Lady? She died in the old turret, and now she walks the corridors at night – and you can smell violets too.’
‘Oh wow!’ I said. ‘Violets, eh? No, I hadn’t heard about her. I’ll keep an eye out…’
‘I’ve heard her because I’m sympathetic,’ he said gravely, disappearing into the lounge. ‘But Dad says I’m imagining it.’
----
G etting in the shower , I couldn’t quite place the reason for the heavy weight in my stomach – but I did feel most uncomfortable at the idea of Kaye being in the house when I was out.
It was daft though. Obviously she’d lived here for a while before the divorce, and I’d always known that. They’d bought the house together when Matthew got his promotion to partner, the job he had now. She’d redesigned the interiors using some swanky architect – and then got bored, apparently, leaving Matthew to decide on everything.
When I moved to Berkhamsted, Marlena said, ‘God, don’t you think it’ll be strange to live in another woman’s trappings? Redecorate why don’t you?’
But I put that comment down to therapist rubbish. Frankly I was used to rented places, and I didn’t give it much thought.
I had more important things on my mind.
At lunch Scarlett was in a strange mood, more garrulous than usual, rattling on about things I didn’t understand to do with her maternal grandma up in Cambridge and her mother’s friends. She’d stop mid-subject and ask what I thought about her grandpa’s dog or the new car her aunt had just got. I tried to enjoy being included – but of course I could have no opinion, really, on anything she said. My conversation was punctuated with, ‘Oh goodness,’ or, ‘I don’t know, I’m sure that’s very nice though.’
After that Scarlett turned her attentions to Frankie, telling him about some nightclub she and her mate Gemma had been to last week, until Matthew raised an eyebrow and she realised the story wasn’t appropriate. Luke plodded through his beef, glancing up every now and then to cast me his hangdog look, as if to apologise.
I thought Scarlett seemed younger again, picking at her food, twisting her hair round and round her finger, silver glitter nail varnish chipping away as she gazed at Frank.
In response Frankie was polite but quiet – strained, even, as he concentrated on eating.
I steered us on to a new, safer subject: favourite films. This was a topic beloved of Frankie ever since his film studies A level.
‘Hitchcock’s my favourite.’ He was typically enthusiastic now. ‘He’s a proper master of his craft.’
‘But – Psycho ?’ Matthew pulled a face. ‘That’s a horrible film, isn’t it?’
‘It’s brilliant,’ said Frank. ‘But I prefer Vertigo . Or Rebecca . God, the atmosphere he creates in that.’
‘I really hate The Birds .’ I shuddered. ‘I mean, it’s a great film – but I do actually hate birds.’ Something to do, I suspected, with Uncle Rog’s manic mynah bird who’d tormented me and Marlena as kids, swearing at us, pecking at our heads and hands – until Rog’s starving Alsatian tore it apart one day.
‘All beaks and claws and…’ I shuddered again and fetched the apple crumble.
‘We’re thinking about getting a dog,’ Scarlett was saying as I returned.
Matthew pulled a face. ‘Is that really a good idea?’
‘Dad- dy ,’ she said in her best cross voice, and he sighed.
‘Well you’ll have to keep it at your mother’s this time.’
‘Blimey, is it raining inside?’ Frankie said, wiping drips off his face. We all looked up.
‘Shit!’ Matthew leapt to his feet. Water was cascading through the ceiling. We ran upstairs to find my mistake.
Apparently I hadn’t turned the shower off properly when I got back from my run – though I could have sworn I did.
I was quite sure I did.
‘It’s buggered, hon,’ Matthew said later, after he’d cleaned up and I’d apologised profusely. ‘The grout’s so wet at the base it’s not safe to use.
‘Oh wow!’ I said. ‘Violets, eh? No, I hadn’t heard about her. I’ll keep an eye out…’
‘I’ve heard her because I’m sympathetic,’ he said gravely, disappearing into the lounge. ‘But Dad says I’m imagining it.’
----
G etting in the shower , I couldn’t quite place the reason for the heavy weight in my stomach – but I did feel most uncomfortable at the idea of Kaye being in the house when I was out.
It was daft though. Obviously she’d lived here for a while before the divorce, and I’d always known that. They’d bought the house together when Matthew got his promotion to partner, the job he had now. She’d redesigned the interiors using some swanky architect – and then got bored, apparently, leaving Matthew to decide on everything.
When I moved to Berkhamsted, Marlena said, ‘God, don’t you think it’ll be strange to live in another woman’s trappings? Redecorate why don’t you?’
But I put that comment down to therapist rubbish. Frankly I was used to rented places, and I didn’t give it much thought.
I had more important things on my mind.
At lunch Scarlett was in a strange mood, more garrulous than usual, rattling on about things I didn’t understand to do with her maternal grandma up in Cambridge and her mother’s friends. She’d stop mid-subject and ask what I thought about her grandpa’s dog or the new car her aunt had just got. I tried to enjoy being included – but of course I could have no opinion, really, on anything she said. My conversation was punctuated with, ‘Oh goodness,’ or, ‘I don’t know, I’m sure that’s very nice though.’
After that Scarlett turned her attentions to Frankie, telling him about some nightclub she and her mate Gemma had been to last week, until Matthew raised an eyebrow and she realised the story wasn’t appropriate. Luke plodded through his beef, glancing up every now and then to cast me his hangdog look, as if to apologise.
I thought Scarlett seemed younger again, picking at her food, twisting her hair round and round her finger, silver glitter nail varnish chipping away as she gazed at Frank.
In response Frankie was polite but quiet – strained, even, as he concentrated on eating.
I steered us on to a new, safer subject: favourite films. This was a topic beloved of Frankie ever since his film studies A level.
‘Hitchcock’s my favourite.’ He was typically enthusiastic now. ‘He’s a proper master of his craft.’
‘But – Psycho ?’ Matthew pulled a face. ‘That’s a horrible film, isn’t it?’
‘It’s brilliant,’ said Frank. ‘But I prefer Vertigo . Or Rebecca . God, the atmosphere he creates in that.’
‘I really hate The Birds .’ I shuddered. ‘I mean, it’s a great film – but I do actually hate birds.’ Something to do, I suspected, with Uncle Rog’s manic mynah bird who’d tormented me and Marlena as kids, swearing at us, pecking at our heads and hands – until Rog’s starving Alsatian tore it apart one day.
‘All beaks and claws and…’ I shuddered again and fetched the apple crumble.
‘We’re thinking about getting a dog,’ Scarlett was saying as I returned.
Matthew pulled a face. ‘Is that really a good idea?’
‘Dad- dy ,’ she said in her best cross voice, and he sighed.
‘Well you’ll have to keep it at your mother’s this time.’
‘Blimey, is it raining inside?’ Frankie said, wiping drips off his face. We all looked up.
‘Shit!’ Matthew leapt to his feet. Water was cascading through the ceiling. We ran upstairs to find my mistake.
Apparently I hadn’t turned the shower off properly when I got back from my run – though I could have sworn I did.
I was quite sure I did.
‘It’s buggered, hon,’ Matthew said later, after he’d cleaned up and I’d apologised profusely. ‘The grout’s so wet at the base it’s not safe to use.
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