Memory Scents (5 page)

              There was something quite repulsive and sinister about Tim’s relationship with his Mother. He had this sickly sweet affection for her and treated her as one of his prized possessions. He also revelled in the fact that their roles had reversed. It suited Tim very well to have her in a retirement home where he could pick her up and drop her, as she had done to him so often when he was a child. A part of him saw it as payback in the warped little depths of his mind.

              He remembered so often how his mother went out for hours on end and left him with the housekeeper, Dora. She would put him in the cellar because he was being a nuisance. This was where Tim heightened his sense of smell. Dora would turn up the wireless to drown out his cries, leaving him unable to hear or see anything in the pitch black cellar. However much he strained his eyes to adjust to the light, hoping and waiting for shadows to become apparent, nothing happened. It was thick, damp and dark blackness all around him, so Tim improved the only sense he had left because there was nothing else to do. If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough he could pretend he was somewhere else. He got so good at it that sometimes he fell asleep. He used smelling as a guessing game and would see what he got right when Dora deemed it necessary for him to come out of the dark. He would guess what they were having for dinner, which perfume from her dressing table his mother was wearing, whether his father was on his way home or not. All this he achieved from his sense of smell.

              It was no good telling his mother that Dora made his life a misery when she went out; he just ended up being punished again for telling tales.

              Tim wandered down the corridor carrying the white carnations that he took her every week. Daphne glanced at him as he walked into her private bedroom. She turned back to the window that she was sat next to. Tim kissed her on the cheek, smelling stale perfume with undertones of decay and laid the flowers on her portable table.

              “Hello Mother, how are you today? Shall I put your flowers in a vase?”

“You ask me that every bloody week that you come here. Have you got nothing else to say to me?”

              “Having a bad day, Mother?” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. She shrugged him off; a look of repulsion streaking her thickly made up face. Daphne never passed a day without her makeup. She put on lashings of powder that made her look ghostly white, black liquid eyeliner that crumbled once dry on her tissue paper eyelids, along with her lumpy mascara. A bold layer of cerise pink lipstick was put on last, which always leaked into her stained, lined lips. The headband that she used to keep her hair out of the way of this ritual was replaced with a turban. Her makeup routine was the only time she didn’t wear it. She thought this gave her the look and air of a movie star but it just made her look freakish and harsh.

              “And how’s that lovely wife of yours doing; still too busy to come and see her Mother-in-law?” Sarcasm dripped from her mouth.

              “Don’t start that again. You know how busy she is and she always sends her love. Anyway she thinks it’s nice for us to spend some time on our own. I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

              “Yes, yes, yes! Can you go and sit on the bed; I don’t want you smothering me.” She said, swatting him away like a dirty germ ridden fly.

              Tim sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her as she scowled out of the window. It was to be one of those visits again. The ones that made him feel like he did as a child. Only, the difference was, he was an adult and it made him feel like strangling her.

*

              James banged on Chrissie’s bathroom door, startling her and causing her to spill water over the edge of the bath.

              “Come on Mother, hurry up, you know what the water does to your wrinkly skin!”

              “I was just getting out. And don’t call me Mother, it makes me feel old!”

              “You are old!” said James wandering downstairs to make a cup of tea.

              “What time did Kate say her train was coming in?” Chrissie called down to him, choosing to ignore his last comment. It was an ongoing joke between them because there were very few years separating Chrissie and her step-children. Their Father, Marcus was fifteen years older than Chrissie. She’d always got on well with them because she had never posed as a replacement Mother. They had a perfectly good one as far as she was concerned and whom she got on well with. Chrissie had no intention of playing mother to two young adults who weren’t much younger than she was. So they saw her more as an older sister, which was why they thought it was funny to wind her up by calling her ‘Mother’.

              “James?!” she called again, but he couldn’t hear her above the noise of the boiling kettle and the blaring radio that he’d switched on.

              Chrissie shivered as she stood up and grabbed a warm towel off the piping hot rail. She was so thankful that the previous owners had installed central heating and replaced the kitchen and the bathroom in the time that they had lived there. Something she’d dreaded having to do. It needed a lot of cosmetic work but they’d done all the expensive stuff. Grace had told her that the last owner was in the Armed Forces and he had been posted away, taking his family with him. Chrissie had looked at so many cottages, but they all needed too much work, and she didn’t want a brand new home because she found them characterless. Just as she was about to give up, having decided that it wasn’t meant to be, there had been a phone call from the estate agents. They told her that there was a cottage that had just come on the market and the couple needed a quick sale.

              Chrissie knew as soon as she stepped out of the car that she wanted it. She loved the old Norfolk red brick which looked deep in colour in the midday sun, and the pretty overgrown front garden. Stocks and roses crowded the path that beckoned her to the front porch. It all held a familiar feeling with it. A feeling she couldn’t pin point but had decided was her gut reaction telling her that it was the right house.

              Chrissie dried herself with the soft towel, soothing her skin which was prickled, having stepped out of the warmth and comfort of her steamy bath. The latch on the door clicked up and the door creaked open, startling her again, causing her to quickly cover her naked body with the towel.

