Miriam's Talisman (8 page)

Hannah lit a cigarette. Clutching a small cut-glass ashtray, she perched upon the arm of a chair. Her hair was sleeked back into a tight bun, her nails varnished red and immaculate. A spot of matching lipstick had coloured her tooth where she chewed her bottom lip.

‘Look,' she said, ‘I know you wanted to deal with all the arrangements, but it really isn't necessary. At least let me help.'

‘No, it's all right, honest. Besides, it's all taken care of. Miriam had already organised everything. She left me instructions. I would like to make sure it's all done as she wanted.'

‘Had she indeed? A lot of pagan nonsense, no doubt. Ah, well, I expect I'll have enough to do afterwards. I can imagine the state of that cottage. I won't be able to put it on the market until all the stuff's been removed. It's going to take me ages to sort though it all.'

I could feel a tightness rising in my throat. ‘Have you spoken to Uncle Greg yet?'

‘No. Well, only to let him know what's happened. That was yesterday morning. But there's no hurry. I'll go and see him after the funeral and we can sort out all the legal stuff.'

‘It's not quite that simple. Greg explained to me about Miriam's will—'

‘Well, of course she would have left you something. I gather you two have been quite friendly recently. Just take anything you want. I'm sure there's nothing there that I would want to keep.'

‘No, that's not what I meant—'

‘And there'll be items for her friends. Keepsakes, you know, perhaps some of the books. For the rest, I think I'll get one of those house clearance firms in. Not that they give anything like the true value, but at least it would save me having to sort through all that junk—'

‘Mum, will you listen!'

I can't remember the last time I had raised my voice to her, or called her ‘Mum' for that matter. Her back stiffened. She stared at me, her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. More of the lipstick was printed around the filter of her cigarette. My eyes sought her coffee cup and the red print on the rim. I wondered how many cigarettes and cups of coffee it would take to remove it all. She was still waiting.

‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. But you must listen. There's something you have to know.' And still she did not move.

‘It's the will.' Deep breath. ‘It seems she left it to me. The house, I mean. And all her things.'

There, it was out.

Hannah's hand completed its journey. She inhaled
smoke and softly breathed out again. Then she ground the remains of the cigarette into the ashtray.

‘I see.' That was all she said, and there was a long silence. ‘And how long have you known about this?'

‘Only since yesterday.'

‘But you've been seeing each other, haven't you?'

‘Well, yes, but I didn't want—'

‘And how long has that been going on?'

‘Not very long,' I muttered. Oh, God, what was I to be accused of? I waited for the tirade. Instead, Hannah stood up and walked to the window. She spoke quietly, almost, I thought, speaking to herself.

‘What the devil is she up to?'

‘What do you mean? I haven't done anything.'

‘No, not you. Miriam. It's Miriam. Of course it's Miriam. She's plotting something. What has been going on between you two? What's she been saying to you?'

‘Saying to me? Nothing. I don't understand.'

There was a scrunch of gravel on the driveway as the shadow of a car darkened the window. It was my brother, David. A family reunion. A short reprieve.

Lunch was a slow and painful process. David sat at the head of the table, Hannah and I opposite each other. She told him about my legacy and they discussed this new development in terms of property and investment. I said little and concentrated on eating, not daring to reject the food that had been so painstakingly prepared. I forced every mouthful down, fearing it would choke me.

David had altered in the few months since I had seen him last. His face had filled out, broadened. He wasn't
yet thirty, but already his hairline was receding. How alike they were, Richard and David, father and son. My brother and mother spoke together of things I would not understand, and I was a child again, eating my dinner like a good girl and listening to the grown-ups talk.

Yes, there was definitely Richard there in David, and something else. Someone else? Someone familiar? Then it rushed over me like a cold sea-breaker. Paul! I could see Paul. It could have been him sitting there, the head of the family, talking with Hannah, recounting the events of the day, explaining the latest management move, plotting the next step in his dazzling career. He would draw circles in the air with his knife to emphasise a point, just as David did and just as Richard did. They all three had large and strong hands which they used to build blocks and bridges in the air. Unlike those long, slender fingers. Unlike the cool, pale hand that had covered mine. Yellow eyes fringed with dark lashes and arched brows like tapering wings. My hand crept to the place where the talisman lay, warm and secret against my skin.

‘Chloe? Chloe?'

‘Yes?'

‘I said, what do you think about Spain?'

‘For what? Sorry, I wasn't listening.'

‘No, you were miles away. Hannah's right, you look tired. These past few days must have taken a lot out of you.'

‘No, I'm fine, really.'

But they exchanged a look, a conspiratorial look that told each other all about me. I was, of course, excluded. They continued talking, and after a few feeble efforts I lapsed back into my silence.

I became aware of the house around me, the house that had once been my home. It felt cold and alien. My room was there, upstairs above me, a room filled with all the days and nights of earliest memory. The bed I had slept in, all clean and smooth, never to be intruded upon again. Small ornaments that I had rejected, now neatly aligned on the window ledge, the curtains behind them never closed. I had taken all I needed with me when I moved out; all the rest had been outgrown. Left behind was the jetsam of a discarded life rearranged into a satisfactory pattern by Hannah, a tableau to which I would never return. I suddenly felt the weight of all this on the ceiling directly above me. At any moment my entire childhood could come crashing down upon my head.

I needed to escape and rose to my feet, desperately grabbing at the discarded cutlery and scraping bits of food from one plate onto another.

