Читать книгу Where I Found You - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 11

The splashing was thunderous but didn’t quite drown out the more frightening sound of Elsa’s wracked sobs. Maggie rushed towards the noise, not hesitating at the water’s edge or stopping when the cold water rose up over her ankles and then her knees. Once she was waist deep, she used her arms to propel herself forward, all the while calling out to Elsa. For a moment, Maggie grabbed hold of what she thought was Elsa’s hand but it was deathly cold and the skin papery thin. She cried out, imagining it was the hand of a long-forgotten corpse trying to pull two young women towards a watery grave. Maggie staggered backwards but lost her footing on the slimy floor. She managed to call out to Elsa one last time before the lake swallowed her up as surely as it had her friend. All was lost and the silence coiled itself around her body and pulled her down towards the abyss. Maggie didn’t fight it, not until she heard the urgent heartbeat of her unborn child.

‘No!’ she screamed, and her arms began to flail in a bid to escape the water that had taken the form of a cotton sheet.

Muscular arms wrapped tightly around her. ‘Shush, shush, it’s all right, Maggie,’ James whispered into her ear and his gentle rocking eased her slowly from the nightmare.

When Maggie was able to speak, all she said was, ‘Sorry.’ She didn’t need to explain further. She’d had the dream half a dozen times already. Her night terrors were forcing her to relive that heart-stopping moment in the park when she had thought Elsa was going to throw herself in the lake. She hadn’t, but her latest encounter with Elsa had left Maggie even more unsettled than the first. Her instincts told her that all was not as it seemed. Elsa had been talking about shops that didn’t exist, not in modern-day Sedgefield at least, but while Maggie’s mind focused on the contradictions, her heart clung to the similarities. They were kindred spirits.

James kissed Maggie softly. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m always going to be here to save you.’

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. She felt blessed to have James in her life but she also felt guilty. Who would save Elsa?

‘I’m going to have to insist you have a smile on your face before you come into this salon, Maggie Carter,’ scolded Kathy. ‘You’ll frighten away the customers with that scowl.’ As Maggie drew closer to the reception desk she added, ‘And I should also insist that you’re dry. Have you been wandering through that park in the teeming rain?’

Maggie’s visits to the park had become more of a daily pilgrimage in the last three weeks but once again her hopes of crossing paths with Elsa had been dashed. She forced a smile. ‘Morning, Kathy.’

‘That smile reminds me of the one I had fixed on my face all weekend.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’ The smile on Maggie’s face, false or otherwise, faltered as her mind raced ahead to the possible cause. ‘You were going home, weren’t you?’

Kathy had moved to Sedgefield in the late seventies but Nantwich would always be her home town. ‘To see my mum, yes, and before you ask, no, I didn’t see Judith. I’m keeping a safe distance until she comes to her senses otherwise I may not be responsible for my actions. She has a habit of speaking before she thinks and I have a habit of acting before I think. Not a good combination.’

‘I don’t want you two falling out over me,’ Maggie warned, ‘but we have to accept that she’s not likely to come to her senses any time soon. The news about the baby might have come out of the blue but she reached the conclusion that James was throwing his life away by marrying me a long time ago.’

‘Which I take as a personal insult since I was the one who brought you two together. Maybe I should have a word.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘James was over there the other day and he says they’re slowly getting used to the idea. I doubt that’s true but it’s what he wants to believe and I’d rather leave it at that for now. But enough about me, tell me about your troubles.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Mum has me running round in circles, that’s all,’ Kathy said with an uncharacteristic sigh of resignation. ‘She’s not getting any younger and whether she likes it or not, she needs more support. But my mum can be quite single-minded when she wants to be.’

‘I wondered where you got it from,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ll have to bring her over to the salon some time, I’d love to meet her.’

