Daughters of Castle Deverill (17 page)

Martha now lay in bed, listening to the noises in her room and finding comfort in them. She didn’t realize how tenuous her hold on that world was. She was about to find out.

The following morning Mrs Goodwin dressed her in a green frock with a matching cardigan and long white socks. She brushed her hair off her face and tied it back with green ribbons. When she was
ready she was taken downstairs to the hall where her mother was waiting for her. This time she was going to New York. Mrs Goodwin had told her how exciting Manhattan was and Martha couldn’t
wait to see it. She hadn’t been anywhere, only as far as Grandma Wallace’s house, and the thought of the big city thrilled her.

New York was indeed exciting. Martha pressed her nose to the car window and gazed out onto the tall buildings that had grown higher than trees and onto the sidewalks that were grey with slush.
She had never seen so many people and so many cars, all lined up in long rows, some tooting their horns impatiently. It was in front of an elegant brownstone building that the car came to a halt
and her mother hooked her handbag over her arm and waited for the chauffeur to open the door for her. As he stood to attention Pam climbed out, then took Martha’s hand and led her up the
steep steps to the front door.

Martha, who had been chattering happily in the car, suddenly grew quiet. She walked close to her mother and held her hand tightly. There was something oppressive about this place that made her
feel afraid. The elevator frightened her too because the door was like an animal cage. It made a rattling noise when it was opened and closed and Martha felt as if she was being imprisoned. She was
mightily relieved when her mother pulled it open at the second floor and she was allowed out. A lady with bright red lips and long eyelashes like spider’s legs greeted them from behind a
desk. Pam said her name and the lady told them to take a seat in the waiting room.

Pam had brought a picture book for Martha to look at while they waited. It was her favourite story about a kitten that gets lost but is later found. The child gazed at the colourful pictures and
forgot all about the scary lift. A short while later she was interrupted by a lofty, stiff man in a dark suit and tie towering over her. He had shiny blond hair brushed into a side parting and
smooth white skin. ‘Hello, Martha,’ he said and the way he articulated her name revealed his foreign origins. He extended his hand and Martha took it and let him shake it. ‘My
name is Mr Edlund. I’m going to talk to your mother for a moment, then I’m going to ask you to come into my office.’ Mr Edlund smiled down at her but Martha was too nervous to
smile back. She stared into his big blue eyes, so far away because he really was very tall, and sensed something in his energy that she didn’t like. Then he walked away with her mother and
disappeared into a room, closing the door behind him. Martha’s stomach churned with nerves. She rested the book on her knee but she didn’t read it. She just stared at the door, dreading
the moment Mr Edlund would appear and summon her.

After what seemed like a very long time, the door did indeed open and Mr Edlund called to her. ‘I’m ready for you now, Martha,’ he said and the little girl slipped off the
chair and walked anxiously into his room. To her relief she found her mother sitting in front of a wooden desk neatly arranged with papers, books and photographs in frames. There was a chair beside
her and Mr Edlund told Martha to sit in it. She did as she was told and clasped her hands together on her lap. She glanced around the room. There was a medical bed in the corner covered in a white
sheet with a standing lamp placed beside it from which a very bright bulb shone out like a demonic eye.

When Mr Edlund spoke to her, she jumped and wrenched her gaze away from the demonic eye. ‘Your mother has told me a lot about you, Martha. She says you’re a very good girl.’
Martha glanced at her mother and saw that she was smiling. This made Martha feel less afraid. ‘You’re an only child and you’ve just turned four. Is that right?’ Martha
nodded. ‘Good. Did you have a nice birthday party?’ She nodded again. ‘Good. I hope you didn’t eat too much cake.’ Martha blushed because she
had
eaten too
much cake and had felt a little sick afterwards, but she hadn’t spilled anything down her dress. She glanced again at her mother, who nodded at her encouragingly.

‘Answer Mr Edlund’s questions, Martha. He’s a doctor,’ she said with emphasis. ‘You can tell him anything.’ Mr Edlund did not correct Mrs Wallace for although
he possessed no qualification, he certainly believed himself to be a doctor of the mind.

‘Do you have lots of friends, Martha?’ Mr Edlund asked. Martha didn’t know how to reply to this. She didn’t really know what friends were. She played with her cousins
occasionally, but most of the time she was on her own in the house. Then she thought of Mrs Goodwin and she nodded. ‘Who are your friends, Martha?’ he asked.

