Cover Your Eyes (16 page)

‘That's true,' I said and I believed it, but that wasn't the point. I decided to talk to Rowena. It wouldn't hurt to give it a go, for Eva's sake. Perhaps she might consider taking it off the market and putting it on again once they'd found somewhere suitable for her mother. I could suggest it, in any case.

*

This was, Eva thought, a ridiculous time of the day to be lying down, but she was tired and one of the good things about growing older was that no one batted an eyelid if you said you were taking yourself off to your bed. She hadn't drawn the curtains, proposing to enjoy whatever the winter sunset might produce. Megan had understood her very well, but she hadn't been totally honest. When she was being rational, sensible, grown-up, Eva acknowledged that it wasn't only happy memories that linked her to the house. The unhappy ones; the terrible things that she'd felt and seen here; the presence of Angelika even when she didn't show herself: all those were like creepers of some kind, binding her to the house, attaching themselves to her skin.

She tried to make her mind blank, to rid herself of thoughts and worries about moving house and everything else as well, but the trouble with closed eyes, with trying to clear your mind, was that other things came into your head to fill the space. As a girl, Eva used to imagine her head as a kind of snow globe. Instead of white, pure flakes falling over everything when you shook it, she had something dark and sooty lying at the very bottom of the glass ball, waiting to drift down over her whole life if she thought about it too hard. This darkness, like a layer of thick black mud, had been with her for as long as she could remember. It sat there quietly and didn't get stirred up very often, but when it happened, her whole being became clouded with sorrow. When she felt better again, it was as though the snow globe was settling into stillness and clarity.

Eva feared that if she fell asleep now one particular nightmare she'd often had as a child would come back to trouble her. As a girl, she used to try and stay awake as long as she could, to defeat the bad dreams, but it never worked because in the end, she always fell asleep.

Think about anything, she told herself, but not the game we played. The game was what she dreamed of, all the time. She closed her eyes. Immediately, she was back there, in the black place between the crates piled up on a German station platform and words were being whispered in her ear.
Cover your eyes. Count to a hundred
. I didn't know how to count to a hundred, she thought. I knew how to count to ten, that was all. I was worried. Worried that I wasn't going to be able to do what she said. What Angelika said. I didn't even know what a hundred was, except that it was part of the game. Eva had kept on counting to ten, over and over again. How many times? She couldn't remember after so many years, but much more than a hundred. She stayed there in the dark and the cold and she didn't move. The voice said nothing else. Eva thought she knew who'd been speaking, who had told her to hide her eyes, but sometimes she believed that the words had come from
her
, out of her own mouth. That
she'd
spoken them.
Cover your eyes. Count to a hundred
.

It was Angelika. Eva had been almost sure of that for most of her life, but now she was far less certain. It could have been me, she decided. It could have been, when you think what happened to each of us. Eva had become so used to the fact that no one except her knew about Angelika that for years at a time she'd managed to smooth over what she'd done and push it out of her mind; obliterate and deny it entirely. What she'd told herself over and over during her lifetime
(I was only four years old)
was true but still she couldn't forgive herself.
You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have left her there. Left her to die. You
knew
England meant being safe. Mama and Papa had told you. It had been drummed into you. Just as Angelika had been told, constantly told:
Look after Eva. You're the big sister.
She would never have disobeyed Mama and Papa. Would she? No, never. So it must have been me. I must have done the bad thing. I left her there. I left her there and she died because I did that.

