Miriam's Talisman (6 page)

Miriam is left behind among the trees
.

I looked out at the same apple tree, catching the memory, replaying it. Then I forced my attention back to the washing up. The kitchen clean and tidy, I wandered back into the sitting room and fell into an armchair, the one in which I had found her only the day before. She had wrapped herself in a voluminous mohair cardigan which was still there. I snuggled inside it and drank in her own distinctive perfume of jasmine oil and spices. Clutching the talisman I closed my eyes and sank down into a blessed darkness. I seemed to be back in the café again. The man, Iolair, was there. He was trying to tell me something, but although his mouth shaped the words all I could hear was the screeching of a bird. And then it seemed to be outside the window, scrabbling on the sill and beating its wings against the glass.

I awoke with a start to find that several hours had passed and sunlight had deserted the room. The exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours had caught up with me. What I needed was a good night's sleep. And then there would be another day, and how would I survive that? Oh, God, I'd have to talk to Hannah about the instructions in Miriam's will. I felt sick at the thought.

I also realised that I hadn't let Paul know where I was, and by now he would be worried about me. In fact, until that moment, I'd forgotten all about him.

I
TURNED ON TO
the main road into town. The sun was setting, and deepening shadows softened the rows of old houses. I drove carefully this time, aware that my judgement was unreliable and trusting Fifito guide me home. She knew that road as well as I did. The little house I shared with the other girls stood perched on the pavement in one of the narrow side streets. Built cheaply in the eighteen-hundreds as homes for the university's domestic staff, the terraces had become fashionable city dwellings, painted up and preened like rows of pretty dolls' houses, all sparkling in the yellow light of the street lamps. I drew Fifiinto a space at the kerb and sat there for a moment, realising I couldn't put it off much longer.

Fifi was another gift from Miriam.

It was just after I had started my first job and had managed to pass the driving test at the second attempt. After years of student deprivation and a succession of increasingly dilapidated bicycles, I decided I deserved a car. So I cleaned out my piggy bank, a lifetime's accumulation of saved pocket money and birthday
donations, and took out a small loan. All right, so the car I chose had a few rust patches on the bodywork and it vibrated if it went over fifty. Still, it had six months' road tax and the small engine would go a long way on a litre of petrol. And it would be mine. I'd be a working woman with my own wheels, and next year I could trade it in for a newer model. The salesman was a friend of a friend and said I could take it for a test run. So, of course, I drove it to the cottage.

And there was Miriam outside on the grass verge, all smug and smiling and leaning against another car. This one was bright red, shining and new from the showroom. I protested for at least ten minutes before I caved in and agreed to keep it. She was French and looked so brazen that she had to have a name to flirt with, so Fifiit was. We christened her with champagne. Then I took her to show Hannah.

‘Guess what?' I said. ‘They've given me a company car. Sort of perk.'

‘That's wonderful. And you were just talking about buying a car. They must really value the work you've been doing. A promotion next, you'll see.'

What's another lie? Fifi was the best present I'd ever had and I wasn't going to let Hannah spoil it for me. Besides, it wasn't deceiving her that was making me feel uncomfortable. Something else didn't feel right.

‘Is that you, Chloe?'

Angie's voice sang out to me from the kitchen. Then she came through into the hall and was so solid and ordinary that I clung to her.

‘God, you look awful! Where have you been all day? You might have let us know—we've all been worried sick. Oh, you poor thing. It must have been awful for you. And your hands are frozen.' Angie works with animals, a veterinary nurse, so she's accustomed to maintaining a one-sided conversation with her charges. For once I was thankful, as I didn't feel much like accounting for my actions.

She disappeared into the kitchen and there was a blast of cold air as the back door opened. ‘It's OK. She's here!' The door slammed and she returned. ‘Come into the lounge. We're trying to light a fire. When was the last time you ate? I bet you've had nothing all day. I'll go and put the kettle on.'

I sank down beside the little tiled fireplace and stretched my hands over the few flames that were struggling for life among a pyramid of logs. The house was warm anyway, but we loved the idea of a real fire, even if the reality never quite lived up to our expectations. When Angie and I moved in we promised each other that we would light real fires and buy a toasting fork and make buttered toast on Sundays. The squashed little rooms were crammed with dusty bargains from charity shops and car boot sales. But it was our home.

There was another cold draught and a slam, then Paul hurried into the room, his arms laden with sawn wood.

‘Rabbit, where the hell have you been?'

Paul often called me Rabbit. A pet name, he said. Angie thought that was funny. Usually I found it endearing, but just then it jarred me to the bone.

‘Oh, I went to see Greg Uson. We had to sort out some stuff, you know, for the funeral.'

‘Yes, Hannah said you were at the solicitor's, but I rang there and they told me you'd left hours ago.'

‘I'm sorry. I didn't realise you'd be here. I didn't think.'

‘Of course I'm here. I've been waiting for ages. Are you all right?'

I began to feel defensive. ‘Yes. Why shouldn't I be all right? I'm fine.' Was this what I had been avoiding?

‘Well, we didn't know what to think. Where have you been all day?'

‘I went to the cottage, that's all. I fell asleep.'

