The Silent Girls (6 page)

Sam screwed up his face, as if trying to recall a distant memory. ‘Vaguely, I’ve only heard her mention him once or twice. I know him and Mum clashed, I do remember a row once with Dolly when his name was mentioned… I couldn’t tell you what it was about but I know Dolly was one of the few people that ever got the better of Mum. I think that’s why it stands out, it was the first time I ever saw Mum cry. Anyway, from what I can recall he was quite…ummm….a character.’

Edie laughed at his hesitation. ‘Do you mean arrogant? That’s what Rose always says.’

Sam pulled a face. ‘I was trying to be polite.’

‘No need, no one else is, well not about him anyway.’

‘You can’t choose your parents.’ Sam said.

‘Anyway, enough of that. What are you up to these days? We seem to have done nothing but talk about the past.’ It already felt as though she was being pulled backwards, without every conversation hauling her down memory lane.

‘This and that. Nothing special, I have fingers in a few lucrative pies.’

He’d avoided looking at her and it was clear he didn’t want to expand on his occupation. ‘So, you must live quite near. You seem to spend quite a bit of time with Lena.’

‘I’m not far, I’ve got a flat at Riverside. I see Mum most days, let her cook for me and that – she’s getting on and it gives her a reason to get up and get going. She’s had a houseful all her life, I doubt she’d cope if we left her to her own devices.’

Edie had to agree; a woman like Lena would wither and die without a familiar purpose. Maybe that’s what had happened to Dolly, without her mother and brother to look after she had quietly faded without fuss. ‘I’m glad she has a reason to crack on with it. I think you’re right. And Riverside, wow, that’s a bit posh isn’t it?’ Edie had passed the new development when she had arrived in town, it was most impressive and out of the price range of ordinary folk like her.

‘Can’t be that posh, I have shares in the company that developed the land.’ It came out casually, as if he felt it was neither here nor there that he owned part of a huge company. Fingers in pies indeed…

‘Blimey, you dark horse! I’d have made you take me somewhere much better than this if I’d known.’ Edie quipped.

Sam laughed. ‘Well you were buying so I thought I’d keep it low key. Which reminds me, you might be on free refills but I need another pint. I’ll take you somewhere posh next time.’

He walked towards the bar and left her pondering “next time”. Jesus, she was behaving like a giddy schoolgirl, and a desperate, frustrated one at that. The fact that he was clearly loaded was quite sobering, and if she thought about it, fairly intimidating. Nice as he was, he was out of her league in so many ways. Besides, he was only being kind because of past connections; there was nothing in it for her above the generosity of old friends.

Lena too was mulling over thoughts of old friends, so much so that she hadn’t been able to concentrate on the bingo and had missed the opportunity of winning twice. Not that she wanted the prizes, last year’s recycled Christmas presents and the same bottle of wine that had been re-donated as a prize three times weren’t exactly high on her list of desirables. But peace of mind was. She was going to be hard pressed to find any of that now that Number 17 was under scrutiny. There were too many ghosts hidden in that house and she for one wasn’t looking forward to any of them making their presence known. Edie was going to find things, things she probably wouldn’t understand, and the mere thought of it was breaking Lena’s heart. She sighed and hauled herself to her feet, bingo was over and everyone was leaving. If there were going to be things that Edie didn’t understand, Lena would have to make herself available to explain them.

Edie was sorry to discover that Sam wouldn’t be joining her at Lena’s; though she had to accept that he did have a life away from his mother, she had enjoyed his company. It had been good to laugh and spend time with a man she didn’t want to brain with the nearest blunt object. Thoughts of Sam were soon chased away by Lena’s demeanour, the old lady looked tired, as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Edie guessed that the afternoon’s bingo session hadn’t yielded its usual pleasures. ‘Everything all right, Lena?’ she asked as the woman trudged into the house and slumped into her favourite chair.

Lena shrugged. ‘Tired, that’s all. I usually get fish and chips on a Wednesday, be a love and go and fetch them would you? I don’t think these old bones will stand another trip out today.’

Edie didn’t hesitate; it was the least she could do to repay Lena’s hospitality. Though there was some grappling over who would pay. Edie won and set off to fetch their supper.

