s too noisy, and Jonathan says the horse brasses make the place look like a pub.’

‘Typical.’ Erin laughed, regretting her choice of the word since it made it sound as though she knew Jon far better than she actually did. ‘Typical of a man, I mean. Where did you find the Welsh dresser?’

‘We were swindled. By the man who sold it to us. After we bought it, I discovered it had been repaired and the doors are not the original ones.’

‘Oh, well, you’d never know.’

‘Do sit down.’ Diana pulled out two chairs, giving Maeve a playful punch when she tried to sit on one of them.

‘I was hoping I’d meet you,’ Erin said, ‘so I could tell you what good progress Maeve is making. Drawing’s the difficult part and she works really hard. I expect you’ve noticed how much she’s improved.’

Diana was silent and Erin was afraid she had overdone her praise, but the next time she spoke her words surprised her.

‘Jonathan worries in case the after-school lessons are too much for her, but I think she’s more than up to it. After all, she’s not interested in sport or ballet dancing. Personally, I’m just pleased she’s learning a new skill. It will help her in all kinds of ways.’

Jon worries? Why had he never mentioned it? Why did he always make out Diana was the worrier? Erin turned to Maeve. ‘I expect you are quite tired after school.’

‘No, I’m not,’ she said fiercely. ‘When did Dad say that? Now Erin will think I don’t want to go to her house.’

‘Shh.’ Diana stretched out an arm but Maeve dodged out of reach.

‘Dad thinks I’m delicate, like the boy in The Secret Garden. It’s not fair. Just ‘cos I used to get bad chests and I’m no good at games.’

‘Oh, come on, Maeve.’ Erin had never seen her look so cross. ‘I’m sure your dad only meant it was quite a long day for you.’

Her drawing of fruit had been pinned up, next to a leaflet with the health centre times, and the number to call if you smelled gas. ‘Your picture of a banana and an apple.’ Erin turned to Diana. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

‘And an orange.’ Maeve still sounded grumpy. ‘The apple’s not right. She was standing by the French doors that led to the garden. Then, all of a sudden, she stood on one leg, spinning round until she lost her balance and collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.

‘Maeve,’ Diana warned, ‘just because Erin paid you a compliment.’

On a shelf, next to the pin board, a large number of recipe books had been propped up between bookends in the shape of West Highland terriers. Clearly, Diana was a keen cook as well as good at knitting. She followed Erin’s gaze and began explaining how she liked to try out new recipes and she used plenty of herbs and spices. ‘I expect you do too. Maeve won’t eat fish, silly girl, but apart from that she’s not a faddy eater, are you, darling?

‘I don’t like beetroot. Or aubergines. Do you like aubergines, Erin? I think they smell like cat’s—’

‘Yes, I do actually.’ Erin came in quickly, afraid Diana would think Maeve had been picking up four-letter words. Not that Diana gave the impression she was easily shocked. It was Jon who had created the picture of a strait-laced, prudish person. ‘I’m afraid my cooking arrangements are fairly primitive, but when I’m more settled . . .’

‘Yes, of course.’ She looked away, embarrassed. A brain dead, pregnant sister. No one knew what to say.

‘Mum’s made a special herb garden.’ Maeve was hopping about again. ‘She knows everything about herbs and we’ve got a greenhouse, shall I show you, Erin?’

‘If that’s all right with your mum.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Diana’s face lit up. ‘We won’t get cold if we have a quick look.’ She opened the French doors and led Erin onto a patio with pots of winter-flowering pansies, and down some steps to an immaculate lawn. Even in winter, the wide herbaceous border looked attractive, with its tall grasses and seed heads, and a sprinkling of creamy coloured flowers. It put Claudia’s scruffy garden to shame, and Erin was thinking how one day she might ask Diana’s advice about easy-to-grow plants. One day . . .

Under a tall tree – Erin thought it was a beech – the grass was interspersed with yellow and purple crocuses. Two rustic seats, made of logs, had been placed, side by side, and Erin pictured Jon and Diana, when the weather was warmer, sitting together, unwinding after a busy day and drinking glasses of wine, while Maeve played on the grass. An idyllic family scene that contrasted with her own solitary life.

Smoke drifted across from next door’s garden, and Maeve frowned. ‘I don’t think people are supposed to have bonfires, are they, Mum?’

‘It’s only wood smoke. Rather a nice smell I always think.’

‘Me too.’ Erin bent to look at a large, feathery herb.

‘That’s fennel.’ Maeve touched the plant and held her fingers to her nose. ‘I don’t like the smell but it goes with fish. And that’s . . . what’s that one called, Mum?’

‘Lemon thyme. And that’s sage. And the one in the pot is a dwarf basil. Coriander’s good for indigestion and fennel is good for nerves. This plant has rather outgrown itself. Fennel has a habit of doing that. I could give you some if you like, Erin. Oh, I didn’t mean you suffered from . . .’

‘Don’t worry, you’re right, my nerves aren’t that great. I have to spend quite a lot of time at the hospital and—’

‘Yes, of course. The baby. No, don’t talk about it if you don’t want to.’

‘It’s all right. The baby’s doing quite well. I mean, I think it is.’

‘Oh, good.’ Diana’s tone made it clear she was not going to ask any more questions. And Maeve’s attempts to turn a cartwheel had provided a diversion. ‘Honestly, darling, Erin doesn’t want to see your knickers.’

‘Erin doesn’t mind, do you, Erin? There are more herbs in the greenhouse. One has purple flowers. Bees like purple, don’t they, Mum?’ She opened the greenhouse door but Diana put out a restraining arm.