‘It's all right, Chloe, I'll do that.' Hannah's voice was concerned, commanding.

‘Please, you must let me help. It was a lovely meal. Let me wash up.'

But she took the pile of plates from my hands.

‘You two have seen so little of each other. You must have lots of catching up to do. David, why don't you show Chloe your new car?'

Another look was exchanged. Then David had his arm around my shoulder and was leading me to the front door and out to where our cars were parked. I remember complimenting him on the shiny blue paintwork and the wire wheels. Fifi, all coy, was crouched beside the newcomer.

‘Got it at a good price. Only ten thousand on the clock. Jump in, get the feel of her.'

I slid into the passenger seat. Inside, the car still smelled of new leather.

When we were children, David and I were always arguing. Nowadays, on the rare occasions we meet up, we've learned to rub along together. But it's no more than that. As we both knew, this was an excuse to get me on my own. No doubt he was already under instructions to talk to me about Miriam, let alone the legacy. I thought I might gain some small advantage if I started first.

‘God, I feel awful about all this. I truly had no idea. I never wanted Miriam's house or anything else.'

‘Well, it can hardly be a surprise, can it? You always were her favourite. Her Little Wren. And she certainly wouldn't have left anything to me, would she? But you might spare a thought for Hannah.'

‘Yes, of course I'm thinking of Hannah. I can understand how disappointed she must feel. Apparently there's a lot of money involved.'

‘No, I don't think you understand at all.' His voice became louder, his brow buckled by a deep frown. ‘The money's got nothing to do with it. Can't you see how hurt she is? I never expected anything from our grandmother—after all she hardly knew I existed. But for Hannah this is the ultimate rejection, isn't it? The final twist of the knife.'

‘Oh, now, that's not fair. Surely it was the other way around? It was Hannah who refused to see her mother. She seemed to loathe everything about Miriam, everything she did, everything she stood for. She was always criticising her work, ridiculing her beliefs, her way of
life, everything. It was Hannah who kept us apart for all those years. Sometimes she behaved as if she thought we'd be contaminated by her.'

‘Yes, that's exactly what she thought. Hannah was afraid, can't you see that?'

‘Afraid? Of what, for heaven's sake?'

‘Afraid for you. Afraid of losing you. And now it seems you've been playing one off against the other for some time, so don't pretend you don't understand how things were.'

‘What do you mean?'

David didn't answer. He shook his head and turned away from me.

‘Please, David. I really don't understand any of this. What's Hannah been telling you?'

He breathed deeply and bit his lip before he spoke. ‘OK. Hannah was convinced that Miriam was trying to take you away from her. It's something she's believed for a long time. I always thought she was being paranoid, but from what's been happening here—you being all chummy with Miriam behind Hannah's back, all the secrecy, and now the legacy—it seems she was right.'

Was I really hearing this? I turned around in the seat to face him, clutching the dashboard.

‘Hannah didn't think any such thing, David! That's complete rubbish!'

‘Is it? Isn't that exactly what's happened? Why were you at the hospital with Miriam? How long have you been seeing her? Just what's been going on between you two? Why would she leave the instructions for her funeral for you? And why all the secrecy?'

The world tilted, the kaleidoscope turned and all the
little pieces of coloured glass slid sideways. I hadn't seen this pattern before. All the secret visits. All the lies and excuses. All the magical stories. The fairy-tale gifts. I owed everything to Miriam. She had taken me, claimed me as her own. That's not how I meant it to be, but it was exactly what had happened.

I needed to tell David, and it spilled out in a rush and a tumble of broken words. All of it. He listened in silence. And then I told him about how I had found her ill and called the doctor. He reached out and touched my hand.

‘Oh God, David, what have I done?'

‘I suppose it wasn't entirely your fault, was it? You said you were only fifteen when it started. Miriam was the adult. She should have known better. Besides, you always were more her child than Hannah's, weren't you?'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘What I say. It was always the two of you.'

‘No it wasn't. We were her family. She used to visit all of us.'

‘Like hell she did.'

‘No, look, you've got it all wrong.'

‘I know I was only small at the time, but I'm sure I don't remember seeing much of her until you arrived. She was just this woman who appeared occasionally at the house. She barely spoke to me. And sometimes we would visit her at the cottage. I used to love it there. The garden and all those trees to climb. And then you were born.'

‘Yes, and then what?'

‘OK, so I suppose I was jealous. Big brother, new baby sister getting all the attention—you know the sort of thing. No, it wasn't just that. It seemed that she was always there. Always hanging over your cot. Always bringing
you presents. She would waltz through the door singing, “How's my Little Wren today?” She would just walk straight past me. I can remember her skirts trailing over my head, in her rush to get at you.' David had turned away from me again. He wouldn't look at my face. His hand clenched the steering wheel. ‘Then there were the stories. She would sit you on her knee and read to you. And you all snuggled into her lap, your heads touching. I would sit on the floor and listen for a while, then go back to whatever I'd been doing. It was all little girl stuff.'

‘What about Hannah? Surely she would have said something?'

‘No, she didn't say or do anything as far as I know. But I suppose, even then, I could sense how uneasy she felt. Occasionally she'd protest about all that make-believe rubbish Miriam came out with, but that's all. Then there was that big bust-up, and she put a stop to it. After that we hardly ever saw our grandmother, did we?'

I thought about it for a moment.

‘Yes, I remember those arguments. Hannah saying, “Stop filling her head with all that nonsense, she's difficult enough as it is.” Was I a difficult child?'