‘Getting her to Sedgefield is part of the problem. I’ve suggested she move in with me and Joe but she’s refusing point blank to leave her friends,’ Kathy complained before adding, quickly, ‘We haven’t all been blessed with mums that were as easy-going as Joan. But we’ll find a compromise somehow. If Mum won’t move here then I’ll simply have to convince Joe that it’s time for us to downsize. We could always look for somewhere with a granny flat nearer Nantwich.’

‘I know how much you love that house of yours but maybe it’s for the best,’ Maggie offered, recognising that moving house wasn’t going to be as easy as Kathy made it sound. She lived on the outskirts of Sedgefield in the kind of house that was big enough to be split into apartments and had been a nurses’ home before Kathy took over the place. It was half-empty now that the kids had grown up and moved away but despite being careworn and high maintenance, was much loved and it would be a wrench for Kathy and her husband to leave it.

Maggie and Kathy’s soul-searching was drawn to a swift conclusion by the tinkle of the bell above the salon door as someone came in. Harvey, who had been sitting patiently next to Maggie, stood up and sniffed. He took in a lungful of hairspray-tainted air and quickly snorted it out before sitting back down. Maggie surmised that the person wasn’t someone he, and therefore she, knew particularly well. She stepped to one side as the stranger approached.

‘Afternoon, ladies,’ the man said. ‘Could you sign here for me please?’

A package had been placed on the counter and Kathy signed for the delivery. In a moment, the courier had disappeared but he had been enough of an interruption to remind the two women that they had work to do.

‘I suppose I’d better start setting up for my afternoon appointments. I’ve got two new clients today and the first is due any minute now,’ Maggie said. She had flipped up the cover on her tactile wristwatch and was horrified to discover how short of time she was. It wasn’t only meandering through the park that had made her late; she had lingered too long at home too. She and James had spent the weekend clearing out the spare room and that morning had been her first opportunity to get a feel for the place so she could start planning the theme for the nursery. Preparing for the future was still frightening, but she could either sink or swim and thanks to her recurring nightmare she had already chosen which.

‘Make sure you dry off first and I’ll let you know when Mrs Smith arrives.’

There was an inflection in Kathy’s tone and Maggie latched onto it. ‘Did you take the booking? Do you know anything about Mrs Smith? Is she pregnant by any chance?’

‘What is it about this Elsa woman that has you so obsessed?’

‘I’m not obsessed, I’m just concerned.’

Before Kathy could interrogate her further, the door jangled again. Harvey stood up and began to wag his tail furiously but it was the aroma of chamomile and cloves that gave away the identity of the salon’s latest arrival.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here on your day off. Is it a social call or have you chipped a fingernail?’ asked Maggie.

‘Neither,’ Jenny replied.

Maggie waited for her to explain further but Jenny was being reticent for a change. ‘Don’t tell me Mark’s getting his hair done,’ Maggie asked as she turned her attention to the person she heard soothing a grumbling Lily.

‘There’s no way I’m handing over my gorgeous husband to one of these vixens. No offence, Kathy.’

‘None taken,’ Kathy replied. ‘In fact, I think my girls would take it as a compliment.’

Mark cleared his throat to get their attention. ‘Actually, I’m on babysitting duties this afternoon.’

The growled response from Jenny was no doubt as he intended. ‘It’s not called babysitting when it’s your own daughter.’

‘You should be grateful he’s willing to help you out at all,’ interjected Kathy.

‘This joke is wearing very thin,’ Jenny warned.

‘Who was joking?’

‘Will you two stop teasing her,’ Maggie said before Jenny started hyperventilating. ‘Now is someone going to tell me what’s going on? If you’re here to see me then I’m afraid I can’t hang around. I need to get ready for Mrs Smith …’ Her voice trailed off as she finally recognised the deceit. ‘You’re Mrs Smith?’

‘I’m being treated to a day of pampering by my darling husband and that includes a relaxing massage.’

Maggie folded her arms and gave them a stern look. ‘So why go to the trouble of booking an appointment under a false name – and a pretty unimaginative one at that.’

