The Lost Child. Ann Troup
snorted. ‘Sounds like Jean, once she was set on something that was it. Wild horses couldn’t shift her from a stupid idea. God knows why Mum had such a soft spot for her, couldn’t stand her myself. Still, I’m sorry she’s gone, for your sake.’ There was a nonchalant resignation in her choice of words. ‘Anyway, as for the ashes, you might want to find somewhere else, I can’t see Jean resting in peace around here,’ she waved her arm at the garden, which could be glimpsed through the dingy kitchen window. ‘Mum kept it nice, but I don’t have the time or the inclination. Takes me half my time to run around after that daft bugger,’ she said, pointing at Derry with her mug. ‘It would help if I could keep him off the estate, if I get one more phone call from that old bitch up there I will swing for someone! Apparently he frightens the guests.’
Elaine was reminded of her experience the day before at the ruined chapel, and Brodie’s assertion that someone was lurking in the trees. Now that she had met Derry she could see that there was no harm in him, but having recently experienced the shock of her life it was hard not to see both sides. ‘I haven’t met them yet.’
Rosemary scoffed, ‘Well there’s a bonus for you. If you think your mother was a snob just wait until you meet Miss high-and-mighty Gardiner-Hallow. Put it this way, she thinks hers smells of roses if you get my drift,’ she added with a knowing nod.
Elaine allowed herself a small smile to acknowledge the comparison. ‘I kind of feel sorry for people like that.’
Rosemary gave a derisive snort, ‘I bloody don’t! Rich as Croesus and still they’re not happy, carping about this that and the other like they’re still the lords and we’re the riff raff. Bitch-face Gardner would have us all back in serfdom if she could, grubbing about in the soil to feed her table. Look at the way she treats that Miriam, that woman must be seventy if she’s a day and she’s still at their beck and call. Still, Esther hung on madam’s coat tails like a bad smell, and what did she get? A crummy cottage and a few quid. You know she started work in that house when she was fourteen, never married, never had a life. Madness if you ask me.’
‘I thought she’d had a stroke.’ Elaine was surprised at the vehemence of Rosemary’s observations.
‘She did, couple of years back.’ Rosemary said as a sly grin stole over her face. ‘That shut her up all right, never one for holding back was Esther. Cor, I’d hate to be a fly on the wall in that woman’s head, the things she must be bottling up! If you think I’m blunt, Esther would have wiped the floor with you.’
Elaine was inclined to think that she was glad that she hadn’t met Esther. Someone more abrasive than Rosemary would be hard to contemplate.
‘Did you know they’ve got that kid there now, her and Miriam? As if either of them know how to look after a kid, especially one with troubles. I was told that the mother went loopy and is in the funny farm. Still, not surprising after what happened I suppose – though you’d think she would have got past it by now wouldn’t you? I mean, it’s been a long time. Still people don’t forget do they, they still think Derry took her. Found her cardigan in his den. Mind you, I think the police took one look at him and knew they couldn’t make it stick, but they were still bastards. Do you know they kept him locked up for weeks? Not sure he ever got over it really. And who was left to pick up the pieces, eh? Muggins of course. Anyway, like I was saying – they’ve got that kid there, staying with them bold as brass. I wonder what she makes of it all eh? Being dumped off here after everything that happened. That mother should be ashamed of herself, ought to have pulled herself together and got over it by now. If she’d been looking after the kid properly it would never have happened. Anyway, it’s ancient history now, leave it dead and buried, that’s what I say.’
Elaine patiently withstood this tirade, buoyed by the irony of Rosemary’s convictions. However, she felt a need to defend Brodie. ‘I’ve met the girl, she’s a nice kid. I feel for her. After all, the past isn’t her fault and it’s a shame some people can’t see that.’ Her words were pointed, but missed their target by a mile.
‘Well, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Those who are innocent carry the burden, don’t they?’ Rosemary stated sagely.
Elaine felt defeated, Rosemary was a wearing woman. It seemed as if the trait had run in the family, a thought that reminded her of Jean languishing on the doorstep. ‘True enough. Anyway, I ought to get going, it’s been lovely to meet you both. I’ll um, think of somewhere else for Mum.’
Rosemary gave her a look that said she doubted it had been lovely at all. She followed Elaine down the hallway to the door, ‘Well, nice to meet you I suppose, but don’t be expecting a Christmas card or anything, I’m not the type,’ she said as she leaned in the doorway, arms folded across her chest – looking like the archetype of a battle-axe landlady.
Elaine looked around for Derry, eager to say goodbye to the shy giant, but he was nowhere to be seen.
It was only when she got back to the cottage that she realised that she had left Jean on the Tylers’ doorstep as if she was as unimportant as an umbrella on a sunny day. Her intention to go back immediately and retrieve the urn was interrupted by Miriam, who arrived at the cottage bearing fresh sheets and towels. ‘Just popping in to do your change.’ she said, bustling past breathlessly.
‘That’s OK Miriam, leave it there, I can do it. You’ve got enough to do already.’ Elaine erroneously thought that she would be doing the woman a favour.
Miriam bristled, ‘Certainly not, you are a paying guest and will have the same service as everyone else. Besides, you’ve been very good to Brodie and I don’t want you to think we don’t appreciate it.’
Elaine conceded and made room for Miriam to move past her towards the stairs, ‘It’s not a problem, I’m very fond of Brodie.’
Miriam paused, ‘Well, you’re a brave one I must say, she’s such a prickly little thing usually, but she certainly likes you. All I hear is “Elaine this, Elaine that”.’
Elaine felt uncommonly pleased by this and rewarded the compliment with one of her rare smiles.
‘She tells me you’re an artist.’ Miriam said as she trundled up the stairs on heavy, swollen feet. Elaine suspected that she was a martyr to those feet.
In order to answer she was forced to follow. Trailing in Miriam’s wake awkwardly, as people do when they’re not used to being waited on. ‘Well, yes. I’m an illustrator – books, posters that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, how lovely.’ Miriam was clearly none the wiser. ‘Can’t draw a pair of legs with a ruler myself, still, God finds a use for all of us I suppose,’ she added, hauling the quilt off the bed and fighting with the cover. It was a laborious thing to watch, the quilt was twice the size of the woman and Elaine had no choice but to wade in and help. As they wrestled with the quilt Elaine pondered what God’s plan was for her, if her only purpose was to concoct twee pictures for children’s books. Not that that was the only thing she did, but it was her bread-and-butter work.
‘I met Rosemary Tyler today,’ she said as they were fitting the sheet, Miriam huffing with effort as she manhandled the fitted corners around the mattress.
‘Really? And how was that? Did she set the dogs on you?’ Miriam’s questions were delivered without humour.
‘No, she didn’t, but she’s so fierce herself I doubt she’d need the dogs.’
Miriam chortled at this, ‘Ha, you’re not wrong there. Not known for her warm welcome is our Rosemary. Every village has a termagant, and she’s ours. Ruby was the same, an absolute bitch of a woman. I don’t think there was a person in the village that didn’t feel the sharp edge of her tongue at least once. Still, I suppose they both had their cross to bear what with Derry,’ she said, beating a pillow into smooth submission.
‘I met him too, he seems harmless enough though.’
Miriam paused in what she was doing and regarded Elaine as if debating how much she should say. ‘Well, I’d agree. I don’t think