Читать книгу I Confess - Alex Barclay - Страница 11

Edie parked at the bottom of the steps to the inn. She glanced down at the folder on the passenger seat – research she had gathered on the history of Pilgrim Point. She wanted to be able to talk to the guests about it, or include interesting details on the website or in printed cards she would leave in the bedrooms. When she bumped into Murph the previous summer, she told him her plans, and the following day, when he was meeting Johnny in town, he transferred four boxes of his late father’s research into the boot of Johnny’s car.

Edie opened the folder and saw two pages, titled In a Manor of Silence. In all she had read about Pilgrim Point, the words of Henry Rathbrook were the ones that resonated the most – even when she learned that they were not an extract from the handwritten manuscript of a published book, but were among the scattered remains of patient files discovered in an abandoned asylum.

Edie pulled up the hood of her rain coat, tucked her hair inside, and made the short dash up the steps. She pushed through the front door, and let it close gently behind her. Look where my rich imagination got me, she thought. The hall was exactly how she had pictured it on the day of the viewing. But how it looked and how it felt were on two different frequencies. Did it matter that each beautiful choice she had made could light up the eyes of their guests if the pilot light in their heart had blown as soon as they walked through the door? She would watch their gaze as it moved across the floors and walls, up the stone staircase, along the ornate carvings of the cast iron balustrade, and higher again to the decorative cornices of the ceiling, the elaborate ceiling rose, and the sparkling Murano glass chandelier that hung from it. Then she would graciously accept the praise that always followed, pretending not to notice the small spark of panic in their eyes or the tremor in their smile.

It was as if a signal was being fired off inside them: no, we don’t smile at things like this, not in places like this, because something is not right. Something is wrong.

She would see some beautiful, eager young girl arriving with her young boyfriend who had spent a month’s wages on one weekend, and he would beam as her eyes lit up, but Edie would see the rest. She knew it wasn’t because this girl felt out of place – everyone was made to feel welcome at the inn because everyone was welcome. But sometimes Edie felt that the reason everyone was welcome was not because that was her job, not because the vast extravagance of the refurbishment had plunged them into an alarming amount of debt, not because a family has living expenses, and Dylan has to be put through college, but because she hoped that one day, someone would walk in and they would light up and it would be pure, there would be no strange aftertaste, and the spell would be broken.

Edie shook off her jacket and hung it on the carved oak hallstand. She paused as she heard the sound of a door slamming, and heavy footsteps echoing towards her.

‘Dad won’t let me go to Mally’s tonight!’ said Dylan, stomping half way across the hall. He stood with his hands on his hips, his face red, his chest heaving.

‘Dylan!’ said Edie. ‘Calm down, please.’

Johnny appeared behind Dylan.

‘And why does it even matter,’ said Dylan, glancing back at him, ‘when you’re all going to be here partying anyway?’

‘Partying?’ said Johnny. ‘It’s Helen’s forty-seventh birthday – we’re hardly going to be dancing the night away.’

Dylan looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘Oh my God! That is so mean!’

Johnny stared at him, bewildered.

‘Mom – did you hear that?’ said Dylan. ‘Just because Helen’s in a wheelchair.’

Johnny did a double take. ‘What?’ He looked at Edie, then back at Dylan. ‘Dylan – that had nothing to do with Helen being in a wheelchair. That was about us being so old that we don’t have the energy to dance.’

‘Well, that’s depressing,’ said Dylan.

Edie started to laugh.

‘Well, I’d rather depress you than be accused of making fun of Helen,’ said Johnny.

Helen was Dylan’s godmother, and he was fiercely protective of her.

Helen was diagnosed with MS ten years ago, and had been in a wheelchair for the past three years, and still, when Edie saw her, she could get hit with the unfairness of it. Even though Helen was such a part of their lives. Before the diagnosis, Helen had been fit, strong, the director of nursing in the local hospital, living with her partner, who left her as soon as her symptoms started to really show. She was still in the relapsing-remitting stage, but her condition was slowly deteriorating. She had an older sister in Cork, but they weren’t close, and apart from her friends from the hospital, Johnny Dylan and Edie were the ones who helped her out the most.

‘Jesus, Dylan,’ said Johnny, ‘you have to stop attacking people because of some assumption—’

‘Says the guy roaring at Terry earlier,’ said Dylan.

‘I wasn’t roaring at him,’ said Johnny. ‘We were having a … discussion.’

Dylan made air quotes.

Johnny turned to Edie. ‘All that was going on with Terry is I asked him to board up the chapel windows properly, with decent timber, so they wouldn’t look like an eyesore, and instead he throws up some bullshit with streaks of paint and black God-knows-what all over it. Do you want the lads arriving in and seeing that?’

‘It’ll be dark,’ said Dylan.

‘Not in the morning when they’re getting the tour,’ said Johnny. ‘And what’s with you defending Terry all of a sudden? Last week he was the worst in the world.’

‘Because he thinks I’m the person who smashed the windows!’ said Dylan. ‘Which, I’d like to repeat, I am not. Terry spots someone in jeans and a hoodie running away from the “scene” and it’s automatically me.’

