Relative Strangers Page 17

  Suddenly, up ahead of him, a wail pierced the air. Very human pain and fear yelled for attention. His concept of the child as a faerie nymph, insubstantial and eerie came crashing down abruptly as she roared. He came across her quite soon. Her eyes were enormous and swam with distress, her mouth a wide, dark cavern of misery. Her nightdress was filthy with damp green smears, black, peaty soil and covered with skeletal leaves and twigs. The child held her foot in both hands; it was bleeding quite badly. The sole of her foot was pink, beneath the grime, not brown, and, to Robert, the sight of the blood oozing freely from it was more shocking. He looked over his shoulder and called ‘Mary! Mary!’ once or twice. Very distantly indeed he could hear voices calling and he knew that he must return to his own world, powerless and inconsequential though he now was in it. He considered the child, wondering, if he took her back, whether she would have to return to the freezing water of the fountain, whether, in fact, she should have been there in the first place. Statues didn’t bleed, did they? But then surely a live child should not live in a freezing fountain? Equally, what could a brown pick-a-ninny baby have to do with him? What was she doing here? What was he?

  Her cries were getting louder and louder the longer he failed to meet her need. It didn’t occur to him to pick the child up, to soothe her or to offer any word of comfort. In the meantime the voices came nearer; the wood began to reverberate with the noise of people approaching. Many people, with high pitched voices and angry tones, like huntsmen. It sounded as though they had weapons to beat their way through the undergrowth; the branches around him thrashed wildly in protest. He realised that it was too late, and, as Todd and Ben and Simon pushed their way into the tiny clearing, Robert, too began to cry.

  ✽✽✽

  Because of what Miriam called, ‘All the hoo-ha’, the shopping party was very late in setting off. Heather remained undecided up until the very last minute as to whether she would accompany them. Whether Starlight’s car-seat and buggy and change-bag and cup and toys should be packed into Simon’s people carrier. Whether Mitch, too, should be brought along to help to care for her. Or whether in fact she, Heather, ought to remain behind with her daughter. Her hysteria at the disappearance of the little girl and the deluge of guilt which descended at her discovery, dirty, wet and injured in an impenetrable thicket in the woods, had resulted in a period of alternating wordless sobbing, bitter self-chastisement and unpleasant accusation which, for a time, threatened not only the plans for the day but the whole vacation. Why, Heather had asked, with eyes angry and accusing, had not one of all these relations been able to keep an eye on their new family member for five minutes? Surely everyone could understand why her dear father was not to be considered an appropriate supervisor for a child, in his current incapacity? Who had allowed such a thing? Which idiot had opened the French windows? How, she asked herself, could she have failed to check up on Starlight’s whereabouts herself? What kind of a mother was she, to allow such a thing to happen?

  ‘Oh, oh, my precious daughter,’ she moaned over and over into Starlight’s sodden and begrimed body. ‘Mummy will never leave you alone again.’

  But after a warm bath and a change of clothes and a bottle of milk while Jude tenderly administered first aid to the cut on the sole of her foot, Starlight was fast asleep in her travel cot in Mitch’s room, Mitch was sitting in vigil in the chair at her side and Heather, red eyed and limp from expended emotion, was persuaded that no harm at all could result in the child being left at the house in his care, under the watchful supervisory eye of her grandmother and two aunts, and that some considerable good might accrue to Heather herself from a change of scene and air.

  ‘We have learned a lesson, Heather, that’s all,’ Mary said, soothingly. ‘Starlight is nimble and adventurous and this house is unfamiliar to us all. We must all take extra care about leaving doors open and such like. We’ll also have to be quite specific about who is supervising Starlight at all times. We have been spared a catastrophe, this time. We must be grateful that neither Starlight nor your father came to worse harm.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Heather breathed. ‘The wood nymphs and dryads have protected her from harm, this time. I will thank them, when I go outside, later.’

  ‘Personally,’ said Elliot, dryly, from his place at the kitchen table where he had remained throughout the furore, ‘I’d be giving the child a good spanking to teach her not to go wandering off on her own, instead of cavorting around in the woods thanking non-existent tree spirits.’