‘I picked that,’ Kathy added curtly.

‘Did you know?’ Maggie asked, redirecting her glare at Kathy.

‘Jenny wanted you to treat her like any other client – or should I say, charge her like any other client. If it was left to you to manage your own business affairs, you’d have gone bankrupt in the first month.’

‘I’m not so busy or desperate that I can’t help out a friend now and again.’

‘Except half of your clients would end up being treated like friends if you had your way,’ Kathy insisted.

Maggie raised a hand in submission. In her own mind, she offered a therapeutic service to people in need which often made it difficult to see them simply as clients and it was undoubtedly Kathy’s business acumen that kept Maggie’s accounts in the black. What had started out as a simple agreement to provide space and reception services for Maggie’s business had quickly developed into Kathy becoming a not-so-silent partner. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in arguing?’

‘None,’ Jenny and Kathy said in unison. ‘Besides, it’s Mark’s treat.’

‘And it’s my pleasure. I don’t know how she manages to take care of us all but even with her boundless energy, she needs to recharge her batteries now and again.’

‘You work hard too,’ Jenny reminded him.

‘Ah, but I couldn’t do what you do. I’m only a man, not good at multitasking like you ladies.’

Maggie sensed Kathy preparing to stick her fingers down her throat so she jumped in to divert the conversation. ‘Mark, do you ever remember seeing any swans in Victoria Park?’ she asked. He was the only one of the group who had lived in Sedgefield all of his life.

‘No, I can’t say I have.’

Undeterred, Maggie tried another tack. ‘Ever heard of a shop in Sedgefield called Flo’s Fruit and Veg?’ She heard Kathy sigh; she had heard these questions before.

‘No.’

‘Not ever?’

‘Ah, has it got something to do with this ghost of yours?’ he asked.

Jenny nudged Mark so hard that he let out a short gasp. ‘You’re not allowed to use the “G” word.’

‘And that would be because I don’t think she is a ghost,’ interjected Maggie. ‘A restless soul, perhaps, but not a ghost.’

‘Really?’ Jenny asked. ‘So your next question isn’t going to be whether or not Mark has heard of anyone drowning in the lake?’

‘I’m only asking in case Elsa did do something silly. I’m worried about her and I wanted to know if the lake was deep enough, that’s all,’ Maggie said, hoping only she could hear the lie.

She couldn’t blame her friends’ gentle mockery. Away from the lake and the connection she had felt with Elsa, Maggie was finding it impossible to justify or explain why this relative stranger should occupy her mind so much or why she feared for her future.

‘It wouldn’t take much water if someone was determined enough to drown themselves,’ Mark offered helpfully.

‘Thanks, Mark,’ Maggie said. She had no desire to revisit the countless theories that had kept her mind turning and her stomach churning for the past few weeks, so she made a point of checking her watch again. ‘Now I’ll be late for my second appointment if we don’t get a move on.’

‘Then if you’ve finished with me, I’ll be on my way,’ Mark said and turned to leave.

Maggie may have begun to doubt her senses but in some respects, she was as sharp as ever. ‘Don’t you think you’re forgetting something, Mark?’ She had heard the footsteps that marked his retreat but not the telltale squeak of pram wheels.

‘Nice try,’ muttered Jenny.

‘And don’t forget to come back and pick your wife up,’ Maggie added. ‘Now, Mrs Smith, would you like to come this way?’

The treatment room had been designed to make the most of the limited space available. There was a massage table in the centre, a small table and chairs for consultations in one corner and shelving lined up along all the available wall space. Jenny was currently reclining in the treatment chair, which took up the last of the available space.

Maggie had begun with a head massage and there had been gratifying groans from her mystery client as she dug her fingers deep into her neck and scalp in wide, curving arcs. Together they had selected a relaxing mixture of bergamot, chamomile and neroli, taking account of Jenny’s preferences and needs.

