Relative Strangers Read online

  Her attempts to attract his notice had gone unrecognised and she had turned, as a teenager, to sullenness and rebellion; insisting on university, espousing left-wing political movements, CND and a woman’s right to choose, even marrying, disastrously, in her second year. Her father had refused to attend the registry office ceremony, or to recognise any marriage not conducted according to the rites of the church. He had been blind to his own hypocrisy; he never even attended church, although the children had all been religiously packed off to Sunday school every week and been confirmed, the girls in white Broderie Anglaise dresses clutching tiny white leather bibles, Simon, sullenly, in his school uniform. It was the ‘done’ thing and the McKays did the ‘done’ thing.

  Ruth raised her eyes to look at the man who bore the name of father. His hand in her own was limp and cool, and peppered with brownish age-spots. She touched one of them gently, then tweezed the flesh between her forefinger and thumb, lifting it clear of the bone and tendon beneath. His flesh and blood. That was all they had in common; his DNA. Suddenly, Ruth pinched the flesh of her father’s hand quite hard. Robert gave a snort and snatched his hand away, but he didn’t wake up, and in any case Ruth was out of the room and down the landing in a few short strides.

  ✽✽✽

  Downstairs, Mary was supervising Starlight’s evening meal; mashing carrots and chopping up meat assisted by her other three granddaughters. Starlight, enthroned in her high chair, with Jude on one side of her and Mitch on the other, looked solemnly on at all the activity in her honour, far more interested in the big girls than in the array of toys collected for her amusement on the table. The girls, all three, had suddenly affected ridiculously squeaky voices.

  ‘Is she ready for her din-dins, then?’

  ‘Starlight! Starlight!’ (this in a sing-song voice from Tansy) ‘Ah! She knows her name. Look, she’s smiling at me!’

  ‘Smile at me, Starlight! Smile at – who am I? Aunty Ellie?’

  ‘Not really. Cousin Ellie, I think.’ This from Rachel.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t call me ‘cousin Ellie’ do you?’

  ‘No, but, I mean, not aunty.’ Rachel squirmed at the put-down.

  ‘Say ‘Ellie,’ Starlight.’

  Starlight said nothing. Rachel stood against the Aga and watched her cousins flit like brightly coloured birds around the kitchen, tossing their hair, admiring jewellery, comparing hobbies. They both rode, had seen the same films, liked and disliked the same shops. They twittered and giggled in the same key, they used the same language; everything was so this and so not that. There was, between them, in spite of the age difference, a connection of the type that Rachel had hoped but failed to find, an embryonic friendship which had to do with that intangible essence that made a person who they were, and the way it sparked an answering response in its soul-mates. Rachel wondered how much of it was the call of blood to blood, and whether, on that score, she would therefore be forever excluded.

  Mitch too watched the girls, especially Ellie. He liked the way her hair fell almost into her eyes, and the way she had to keep sweeping it out of the way with her tiny, bird-like hand. He liked the way she laughed, showing white and orthodontic-even teeth. He had only seen her once before. She had been a child, then, about the age that these other girls must be now, her body, in its bathing suit, without a feminine contour, diving like a fish into Jude and Heather’s pool.

  Her mother, the one with the bun, called across to her from the sink, ‘Ellie, do you know where your brother is?’

  She shrugged. ‘On the computer?’ She looked at her watch and visibly paled. ‘Mum, is he going to be allowed to be on it all week? I thought we were supposed to do things together!’ Her voice was a little shrill and Mitch discerned sub-text.

  ‘He has his course work to finish. The sooner it’s done the better, don’t you think?’

  ‘Course work!’ Ellie said, derisively.

  Then the thin woman with glasses, Ruth, came into the room. ‘The last thing I want to discuss is work, if you don’t mind,’ she said, archly, making for the fridge. ‘I fancy cheese and biscuits and a large glass of port, don’t you?’