‘Mrs Goodwin,’ she replied quietly.

‘That’s the nanny,’ Pam told him helpfully. She laughed lightly. ‘She’s not a friend, Martha. She’s your nanny. That’s different.’

‘Is it true that you have friends other people can’t see?’ Mr Edlund continued. Now his face was very serious. Martha squirmed on her chair. Mrs Goodwin had told her to keep
Adeline secret. She looked at her mother, waiting for her to withdraw her affection, but to her bewilderment she was still smiling.

‘Darling, you can tell Mr Edlund anything. You won’t be in trouble,’ she said.

Martha was confused. She didn’t understand why she could tell this stranger about Adeline when she wasn’t allowed to speak of her at home. ‘Yes,’ she said and her voice
was a mere ribbon of sound so that Mr Edlund had to lean across his desk to hear her.

‘Do you have one friend or lots of friends?’

‘Lots,’ she replied.

He nodded. ‘I see. But your mother tells me you have one special friend.’

‘Yes,’ said Martha.

‘What is your special friend called?’

‘Adeline,’ said Martha.

‘When do you see her?’

‘In my bedroom.’

‘In the night?’ Martha nodded. ‘Is she here now?’

Martha shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied.

Mr Edlund smiled with satisfaction. He leant back in his chair and knitted his long fingers over his stomach. He looked at Pam who was so eager for him to cure her daughter of her strange
hallucinations that she was ready to believe anything. ‘This is really very simple,’ he said and Pam’s whole body seemed to sag with relief.

‘Oh, I’m so pleased,’ she replied.

His eyes fell on the child. ‘You know that Adeline isn’t real, don’t you, Martha?’ When Martha didn’t reply, he added, ‘She seems real to you, but she’s
not real. She’s like a dream, that’s why you see her at night when you’re going to sleep. You’ve made her up because you’re lonely and you’d like someone to talk
to. Do you understand that Adeline is simply make-believe?’

Martha knew Adeline wasn’t made up and she didn’t only see her at night when she was going to sleep. But she looked anxiously at her mother. Pam’s face was still smiling, but
Martha sensed that she was about to suck in her affection and she dreaded the cold feeling of isolation that would follow. She dreaded
that
more than being put on the bed and being stared
at by the demonic ‘eye’. So she lied. Mrs Goodwin had taught her that lying was wrong but she didn’t want her mother to withdraw her love and she didn’t want Mr Edlund to
ask her any more questions. ‘Yes,’ she said and her eyes welled with tears.

Her lie had a surprising effect. Pam turned to her in astonishment. ‘You see, darling, Adeline is in your head and isn’t real at all. I’m not sure why you had to invent a
grandmother when you have two perfectly good ones who love you very much.’ Martha wiped away a tear. Her mother turned back to Mr Edlund. ‘How is it possible to invent such a person?
She’s been consistent about this Adeline woman since she learned to speak.’

‘The mind is a very complicated thing, Mrs Wallace. Martha created Adeline out of necessity and now she believes her to be real. Children have especially strong imaginations. It is by no
means uncommon. Children generally grow out of these delusions and if they don’t—’

‘Yes?’ Pam asked anxiously.

‘There are many avenues we can take. But we don’t need to discuss them unless Martha continues to believe she sees people. So, in the meantime, you must make sure she is entertained.
She needs friends to play with and she needs to be busy. When she mentions Adeline, gently remind her that the woman is only in her imagination. Remind her regularly because by repeating it you
will override the pattern. She is young enough for this to be both efficient and effective.’

Pam was very grateful. She left Mr Edlund’s office determined to find Martha little friends to play with and to keep her busy. She would organize violin lessons so that instead of gazing
out of the window dreaming the child could practise scales. It was a relief to hear that Martha’s fantasies were simply symptomatic of her loneliness. Pam couldn’t wait to tell Joan and
Dorothy. She’d tell them what Mr Edlund had said – or rather what
Dr
Edlund had said; she would lie about that because it sounded better coming from a doctor.

Martha followed her mother down the steps to the car. She didn’t speak all the way back, but gazed disconsolately out of the window. Her mother chattered on about how wonderful
Dr
Edlund was and how sensible his diagnosis was. She didn’t realize that he had broken something in Martha: her delight in magic.

