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Chapter Nine

HAVING WORKED a week of four-hour shifts to cover for another woman who was taking a short holiday, Libby was thankful when Friday afternoon came.

‘Glad it’s the weekend are you?’ asked Madge Lovatt, the supervisor. A smart, single woman in her late fifties, she had ten years of dedicated service under her belt. Well respected by all the staff, her fair-minded manner brought out the best in people.

‘Yes, I’m off now,’ Libby replied as she walked between the aisles towards her.

‘I see you’ve got your mother’s ginger biscuits, then?’ Madge gestured to the package in Libby’s hand. ‘I must admit, I’m rather partial to a ginger-nut myself.’

‘I’d be shot at dawn if I went home without them,’ Libby joked. ‘The minute I open that gate she’ll be looking for these biscuits. She’ll have them out of my hands before I know what’s hit me.’

‘Does Thomas still look after her?’ Like most of the staff at the supermarket, Madge knew of Libby’s burden, and she was filled with admiration. The young woman’s dedication to her ailing mother was commendable.

‘He does, yes.’ When Libby entered the staff cloakroom, Madge went with her. ‘D’you know what, Madge – I really don’t know what I’d do without Thomas. He’s such a good man – the best friend ever. I can leave Mum in his care and be content that no harm will come to her.’

Madge was impressed. ‘That’s wonderful.’ After several disasters involving the opposite sex, she had long ago lost her trust in men. But from what she’d heard about Libby’s neighbour, he was obviously an exception to the rule. ‘How old did you say he was?’

Libby gave her question a moment’s thought. ‘I’m not altogether certain. He’s never really let on, but I reckon he’s in his late sixties.’

‘Ah, that’s a shame. I’m looking for a good man – and for a minute there I thought I’d found him, but late sixties . . . hmm.’ She gave Libby a comical glance. ‘A bit wrinkled round the gills, is he?’

Libby laughed. ‘No, actually, he’s not! In fact, he’s not a bad-looking man at all. He’s tall and well built, with a smile that would melt snow. Added to which, he has a heart of gold, and a mountain of patience.’

‘So, a man like that – he must have a wife tucked away somewhere.’

‘No – not as far as I know, anyway.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Sad story, really. His wife packed her bags one day and cleared off, without so much as a by your leave.’

‘Got family, has he – children and the like?’

‘No. He’s all on his own.’

‘No baggage then, by the sounds of it.’ Madge glanced about to make sure no one was listening, as she asked with a twinkle in her eye, ‘You say he’s well built?’

‘That’s right.’ Intrigued by the other woman’s curiosity, Libby went on, ‘He likes walking, and he has an allotment. I expect that keeps him fit.’

‘Mmm . . . a good-looking, active man who grows his own veg – it gets better and better!’ Leaning towards Libby, she asked confidentially, ‘D’you reckon he’s fit’ – she blushed – ‘down under, if you know what I mean? Or has it been dormant for so long, it’s neither use nor ornament?’

Shocked and amused, Libby collapsed into a giggling fit. ‘How would I know?’ she chided. To even mention Thomas in that way, was embarrasing.

‘You do understand, I wasn’t being smutty,’ Madge assured her. ‘It’s just that, well – if you must know, I’m on the lookout for a fella, only they all seem withered and brain-dead, or they’ve got a face that would frighten a horse.’

‘Well, I can promise you, Thomas doesn’t fit any of those descriptions. He’s just a regular bloke who keeps himself to himself, and he’s got a kindly heart. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be able to work. That means Mum wouldn’t get her little treats, and life would be less comfortable financially.’

Madge was impressed. ‘He sounds very interesting, your Thomas. Obviously, your mother enjoys being with him while you’re at work.’

Libby smiled. ‘Mum adores him. Thomas makes her laugh, and he’s always got some outing planned – like a trip to the shops, or a walk in the park. Apparently, they talk about when they were young, and if Mum is having one of her forgetful days, he reads the signs and treats her gently.’

Madge thought it over. ‘D’you reckon he fancies your mother?’

‘Don’t be daft!’ Taking her jacket out of the locker, Libby shrugged it on. Fastening her buttons as she walked, she assured Madge, ‘He’s just a really good friend, to me and my mother both.’

‘Ah, but your mother is a good-looking woman. When you brought her in here the other week, we all thought she must have been a stunner when she was younger.’

‘Yes, she was.’ Libby had seen the photographs, and was struck by how attractive her mother had been as a young woman. ‘She’ll always be beautiful to me,’ she said, a little wistfully.