  ‘Your opinion doesn’t surprise me in the least!’ flashed Heather, her eyes narrowed. ‘It would be just your idea to bully and beat someone small and helpless and then to tell them it was all for their own good!’

  ‘Just a minute!’ shouted Elliot, rising from his seat. ‘Strong discipline is essential to bringing up children. “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”

  ‘Perhaps you ought to take a close look at your own family, Elliot, before you start handing out advice to other people,’ Heather said, coldly, before turning her back on him.

  Poor Belinda, who had been unable to join the search with the others while she served Elliot’s breakfast, couldn’t help remarking, ‘My own feeling is that the grown-up who left the French windows open in the sitting room should carry a greater burden of responsibility than a toddler in unfamiliar surroundings.’

  Elliot bristled, but said nothing. He sank back down into his seat. His breakfast things remained on the table beside him. Having insisted on a cooked breakfast he had left half of it on his plate. The food was congealing now at his side and the smell of it nauseated him. ‘Take this away,’ he said dully, to Belinda.

  ‘And besides, you know,’ put in Simon, quickly, ‘we can’t wrap our kids up in cotton wool. To a certain extent they need to be able to make their own choices about things and learn from the consequences. There are always going to be accidents and near-misses. We, and they, just have to learn from them.’ He wondered whether his words would strike home with anyone, but the morning’s events had made everyone myopic; they were too busy being careful where they were treading to take any kind of long view.

  The atmosphere in the car on the way to the shopping centre was subdued. Miriam drove briskly, handling the car aggressively through the country lanes. She resisted Heather’s attempts to draw her into conversation, and uttered only the occasional expletive at tractor drivers and ramblers who took up more than their fair share of the road. Rachel, in the back, soon began to feel sick and regretted not having eaten breakfast (her cousins had refused even toast and cereal) or taken a travel sickness tablet. She concentrated fiercely on the road ahead, breathed deeply of the fresh air coming through the window, and tried not to feel nervous about the ordeal to come. Ellie whiled away the journey time by using up the last of her phone credit to send melancholy text messages to Caro warning her against further conferences with Rob. Her phone call the night before had yielded no results; Caro hadn’t answered. Tansy alone listened to Heather as she went over and over the events of the morning, interjecting occasionally with, ‘Poor Starlight’ and, ‘Poor you,’ as appropriate.

  After about forty minutes they stopped for petrol. While Miriam filled the tank Rachel climbed out of the car saying she needed the toilet. In the station shop, hating her weakness, she grabbed a floppy, grey, cellophane wrapped sandwich, paying quickly with the £2 coin which was all her mother had given her to spend, looking all the while over her shoulder through the window into the forecourt. Then she hurried through to the toilet cubicle where she tore and wolfed at the limp bread and indeterminate beige filling, chewing and swallowing with difficulty. Her mouth was too dry but the yawning chasm in her stomach demanded to be filled and the rising nausea had to be quelled before she could get back into the car. Five minutes later, she climbed back into her seat, muttering about a queue, knowing that this was ridiculous since theirs was the only car at the pumps.

  ‘That’s alright, Rachel.’ Ellie said, kindly, ‘Miriam’s bought
us some drinks and a sandwich, freshly made from that little kiosk across the road. I’m starving, aren’t you?’

  ‘Do you like Ciabatta?’ Heather asked, holding up two thick, well-filled rolls, ‘prosciutto and garlic roule or brie and cranberry?’

  Rachel looked at them blankly. She had no idea what they were talking about.

  ‘Or plain ham?’ Tansy offered, holding up the sandwich she had unwrapped, but not eaten.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Rachel said, feeling sicker than ever but her sickness caused, now, by their kindness and forethought, and by utter self-disgust.

  ‘Let’s share, then, and see which you prefer.’ Tansy tore her sandwich in half and passed one piece over to Rachel.