Since that night and until just the other day when she'd let slip her name in front of Megan, Eva had managed never to speak of Angelika. It was as though she'd never existed. By the time the transport arrived in England, she'd been beyond speech, traumatized into silence and sickness. All her energies had turned to erasing that memory and she'd done it so well that until quite recently she thought about it only rarely. Because Agnes Conway had known nothing about Angelika, it was easy never to speak of her and Eva had trained herself into a willed forgetfulness. She had tried not to dwell on the past and most of the time she'd succeeded. But now, because she was so worried about leaving this house, because Megan had been so kind to her, things were creeping back into her head which she'd thought were banished for ever. When she came upstairs a few minutes ago, she was sure that Angelika was there, in the mirror, even though Eva wasn't able to see her. Sometimes, it didn't matter how many scarves she threw over the glass, she could still sense her sister's veiled presence. However the story twisted itself up in her dreams,
she had left her there
. Eva had taken the lady's hand and let herself be led on to the train bound for Holland. She'd looked out of the window and seen the station getting smaller and smaller. I knew I was alone, she thought. She hadn't meant to do it, but she'd done it; she was still a murderer and she'd never forgiven herself. You can't ever rid yourself of a thing like that. You can suppress it but it will come out. Somehow. It will float out of the glass and stand in front of you, dressed in brown buckled shoes and a brown coat with a black velvet collar. Your sister.

*

After Eva and I got back to Salix House, she went to lie down till lunchtime and I went to check my emails. I knew there would be a message there from Tom and there was.
You okay? Can't write much. In staff room. Missed you this morning. Tom x.

I answered him:
Had to talk to Eva this morning so couldn't come into school but will see you at 3.30. Love, Megan x.

I thought about the message for a while before I sent it. I was determined not to lie to Tom. I felt that perhaps he was right and life
might
be changing but I didn't know how or if I liked it changing, not yet. As I thought about it, I remembered how we were on Saturday and found myself quite eager to see him. I sent the message and then I went and lay down on the bed and tried to think about Eva. Stop thinking about Tom, I told myself, and work out what you're going to say to Rowena.

*

Eva stood on the flagged terrace outside the drawing room watching as Conor dealt with the bonfire, the fireworks and managed at the same time to keep the girls under control and out of danger. He was at his best on such occasions. He'd have been a perfect primary school teacher, Eva thought, as she'd thought many times. He was friendly, cheerful, helpful and even quite handsome if you liked the rather hearty, pink-cheeked sort of man who would probably get a bit stout in his old age. Rowena had surprised her when she announced her engagement to a young computer programmer she'd met at a party, but the marriage was happy, as far as she could tell and certainly she couldn't have wished for a better father for her granddaughters.

‘Right, now,' he said to Dee, Bridie, Megan and Rowena, who were standing together at a safe distance from the row of bottles with fireworks stuck into their necks that he'd set up earlier in the afternoon. ‘You stand back and watch these go up! See how high they go. Ready?' He lit the fuses and the rockets flew up over the garden, leaving sequin-like trails across the night sky. The girls laughed with pleasure. ‘More?' Conor asked. ‘Yes!' came the answer. ‘Yes!' Another fusillade exploded, and then more laughter. The fireworks ran out then, for which Eva was grateful. The first few times were a happy surprise but after a while, when it came to fireworks, she started to calculate the cost of the bright glittering and usually came to the conclusion that sending money burning up into the air was something of a waste. What a killjoy you are, Eva! she told herself. The girls are so happy. Conor and Rowena are happy. Surely that's worth a great deal of money?

‘Okay, my darlings … and that includes you, Eva,' said Conor, coming up to her and taking her by the arm. ‘Let's go down to the kitchen garden and light the bonfire.'

On the way, with the girls skipping ahead of them and Megan not far behind, Conor turned to her and looked at her more solemnly than he normally did.

‘Are you feeling more yourself, Eva? After this morning, I mean?' He seemed genuinely concerned. ‘I know you're not happy with the moving idea and all but—'

‘Don't worry, Conor,' said Eva. The last thing she felt like doing was rehashing her feelings now, after going over everything with Megan. ‘Let's catch up with the girls.'

*

At seven, I found Rowena alone in the kitchen. The girls were watching television with Eva. ‘I never mind what it is,' she'd told me soon after I got here. ‘I just like sitting on the sofa between the two of them and hugging them if they'll let me. I like seeing how much they're enjoying themselves.'