Johnny gestured to Dylan’s jeans and hoodie, and shrugged.

‘Literally, everyone dresses like this,’ said Dylan.

‘But you can see where he’s coming from,’ said Johnny. ‘He calls me to say he’s caught you and Mally in the confession box in the chapel—’

Edie looked at Johnny. ‘Can we stop this—’

‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘He still hasn’t given us an explanation.’

‘Stop making it sound so creepy,’ said Dylan.

‘You were supposed to be in school!’ said Johnny. ‘The one day we’re in Cork trying to get stuff done—’

‘I don’t know why he had to call you,’ said Dylan.

‘Here’s why,’ said Johnny. ‘Health and safety. The chapel’s a building site, basically, you had no hard hats on you—’

‘Hard hats,’ said Dylan. He rolled his eyes. ‘Mally thought the whole thing was—’

‘Why would I care what Mally thinks?’ said Johnny.

Dylan looked at Edie. ‘Seriously, Mom … what is his problem with her?’

‘I don’t have a problem with Mally,’ said Johnny.

Dylan’s phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket, and read the WhatsApp message. ‘Well, I can’t not go now,’ he said. ‘Because Mally’s already on her way over here. In the rain. I can’t suddenly go “Oh sorry – go home. Oh – and I can’t come back with you later.”’

Edie turned to Johnny, her eyebrows raised. He gave her a resigned look.

‘So she’s going to be here for the day while your mother’s trying to get the place ready for tonight?’ said Johnny.

‘They’ll be over at the house,’ said Edie.

‘Obviously,’ said Dylan. He looked at Johnny. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Yes,’ said Edie.

‘And can I go over to Mally’s later?’ said Dylan.

‘Yes,’ said Edie.

‘Thanks, Mom.’ He walked across the hall and they waited for him to disappear down the stairs.

‘Why do you always have to do that?’ said Johnny.

‘Oh, good God,’ said Edie. ‘Grow up. What is your issue with him going over there, all of a sudden? I don’t want to have to deal with any meltdowns tonight, and if he’s over there—’

‘She’s a bad influence on him,’ said Johnny. ‘She always ’s just in your face. She’s … nosy. She’s …’

Edie gave him a patient look.

‘Look – I know she’s no fan of mine,’ said Johnny, ‘but that’s not the point. They’re always … whispering and skulking about the place.’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Edie. ‘They’re sixteen. Well …’

‘And that’s the other thing – why is a nineteen-year-old college girl hanging out with a sixteen-year-old boy? It’s weird.’

Edie raised an eyebrow. ‘From the twenty-one-year-old with his eye on the sixteen-year-old?’

‘That’s different. And … different times.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘And what makes you think he’s going to have a meltdown?’

‘Look at him,’ said Edie. ‘He’s exhausted.’

‘Because he was up all night watching Netflix!’ said Johnny. ‘He knows this is a big night, it’s important to you, and—’

‘Well, I hope it’s important to you too—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. I said “you” because he doesn’t give a shit what I think. ‘He needs to get his head out of his arse!’

‘He’s sixteen,’ said Edie. ‘He’s cripped with—’

‘Oh God,’ said Johnny. ‘Anxiety – the Get Out of Jail card—’

Edie stared at him.

‘Sorry,’ said Johnny. ‘But if he really had no control over his emotions, how am I the one who gets Angry Dylan and you get sad face? Or “Hugs”?’

‘We’re not getting into—’

‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘But—’

Edie shook her head. ‘No—’

‘You know what you should do,’ said Johnny, ‘show him some of your “research” photos from the industrial school with those skinny little bastards running around out there – not a Netflick to their names.’

‘He’s already been rooting through my research,’ said Edie.

‘Jesus Christ. No wonder he has anxiety.’

‘Why do you have such a problem with it?’ said Edie.

‘Because it freaks you out,’ said Johnny.

‘It doesn’t freak me out,’ said Edie. ‘And I don’t have time for this. I have too much to do.’

‘I told you we should have got one of the chefs in,’ said Johnny. ‘We should have got staff in, full stop.’

‘We’re not going to get staff in when we’re closed for the season,’ said Edie. ‘And we’d have to pay them. But the main thing, I told you, was that I wanted to make an effort for my friends – which I still do. I just need time.’

‘Fine,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He turned to walk away.

‘Johnny – wait,’ said Edie.

He looked back. His eyes were bright with hope and Edie wondered what he thought she was going to say. ‘Just …’ she said. ‘Stop … waiting for him to change.’

Johnny frowned. ‘What?’

‘Dylan is all of what you see – the weight, the anxiety, the insecurity. But it’s Dylan – aged sixteen. It might not be Dylan at eighteen or twenty or twenty-five. But … what if it is? I’m saying – if you’re waiting for him to go back to being the happy little bunny … well …’ She paused. ‘Maybe that won’t happen.’

She raised her chin, blinked and hoped Johnny wouldn’t notice she was fending off tears.

When she looked at him again, she could see the triumph in his eyes. He stabbed a finger at her. ‘Don’t you ever give me a hard time again for grieving over that.’