  People made noises which indicated they were still full. Jude shook his head and Mitch followed suit. She went on to cut wedges of creamy brie and blue-veined stilton, and opened packets of biscuits and found a very good old ruby port from amongst the vast stock of bottles by the back door. She poured herself an over generous measure, swallowing down a good third of it in the guise of disinterested tasting and assessment of its quality. Then she nodded with satisfaction and topped up her glass. She exited the room without a word, leaving open cheese packets and biscuit crumbs all over the table and the fridge door yawning wide open.

  James found a bathroom and ran a bath for Ben and Todd. While the water filled they stripped off their clothes and raced, yelling, up and down the thickly carpeted landing. Leaving them to play shrieking submarines beneath the crackling bubbles James mounted up to the attic with Toby and Todd’s bags, located Ben’s belongings abandoned on the landing and chose a large room with four beds under a steeply sloping ceiling. He unpacked swiftly, paying wry note that while Toby and Todd’s things were all almost new, good quality and clean, Ben’s were shabby, faded and pilled. Ruth’s obsession with charity shops and car boot sales was getting out of hand; being careful had developed into being mean. Rachel, sitting alongside her well-groomed and sophisticated cousins, had looked very much the poor relation, even in her nearly new outfit. James would have loved nothing more than to take his daughter shopping, to indulge her, but, when it came to money, as well as other things, he was powerless. It was a conscious choice on his part whose consequences nevertheless often stung. In other ways it was a relief, to abdicate responsibility. His first wife had been flaky and feeble, unreliable and wayward, traits which had spiralled into the early onset dementia which had fully claimed her shortly after Rachel’s birth.

  James sighed and surveyed the room; beds neatly turned down, the light in the tiny bathroom at the end of the room left on, curtains closed. Briefly, he toured the rest of the attic area. Four or five rooms with single beds, each painted a different, cheerful colour. A small bathroom and a toilet. The girls’ room, and, at the end of the corridor, a door secured by three bolts which gave access to a tiny roof terrace over-looking the outbuildings at the side of the house. James stood in the night air for a few moments, breathing deeply and enjoying the peace. Then he went back inside and secured the door carefully.

  Ruth carried her plate of cheese through to the drawing room where they had been sitting before dinner, sure that she would find the others there enjoying brandies and mellow bonhomie, but the room was empty and the lights had been switched off. Standing alone in the warmth and the semi darkness she hesitated before the comfortable armchair nearest to the fire. It looked inviting and certainly it would be easy for her to stay here alone, drink port and slip into a mood of morose self-pity. They were all fussing with the baby, she thought to herself. No one wanted to sit with her and enjoy cheese and biscuits, they would rather play aeroplanes and ‘one for Grandma, one for Starlight’ with the child, who probably originated from a sun-scorched mud village where food did not have to be glamorised to be made appealing; it only, actually, had to turn up. Ruth rolled another mouthful of port over her tongue and breathed in the fumes before swallowing it. She knew quite well that she had already had enough to drink, and that she was upsetting Belinda’s careful menu planning by breaking into food probably reserved for another occasion. She was aware that she had taken no interest in the baby and that Heather, already upset by Robert’s reaction, would be very sensitive to slights from any other quarter. She realised that the issue with Miriam had not really gone away, only been politely skirted round. But she was feeling extremely sorry for herself; this was her only holiday, she had made considerable sacrifices in order to be here at all, she had set the table and been nice to Belinda by looking after June and she h
ad helped with Robert, which no one else had. Suddenly there was a groan and a sigh. The hearthrug reared up a massive grey head and two black eyes blinked up at her. Either sit down and shut up, they seemed to say, or go away.

  ‘Hello, boy,’ Ruth said, tentatively. She placed her cheese and port carefully down on the small table next to the armchair before stepping over to the window to draw the curtains. With the lights in the room off she could see through the inky panes quite clearly into a small courtyard. She turned the key and opened the door, stepping briefly out into the darkness to smell the autumn night. There was a heaviness around her heart which she recognised instantly and with despair as the beginnings of a sense of hopelessness which would spiral down into a depression. It was a condition she was prone to, amongst others, and she wondered that James had not picked up on the signs he claimed always to be able to spot; a certain look in the eye, he said. She gulped the cold air into her lungs; it tasted of wood smoke and rotting leaves and general vegetable dankness. She shivered with cold and although the idea of remaining here and freezing almost to death before being discovered and taken care of was appealing, the idea that somewhere else there was good conversation and easy company was too strong; she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be where Simon was, even if that meant (as it inevitably would) sharing him with Miriam.