The aromas had already worked their magic on Harvey who was snoring peacefully in his bed tucked away in a corner. Jenny was another challenge entirely: between groans her chatter had been incessant. She had been telling Maggie how the property market wasn’t picking up fast enough and that Mark’s boss was considering further redundancies. Rather than relaxing, Jenny was becoming more agitated, so when Maggie moved her to the table for a full body massage, she refused to start until her friend had taken a vow of silence. She called it tough love.

By the time all the knots in Jenny’s shoulders had been kneaded away, her groans had reduced to whimpers. ‘I’ll massage your feet next,’ Maggie whispered, ‘and then that’s it.’

‘It won’t tickle will it?’

‘Shush,’ Maggie instructed.

‘But you started talking first.’

‘Shush.’

Maggie had learnt different therapies over the years and reflexology had proven to be an effective technique for mind as well as body. It often evoked an intense and emotional reaction so when the first sob came, Maggie wasn’t as surprised as Jenny, who had been warned of the side effects but had been convinced she wouldn’t succumb.

‘It’s OK, Jen, don’t fight it. Let yourself go. I’m here to catch you.’

Jenny’s reply was unintelligible, little more than a mumbled snivel. Maggie guessed her friend was still trying to fight against the tide of her emotions but the next sob came nevertheless.

When the treatment was over, Maggie didn’t say a word as she poured a glass of water for her client who was weeping in loud, ragged gasps.

‘I … I … I’m just so scared. What if Mark loses his job? What if it’s me working all the hours God sends? What if I’m the one missing out on Lily growing up?’ Jenny stammered as she finished dressing and took the glass. ‘I don’t know if I could cope with that.’

‘Those “what ifs” haven’t happened yet but if they do you will cope. You have Mark and Lily and you have me too. You’re not on your own,’ Maggie said. She handed Jenny a tissue.

‘I feel like a gibbering wreck,’ her friend said with a hiccup.

Maggie gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘You look ready to face the world to me.’

Jenny laughed. ‘Thanks, Maggie.’

‘The boys are with us next week for half-term so I won’t be in the salon but I can still do home visits, armed with a bottle of massage oil or a bottle of wine; your choice.’

‘Wine sounds good,’ Jenny said. She was doing her best to sound upbeat but her voice trembled very slightly. She blew her nose. ‘I think I’m ready.’

‘You haven’t seen the bill yet,’ Maggie said, although she had already decided that if she was being forced to accept payment from a family whose financial future was in doubt, then it would be heavily discounted no matter how much Kathy protested.

Lily’s cries could be heard from outside the salon as soon as Maggie opened the door of the treatment room. More sobs erupted behind her. Mother and daughter were howling in stereo and the crescendo of wails was enough to wake up Harvey who hurried past them.

Maggie did her best to usher Jenny towards the exit without disturbing the other customers but it was an impossible task. Harvey didn’t have his harness on and she hadn’t thought to pick up her cane. Jenny’s floundering was getting them nowhere until Kathy came to the rescue.

‘You know, Maggie, we might need to invest in a rear entrance,’ Kathy said once they had handed Jenny over to a bemused Mark and promptly closed the door on them. ‘If your scowls earlier weren’t enough to frighten away our customers then that little performance certainly will.’

‘I think she means me,’ came a voice that was immediately recognisable.

‘Elsa?’

Jenny’s treatment oils had overpowered the scent of lilacs when Maggie had walked past the waiting area earlier but she could smell the perfume now.

The woman gave a throaty laugh. ‘People haven’t called me that for sixty years. Even the doctors know better than to use my proper name. I don’t care what’s written on your forms, you can call me either Mrs Milton or Elsie. I prefer Elsie.’

Maggie tried to swallow but her mouth was bone dry.

‘Are you all right, love?’ the old lady said. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ Maggie managed.

‘I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be. Should I?’

