Читать книгу The Woman at 72 Derry Lane: A gripping, emotional page turner that will make you laugh and cry - Carmel Harrington - Страница 18

‘You’d better come inside.’ Rea looked at Stella standing in her doorway, the poise and composure that was normally in place crumbling with gratitude. Her vulnerability made parts of Rea ache.

‘Thank you.’ Stella stepped inside and Rea closed the door behind them.

‘Oh, what a beautiful hallway,’ Stella remarked, as she looked around her. The hall floor had original flagstones in black and white, the walls were painted a pristine white and when she looked up to the high ceilings, the original architraving and cornicing was in pristine condition. ‘So many of the original features in our house next door have been tampered with over the years, it’s incredible to see yours intact. Just stunning.’

‘It’s nice to see it appreciated,’ Rea replied, genuinely flattered by her words. ‘I’ve lived in this house my whole life. As have two generations before me. So we’ve managed to keep it as it was when it was built. This house is a bit like an extra member of the Brady family.’

‘There’s a lovely feel in here. I can sense there was a lot of love in this house. What a beautiful home to grow up in.’

Stella thought about her own childhood home. There was a lot of love there too. Once upon another time, she had been lucky. She had known love. But she also knew that she’d never get the chance to go back and sit at her mother’s kitchen table again. That version of her childhood home was long since gone to her, with all in it.

‘Yes, I am lucky. I daresay I’ll be the last of the line to live here, though,’ Rea said.

‘That’s such a pity,’ Stella sympathised.

‘It’s life,’ Rea replied, gruffer than she intended to. She hated to think about this house being sold to a stranger. She knew what they’d do. They’d tear down walls, creating big open-plan spaces that had no business in a house like this. She liked her rooms defined. Why everyone felt the need to share everything these days she’d never understand. From social media to living spaces. All on display for the world to see. It was too much.

Stella ran her hand along the picture rail in the inner hallway, admiring the yellow wallpaper that hung above it.

Rea couldn’t wait to see her reaction to her front reception room. She proudly led her into the large, highceiling room. She opened the curtains quickly and the beautiful room was transformed as the light flooded in and brought it to life.

‘Oh Rea, how beautiful.’

Rea said, ‘My parents always brought their visitors into this, the “good” room. Whether it was the parish priest calling for tea or great aunts and uncles visiting from the country, they’d all be brought here.’

George and she had continued this tradition. As she always said, no matter the state of the rest of the house, if you had one good room, you were sorted for any surprise visitors.

‘Well, I’m honoured to be in your good room,’ Stella said, smiling, and then took a seat, perching on the edge of the sofa. This was partly because her back and thighs were still bruised and partly because she was so nervous. Coming here was a huge deal, but when she’d brought that package around the other day, there was something familiar about Mrs Brady, though they’d barely spoken two words to each other before. Stella couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she just knew instinctively her gruff neighbour was someone she could turn to and trust.

That didn’t stop her from having the feeling she was about to jump off a high precipice into the great unknown. The hidden dangers lurking in the dark made Stella shiver.

But she couldn’t stay on this cliff’s edge one more moment. She realised that if she didn’t find the courage to leave, if she didn’t find a way to do it, she might find herself pregnant and trapped forever. Or, worse still, her children would live their lives in constant danger. Matt’s mood swings came fast and frequent and he was losing control of his rage. The good part of Matt, the part that she fell in love with, no longer seemed to exist. Hyde had won.

When he had left for work this morning, she’d spent hours pacing her polished hardwood floors, planning, plotting. How she could leave was the hard bit. He had worked hard over the past year to cut her off from everything. She had no family and no money of her own, aside from their joint account. While running out the door sounded like a very fine plan, she would need a few things in place first of all.

When she had woken up this morning, she was alone. A note from Matt told her that he’d already left for the office. She’d showered and dressed slowly, taking her coffee out to the garden. She watched the trees from next door that had grown like weeds over the past couple of weeks tumble over their side of the wall. Matt was furious about the state of Mrs Brady’s garden, often ranting about it the odd time he ventured out back.

‘Lazy old bat, she should be ashamed of herself. It’s bringing down the price of houses on this road,’ he spat.

‘We don’t know her situation; maybe she isn’t able to garden any more. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors?’ Stella replied.

Matt looked at her quickly, to see if she was having a dig, so Stella smiled at him sweetly, thinking, ‘to hell with you, you judgemental bastard’. He might control her every move, but he would never control her thoughts.