Mrs Goodwin was waiting uneasily in the hall for Martha to return. When the car drew up outside the house it was already getting dark. Snow had begun to fall again. She could see the flakes in
the golden auras around the street lamps. Martha climbed out and walked slowly towards the house. Mrs Goodwin knew from the way the child carried herself that she was deeply unhappy. Mrs Wallace
held out her hand and Martha took it, allowing herself to be pulled alongside her mother who was keen to get in out of the snow.

That night when Mrs Goodwin tucked her into bed she asked about New York. Martha told her nanny that she didn’t like Mr Edlund. ‘What did he say, dear?’

‘Adeline isn’t real.’

Mrs Goodwin was about to disagree. She knew that Martha had been born with the gift of second sight, but she didn’t want to get the child into trouble. Perhaps it was better that she
believed the beings she saw were figments of her imagination. That way she’d be unlikely to slip up and talk about them again. Mrs Goodwin didn’t like to think of the consequences of
that.
What would Mr Edlund do then? She didn’t want Martha to grow up thinking there was something wrong with her. She didn’t want Mrs Wallace thinking there was something
wrong with her, either. ‘My dear, you are a very special child,’ said Mrs Goodwin gently. ‘Sometimes children are so special that adults are incapable of understanding them.
Whether or not Adeline is real doesn’t matter. She is real to
you.
If she makes you happy there’s no harm in that.’ The child blinked up at Mrs Goodwin with love and
trust. The nanny planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘Goodnight and God bless you, dear.’

Mrs Goodwin informed Mrs Wallace that her daughter was ready for her to say goodnight. Pam stroked her daughter’s hair and kissed her cheek. ‘You were a very good girl today,’
she said and the weight in Martha’s heart lightened a little. After she had left the room the child was alone in the darkness. A while later Martha heard the familiar sounds of rustling and
shuffling and the hiss of whispers. She pushed herself beneath her blanket and began to sing. She discovered that if she sang she couldn’t hear the noises.

Adeline watched her with sadness. She pitied the child’s shame and lamented the mother’s ignorance. She knew what would happen now for the same had happened to similar children all
through the ages: Martha would lose her gift. She would lose the ability to see the finer vibrations around her and in the process she would lose herself and become just like everyone else. There
was nothing Adeline could do about it. She would simply fade like a rainbow when the sun stops shining. ‘I’ll still be with you,’ she whispered into the darkness beneath the
blankets. ‘I’ll always be with you.’

The following day Pam presented Martha with a present. Mrs Goodwin had been very useful in helping her decide what to buy. She needed something for Martha to love. The child wasn’t
interested in toys and dolls and teddy bears. She loved real creatures like insects, birds and animals. But Mrs Goodwin had the perfect idea. Martha put the box on the table in front of her and
carefully lifted the lid. Inside, two round eyes gazed up at her warily. The child caught her breath. Her face flowered into a wide smile. ‘It’s a kitten!’ she exclaimed
excitedly. She delved into the box and gently lifted the animal out. The kitten meowed then snuggled against Martha’s warm body as she held it in her arms.

‘It’s a boy kitten,’ her mother told her. ‘So you have to think of a name for him.’

‘What are you going to call him, dear?’ asked Mrs Goodwin.

Martha thought about it a moment and then a name sprang into her mind. ‘Little Jack,’ she said.

Mrs Wallace was taken aback. She didn’t know anyone called Jack. ‘Whatever made you think of
that
name?’ she asked.

‘It’s a lovely name,’ said Mrs Goodwin.

‘Well, I’m sure he’ll grow into it,’ said Pam. Martha lowered her head and pressed her lips against the animal’s soft head. The two women caught eyes and smiled.
Both hoped that, now Martha had a little friend to play with, a
real
little friend, she would no longer be lonely.

‘Thank you, Goodwin,’ said Pam, putting a hand on the older woman’s arm.

‘My pleasure,’ said Mrs Goodwin. ‘I think Martha and Little Jack were meant for each other.’

Ballinakelly, 1926

Spring smiled on Ballinakelly with the innocent optimism of a child. Radiant sunshine blessed the countryside and scattered the sea with golden kisses. Birds and butterflies
took to the air and crickets chirruped happily in the long grasses. Hazel and Laurel made their way to church up the main street, arm in arm. The wind playfully caught the ribbons in their hats and
pulled the hems of their dresses, and they responded to its teasing with predictable merriment, trying as best they could to hold on to their hats and their frocks in order to protect their
modesty, while still holding on to each other.