Maggie didn’t know what to say or think. Her mind had stalled and a shiver crawled down her spine. She wanted more than anything to tell this woman, who was undoubtedly in her twilight years, that they had met when Elsa was twenty-two-years old, alone and pregnant – not because Maggie believed it to be true but because she wanted it to be true. She had an irrational need for Elsa to remain within reach of her help.

‘Would you like me to wait while you get yourself ready?’ Elsie asked when Maggie still hadn’t responded.

‘You do look a bit pale,’ Kathy added.

Maggie insisted that she was fine but there was no fooling Kathy.

‘How about I make you some hot, sweet tea?’ Kathy asked. ‘Would you like one, Mrs Milton?’

‘That would be lovely. I’ll let my husband know what I’m up to first. I won’t be a minute.’

Mrs Milton headed for the small waiting area and Kathy lowered her voice to ask the burning question: ‘Mrs Milton is Elsa? The Elsa?’

‘Yes.’ There was no hesitation in Maggie’s reply but there was a note of puzzlement.

‘You do realise she’s in her eighties? I’m pretty sure that rules out the possibility of her being pregnant.’

‘I know,’ Maggie said as she tried to think back to when they had first met. The dated perfume and the gravelly voice were the clues Maggie should have used to build up the picture of an elderly woman despite the youthful lilt that had obviously been forced. Had Maggie been so eager to believe that Elsa was some kind of lost soul that she had ignored her instincts? How could she have been so foolish?

‘At least the search can be called off,’ Kathy added kindly when she realised Maggie was finding it difficult to reconcile the two opposing images she now had of her new friend.

‘What have I done, Kathy? She doesn’t remember a thing about me. That poor woman was stumbling around the park thinking she was in her twenties and I did nothing to help her.’

‘Hello, ladies,’ Alice announced as the bell above the door gently tinkled. She tried to muffle her cough as Maggie turned towards her. ‘I know what you’re going to say and I will make an appointment for one of your massage thingies but my roots are showing and that’s my priority for today.’

‘OK, Alice, I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Kathy said. She sounded disappointed that her conversation with Maggie had been cut short.

‘Is that Mrs Milton over there?’ Alice asked. ‘It’s such a shame.’

‘What is?’ Kathy asked before Maggie had a chance.

Alice whispered, ‘I found her in the park the other day. She was a bit confused, poor love. It took me a while to get her to tell me who she was and where she came from but we eventually tracked down her husband. It’s an awful thing, dementia. I saw my dad go through it and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.’

‘At least you helped her,’ Maggie said, comparing Alice’s abilities to her own. She felt humiliated; there was no other way to describe it.

‘Hello, Elsie love,’ Alice said as she directed her attention to the woman whose heels scraped across the tiled floor towards them. ‘Are you feeling better today?’

‘Erm, yes thank you …’

‘I’m Alice.’

‘Of course, how could I forget?’ she said, clearly uncomfortable, then turned to Maggie. ‘I’ve told my husband we could be a while and to go home but he’s having none of it. How long do you think it will take?’

Maggie painted on a smile. ‘That really depends on you. What is it I can help you with?’

‘I’m not sure to be honest. I came across your card and I thought I’d give it a try. Something to ease my aching feet would be good.’

‘I’ll see what I can do for you,’ Maggie said. The old lady was either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the episodes in the park where she had been transported back to another time in her life so Maggie was going to have to earn Elsa – no, Elsie’s trust all over again. ‘I don’t have any more clients today so we can take as long as you need.’

‘Then we’ll take our time and make the daft old sod wait,’ Elsie whispered, loud enough to be heard ten feet away.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,’ Alice promised.

As Maggie took her latest client into the treatment room, she couldn’t help but wonder about the man waiting patiently in reception. Had Freddie returned to save Elsa and refused to leave her side ever since?

The rigid plastic chairs in the treatment room squeaked as Maggie went through a formal assessment with her new client: taking some personal details; a brief medical history; checking for known allergies; and forming an idea of what fragrances Elsie preferred while she did her best to silence the internal voice that wanted to ask more probing questions.