              “James, I haven’t finished!” she screeched, looking up at the empty doorway.

But there was no reply and no James stood at the bathroom door.

              “James….?”Chrissie called, feeling her heart begin to pound; her skin prickling from fear, rather than a chill, that was creeping over her body. Chrissie stood in her bathroom staring at the space left by the door; cold water was running down her body as it dripped off her hair.

              “Did you call me?” James appeared in the doorway, startling her yet again.

          
“Cover yourself up, I don’t wish to….” He stopped, seeing her pale face. “Chrissie are you alright?”

              “Um, yeah, did you open the bathroom door?”

              “No, I’ve been downstairs making a cuppa. What an earth is wrong?”

              “Nothing, I probably didn’t shut the door properly, and it swung open and made me jump.”

              “You dozy old bag! Get some clothes on for god’s sake and hurry up and get downstairs; I’ve just made a brew.”

              “Enough of the old!” Chrissie shouted light heartedly after him as he made his way down the winding staircase. But she didn’t feel light hearted, not one little bit. She felt silly getting so worked up about a door but it was the feeling that it had left her with that bothered her the most. She knew she’d shut the bathroom door properly because since she’d moved into the house, doors opening on their own had become a frequent occurrence. This had caused her to become almost obsessive about checking them.

              When James and Kate rang to tell her that they were coming to stay for a couple of days, she’d tried to stop herself sounding too hysterical. The relief that had swept through her was palpable. Almost every day she had spent in the house there had been some incident or another that had either frightened her or made her waste time wondering whether she had caused it herself. Especially after what Grace and Tim had told her at the pub. Hearing about the murders of all those children, particularly one that was found in her garden, had really freaked her out.

 
              There had been things left on the kitchen work top that she knew she hadn’t removed from the fridge, pictures falling off the wall for no reason, the television changing channels of its own accord and the most frightening one of all was when the dial moved on the radio. Chrissie had been unpacking some boxes and listening to her favourite radio station when it had suddenly become high pitched and crackly. She went into the kitchen to see what had happened, and as she began fiddling with the aerial she had spotted the dial turning backwards and forwards as if someone was tuning it.

              Most of the time the house felt warm, homely and familiar, and these were the times that Chrissie really felt she’d made the right decision. And that the future was full of exciting things. But at some point during each day, a cold blanket descended on the cottage like a layer of snow; silent and chilling. It left her feeling sick and fearful and wanting to jump into her car and drive far away from the whole place.    

              These extreme changes in atmosphere were causing Chrissie to have conflicting emotions. She enjoyed and looked forward to each day in her new house because at times she felt elated. But she also dreaded anticipating the change in atmosphere that could appear at any time. So, gradually and very slowly Chrissie was becoming a nervous wreck; like a large screw being turned inside her head. The offer of some company was grabbed with both hands because Chrissie naively convinced herself that it would all stop for a couple of days.

CHAPTER FOUR                                                           

NORFOLK 1955

              Daphne unscrewed the cap of her flask and inhaled the metallic smell of strong sweet tea that wafted towards her nose.

              It was a beautiful summer’s day and it was promising to be really warm by the afternoon. She was pleased to be outside for a change. When the weather was bad, Daphne spent time in the library or a café. But she preferred to be in the fresh air, it made her feel free. Something she didn’t feel in her life in general. When she was at home with Tim and Jack, in their big house, with their acre and a half of garden, she felt trapped like a rabbit in a hutch.

              So, most days during the summer holidays Daphne asked Dora their housekeeper to watch over Tim.

              They were some of the best days of her life and some of Tim’s worst, something she was oblivious to. Lost in her own world, she never once questioned why Tim hated the summer holidays, unlike other children, who loved them.

              Daphne leant back on the bench, crossed her feet and breathed deeply. Relief flooded her. She came out most days to be alone, think and reflect. It was like a whole new life she’d created outside her old one. This had been imperative to the well being of her family, even though they were unaware of her other life.

              It had been on a day a few months previously when she thought her head would explode like a ticking bomb. It had scared her, what she might do to Tim, she’d become so distressed. So she’d called on Dora to look after him for a few hours. And it was like someone had turned a tap on. She’d run to the park that day, sobbing all the way there in the rain, wanting so desperately for things to be different.

              That day had been the first of many and a tiny spark of an idea had ignited in her head. She decided that in order for her to be able to function in her role within her family, she would go out whenever she could. So, Daphne approached Dora with an agreement. Dora was paid extra to stay on and look after Tim and she wasn’t to breathe a word of it to anyone. If Jack ever asked, she would just tell him that she’d been out visiting or shopping and Dora had agreed to baby sit. He had no idea how often or how long she was out; he was always at work. She couldn’t tell Jack she wanted a Nanny because he’d then enquire where she was going. Dora just thought that Daphne was having an affair, one that she was glad of because it was lining her pockets and her lifestyle.

              The agreement worked for many years and Daphne was eternally grateful for the lifeline she’d been thrown. It had saved her from committing suicide and taking her son with her. It had only meant to be until Tim started school full time but then Daphne had found herself calling on Dora during the school holidays.