Memory Scents (12 page)

              “Is it cold out, dear?”

              “No, it’s unseasonably warm, which is why it’d be nice to take advantage of it while we can. I’ll fetch you a chair.”

              Daphne pulled back the net curtain with her spindly fingers, smiling to herself. She loved her time with Eve, lived for it. It made her realise how much she’d longed for another daughter for all those years. And Eve had done more for her in the few months she’d been visiting than Tim had his entire life. She listened and cared, which was all Daphne wanted.

              It was an unlikely match having listened to what Grace had told her about her mother-in-law over the years. But most of this had been Tim filling Grace’s head with lies in order for her to hate his mother as much as he did.

              But a bond had formed that couldn’t be explained. Daphne had been wandering in the garden of the retirement home and had found Eve sitting on the bench deep in thought. Daphne had joined her, remembering her vaguely from family parties and the odd outing. A connection had formed from there on in.

              Eve admired Daphne’s truthfulness and direct manner. This was viewed by other people as harsh and spiteful. But Eve knew where she stood with her and there was an element of this within Eve as well. They both had an ability to be truthful however much it offended others and people didn’t like it. It amazed both of them how people said they wanted honesty but when they were it was met with a frosty offended attitude. Neither could understand why people wanted to be lied to. This caused them to be loners in the world. The only friends they would ever have would be like minded people.

              They’d spotted this trait in one another during some banter, not long after they’d first sat on the bench together. Daphne had made some clipped, waspish comment at her. She’d waited for the usual expression of hurt, anger or dismay and instead was faced with a smile and a look of fellowship. Eve had quipped right back at her and there then formed a bond. Personality traits weren’t the only things that welded them together.

              Eve carefully manoeuvred the wheelchair through the open door.

              “Why would you make doorframes so narrow?”

“W
hen they knew it was for a retirement
home and it needs to use wheelchairs?
You say it every time, Eve!”

              “Well, it’s becoming a ritual. I’ve said it so many times that if I don’t you might get wedged in the door forever!”

              “You stupid girl, hurry up and get me into that sunshine. At this rate it’ll be Christmas.”

              “Have you seen Tim this week?”

              “Only his usual habitually forced visit. Don’t know why he bothers.”

              “A mixture of guilt, habit and love, I should think.”

              “Oh I’m not daft enough to think that he loves me, Eve. That’s long gone.”

              “What makes you think that?”

              Daphne paused to breathe in the fresh air as Eve burst out of the double doors and into the sunshine. She likened it to being resuscitated and she savoured every moment, seeing as she spent most of the time stuck in her private room on the premises.

              “Well, it finished when he met your sister, not that we were ever close when he was at home. I never bonded with him you see. He adored me, mainly because I wasn’t there much. He mistook it for love though; his motherly figure was Dora who looked after him most of the time. I suppose I would have been diagnosed with post natal depression in this day and age. Couldn’t cope with being a mother to him, missed my daughter dreadfully.”

              Eve remembered Grace telling her that Daphne had lost a baby girl before Tim came along.

              “But don’t all children love their parents? Just because you weren’t there much doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.”

“Tim’s different though, sweetheart. He’ll tell you he’s always loved me but whatever was there seemed to diminish when Grace came along. I’m not blaming her Eve; it would have happened whoever had come along. However prepared you are for it, it still cuts you like a knife. It made me realise how ineffectual I’d been when he was growing up.”

              Eve paused in front of some rose bushes so that Daphne could touch the flowers. She loved roses; they were her favourites in the whole landscaped garden. Eve often pondered that Daphne wasn’t dissimilar to a rose, strong, honest, robust, with prickly thorns depicting her truthfulness.

              “But that’s not what happens to all people who get married. My brothers were still close to our mother, they still loved her.”

              “I know that,” Daphne waved a bejewelled hand causing her rings to turn on her twiggy like fingers, “but we’re talking about Tim, dear. He isn’t capable of loving more than one person at a time. He focuses on an obsession. I suspect he doesn’t love your sister anymore if the truth be known.”

              Eve was slightly shocked by this last statement; she assumed everything was ticking along nicely with Grace.

              “You mean he’s in love with someone else? Who?”

              “That’s what worries me, dear.”

              Eve pondered on what she’d just heard. The more Daphne told her about Tim, the stranger Eve thought he was. She had never seen this side of her brother-in-law. As she walked along the pretty garden, pushing Daphne in her chair, she marvelled at the various factors which made up people’s personalities, like complex mathematical shapes.

*

NORFOLK 1988

              Alice was in her bedroom, getting changed for the fourth time that day. She was meeting a friend, a boy from school, in a matter of hours and the panic of what to wear had gripped her. They were going to the end of term disco and she wanted to get it right. He was the most popular boy in the school and there were plenty who would have wanted to be in her shoes.

              She couldn’t make up her mind whether or not to stop at her Aunt Grace’s house on the way there. She often popped in for a chat, which was something she had done more frequently since Nadine’s accident. She was extremely close to Grace and had been to her cousin too. She’d taken the news of Nadine’s accident very hard and she liked to check in on her aunt to make sure she was ok. They had bonded more tightly in their grief and Alice could tell, even though she was young, that her Uncle Tim wasn’t terribly supportive.