‘What were you doing there?'

‘I went to see Miriam.' I didn't know how else to explain and I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

Paul hesitated and drew a deep breath. ‘Look, you've been under a tremendous strain. You'll be able to think more clearly after a good night's rest.'

I thought I was thinking clearly, but I couldn't summon up the energy to protest. I looked up and saw the concern in his eyes. His face was always so wide open. I leaned into the hardness of his shoulder and allowed my body to wilt. When I was with him I didn't feel I had to play a part, or so I told myself. There was certainly no need to lie. Well, not very often. Only when I wanted to keep something to myself.

At that moment I wanted things to be right between us, so I said, ‘I could do with a hot bath and something to eat.'

‘No sooner said than done, my lady.' And he hoisted me up in his arms and carried me up the stairs. I felt giddy and screamed with laughter as he whirled me around. I was startled. I hadn't expected to be able to laugh. Angie
came out from the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. ‘Angie, could you rustle up some food? I think she needs some TLC.'

‘I was just making some soup and sandwiches—be ready in about ten minutes.'

Paul filled the bath with an assortment of oils and foams and the scented steam made my head swim. My clothes lay strewn on the bathroom floor where he had helped me undress. I lay back, eyes closed, while he soothed my shoulders and sponged water to trickle down my face. I tried to recount the events of the day, especially the conversation with Greg about Miriam's will.

‘You mean everything is yours, the cottage as well as the money?'

‘Yes, I think so. We didn't really talk about it much. He wants me to go back after the funeral.'

‘Hey, what's this round your neck?'

‘It's something Miriam gave me. A sort of talisman, I think. No, don't take it off. It was rather special to her.' I did not mention the man in the café. It wasn't important.

‘Oh, OK. Hungry?' Paul put his head around the bathroom door and shouted over the banisters, ‘I think we're ready for that soup now.'

‘Coming right up!'

I was towel dried and dressed in a voluminous old T-shirt, then tucked into bed. Angie's feet thumped up the stairs and she appeared with a tray. She has a tendency to thump about everywhere. Her hands and feet are large, and she is always too busy to worry about being graceful. She seems to be completely unconscious of her appearance, yet, somehow, she manages to be beautiful. We're so unalike, I don't know how we ever became friends.

‘Have you heard?' said Paul, taking the tray from her. ‘I'm going to marry an heiress.'

‘What's this?'

‘Apparently Cliohna's been left a lot of money.' They stood either side of the bed, dissecting my life and prospects while I tore into the pile of bread and cheese, dipping it into the bowl of rich tomato and coriander. God, it tasted good! I was ravenous. I was deaf to their conversation until I realised they were debating whether or not I should have some more sleeping pills.

‘Look, she needs a good sleep. She's exhausted, emotionally as well as physically.' That was Paul.

‘Yes, I agree, but I don't think popping pills into her is going to help. She needs some natural sleep.'

At this point I decided to rejoin the discussion and came down firmly on Angie's side. The tablets I'd taken the previous night had left me tired and confused. ‘What I could really do with is a drink. Scotch, I think. If we have any.'

‘That's the last thing you need. Alcohol doesn't really help you sleep.'

‘Paul, I would like a drink.'

‘It's a bad habit to get into.'

‘One small glass of scotch isn't going to turn me into an alcoholic.'

And then for some reason I dissolved into tears again. Paul shook his head in patient despair, then rocked me gently while Angie took away the tray and returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea. She winked at me over Paul's head as she placed it on the bedside table. I took a sip and whisky bit into the back of my throat. A small victory.

‘I'm going to have to go.' Paul stood up, rolling down his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs. ‘I'm on duty in half an hour. I'll try to get back in the morning.'

‘No, don't bother. I'll have to go and see Hannah. I'll ring you later.'

‘OK, Rabbit, try and get some rest.' He brushed my unruly hair back and kissed my forehead. ‘Take care of her, won't you, Angie?'

Angie sat on the bed and we listened as the front door slammed downstairs. The house was filled with silent echoes. I sipped my tea and whisky as if I were an invalid, and it was a while before either of us spoke.

Eventually Angie whispered. ‘Was it awful? Last night, I mean. Miriam.'

I sniffed and nodded. ‘It's scary, you know. The way it changes everything. I feel as if something has happened to me too. It's like something has been torn out of me and I'm left with a big gaping hole. I can't imagine what it's going to be like without her. I'm not even sure I really believe it yet. I keep hoping that it's all been a mistake, that the hospital's going to call and tell me she's really all right.'

‘What can I do? I don't know how to help. I know nothing I say will make it any better. But I promise I'll be here. I'll do anything I can.'

We both fell into silence again. Angie held my hand while I finished my drink, just as I had held Miriam's. After a while I put the cup down.

‘Angie, what do you think of Paul?'

‘In what way?'

‘Well, do you think I'm doing the right thing?'

‘What, marrying him, you mean? How should I know?
I'm the last person to give advice about someone's love life. I can't keep a bloke five minutes. Too fussy. Now ask me about choosing a dog and I might be able to help you. How about a retriever? Actually Paul does remind me of a retriever.' This sent us both off into gales of laughter. I think the scotch was working.