House of Silence (20 page)

So curiosity got the better of me and I
tried to decipher the triangular jigsaw pieces of Alfie’s school
days. Some were incomprehensible, but others were clearer and I was
able to deduce little bits of information from them. From this
piece:

I learned there was a boy called Laurie who
was in the school play with Alfie, a production of
Toad of Toad
Hall
. Laurie played Badger and Alfie was cast as Toad, a notion
which brought a smile to my face. Later I came across an adjacent
piece of the same letter:

Reading this piece, I realised Laurence (or
Laurie) had been Alfie’s best friend.

The other letters were from Alfie’s father,
and were also addressed to Rae. I didn’t examine these any further
as it seemed an invasion of privacy, although, once again, I
assumed the letters couldn’t have been of a very private nature if
Hattie had been given them.

I sorted the triangles into an
Alfie
pile and a
Freddie
pile and put them away in the envelope,
resisting - with some difficulty - the temptation to indulge in any
more detective work.

~~~

After lunch, Gwen wrapped and labelled the rest of
her Christmas presents and piled them in a corner of the attic. She
was on her way downstairs when she heard a whoop from Hattie and an
excited cry: ‘They’re here! Fanny and Deb have arrived!’ Harris and
Lewis joined in the chorus of greeting and by the time Gwen had
descended to the hall, Alfie, Viv and Hattie were assembled, Hattie
looking excited, Alfie stoical, as Viv heaved open the oak door to
let her sisters in.

Gwen hung back, standing on the bottom
stair, her hand resting on the banister and she was able to look
over the assembled heads as the two women entered. She was in no
doubt as to which sister was which. Frances, enveloped in fur, her
upturned collar concealing much of her face, was a head taller than
her elder sister, who wore a quilted down jacket that only added to
the rotundity with which Nature had already endowed her. Gwen
thought of the Holbein portrait of Henry VIII in which he appeared
almost as broad as he was tall.

Deborah was beaming at her siblings and
laughing, her round face creased with lines. Her nose was pink with
cold and she wore no make-up, apart from carelessly applied
lipstick in a shade too bright to be either fashionable or
becoming. Deborah hugged Viv and Hattie, then turned to Alfie. She
laughed again, at nothing in particular it seemed, then thrust out
a hand, saying, ‘Well, here we all are again!’ and shook Alfie’s
hand vigorously with both of hers. Alfie said, ‘Hello, Deb,’ and
looked relieved when she let go.

Frances, still clutching her fur to her thin
frame, inclined her head, unsmiling, to kiss her sisters on the
cheek, announcing their names by way of greeting, as if identifying
them. Taller than Alfie in perilously elegant heels, she stood and
gazed at him in an appraising way. She said, ‘Hello, Alfie’, leaned
forward and kissed him on the mouth.

Deborah laughed again and Alfie said in a
low voice, ‘Hello, Fan. Happy Christmas.’ He turned away, saying,
‘Let me introduce you to Gwen.’

‘Ah yes!’ said Frances brightly, peering
over his shoulder. ‘The girlfriend!’ Gwen noticed that she didn’t
smile.

Stepping forward as Alfie introduced her,
Gwen took Frances’ cold and bony hand, heavy with jewels, and saw
the beautiful grey eyes flick up and down, appraising once again.
She felt uncomfortable, but assumed this was the professional
photographer’s eye, assessing her as a potential subject.

Frances sighed heavily, as if disappointed,
and said, ‘Alfie tells me you
sew
.’ The remark hung in the
air for a second. Before Gwen had time to respond, Frances added
with a barely suppressed smirk, ‘You and Hattie must have
lots
to talk about.’ She wheeled round. ‘Hattie, call these
bloody dogs off, will you? This coat may be fake but it was still
hellish expensive.’

‘They’re just pleased to see you,
Fanny.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Frances sneered, ‘the
feeling is not mutual. Oh, God, look - I’m covered in white
hairs!’

‘Don’t worry, Gwen has a magic sticky thing
that removes hairs and fluff.’

‘Thank you, darling, but I won’t be letting
sticky things anywhere near this coat, however magical they might
be.’

Deborah, whom everyone had forgotten,
stepped forward and offered her hand to Gwen. ‘Delighted to meet
you, Gwen! I’m Deborah. Everyone calls me Deb. I’m so glad you
could join us for Christmas. When we spoke on the phone, Hattie
couldn’t stop talking about you. I gather you’re a big hit with
everyone - including Rae!’

‘And especially,’ said Frances smiling slyly
at her brother, ‘with Alfie... Will somebody please make me a pot
of tea before I faint dead away? I drank something disgusting on
the train which they claimed was tea, but it most certainly
wasn’t.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Hattie, leaping
forward. ‘Shall I take your coat, Fanny?’

‘Not unless you’ve had the heating
overhauled. Lead me to the Aga, fill me with hot tea,
then
I
might think about divesting myself of some outer garments.
Might
, I say.’ Her eyes found Gwen again. ‘Are you surviving
the cold, Gwen? It’s
appalling
, isn’t it? The nights are the
worst. But then...’ Her lips formed a tight smile. ‘I suppose
you’ve got my little brother to keep you warm.’

There was a silence and Gwen, who was
beginning to get the measure of Frances, said, ‘I’m upstairs in the
attic, actually. Very cosy, in fact, under Hattie’s fabulous quilt.
But I’m not one for feeling the cold anyway.’

‘Young people don’t,’ Alfie said, with
emphasis. He took Frances’ arm, and steered her away from Gwen.
‘But I believe it’s one of the trials of old age.’

Frances snatched her arm away and stalked
off in the direction of the kitchen, heels tapping furiously on the