  Swiftly she re-entered the room and pulled the French door closed before passing back out into the corridor. She could hear voices from behind a door on the other side, the library, she seemed to recall, and opening it slowly, caught a glimpse of Elliot and June, flushed and conspiratorial, their heads together over a large book of maps, wine glasses at their elbows. They looked up at her entrance, but before they could speak, she withdrew and closed the door.

  The next door she tried opened onto the huge and elegant room at the rear of the house. Lamps had been lit and the curtains drawn; for such a big room, the effect was surprisingly intimate. Clusters of graceful furniture gathered round the windows and the fireplace. On one stylish little settee Heather and Simon were sitting close together; he had his arm round her and she was weeping on his shoulder, like a small child. Ruth stepped into the room. This was just what she had wanted. She would be needed, welcomed. Her heart warmed within her. At her entrance, however, Simon and Heather turned to face her, and Heather raised an arm in a gesture which could have been interpreted as a sign that she should stop, or even retreat. Ruth hesitated. Surely she had misunderstood; she belonged here. She took another step forward and Heather raised her arm again. Then, Miriam’s immaculately groomed head appeared from behind the wings of a chair which faced the settee occupied by Simon and Heather, but which had hidden her presence from Ruth entirely.

  ‘Would you mind, Ruth, just giving us a few minutes?’ Miriam asked, smiling.

  Ruth felt as though the air had been squeezed from her lungs. She was to be turned out, was she, by this woman? Hurt feelings and seething anger battled within her, but hurt predominated over anger and Ruth, white, mumbled something incoherent and turned back to the door. Her eyes were streaming with tears before she had managed to close it behind her. She groped her way to the safety of the deserted drawing room, sinking forlornly into the armchair. She had been crying for a few moments before she noticed that somebody had eaten her cheese and biscuits and knocked her glass of port to the floor. It was the last straw. She ran, wailing, out of the room, along the corridor, up the stairs to her room.

  ✽✽✽

  Eventually Toby found Rob in a study off the hall. A bluish glare from a computer screen illuminated the creepy armchairs and the old fashioned furniture, which was scattered in disarray around the room.

  ‘Oh!’ Toby said, hesitantly glad, ‘there you are.’

  Rob nodded his head and moved the mouse to close the window on the screen. ‘Alright?’

  ‘Yes, alright, I guess. Funny place this, isn’t it? Not much to do, is there? You been here long? Didn’t see you at dinner. Cool computer. Dad wouldn’t let me bring mine. Got many games on it? Have you got Fatal Blow? I have. Cool isn’t it?’

  Rob seethed. It had taken him ages to get to grips with the dial-up internet and then the girl, Caro, had not shown up in the chat room. He had discovered that his mobile phone had no signal. His efforts to be objectionable at dinner had backfired on him very badly and now it seemed that he was to be tormented by this gnat.

  ‘I’ve brought the computer to do my course work,’ he said ungraciously.

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Toby said, quashed. ‘I could help. What is it?’

  ‘Quantum physics,’ Rob said. ‘I’ve got to calculate the size of fissures in the space continuum and hypothesise on the probability of them creating a negative energy field before the end of the next millennium.’

  ‘Blimey. Sounds like something out of Star Trek,’ gasped Toby.

  ‘More like Red Dwarf, eh Rob?’ said a voice from the doorway. Uncle Jude stood on the threshold, a guitar case in one hand and a portable amplifier in the other. ‘Coming?’ He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, before striding through the hall and down towards the games room.

  ‘Cool! Yeah!’ shouted Toby, hurrying after him. Rob, relieved that his boob at the dinner table seemed to have been forgotten, followed on behind.

