to tingle in her nose. It was a smell that conjured images of childhood and Jean’s obsession that cleanliness was next to Godliness; it wasn’t an aroma which brokered happy memories for Elaine. The kitchen formed a tableau that interior designers would have died for and purveyors of retro chic would have drooled over – it was a haven of vintage style that had cost Miriam nothing but a lifetime of utility and frugality. Yet it resonated the warmth of her personality in a way that no designer could replicate and no money could buy. Everything about the room smacked of Miriam’s matronly country charm, with just enough chaos to make it interesting. Elaine tried to picture a black clad, brooding Brodie at the table and had to smile at the incongruity of the image. She was still smiling when Miriam returned.
‘Well, that’s that then.’ Miriam said wiping her hands on her ever-present apron. ‘Would you like a cuppa now that you’re here? I’ve just made one.’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely. Where’s Brodie? I thought she would have been round this afternoon.’ Elaine watched Miriam wield the enormous brown teapot in one capable hand whilst balancing a delicate silver tea strainer in the other.
‘Oh she took herself off a couple of hours ago, said she had something she wanted to look at. As long as she’s out from under my feet and not causing any trouble!’ Miriam said with a laugh. ‘Come on through, you can meet Esther, she likes a bit of company.’
Elaine followed her through towards the lounge, hovering in the doorway whilst Miriam prepared Esther for company.
‘We’ve got a visitor.’ Miriam plumped cushions behind the figure of Esther who Elaine was unable to see, obscured as she was by her sister’s bulk. ‘It’s Elaine. You know, I told you about her, she’s staying in the rental cottage for a couple of weeks.’
Elaine could hear a guttural, grunting sound emanating from the chair; it felt like her cue to enter. ‘Hello Esther, it’s very nice to meet you at last.’ She said it with a pleasantry that she didn’t quite feel. With all that she had heard about Esther this wasn’t a meeting she’d been relishing. As Miriam moved away she got her first look at the woman in the chair. With a fixed smile she took in the spare, pinched features of the woman whose eyes bore into her with malignant curiosity. Esther’s one good hand clenched briefly then resumed poking and scratching at the arm of her chair as she looked away from her visitor.
Elaine suppressed a shudder and swallowed down the rising anxiety that was threatening to make her flee from the room. There was a terrifying familiarity about Esther’s demeanour, which was reminiscent of a hundred childish nightmares. The sensation of fear forced her to look away and focus on the rest of the room, as if by doing so she could pretend that the hostile, ravaged presence wasn’t there. Despite her best efforts to make small talk about the lovely painting above the mantel, or the charming Staffordshire dogs that adorned the hearth, she couldn’t escape her reaction to the old woman. The need to get out of the room became more pronounced with every minute.
Mutual dislike crackled through the air in the room completely escaping Miriam, who chattered on, oblivious to the sidelong glances which Elaine was compelled to give to the crone in the corner just to be sure. Sure of what she didn’t know, perhaps to check that the woman really wasn’t capable of independent movement and could not get out of the chair. The mounting anxiety made her feel like a child full of ridiculous worries about monsters under the bed and bogey men in the wardrobe. She was forced to abandon her tea, lest the cup should rattle in the saucer and betray her nerves. The visceral response bore no relation to reason and Elaine felt hard pressed to make sense of it.
The ordeal was ended by the arrival of another visitor, to whom Elaine couldn’t have been more
‘Well, that’s that then.’ Miriam said wiping her hands on her ever-present apron. ‘Would you like a cuppa now that you’re here? I’ve just made one.’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely. Where’s Brodie? I thought she would have been round this afternoon.’ Elaine watched Miriam wield the enormous brown teapot in one capable hand whilst balancing a delicate silver tea strainer in the other.
‘Oh she took herself off a couple of hours ago, said she had something she wanted to look at. As long as she’s out from under my feet and not causing any trouble!’ Miriam said with a laugh. ‘Come on through, you can meet Esther, she likes a bit of company.’
Elaine followed her through towards the lounge, hovering in the doorway whilst Miriam prepared Esther for company.
‘We’ve got a visitor.’ Miriam plumped cushions behind the figure of Esther who Elaine was unable to see, obscured as she was by her sister’s bulk. ‘It’s Elaine. You know, I told you about her, she’s staying in the rental cottage for a couple of weeks.’
Elaine could hear a guttural, grunting sound emanating from the chair; it felt like her cue to enter. ‘Hello Esther, it’s very nice to meet you at last.’ She said it with a pleasantry that she didn’t quite feel. With all that she had heard about Esther this wasn’t a meeting she’d been relishing. As Miriam moved away she got her first look at the woman in the chair. With a fixed smile she took in the spare, pinched features of the woman whose eyes bore into her with malignant curiosity. Esther’s one good hand clenched briefly then resumed poking and scratching at the arm of her chair as she looked away from her visitor.
Elaine suppressed a shudder and swallowed down the rising anxiety that was threatening to make her flee from the room. There was a terrifying familiarity about Esther’s demeanour, which was reminiscent of a hundred childish nightmares. The sensation of fear forced her to look away and focus on the rest of the room, as if by doing so she could pretend that the hostile, ravaged presence wasn’t there. Despite her best efforts to make small talk about the lovely painting above the mantel, or the charming Staffordshire dogs that adorned the hearth, she couldn’t escape her reaction to the old woman. The need to get out of the room became more pronounced with every minute.
Mutual dislike crackled through the air in the room completely escaping Miriam, who chattered on, oblivious to the sidelong glances which Elaine was compelled to give to the crone in the corner just to be sure. Sure of what she didn’t know, perhaps to check that the woman really wasn’t capable of independent movement and could not get out of the chair. The mounting anxiety made her feel like a child full of ridiculous worries about monsters under the bed and bogey men in the wardrobe. She was forced to abandon her tea, lest the cup should rattle in the saucer and betray her nerves. The visceral response bore no relation to reason and Elaine felt hard pressed to make sense of it.
The ordeal was ended by the arrival of another visitor, to whom Elaine couldn’t have been more
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