              Unsure of whether she had time, but so excited because she wanted to show Grace her outfit and get her opinion, she changed her mind several times whilst getting ready. That one tiny decision was to determine the rest of Alice’s life. Live or die, live or die, live or die. What seemed to her a mere trivial choice was actually a massive universal one, only, Alice didn’t know it. Choice ‘A’ had the ‘life’ tag in its box, and choice ‘B’ had the ‘death’ tag with it.

              Unfortunately, she unwittingly opened the lid of box B, and stepped into the film set of the last few hours of her life. And like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, once she’d opened the lid, she was committed.

              Alice made her way to her aunt’s house, after saying goodbye to her anxious mother. It was the first time her parents had let her go to a school disco, especially with a boy. But she was fifteen now, and they felt they had to loosen the apron strings at some point.

              It was a beautiful summer evening, and Alice almost skipped down the road to her fate. She stopped at the crossroads and looked left and right. It was to be her last chance to change her mind. Left was a slow stroll, with time to stop at the village shop for some sweets, a quick chat with the owner, Mrs. Newton, and then on to meet Jeremy at the playing field. Right was down the road a hundred yard and right again onto the bumpy track leading to the back door of Auntie Grace’s, where no one was there apart from her Uncle Tim.

CHAPTER NINE                                                                      

Norfolk 1998

Dear Alice,

            
It saddens me to write this letter, and I don’t really know how to tell you, but I think I’ll just have to come out with it.

              Daddy has decided that it would be best if we separated for a little while, and he has gone to live somewhere else. He’s renting a small cottage in the next village, so it gives us some space between us. It’s close enough though in case I need him for anything.

              I don’t know how to feel about it really, or what to say to you. I suppose it was always on the cards if I’m honest. We both want different things and neither of us can meet in the middle. I just hope you understand, darling. One thing we do want you to know is that we don’t blame you at all. It’s just something that often happens between couples. They grow apart.

              Even though we’ll be living apart, darling, we will still both be here for you when you come home. And we love you just the same, even though we’re not together. I still pray every night that you’ll come home again.

Loving you always

Mummy xxx

*

              “Dad, come over here, I’ve found something!”

“What have you found now? Another piece of pottery I suppose?”

Carl Meakin wandered over to the clearing where his daughter was standing with her hand on her hip and one foot on the spade she was using to dig with. Attitude oozed from her and she raised an eyebrow at her father’s comment.

              “No, not ‘another’ piece of pottery, I’ve found a necklace actually.” Jessica said, with emphasis. She’d been out metal detecting with her dad for most of the day. They’d got permission from the farm owner, on the condition that he had a share in whatever they found. They’d started the day as always, quite optimistically, only to get towards tea time, tired, and a bit fractious with one another. He was fed up of her showing him pieces of flowery pottery and she with him for calling her over to look at rusty bits of metal.

              Carl examined the tarnished piece of jewellery, soil caked in its links.

              “Well, that’s a bit of a find, girl! It’s not very old, but I think its silver, and it’s got a nice semi precious stone on it. Where’d you find it?”

              “Down there in that hole in the clearing,” Jessica said, feeling quite chuffed with her treasure. “I think there must have been a small pond there, but the sun has dried the water up.”

              “Yeah, there is normally water in there; it’s called a ‘mere’. You can tell by the cracks in the soil, and the slightly different shade of dirt. Let me look.”

              Carl stepped down the slight embankment into the empty mere and peered into the large hole his daughter had dug.

              “You should have marked out a patch with your spade like I told you to; you’ve dug far too wide.”

              “I know Dad. You say that every time we come out.”

              “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you did what I asked. You’re all over the ruddy place. You start with a square foot each time and then if you find anything…”

              “Yeah, yeah, I know, you can widen the square. God, Dad we’re not professionals – Dad what is it?’

              “I’m not sure yet love, pass me my trowel.”

              Carl had noticed some strange, familiar shapes at the bottom of the hole his daughter had dug. They were like pieces of stone embossed in the flat damp pit, all linked together. Something you wouldn’t notice whilst you were digging, but was quite obvious when you observed it from above. Carl scuffed the soil off one of the lumps with his boot and a creamy colour began to appear.

              “Dad?” Jessica passed her father the trowel.

              “Just a minute, please!”

 
              “Alright, alright!” Jessica sighed and wandered over to the patch her father was working on.

              Carl jumped out of the dried up mere and stared down at the base of the hole. It appeared to be the outline of a human body. Lying almost like a curled up foetus. Carl stepped around the hole to view it from another angle, trying to convince himself that it was an animal. But it didn’t matter which way he looked at it, it was what it was, the remains of a human being. The wiggly outline of the necklace his daughter had found was still imprinted in the mud. Jessica had, without realising it, dug down into someone’s grave. An eerie feeling crept through Carl’s stomach and into his throat. This wasn’t a proper burial site, so why would the remains look like they were lying in a foetal position?