She used a digital recorder for her notes and from experience knew that when she played the recording back, the squeak of the chairs would be as irritating then as it was now. Today the recorder would also pick up the chink of china as Elsie sipped her tea.

‘I’m sorry, these seats aren’t very comfortable, are they?’

‘With my joints, there aren’t many chairs that are.’

‘If I can convince you to try out some of my therapies, then the treatment chair over there will be much better.’

At this point, Maggie was meant to go through some options to help ease Elsie’s aches and pains but she still hadn’t told her how they had met before. The deceit played on her mind and she was about to confess all but the seemingly frail and vulnerable woman in front of her was already one step ahead.

‘I’m afraid I have a confession to make,’ Elsie said and if the squeak of the chair wasn’t enough to give away her agitation then the nerves constricting her throat certainly were. ‘Do you mind if we turn that thing off?’

Maggie switched off the recorder without a word.

‘This is a lovely room, so clean and colourful. It’s not what I was expecting at all,’ Elsie said as she scanned the shelves which held an intriguing mix of jars and bottles with bright labels that brought a splash of colour to counter the clinical white of the walls and the chrome fittings.

‘I’m a bit obsessive about adding lots of colour to the packaging of my products to match the colourful scents inside but as for clean, the dog hairs can be a problem,’ Maggie said, tapping the side of her leg to call Harvey over.

‘Hello, boy,’ Elsie said. ‘You are a cutie, aren’t you?’ The dog shook himself as she tickled his back. ‘One of our neighbours in Liverpool had a guide dog. They were quite a team. Mr …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Maggie offered.

‘Remembering names is a bit hit and miss I’m afraid.’ There was a frustrated pause but Elsie wasn’t giving up. ‘Woodhouse, that was it. Mr Woodhouse. Anyway,’ she said, turning her attention back to the dog, ‘he had a German Shepherd and he wasn’t a patch on you, Harvey.’

‘You remember his name?’

Elsie laughed but it was hollow. ‘Like I said, hit and miss.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Elsie stopped stroking Harvey. ‘I don’t remember meeting you before but I’m not denying that we may have.’

‘We’ve met twice before in Victoria Park. We sat together on the bench by the lake,’ Maggie said gently.

‘That bench has certainly seen a lot of comings and goings in its time.’

A flush rose in Maggie’s cheeks as she imagined Elsie trying to work out how much she had told her. Maggie wanted to explain but something held her back. Bizarre as it seemed, it was Elsa who had trusted Maggie with her innermost secrets and she was loath to break that trust, even with Elsa’s older self. ‘It’s a beautiful spot.’

‘And one that has played on my mind for a very long time.’

‘Do you remember anything of our meetings?’ There was the soft swish of hair brushing against her collar as Elsie shook her head. Struggling to find a diplomatic way to bridge Elsie’s present with her past, Maggie asked, ‘How long have you been having problems with your memory, Elsie?’

‘You mean how long have I had Alzheimer’s? That’s the medical term the doctors in Liverpool labelled me with. Now, when was that?’ she asked herself. ‘We moved to Sedgefield a couple of months ago … I think … So, oh, I don’t know, six months ago, a year maybe? It was when the police got involved.’

‘The police?’ Maggie asked, unable to hide her shock.

‘I kept trying to find my way back to Sedgefield and the local bobbies got used to picking me up and taking me home so I eventually agreed to see the doctor. Of course it started long before then, lots of silly things that we could joke about at first, like when I put my shoes in the oven and claimed I was making Dover sole,’ Elsie said. ‘But there are some things I can’t laugh off.’

‘Like your trips to the park?’

When she replied, Elsie’s words were choked. ‘I come out of the fug feeling so lost and confused and it terrifies me. I keep trying to convince myself that it’ll take time to settle in a new place but I’m not getting better, only worse.’

‘There’s a reason this town is special to you, isn’t there?’

There was a telling pause. ‘You know I’ve lived in Sedgefield before, don’t you?’