‘I’m giving you a hard time,’ said Edie, ‘for letting him see it.’

Johnny’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, and I’m the piece of shit? Because you can hide it better? These “feelings” everyone is supposed to be all open about?’

‘No one thinks you’re a piece of shit,’ said Edie.

‘Oh, I think we both know Dylan does.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Edie. ‘I’ve never got that from him.’

‘Well,’ said Johnny, ‘maybe he raises his acting game when he’s around a champ.’

Edie hated them both at this moment – individually, but mostly, as a couple.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed four times. Edie closed the door to the bar behind her and stood with her back to it, pausing to release a breath into the dense silence. The storm had been building all afternoon, and she could feel the powerful push of the wind against the walls of the inn, like the shoulder of a fairytale giant who didn’t want them there, who would keep pushing until they were gone. She knew that in her own house, the wind would be whistling through every broken part, reminding her of every unmet promise. ‘Remember the monstrosity we said he’d raze to the ground? And replace with our dream home? Well, we live in it! And we’ve barely done a thing to it! But look at the beautiful fairy garden! You can see it from our bedroom! Look at the pretty lights! I go there when I’m losing my mind to try to make myself believe in magic again!’

She peeled herself away from the door and walked down the hallway. As she passed the dining room, a movement inside caught her eye, and she stopped. Mally was standing at the dinner table, taking a photograph with her phone.

Edie walked in. ‘Hello, Mally.’

‘Oh!’ said Mally, startled.

‘What are you up to?’ said Edie, smiling.

‘Just – I love what you’ve done!’ said Mally, looking around.

The room had been transformed from elegantly formal into elegantly mismatched. The dining table still had its white starched linen table cloth, but there was a brown tweed runner on top, covered with fresh greenery and a mix of squat cream pillar church candles on slices of polished woodcream taper candles in short brass candlesticks. The napkins were in muted blues and greens, with porcelain hummingbird napkin rings. The usual heavy silver cutlery was replaced with 1940s bone-handled knives, forks and spoons. The wine glasses were a collection of modern and antique – crystal, etched, gold filigree, all different, all beautiful.

Mally was staring at Edie, eyes bright. Edie sometimes wondered whether Mally was hopped up on ADD drugs. There was a wide-eyed, nervous intensity about her that could sometimes veer into something darker. And why would Mally be looking at place settings? She barely ran a hairbrush through her hair.

Edie’s gaze moved down to Mally’s hand. Edie had put a childhood photo at every setting, face down, peeping out from each napkin. Mally was holding Helen’s. In it, Helen was sitting at her kitchen table in a white dress, her tenth birthday cake in front of her, candles lit. She was beaming at the camera, chin up, eyes scrunched tight, a pink paper crown on her head. Clare was standing to Helen’s right, with her rosy red cheeks, looking like she was about to blow out the candles herself. Edie was in the back row, smiling serenely, her two arms neatly in front of her. Murph was standing sideways behind Clare, his arm up like a robot, but his head turned to the camera. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and he had three party blowers in his mouth. It looked like whoever had taken the photo had got distracted by him, because they hadn’t waited for Jessie – the birthday girl’s best friend – to make it into the frame. There was a glimpse of her at the edge – the end of her long black wavy pigtail, the sleeve of her bright pink dress.

Dylan appeared in the doorway. ‘Hey, Mom …’ He frowned when he saw Mally.

‘I was admiring your mom’s party styling,’ said Mally. She held up the photo. ‘Look at your godmother – she was so adorable!’

‘She really was,’ said Edie.

Edie smiled. She wondered would any of her friends realize how much effort had gone into the photo selection. She knew that Helen’s tenth birthday was her favourite, and among the few photos she found, she had chosen the only one where Jessie wasn’t right by her side. She hoped Helen wouldn’t notice the fraction of her, caught at the edge – she didn’t want to see the sting of a painful memory on her face.

‘Who’s this?’ said Mally, pointing to the picture. ‘Is this the girl who died in the fire?’

Edie’s eyes widened. ‘Yes … How did you know that?’

‘Just a guess,’ said Mally. She shrugged. ‘I mean not a total guess – I read about the fire online and saw a photo.’

Dylan frowned at Mally. ‘We have to go. It’s insane out there.’

‘I can give you a lift, if you want to wait,’ said Edie.

‘No,’ said Dylan. ‘What about your hair?’

‘How many teenage boys would ever think of something like that?’ said Edie.

‘Only the ones who want something from you,’ said Mally.

‘Shut up,’ said Dylan. ‘I don’t want anything, Mom.’ He went up to Edie and gave her a hug. ‘Have fun, tonight.’

‘You too,’ said Edie, kissing his cheek, before he pulled away. ‘Be back at midnight and not a minute later.’

Edie went to Helen’s place when they had left. She felt a stab of guilt that she was checking whether Mally had left a grubby fingerprint somewhere – Mally was never unclean, just dishevelled. She had left Helen’s photo upturned. Edie picked it up. Helen had never said why her tenth birthday was her favourite, but maybe it was because it was the last summer before they all found out that bad things can still happen on sunny days.