The Lost Child. Ann Troup
Using a carrier bag turned inside out as a glove, she bent to retrieve the rabbit. Her lip curled at the feel of its cold flesh through the plastic and with a shudder of revulsion she picked it up. Holding it before her, the bag swinging from the very tips of her fingers, she walked over to Miriam’s cottage and knocked on the kitchen door. Miriam struck her as a woman who would know exactly what to do with the thing.
*
Miriam seemed pleased with the donation, even offering to demonstrate how the animal could be skinned and prepared for cooking. An offer which Elaine emphatically declined on the grounds that it would be knowledge that she would never use. She much preferred to receive her meat already butchered into nice, neat anonymous chunks. While Miriam busied herself hanging the rabbit in the shed ready for the next day, Elaine was left alone in the quiet, cluttered kitchen.
It was a room that told its history in the paraphernalia which it held. Copper jelly moulds adorned the walls and heavy pans hung on butcher’s hooks from a rickety laundry rack suspended from the ceiling by a system of ropes and pulleys.
Miriam had left her sitting at a scrubbed pine table from which a faint tang of carbolic soap rose to tingle in her nose. It was a smell that conjured images of childhood and Jean’s obsession that cleanliness was next to Godliness; it wasn’t an aroma which brokered happy memories for Elaine. The kitchen formed a tableau that interior designers would have died for and purveyors of retro chic would have drooled over – it was a haven of vintage style that had cost Miriam nothing but a lifetime of utility and frugality. Yet it resonated the warmth of her personality in a way that no designer could replicate and no money could buy. Everything about the room smacked of Miriam’s matronly country charm, with just enough chaos to make it interesting. Elaine tried to picture a black clad, brooding Brodie at the table and had to smile at the incongruity of the image. She was still smiling when Miriam returned.
‘Well, that’s that then.’ Miriam said wiping her hands on her ever-present apron. ‘Would you like a cuppa now that you’re here? I’ve just made one.’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely. Where’s Brodie? I thought she would have been round this afternoon.’ Elaine watched Miriam wield the enormous brown teapot in one capable hand whilst balancing a delicate silver tea strainer in the other.
‘Oh she took herself off a couple of hours ago, said she had something she wanted to look at. As long as she’s out from under my feet and not causing any trouble!’ Miriam said with a laugh. ‘Come on through, you can meet Esther, she likes a bit of company.’
Elaine followed her through towards the lounge, hovering in the doorway whilst Miriam prepared Esther for company.
‘We’ve got a visitor.’ Miriam plumped cushions behind the figure of Esther who Elaine was unable to see, obscured as she was by her sister’s bulk. ‘It’s Elaine. You know, I told you about her, she’s staying in the rental cottage for a couple of weeks.’
Elaine could hear a guttural, grunting sound emanating from the chair; it felt like her cue to enter. ‘Hello Esther, it’s very nice to meet you at last.’ She said it with a pleasantry that she didn’t quite feel. With all that she had heard about Esther this wasn’t a meeting she’d been relishing. As Miriam moved away she got her first look at the woman in the chair. With a fixed smile she took in the spare, pinched features of the woman whose eyes bore into her with malignant curiosity. Esther’s one good hand clenched briefly then resumed poking and scratching at the arm of her chair as she looked away from her visitor.
Elaine suppressed a shudder and swallowed down the rising anxiety that was threatening to make her flee from the room. There was a terrifying familiarity about Esther’s demeanour, which was reminiscent of a hundred childish nightmares. The sensation of fear forced her to look away and focus on the rest of the room, as if by doing so she could pretend that the hostile, ravaged presence wasn’t there. Despite her best efforts to make small talk about the lovely painting above the mantel, or the charming Staffordshire dogs that adorned the hearth, she couldn’t escape her reaction to the old woman. The need to get out of the room became more pronounced with every minute.
Mutual dislike crackled through the air in the room completely escaping Miriam, who chattered on, oblivious to the sidelong glances which Elaine was compelled to give to the crone in the corner just to be sure. Sure of what she didn’t know, perhaps to check that the woman really wasn’t capable of independent movement and could not get out of the chair. The mounting anxiety made her feel like a child full of ridiculous worries about monsters under the bed and bogey men in the wardrobe. She was forced to abandon her tea, lest the cup should rattle in the saucer and betray her nerves. The visceral response bore no relation to reason and Elaine felt hard pressed to make sense of it.
The ordeal was ended by the arrival of another visitor, to whom Elaine couldn’t have been more grateful as his unexpected visit gave her the perfect excuse to escape. The appearance of the tall, impeccably dressed and handsome man at the cottage door caused both Miriam and Esther to cry out in surprise and delight. From Esther there was a tortured, keening squeal followed by her raddled face breaking out into a rapture of delight and longing. An image that was almost as frightening to Elaine as the tortuous brooding that had gone before.
From Miriam there was an explosion of pleasure as she cried ‘Alex! Where did you spring from, we weren’t expecting you!’
Elaine couldn’t help but feel wryly amused by the Austen-esque mood that had taken over the women. She rose to her feet and watched as Miriam fluttered and flustered over the visitor while Esther grimaced and fawned.
Alex lapped it up like the prodigal son, ‘Just a flying visit I’m afraid, popping in on my way back to London. Thought I’d better call in and see my two favourite ladies.’ He oozed charm as he bent to kiss the now effervescent Esther.
‘Where are my manners?’ Miriam gushed with a flap of her apron. ‘Alex, this is Elaine, she’s staying next door for a while. Elaine, I’d like you to meet Alex Gardiner-Hallow.’ Her face beamed with pride as she made the introductions.
Alex extended his hand while making a long lingering appraisal of Elaine, which made her feel as though he was imagining her naked. ‘Elaine, pleased to make your acquaintance.’ A lascivious smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Elaine took his hand and received a warm, dry squeezing of her fingers. The gesture was undertaken with the use of both hands. He let his touch linger a fraction too long and she was forced to extract herself.
‘You’re the aspiring MP, aren’t you? Are you home for a bit of impromptu campaigning?’ She was fighting the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans, uninvited intimacy had never made her comfortable.
Alex guffawed, the sound as fake as his snake oil charm. ‘Quite! Though I’m sure I can count on the votes of these two lovely ladies. They brought me up you know, I would be nothing without these two, would I – Esther, Miriam?’ He beamed at the adoring women.
Miriam blushed and flapped her hand at him, while Esther’s lip trembled with pride. Her prior menace completely replaced by humble, sycophantic devotion.
For Elaine this was equally creepy. ‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you, but I ought to be going. Thank you for the tea Miriam, tell Brodie I said hello,’ she said, her words barely registering with the giddy Miriam.
At the door Alex took her hand again, ‘I hope we meet again, Elaine.’ He appraised her once more. There was a shard of menace in the glimmer of his eye, which she took to denote his hard-nosed political acumen. He struck her as a man in no doubt of his own appeal. He was appealing, in a purely physical sense, and represented an almost perfect specimen of manliness. She found him both extremely attractive and quite unnerving. She had never been comfortable around attractive men and always searched for flaws that would match her own. In Alex she could find none.
Extracting herself, she gave him a tight smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll be far too busy.’ She hastily made her escape, beginning to wish she had just buried that damned rabbit. The whole visit had left her feeling quite unsettled. She was aware