  ‘My parents never buy food while we’re out,’ Rachel confided to Tansy as the journey got back under way. Heather had fallen asleep and Miriam was intent on a phone-in radio programme about the European Union.

  ‘Really? How do you manage for meals, then?’

  Rachel shrugged. ‘We take food with us from home.’

  ‘What about when you’re on holiday? Don’t you ever eat out?’

  ‘Sometimes. But usually we buy things in markets and cook them in the tent, or Dad barbecues.’

  ‘I’d forgotten you have camping holidays. Is it fun?’ Ellie sounded doubtful.

  Rachel shrugged again. ‘It’s alright. We go walking and swimming and have trips round museums and castles and things. Usually there are other kids there and we have games of volleyball and cricket. Sometimes we make particular friends with a family and we share meals and have joint excursions to places. We always say we’ll keep in touch when we get home but we never seem to. What do you do for holidays?’

  ‘Last year we went to the Caribbean,’ Ellie said. ‘It was great. We went All-Inclusive and I made friends with two of the waiters. They slipped me alcoholic cocktails even though I wasn’t really supposed to have them. One night they took me back to their village for a street party. The village was like a shanty town; they all lived in wooden huts and the pavements were all muddy and churned up. The people were poor and I couldn’t understand what they were saying half the time, but very friendly. The two lads gave me some local drink – it blew my head off! They tried to make me smoke some weed but I wouldn’t. Mum and Dad never found out about that, by the way, so don’t tell them. Anyway, one of the waiters turned out to be a creep and I had to make the other one walk me home. Then I had to explain why I was drunk, why I’d lost one of my pink sandals and why I had a bruise the size of a tennis ball on my arm. It was the creep, of course. Rob offered to beat him up for me but Dad just reported him to the manager and we never saw him again. I was pretty much grounded after that.’

  ‘That was brave of Rob,’ Rachel said, ‘and nice of him to be so protective.’

  Ellie looked arch, ‘Don’t be fooled. He’s not the chivalrous type. You ought to know that, Rachel!’

  Rachel turned away to the window to hide her blush.

  ‘We don’t have family holidays,’ Tansy said. ‘We go away on camp, just the three of us.’

  ‘We don’t have family summer holidays,’ Miriam interrupted, sharply, from the front. ‘This is a family holiday, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes. That’s what I meant,’ Tansy replied, quickly.

  ‘Just the three of you?’ Rachel was incredulous.

  ‘Well, when we get there of course there are lots of other children. Some of them go year after year, like us, so we get to know each other really well.’

  ‘Is this abroad?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘No, it’s at a place in the Cotswolds.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ellie lost interest.

  ‘We stay in a huge old school and there are activities and outings and themed days,’ Tansy went on. ‘One time we spent the whole day dressed in togas!’

  ‘I think I’d enjoy that,’ Rachel sighed, wistfully. ‘I suppose it’s very expensive?’

  Tansy shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  The road widened and soon they entered a small market town. Heather woke up and stretched herself.

  ‘We’ll probably be able to get the things Belinda wants from here, afterwards,’ she remarked. ‘What was it? Lamb, and something else?’

  Miriam nodded. ‘I’ve got a list,’ she said. The main street narrowed suddenly, the shops became houses and then the houses petered out and they were back on a country road.

  ‘Not much of a place,’ commented Heather.

  They came to a large roundabout. Miriam turned off the radio and began to indicate. ‘Nearly there,’ she cried. The girls brushed the crumbs off their clothes. Ellie got a small mirror out of her bag and checked her make-up. Tansy brushed her hair. Rachel fiddled with the tassel on the end of her belt.

  The Outlet Village was a modern, purpose built complex of stores and cafés. A pedestrianised precinct with glass-covered walkways and raised flower beds was surrounded by shops boasting the names of internationally recognised designers and retailers.

  They got out of the car and walked across the vast car park; it was almost empty.

  ‘It looks like we have the place virtually to ourselves,’ said Miriam, with relish.

  ‘Like a private viewing. We’ll have all the assistants running to and fro,’ agreed Ellie.