flagstones. ‘On second thoughts, Hattie,’ she called out over her
shoulder, ‘would you please pour me a large sherry?’

Viv turned to Alfie. ‘
Now
look what
you’ve done. You’re a naughty boy. We shall all suffer for
that.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘She can be as
rude as she likes to me, but she’s not getting her claws into
Gwen.’ He turned and waited for Gwen who still lingered on the
stairs. ‘Come and have some tea. If she gives you any more grief,
Hattie will set the dogs on her, won’t you, Hat?’

‘Like a shot. Don’t take any notice of her,
Gwen. She’s just jealous.’

But of what Frances might be jealous, Gwen
wasn’t altogether sure and Hattie didn’t say.

Frances and Deborah had arrived bearing gifts: six
bottles of champagne from Frances and a box of chocolates the size
of a coffee table from Deborah. Hattie was thrilled on both counts
and insisted on opening the box to see the menu, which, with
mounting excitement, she proceeded to read aloud to the assembled
company.

‘Chocolate pornography, Deb,’ said Alfie as
they drank tea, seated around the kitchen table. ‘Very enterprising
of you. Something to please everyone.’

‘Not me, darling,’ said Frances, sipping
black tea from a chipped Norwich City FC mug which Hattie had
allocated to her as a small gesture of revenge. ‘My post-Christmas
diet is starting pre-Christmas, so don’t offer
me
any
chocs.’

‘Would this be the champagne and smoked
salmon diet?’ Alfie enquired. ‘Or are you cutting back on the
calories this year and sticking to champagne?’

‘You may mock, brother mine, but
some
of us are determined not to let ourselves go.’

‘Fight the good fight, eh, Fan? With all thy
might.’

‘They say,’ said Deborah, leaning over to
speak to Gwen in confidential tones, ‘that when a woman gets to
forty, she has to choose between her face and her backside. Well, I
decided to abandon both of mine as lost causes.’ She burst into
laughter and Gwen couldn’t help joining in.

‘Well, why not? I can’t imagine anyone ever
lies on their deathbed, moaning, “I wish I’d eaten less
chocolate”.’

‘Quite! And now they say, it’s good for you!
It’s anti-depressant. Really good chocolate isn’t that fattening
anyway.’

‘And this looks
really
good!’ said
Hattie, ogling the contents of the box.

‘Nothing’s too good for my family at
Christmas,’ said Deborah, pressing her lips together in a thin
smile, meant to forestall tears, but which was only partly
successful. ‘Only the best for them - and their lovely guests!’ she
added, patting Gwen’s hand.

‘Why, thank you, Deborah.’

‘Deb!’

‘Sorry -
Deb
. I’m thrilled to be
here. I’ve never had a Christmas like this before. I’m so pleased
Alfie let me come. He took some persuading and I was worried I
might be intruding on a family celebration.’

‘Which is total rubbish,’ said Hattie,
breaking off from her chocolate recitation. ‘Because she’s a
completely lovely person and I want her to stay for ever and ever.
She’s going to help me finish off the
Thousand Pyramids
quilt!’

‘In which case,’ said Frances, ‘she’ll
need
to stay for ever and ever. Hattie could you please stop
reading from that card? You’re making me feel quite nauseous.’

Oblivious, Hattie exclaimed, ‘Ooh, listen to
this one! “Cranberry and coconut cream enrobed in dark chocolate.”
Enrobed
. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? I think I’d like to
be enrobed in dark chocolate. Then Harris and Lewis could lick it
all off!’

Deborah burst into bright, tinkling laughter
once again and Hattie and Gwen joined in. Frances stared at her
sisters and their house-guest in disbelief, then turned to Alfie.
‘I do believe I
am
going to be sick...’

Gwen

It’s difficult now for me to remember all the details
of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The jolly festivities paled
into insignificance in the light of subsequent events. What I do
remember about those two days concerns mainly Alfie and Marek.

By the time Marek arrived for dinner on
Christmas Eve, Frances was well tanked up and I suspected she was
looking for trouble. Hattie had made the mistake of asking why her
sister hadn’t brought her latest boyfriend and this provoked a
vitriolic outburst, condemning all men as faithless time-wasters.
After that, Frances poured herself another drink and settled into
sullen silence, from which only Marek’s arrival roused her.

Tidy and clean-shaven, he looked rather
different from the previous occasions on which I’d encountered him
but - I was dismayed to find - no less attractive. He was wearing a
black shirt and trousers and a red silk tie. With his silver hair,
the effect was startling but he looked festive in a sombre sort of
way and very tall beside Alfie. Hattie was also wearing red: a
vintage 1950s party dress, over which I had almost literally
drooled when she came down for pre-dinner drinks. Her loose hair
was brushed and shining, held back with antique combs. Her cheeks
were rosy with excitement and she kept looking at Marek, smiling
nervously. At one point when he was standing beside her, he said
something softly which I didn’t catch. After that she seemed
calmer.

Marek had brought gifts for the family: a
bottle of
Krupnik
, a Polish liqueur made from vodka, honey
and herbs and two home-made loaves of
Strucla
, a plaited
poppy seed bread. Viv fell upon these, delighted. ‘Delicious! I
shall serve them with the cheese board. Thank you, Tyler! Why don’t
you tell Gwen about the Polish Christmas Eve? I’m sure she’d be
interested.’

He sat on the sofa between Frances and me.
‘Christmas Eve is the big social occasion for Poles. It’s known as
Wigilia
, which means vigil. There’s a twelve course meal
that includes no meat, but food from the forest, fields, lakes and
orchards. Families sit down to eat it after the first star appears
in the sky.’