I didn't know how much time I'd have. Dee might easily get fed up and go looking for other entertainment, though they wouldn't need much feeding after the baked potatoes and bonfire toffee apples we'd all been eating. I said,

‘Hi, Rowena, can I talk to you for a sec?'

She looked up, frowning. ‘Oh, God, Megan, don't tell me you want to hand in your notice or anything—'

‘No, it's nothing like that.'

‘Well, that's a relief. What's the problem?'

‘Do you need any help chopping up stuff for salad?'

‘It's okay. I'm nearly done.'

Phyllis was away so we were having salad. Rowena wasn't much of a cook but Phyllis usually left something in the pantry for us to warm up as well as a pudding in the fridge. Rowena had her back to me, which made it easier to say what I'd prepared.

‘I'm a bit worried about Eva,' I began. Rowena whirled round with the knife still in her hand and frowned at me.

‘What do you mean? What's the matter with her? I thought she looked fine this morning.'

I told Rowena what had happened after breakfast and also mentioned what Eva had told me. I went on, ‘So I wanted to ask you whether it was … you know. Definite. I mean, whether it would be possible – at all possible – to delay moving. To stay in Salix House for a bit longer. Take it off the market for a little while.'

‘No,' Rowena said. ‘It wouldn't.' While I'd been speaking, she'd begun to look more and more angry. She pulled herself together and dropped the knife on the work surface and came to sit down in the chair opposite mine. Then she noticed that there were tomato seeds clinging to her hands and went to the sink to wash them. For a moment, water rushing down the plughole was the only sound in the room, then Rowena spoke.

‘Look, I know this sounds unfeeling and I know how persuasive my mother can be, but it's not on. We're moving to London. It's all arranged. I've been looking into schools, we're moving heaven and earth to find Ma a nice place—'

‘But she's hated the ones she's seen,' I put in.

‘Nevertheless, we'll find somewhere. Somewhere she'll like, I'm sure we will. It's just a matter of looking. And you'll help, won't you, Megan? She trusts you – you could make her look at everything more positively. But we
are
going. Luke Fielden tells me he's on the point of making an offer which is a bit less than what I was looking for, but I might have some other people interested too, soon, I think … it's all set up.'

‘But your mother's so miserable! She covers it up a lot of the time because she doesn't want to be an inconvenience, but she hates the idea. She wants to stay here.'

‘That's exactly what she can't do, I'm afraid.'

I tried again. ‘Why not, though? Why can't you at least delay the move? The market might pick up … it's dreadful now, isn't it? You might get more money if you waited a bit. You say Luke's offer isn't enough. Even six months would be better than nothing. It's just … well, she's marvellous for her age and everything but she
is
old, isn't she? I reckon that ought to be important. Her happiness.'

‘Oh, of course it's important,' Rowena said, sounding furious. She apologized at once. ‘God, I'm sorry, Megan. I don't know why I'm yelling at you. Only it's so … it's so difficult. I know there's truth in what you say and sometimes I feel as if I'm being wicked, making her move and upsetting her and everything, but we have to think of us. Of our children. And of me. I know it sounds selfish but it would be so much easier for all of us if we lived in London.'

I could feel her wavering so I said, ‘Except Eva. It wouldn't be better for Eva.'

Rowena was twisting her hands together and staring at the table. Then she sighed.

‘I'll talk to Conor, Megan, but I have to tell you, we're determined. But I
will
talk to him again. Okay?'

‘Thanks, Rowena. I know I shouldn't be asking you to, but I can't help worrying about Eva.'

She looked at me then, almost as though she were seeing me properly for the first time.

‘That's very commendable, Megan, but isn't there something a bit … well, you'll most likely be out of a job when we move to London. Are you sure you're not wanting to delay the move for reasons of your own? Forgive me for asking this, but I do have to know how much your own interests are making you—'

I didn't let her finish. I didn't care at that moment whether she fired me on the spot or not. I lost it. I forgot all the boundaries of our relationship and yelled at her anyway.