The queue inside the shop was long; she loitered outside for a few minutes, loath to expose herself to the steamy aroma, which would linger on her clothes –
l’eau d’chip shop
wasn’t the most appealing perfume in the world. A man, the smart man with the military bearing from yesterday’s funeral, sat on the bench opposite unashamedly staring at her while he ate chips from a paper cone. Edie found his scrutiny wholly unnerving and tried to ignore him by peering up and looking around the square, but his attention was like a magnet and compelled her to keep glancing at him. She almost sprang back when he suddenly stood up and launched his unfinished meal into a nearby bin. From the corner of her eye she saw him step forward, hesitate, seemingly think better of it and walk away. A bizarre sense of relief washed through her and she had no idea why, it was hardly as if he had been about to attack her in such a public place. Even so, she kept her wits about her as she made her way back with two steam-sodden parcels of the nation’s favourite. The man was nowhere to be seen, though she was sure that he had walked across the green towards the opposite side of the square. Fortunately she didn’t have to cross it herself, and could cling to the more brightly lit pavement to reach Lena’s house, nonetheless she closed the front door behind her with a sigh of quiet relief.

Lena had laid the table and warmed plates in the oven, Edie found it odd that such ceremony should accompany a paper wrapped meal; surely the whole point was to have time off from preparation and clearing up. She would happily have eaten her own supper from the greasy bundle, but concluded that when in Rome it was wise to feign Italian. They sat at the table to eat, Edie picking at the congealed mess of carbohydrate while Lena ate with mechanical regularity, her fork moving from plate to mouth with instinctive precision as she focused on the television. One of the soaps was on, churning out typical storylines where someone had stupidly lied, someone else had slept with someone’s partner and yet another was developing a dangerous addiction that would result in doom and disaster. Edie found the show mindlessly oppressive and mentally tuned it out, her thoughts returning to the strange man in the square. There had been something vaguely familiar about him, more than the recalling of him at the funeral. It was something from way back that nudged at her memory. She reached for a slice of the thin white bread that Lena had provided and took a bite. A slick of margarine coated her mouth and she felt her stomach begin to lurch, she had never been able to stand the taste and texture of margarine. She discarded the bread and took a gulp of tea to wash the taste away while her memory wheeled and clicked like an enigma machine and decoded the messages of the past. Slowly images flickered across her mind, another death, another funeral – limp white bread sandwiches made with margarine and a smear of meat paste. The flush of tepid tea to take the taste away; a grimace and the glimpse of a man sitting in a corner and staring. The same man. He had been at her mother’s wake. Much of the event was a complete blur, she couldn’t look back at it without an overwhelming, confusing sense of loss and longing for the woman she had never felt able to love. She couldn’t remember who had been there other than Simon (who had insisted on repeatedly looking at his watch and sighing) and Rose, who had done all the talking and thanking people for coming. But she recalled that man and it didn’t make sense. ‘Lena, did you come to my mum’s funeral?’

Lena pulled her attention away from the TV ‘Eh? No love I didn’t. Bill was in hospital at the time, and I couldn’t make it. Why?’

Edie shrugged. ‘It’s just that I saw someone in the square who I’m sure was there. I was just trying to place him.’ She had forgotten that Lena’s husband Bill had died soon after.

Lena frowned. ‘Other than me, Dickie and Dolly I can’t think that there’d have been anyone left who’d have known your mum. Unless the Bastins went, though I can’t see that would be likely.’

That name too was familiar. ‘Who are the Bastins?’

‘You must remember Sheila Bastin – you know, always went about the place looking sorry for herself and sheepish, lived across the way with that boy of hers, Matthew. It was her bastard husband what killed Sally Pollett and them others. But like I said, there was no love lost between us lot and them, so I doubt she’d have gone to your mum’s funeral. But Matthew might have done, odd bugger that one. Spent all his life trying to prove his father’s innocence and getting nowhere – used to stalk this place like a nosy little goblin, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d pitched up there just to have a look see. He came to Bill’s and all, cheeky swine. Didn’t get past the door for the wake though, I saw to that. We didn’t see much of him after that, I heard he joined the army or something. Not sure I’d even know him now.’