  ‘I don’t really want anything. And I haven’t brought any money.’ Rachel blurted, her voice betraying panic. ‘I’ll just watch the rest of you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Heather, taking her arm. ‘We’re going to get you some lovely things to wear, things that fit, and suit you, and you mustn’t worry about the money, it’s all sorted out. Miriam and I are going to treat you.’

  Ellie and Tansy beamed.

  ‘But really, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. Please, I don’t think Mum will like it.’ But her voice went unheard.

  ‘Of course she will. It’s what families are for. Come on, girls, let’s shop!’

  In the end, Rachel enjoyed herself. Ensconced in the tiny cubicle, she simply waited while her relations handed in clothes for her to try. No one insisted on coming in to see, or in her stepping out to show. Sizes were discreetly referred to as ‘smaller’ or ‘looser’; the numeric values were ignored. Once she had found something she liked, she was invited to emerge just into the vestibule where Ellie and Heather would nod encouragement, or suggest a helpful alternative. The threatened assistants were banished at a word from Miriam, once Rachel’s white and hunted expression was understood. This process repeated itself in three or four shops. Eventually, a long denim skirt, two pairs of jeans, four t shirts and a couple of hooded zip up tops, two pairs of pyjamas, some decent and modest underwear and a pair of trainers had all found themselves into Rachel’s carrier bags. Coating the joyous pill was a bitter shell of shame and fear, and Rachel choked on it while she sat in the cubicle in her bra and pants, mashing her midriff with restless hands. It seemed that the kinder and more generous her aunts and cousins were, the more unworthy Rachel felt. Thoughts of Ruth, poor, thin and shabbily dressed, picking her way through tables full of clothes at jumble sales and along the rails of charity shops kept intruding, and of her frayed-cuffed, shiny-suited, sad-eyed father too. What a lack in their provision would this spree expose? How could this undoubted expense on her be justified at all? Wouldn’t Uncles Jude and Simon go ballistic when they knew? It wasn’t even as though she was proper family!

  Later, they went for tea at a smart coffee shop. Rachel asked for a cup of ordinary English tea while the others chose lattes and cappuccinos and frothy hot chocolates. Watching Ellie scooping whipped cream from her drink, and dipping in the chocolate flake, and eating a doughnut dripping with warm toffee sauce, Rachel wondered bitterly how on earth she remained so slim, while she, Rachel, who ate sensible meals, mainly, remained grossly over-weight. At the same time, she was uncomfortably aware that what her mother defined as sensible meals, Aunty Belinda would describe as ‘convenience’ food, where ‘convenience’ stood for cheap, or even jun
k. This awareness nourished a germ of resentment against her mother, which served to alleviate, at least in part, the guilt of the new clothes.

  Presently, the three girls went off to browse round a store of accessories next door to the café. Heather and Miriam smiled at one another.

  ‘Mission accomplished, I believe,’ Miriam said.

  ‘Oh yes. Poor thing. Shame we can’t do the same for Ben.’

  ‘We will, when he’s older. I don’t think he cares much, at the moment.’

  Heather viewed the large, cloudy stone of a mood-ring she had bought. It looked, at the moment, as dull and ordinary as any beach-pebble. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to get it all past Ruth,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she made us take them all back.’

  ‘I can manage her,’ Miriam sipped at her skinny latte, ‘We’ll just tell her that there was a sale on and everything was ‘buy one, get one free.’’

  ‘Well, that might do it!’ Heather laughed, but went on, more seriously, ‘I don’t think she especially likes getting cheap things, you know. Money is just a preoccupation with her; did it annoy you at Christmas?’

  Miriam shook her head. ‘Not really. It was just so – oh – so cramped for a start. What with the Christmas tree, and all the presents, and the nine of us, and children being children of course, it was just chaos. But even that would have been bearable just for a few days if Ruth hadn’t been so insufferably... cloying. I hardly knew her, after all, but she was so intense. It was as though she expected me – instantly – to be as close to her as April had been. And I gather they were very close.’