‘When we met, you introduced yourself as Elsa and told me you were twenty-two, which would be back in 1953 by my reckoning,’ Maggie said, having worked it out from the date of birth Elsie had given. But that was only one small piece of the puzzle. ‘I think you trusted me, maybe because I’m pregnant too.’

‘I did wonder how I came to have your card in my pocket. Can I still trust you?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie replied, eager to hear Elsa’s fate.

‘Then forget everything I may have told you.’

When Maggie reached out to take Elsie’s hand, the chair squeaked as the old lady pulled away.

‘But you came back to Sedgefield for a reason, surely? Perhaps I can help,’ Maggie offered although for the life of her she didn’t know how.

‘You can help by taking absolutely no notice of my ramblings.’

But the image of Elsa that Maggie had conjured in her mind persisted. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the young woman she had befriended was still there, hiding in the corners of Mrs Milton’s mind, still frightened of the future, still needing her help. ‘And if you find yourself at the lakeside again?’

When Elsie spoke, it was in the barest whisper and had echoes of Elsa. ‘Don’t try to save me.’

Maggie’s skin crawled. She reached over and this time took hold of Elsie’s hand firmly in her own. Elsie’s fingers were icy cold, the flesh slightly sagging and her arthritic joints swollen and gnarled. Little wonder Maggie had recoiled when she had taken hold of Elsa’s hand in the park, expecting the taut, delicate skin of youth. ‘I can’t promise you that.’

‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up next to the man you’ve been married to for fifty-odd years and think an intruder has found his way into your bed? Can you imagine how terrifying that is for me and for him too?’

‘No, I can’t. But if you jump into that lake then I promise you, here and now, that I’m going to dive straight in and drag you out.’

There was a moment’s pause as the two women squared up to each other then Elsie sighed. ‘You don’t have to worry – my husband won’t let me out of his sight these days.’

‘Is it Freddie waiting for you outside?’ Maggie ventured.

‘There is no Freddie,’ came the rather stoic reply.

Forced to consider that the American had been a figment of her fractured mind just like the swans, Maggie asked, ‘He didn’t exist?’

‘Freddie is a ghost from the past that my illness seems intent on bringing back to life. I have to keep reminding myself of who I am and where I am. My name is Elsie; I’ve been married to … Ted … for God knows how many years. I have … I have two daughters,’ she said, faltering as her mind failed to keep up with the sense of conviction she had wanted to convey.

‘I still want to help if you’ll let me,’ persisted Maggie. ‘There’s empirical evidence that aromatherapy can help with some of the symptoms you’re experiencing. Are you having any treatment?’

‘Why do you think I ran away from Liverpool? I couldn’t be doing with all that. And this could just be a storm in a teacup. My trip to the park was probably a one-off while I get my bearings in a new town.’

‘I met you there twice,’ Maggie reminded her. ‘And Alice found you there too.’

‘All right, I’m not daft and before that frown of yours gives you premature wrinkles, I’m not in complete denial either. I’ve promised … I’ve promised …’

‘Ted?’ Maggie offered and immediately regretted her haste.

‘I know my husband’s name. Now, you’ve made me forget what I was saying,’ Elsie said with more than a hint of irritation. ‘I’ve promised Ted I’ll go back to the doctor’s so I don’t need your interference. My Ted will look after me.’

‘I’m your friend, remember?’

When Elsie exhaled, the anger left her body. ‘I wish I’d had someone like you around sixty years ago.’

The silence that followed, rather than creating an awkward pause, brought a connection that spanned the decades. Maggie still hadn’t asked the burning question but it would take time for Elsie to trust her enough to reveal what had happened to the baby. However, that didn’t stop her from skirting around the edges.

‘Do you have any family in Sedgefield?’

‘No. My eldest daughter, Nancy, lives in America and Yvonne lives up in Scotland. As for the rest of my family, I only have a brother left now and he’s in his seventies. I do have plenty of nieces and nephews though, some close enough to be called upon if needs be.’