Of course! The different sections of Edie’s memory clicked into place like a combination lock set to the right sequence and released. She did remember him, Matthew Bastin, son of a killer and bully bait for the whole square. Skinny, scruffy and always hanging around as if he was waiting to be picked on. It was a fleeting thing, but Edie recalled a sense of pity for the boy which had been knocked out of her eleven-year-old self by Rose’s remonstration and a Chinese burn painfully administered by a young and spiteful Sam. All because she had offered Matt a sweet once. Was it Sam who had told her to stay away from Matt because he would chop her to little pieces and stuff her down the drain? She couldn’t recall, but someone had. It seemed that Matt Bastin was still a glutton for punishment if he had chosen to come back to the square.

Lena’s attention had drifted back to the TV where another soap with its familiar themes had begun to insinuate its immorality onto the supper eating viewers. Edie couldn’t stand it. She pushed her unfinished food away and reached for Lena’s empty plate. ‘I’ll wash these up and make some more tea.’ she said, waiting for Lena’s absentminded nod of approval. All those characters could remain faceless and unnamed to Edie; life already had more than enough drama for her.

Chapter Four

Lena’s kitchen was cluttered but clean, full of the paraphernalia that marked out a busy and productive existence. Edie was surprised at the quality of some of the equipment and assumed that Sam was the culprit, treating his mother to labour-saving devices and goods that would make her life a little easier. It must be nice to have a son who dropped in frequently and who cared about your day. Edie thought of Will and felt a pang of longing as she considered the distance between herself and her son. It wasn’t only the gulf of the Pacific that separated them, but his dogged loyalty to his father. She had always felt that Will though of her as a loving fool, just a doting, laundry-doing, food-cooking mum who needed no nurture and who could survive on that role alone. Edie sighed, whichever vantage point she chose to stand at and look at her life, the view always appeared to be half-baked and wanting. She plunged her hands into the scalding water and let the heat seep into her skin and creep into her bones in the vain hope that it would travel to her heart and start a thaw.

When she returned to the sitting room Lena was dozing in her chair, slack jawed and snoring. Edie considered fetching a blanket to cover the old lady, but something told her not to, that the intervention would not be welcome. The way that Lena was clutching at the arms of the chair in her sleep was jarring and it made Edie want to look away. She walked softly into the front room and, like many before her, peered out through the net curtains. This side of the square seemed quiet at night, all the activity took place in the communal garden and outside the pub where the smokers were gathered. Edie watched as they downed their drinks and laughed, then she turned her attention to the garden, where a group of kids, or what looked like kids to Edie, were busy clambering on a bench with the apparent intent of dismantling it. Was this what had caused Dolly to shut the world out?

The unexpected clatter of a skateboard on the paving slabs and the sudden appearance of a boy whizzing by sent her scurrying back into the dimly lit room, her heart pounding. The noise had shocked her and had seemed to come from nowhere. The grating rattle of loose wheels faded and her heart slowed as her senses came off red alert. All that she could hear now was the ticking of the clock and Lena’s gentle snores. The clock told her that it was five past nine, too early to go to bed and too late to do any more work in Number 17. She thought of ringing Rose and asking her about Matthew Bastin, but decided against it – if she rang after nine Rose would think something was wrong and what could Edie say, everything is wrong and I don’t know how to put it right?

With another sigh she headed for the stairs, a long bath and an early night seemed like her only option. While the hot tap thundered water into the tub she opened the window to release the steam and peered down into Lena’s yard. None of the houses had gardens as such, just a yard that used to house an outside toilet and a coal shed. Each yard backed on to an access lane where modern residents squeezed their cars to load and unload. Someone, Sam she supposed, had knocked down the old structures in Lena’s yard and had created a little seating area with a few pots and a small barbecue. Edie smiled at the thought of Lena’s huge family crammed into the tiny space, eating chargrilled burgers amidst the busy lizzies. The smile was wiped from her face when she spied a movement in the shadows of Number 17’s yard. Something was moving about down there. Her first instinct was to assume that an urban fox was rummaging about amongst the mountain of Dolly’s uncollected bin bags, but whatever it might be seemed too large to be a fox, and too noisy to be a burglar. Not that any burglar would find much, except maybe a bad dose of e coli poisoning and a fit of asthma. Nevertheless, Edie felt obliged to investigate, especially as she had a sneaking feeling that she hadn’t locked the back door. She thought of the kids in the square and their bid to vandalise the bench. Number 17 was in enough of a state, without the addition of graffiti and saboteurs.