‘I expect Erin could do with a cup of tea. I usually have peppermint but there are plenty of other flavours.’

‘Peppermint would be fine.’ Erin was enjoying herself, wished she had come round sooner, but she had not forgotten the real purpose of her visit, to try to discover what Jon was keeping from her. Would Diana tell her? Did she know? And if she did, had she been sworn to secrecy? Since she was so unlike his description of her, Erin was beginning to doubt everything Jon had told her so far.

Back in the kitchen, Maeve grudgingly agreed to hang out the washing, and it became clear Diana wanted an opportunity to tell her about Maeve’s birth.

‘You know when something’s . . . when they’re not telling you. They thought it was a syndrome but that only means a collection of symptoms and in any case they changed their minds. She can be a little clumsy and she suffers from one or two allergies – we both do – but we see a herbalist called Fergal. He’s a wonderful person, properly trained, not one of those charlatans. It’s quite a long training. You have to pass exams.’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Erin was not a great admirer of alternative medicine, but herbalists were different, their treatments made sense.

‘I do worry about the germs she picks up at school,’ Diana was saying, ‘but Jonathan thinks I’m irrational. He says it’s important to build up immunity.’

‘Plenty of things are irrational.’ Erin sipped the peppermint tea, it would not have been her first choice, but was bearable. ‘I have this irrational fear of dead animals. I expect Maeve’s told you how a cat from down the road sometimes pays me a visit.’

‘And brings in birds?’

‘Mainly half-eaten mice’

‘Horrible. I dislike heights, cliff tops and high bridges.’

‘Oh, me too, but I think that’s perfectly rational, don’t you? I wanted to ask you, Diana, you’ve met Ollie, haven’t you? Only I wondered if you could think of anywhere he might be staying. I need to talk to him, about the baby, and I’ve an idea Jon, sorry, Jonathan, may be protecting him.’

She had taken a risk, accused Jon of lying to her, but the question seemed to excite Diana. ‘I’ve thought that too. He thinks it’s best to leave him alone, but, as you say, what about the baby? And why should you have to cope with everything on your own. I don’t know Ollie well, but he has a Japanese friend.’

‘Hoshi? You mean Hoshi?’

‘Oh, you’ve met him?’

‘No, but people keep mentioning his name. Perhaps I should try and get in touch. The trouble is,’ Erin made a snap decision, ‘I don’t want to think badly of my sister, but I’ve started wondering if Ollie really is the baby’s father.’

She expected Diana to look shocked but it was clear she and Jon had discussed this possibility already. ‘The awful thing is, you may never know the truth.’

‘I’ll know if it’s Hoshi’s.’

Diana smiled. ‘Well, yes, I suppose you will.’

‘I’m sorry to keep asking you all these questions, but did you know my sister?’

‘I only met her once. It was at a neighbour’s house. Jennie and Ben. I expect you know them. Ben’s quite a character, isn’t he? All those jokes and funny stories. He and your sister . . .’

Maeve was returning with an empty basket, and Diana put a finger to her lips. ‘She has a talent for overhearing other people’s conversations.’

‘She’s such a sweet girl, so kind and appreciative. You must be very proud of her.’

‘Thank you.’ Diana leaned across to squeeze her hand, just as Maeve clumped in with the empty laundry basket.

‘I know you’re talking about me,’ she said. ‘Anyway, the washing won’t dry. There’s hardly any wind. Mum?’

‘Now what?’

‘You know red hair?’

‘What about it?’

‘Why’s it called red when it’s really orangey-brown? Actually, some people dye their hair a real red colour, or purple. I’d like a purple streak in mine.’ Maeve was attempting to walk like a crab. ‘You can buy stuff you spray—’

‘Not a chance.’ Diana bent to tickle her. ‘Actually we were talking about Jennie and Ben.’

‘Jennie’s got streaks in her hair.’

‘They had a barbecue the summer before last and your dad and I were invited. No, not you, you were tucked up in bed with a babysitter. Claudia wanted to know about my herb garden, Erin. I suppose Jonathan must have told her.’

‘She wasn’t a great gardener.’ Erin had decided it was time to leave. ‘She said she was going to have it landscaped, then she lost interest. That’s the trouble with gardening programmes on TV. They make it look so easy. I’ve been doing some cutting back, but it’s not much fun in the winter.’

‘If you need any help? Later on, perhaps, in the spring.’

‘Thank you. I might take you up on that.’ After the baby’s been born. No, don’t look ahead, don’t make any plans. Claudia’s condition could deteriorate in a matter of hours. Andrea always tried to be reassuring, but Erin was well aware of all the things that could go wrong.

Maeve was watching her mother closely and Erin hoped she was not going to tell her about their recent conversation about contraceptives. Maeve had asked why people in some countries had lots and lots of babies, even though it was difficult to get enough food.

As it turned out, she was still thinking about the barbecue. ‘Was it late when you went to Jennie and Ben’s house?’

‘Too late for someone your age.’ Diana imitated the face Maeve had pulled. ‘I don’t know about you, Erin, but I’m not much of a party-goer. I can never think what to say to people, but I remember how your sister put me at ease, telling me about her jewellery-making and how the beads sometimes slid off the thread and rolled all over the floor. I meant to visit her stall in the market. I do wish I had.’

Erin stood up. ‘Thank you for the tea, and I’m glad we’ve met at last. Oh, and you’re welcome to come round to the house when Maeve has one of her lessons. If you’d like to.’

‘Thank you.’ Diana ruffled Maeve’s hair. ‘Except you’ve grown rather fond of Erin, haven’t you, darling, and I’ve a feeling you like keeping her to yourself.’