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Authors: Charlotte Williams
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why had Elinor’s mother gone down to the studio after letting herself in, thus disturbing the thief? Could she have been looking for
something in there? Was it perhaps she who’d been looking through Elinor’s paints?
Elinor fell silent, gazing out of the window. She seemed impervious to the cold, although by now Jess was having trouble stopping her teeth from chattering.
‘Do you think perhaps we could close the window a little bit?’ Jess formulated the question in the most tactful way she could think of.
Elinor sat up and, to Jess’s surprise, shut the window completely. Then she lay down on the couch again.
‘I’m glad I told you all that.’ She sighed. ‘I feel better now.’
So there it all was, thought Jess, just as she’d anticipated. The cramped, cluttered studio, where Elinor had experienced the horror of finding her mother’s body, could well have
triggered an association in her mind between an enclosed space and a terrifying event. Her anger at her mother’s persistent meddling, which this time had led to tragedy, would have been
another factor in the mix. Moreover, since she’d suggested that her relationship with her mother was a difficult one, she might perhaps be feeling a sense of profound relief, as well as shock
and sadness, at her mother’s death; her guilt about that, expressed as anger at herself for having failed to install a burglar alarm, might also have contributed to her neurosis. That much
was clear.
However, there were many other parts of Elinor’s psyche still to be explored – her relationship with her sister Isobel, her jealousy of Blake, and her rather paranoid accusation that
he’d been behind the robbery.
‘I think we’ll have to stop there for today, Elinor.’ Jess spoke in a low, gentle tone. ‘Our time is up.’
6
Jessica was masochistically torturing herself. She was watching Tegan Davies presenting the news.
She’d tried to stop herself all week, but by Friday, her curiosity had got too much for her. The minute she’d come in from work, she’d switched on the television and watched
the six o’clock news, which was something she very rarely did. Even more rare, she’d stayed watching until the announcement came on, ‘and now for the news in
your
area’. Then Tegan had appeared, against a backdrop of the red-brick Pierhead building in the Bay, lit up at night. She was a pretty blonde, with regular features and a perfectly made-up face.
Around her neck was a gold chain with a blue stone at the collarbone, matching the earrings that glinted under her coiffed hair.
Jess scrutinized her as she spoke, not hearing her words. Her clothes were odd, she thought: a cream jacket over a cream camisole. Like Lana Turner in
The Postman Always Rings Twice
,
minus the turban. She studied her face; it was hard to tell what it was like under the make-up, but it seemed forgettable. Blue eyes, made larger by professionally applied shadow and mascara; a
thin, rather insignificant nose; and fleshy lips, slathered in gloss. She looked down at her torso; it was difficult to see what her body was like under the modest blouse, but she appeared somewhat
flat-chested . . .
‘Mum?’ Nella came into the sitting room.
Jessica picked up the remote control, pressed the button, and Tegan Davies disappeared.
‘Come and talk to me for a minute.’ Jess patted the sofa. ‘How was your day?’
‘Not too bad.’ Nella didn’t sit down. Instead, she hovered by the doorway, pulling at the hem of her T-shirt and standing on one leg, twisting the other round it.
‘Did you manage to get in to college?’
Nella nodded. ‘I was a bit late, though.’
Jessica was about to embark on her time-worn lecture about being punctual for lessons, but decided against it. Her daughter knew perfectly well what she was supposed to do; if she didn’t
keep up, she’d have to face the consequences, in the form of failing or retaking exams. Jess had explained that to her often enough.
something in there? Was it perhaps she who’d been looking through Elinor’s paints?
Elinor fell silent, gazing out of the window. She seemed impervious to the cold, although by now Jess was having trouble stopping her teeth from chattering.
‘Do you think perhaps we could close the window a little bit?’ Jess formulated the question in the most tactful way she could think of.
Elinor sat up and, to Jess’s surprise, shut the window completely. Then she lay down on the couch again.
‘I’m glad I told you all that.’ She sighed. ‘I feel better now.’
So there it all was, thought Jess, just as she’d anticipated. The cramped, cluttered studio, where Elinor had experienced the horror of finding her mother’s body, could well have
triggered an association in her mind between an enclosed space and a terrifying event. Her anger at her mother’s persistent meddling, which this time had led to tragedy, would have been
another factor in the mix. Moreover, since she’d suggested that her relationship with her mother was a difficult one, she might perhaps be feeling a sense of profound relief, as well as shock
and sadness, at her mother’s death; her guilt about that, expressed as anger at herself for having failed to install a burglar alarm, might also have contributed to her neurosis. That much
was clear.
However, there were many other parts of Elinor’s psyche still to be explored – her relationship with her sister Isobel, her jealousy of Blake, and her rather paranoid accusation that
he’d been behind the robbery.
‘I think we’ll have to stop there for today, Elinor.’ Jess spoke in a low, gentle tone. ‘Our time is up.’
6
Jessica was masochistically torturing herself. She was watching Tegan Davies presenting the news.
She’d tried to stop herself all week, but by Friday, her curiosity had got too much for her. The minute she’d come in from work, she’d switched on the television and watched
the six o’clock news, which was something she very rarely did. Even more rare, she’d stayed watching until the announcement came on, ‘and now for the news in
your
area’. Then Tegan had appeared, against a backdrop of the red-brick Pierhead building in the Bay, lit up at night. She was a pretty blonde, with regular features and a perfectly made-up face.
Around her neck was a gold chain with a blue stone at the collarbone, matching the earrings that glinted under her coiffed hair.
Jess scrutinized her as she spoke, not hearing her words. Her clothes were odd, she thought: a cream jacket over a cream camisole. Like Lana Turner in
The Postman Always Rings Twice
,
minus the turban. She studied her face; it was hard to tell what it was like under the make-up, but it seemed forgettable. Blue eyes, made larger by professionally applied shadow and mascara; a
thin, rather insignificant nose; and fleshy lips, slathered in gloss. She looked down at her torso; it was difficult to see what her body was like under the modest blouse, but she appeared somewhat
flat-chested . . .
‘Mum?’ Nella came into the sitting room.
Jessica picked up the remote control, pressed the button, and Tegan Davies disappeared.
‘Come and talk to me for a minute.’ Jess patted the sofa. ‘How was your day?’
‘Not too bad.’ Nella didn’t sit down. Instead, she hovered by the doorway, pulling at the hem of her T-shirt and standing on one leg, twisting the other round it.
‘Did you manage to get in to college?’
Nella nodded. ‘I was a bit late, though.’
Jessica was about to embark on her time-worn lecture about being punctual for lessons, but decided against it. Her daughter knew perfectly well what she was supposed to do; if she didn’t
keep up, she’d have to face the consequences, in the form of failing or retaking exams. Jess had explained that to her often enough.
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