‘And you have me, not sixty years ago but now. Please do go to see the doctor but that doesn’t mean you can’t come here too for some complementary therapy. In fact, you might want to try this cream,’ Maggie said, jumping up so fast it made Harvey start. She quickly found the jar she was after and checked the label, which was written in Braille as well as print. ‘You can apply it to your arms, neck and chest before bedtime to help improve your sleep patterns or you could use it during the day to keep your thoughts clear. It contains lavender and lemon balm,’ she explained, undoing the lid.

‘I prefer lilacs,’ Elsie said without taking the proffered jar.

‘I’ve noticed but I’m afraid lilac isn’t widely used as an essential oil. It’s very expensive and even the lilac perfume you wear will be made from a synthetic scent rather than a natural oil.’

Maggie heard a surreptitious sniff; Elsie was checking the remnants of her perfume on her wrist. ‘It was my Aunt Flo who introduced me to lilacs. I stayed with her when I was last in Sedgefield and I can remember back to that time as if it was yesterday. She could walk into this room right now and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.’ Elsie’s voice trailed off as her mind wandered for a moment but then she sighed. ‘Now, where was I? Ah yes, Flo Jackson. She had lilac trees in her garden and made all kinds of concoctions from the flowers, including soap. I didn’t like it at first but I’d be lost without my perfume now, even if it’s not quite the same as the one the old lady used.’ Elsie laughed to herself. ‘Listen to me talking about an old lady. I sometimes forget I’m one myself.’

Maggie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Well, I can’t claim to be another Flo Jackson but if this one doesn’t help then there are other recipes to try or I could always acquire some lilac oil if you really wanted it.’

Elsie didn’t respond immediately and Maggie felt herself being scrutinised. ‘My instincts still work no matter what state my mind’s in and they tell me you’re a good person, Maggie.’

‘I try to be.’

‘And you’ll make a good mother. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’

‘You remember me telling you how scared I am about becoming a mum?’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Elsie said although there was something in her voice that made Maggie think she did, even if her mind failed to register the fact. ‘It was your friend outside.’

‘Kathy?’

‘She went to great lengths to tell me how capable you are and how anyone who dares to suggest that you wouldn’t make a wonderful mother would have her to answer to. She talked quite a lot, probably to drown out the noise of you torturing that poor girl who was in here. Is she all right, by the way?’

‘Jenny? Yes, she’ll be fine. It’s good to have that emotional release now and again, especially in a safe environment with someone you trust,’ Maggie explained. ‘She’s actually my closest friend and despite appearances, she’d say the same about me.’

‘Once she stops sobbing,’ added Elsie.

Maggie could feel herself relaxing and would have been happy to chat some more but she heard the plastic chair squeak one last time as Elsie hauled herself up. ‘I’d better get going before Ted starts fretting.’

‘Will you come and visit me again? We could make another appointment for you now if you’d like?’

Elsie didn’t answer immediately and Maggie willed the old lady to reach out to her, but without the park bench to unite them, Elsie’s determination to keep her distance was too strong. ‘Let’s see how I get on with this cream first,’ she said with a groan as she straightened her back. ‘Who knows? It might be a miracle cure.’

Maggie took the jar and, tightening the lid, popped it into a paper bag. ‘I hope so, Elsie.’

‘So how much do you charge for miracles?’ Elsie asked, putting her handbag on the table so she could find her purse.

‘This one’s on the house. No arguments.’

Elsie thanked her and when she took the paper bag, Maggie heard her flip it over to twist and seal the corners, reminiscent of a fruit and veg seller in the town market.

‘When’s the baby due?’ Elsie then asked.

‘October.’

‘You’ll be just fine.’

Many people had said the very same thing but it was the first time that Maggie had come close to believing it. There was something in Elsie’s tone that dared to be challenged, a tone that Maggie hadn’t heard since her mum had died.