  Mitch had moved all the toys into the games room. It was a huge space with bare floorboards and colourful rugs, bright modern sofas, an enormous home-cinema sized television screen and of course the grand piano and snooker table. Jude, Rob and Toby began to wire up the amp and tune the guitar. At the other end of the room, Ellie, Tansy and Rachel sat amongst the toys and played with Starlight. The baby was wide awake. The long sleep in the car had refreshed her and her three wonderful new playmates seemed indefatigable in their efforts to amuse her. Nearby, Mary had settled herself into a sofa and proceeded to produce, from the depths of her handbag, some crocheting. She jumped a little at the first tortured twangs from the guitar but Jude considerately turned the volume down and began to show the boys how to play some chords. In only a few minutes Toby had mastered the three chord sequence of ‘You’ve got me singing the Blues’. Jude showed Rob how to play a syncopated rhythm on his knees and Jude sang along in his gravelly, world-famous voice. The girls took Starlight’s hands and began to dance with her across the wide open space of the floor. After an urge to react sulkily to the fact that Toby, and not he, had been given the first chance with the guitar, Rob began to quite enjoy what Jude called ‘the jam’, especially when Jude noticed a little extra fluttering movement he had but in with the tips of his fingers and said, ‘Yes, Phil Collins does that, too, sometimes. Good.’

  Rachel, less mindful of her figure and unkempt hair than she had been all evening and keeping her eyes away from Rob, pirouetted across the floor and imagined that she lived in this house and that this was her very own dance studio. Tansy and Ellie twirled around Starlight, who laughed and reached out her chubby hands. Mary smiled to herself, crocheting happily.

  The song came to a tumultuous, if rather ragged, close. James, by the door, clapped his massive hands. The sound of his applause echoed around the room and mingled with the laughter.

  ‘Good acoustics in here,’ Rob said, coolly, embarrassed, now, by his part in the frivolities. He yawned, affectedly.

  ‘Very,’ agreed Jude.

  ‘Belinda’s giving a guided tour,’ James announced, ‘leaving from the hallway in two minutes. Anybody interested?’

  ‘Oh I am,’ said Tansy. ‘Are you coming, Ellie?’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Might as well.’ She began to stuff her feet back into her trainers. ‘I’ve seen my room, and the kitchen, and here, but nothing else.’

  ‘I haven’t seen anything. Not even outside; it was dark when we arrived.’ The two girls began to make their way up the passageway. Toby, Jude and Rob followed them. Rachel was left alone with Mary and Starlight.

  ‘Aren’t you going, Rachel, dear?’ Mary asked.

  Rachel, feeling hollow, shook her head. The
other girls had left her behind without a thought. She wasn’t one of them. They had also, she noted, left the baby, as though she was as inanimate as the dolls and soft toys scattered around the floor.

  ‘No, I’m not, either.’ Mary said. ‘Pass me that picture book and bring the little one to sit here. Let’s see if she’d like a story.’

  Starlight had taken up a stance in the corner of the room. She held a toy hammer in one of her chubby fists and was staring at it with immense concentration. Then her face relaxed and she beamed a satisfied smile at Rachel who had located a small cardboard book featuring an assortment of improbably cute-looking animals. Starlight tottered over to Rachel, bringing with her a pungent aroma.

  ‘Oh, dear, Grandma,’ Rachel laughed. ‘I wonder where the nappies are. Starlight’s been very busy!’

  ✽✽✽

  The family gathered in the hall like a class of over-excited school children on an excursion. June was rather tipsy; her shrill and characteristic ‘ha ha ha’ rising with more energy than usual up to the impressive ceiling. Elliot was urbane, but unusually bright-eyed. Belinda carefully allowed him to organise proceedings. Miriam and Heather went arm in arm, Heather red-eyed but gracefully forgiving; she blessed them all with her beatific smiles. Miriam kept up an incessant commentary on the architecture, style and historical provenance of every artefact, annoying in its authoritative insistence; the smallest adult in the company, she managed to talk down to them all. Jude and the boys loitered by the fireplace. James and Les shrank into the shadows of the cloakroom. Tansy and Ellie trilled and chirruped in the midst of the throng. Mitch, surprised in the act of returning from the drawing room with a bucket of soapy water and a cloth, was eagerly invited to join them.