‘I’m sure she will.’ Madge understood. She could only imagine how hard it must be for Libby to deal with the current situation. ‘I meant no offence, talking like that about your friend Thomas. He sounds like a really decent bloke.’ She gave a weary little sigh. ‘They’re few and far between, I can tell you.’

‘It’s all right, Madge,’ said Libby. ‘No offence taken.’

‘So, what have you got planned for this weekend?’

‘Well, if it’s warm enough, I’ve promised Mother a picnic in Corporation Park.’

‘Oh, how wonderful! It’s so lovely there, and peaceful. You can always find a quiet spot by the man-made lake, where you can feed the ducks and watch the children playing. Or there are plenty of quiet little nooks in the gardens, where you can while away the time, listening to the birds.’

‘You can meet up with us, if you like.’ Libby had always assumed that Madge preferred her own company, but after this conversation, she was not so sure. Maybe the reason she had never married was not because she didn’t want to, but because her standards were too high. Maybe Madge was not prepared to settle for less than the perfect man.

‘Thank you, Libby. I appreciate that, but I’m on duty here tomorrow. I have some urgent paperwork to be getting on with. See you on Monday – have a great weekend!’

But after Libby was gone, her thoughts returned to Thomas. ‘By the sound of it, he’s a man with a heart. I wouldn’t mind a man like that,’ she sighed. ‘A man who would love me and take good care of me.’

She rolled her eyes at such dreams and fancies. ‘You’re an idiot, Madge,’ she told herself. ‘You’re long past all that now, so get used to it!’

As Libby walked home, she thought about what Madge had said, about Thomas fancying her mother. She chuckled to herself. If Thomas were to make advances to Eileen, her mother would probably clip his ear.

At that very moment, Thomas emerged from his kitchen with a tray of goodies. Taking them out to the garden where Eileen was waiting, he told her, ‘We’ve got a couple of cheese sandwiches and a piece of Battenberg cake. How’s that?’

Shifting forward on the bench, Eileen cast her gaze over the tray’s contents. ‘Oh, Battenberg!’ she clapped her hands like a child. ‘Lovely, Thomas!’

‘Good.’ He set the tray on the table between them. ‘Well, at least I’ve managed to put a smile on your face.’ He had been concerned earlier, when they were in the park, that Eileen seemed unduly restless. But then, she often got that way. One minute she was right as rain, and the next she was like a naughty child. He was not overly concerned, because over the years, he had learned how to pacify her.

Now, though, he did as he always did when they were having tea in the garden. He poured the tea and made sure to add enough milk to cool it down. When Eileen took up the spoon and began frantically shovelling sugar into the cup, he gently took away the spoon. Then, taking his empty cup, he filled it with tea, slid the cup over to her and spooned in two sugars. ‘You don’t want to be rotting your lovely teeth,’ he told her. ‘You know what Libby would say if she saw you putting all that sugar in your cup.’

Making big eyes, Eileen looked towards the gate. ‘She didn’t see me, did she?’

Thomas shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t see you.’

Suddenly, from somewhere in the garden, the angelic tones of a songbird filtered through the air. ‘Oh, listen . . .’ Eileen put her finger to her lips. ‘Isn’t that beautiful?’

But Thomas was not listening to the birdsong. Instead, he was looking at Eileen, and his old heart was turned over with love. ‘Yes, it is beautiful, my darling,’ he whispered, ‘but not as beautiful as you.’

Leaning over, he drew the fleecy blanket further across her knees. ‘Be careful with the tea, now. Don’t drink it too quickly, or you might scald yourself.’ While she sipped, he held his hand under the saucer.

‘I’m not a baby. I won’t scald myself.’ When she smiled up at him, he wanted to hold her and kiss her, and tell her how much she had come to mean to him. But he would never tell her. Not when Eileen was so very poorly. He felt ashamed, to be thinking of her in such a way.

The truth was, he had come to love this delightful woman, and the more he witnessed how helpless she could be, the more he felt he should take care of her. But he would then remind himself that it was not his place. He had no right. So, for everyone’s sake, he kept his feelings to himself.

Libby was doing a marvellous job with her mother, but it saddened him to see her so tied down. He had always thought she should have a life of her own, with a husband, and children running round her feet. Yet here she was, a vibrant young woman, devoting her life to looking after her sick mother. Life was very cruel, he thought.

By the time Libby arrived to collect her mother, Thomas had her ready and waiting, and clutching a bunch of wild flowers. ‘Me and Thomas picked these,’ Eileen announced proudly. ‘Oh, Libby, we had such a good time.’ Turning to Thomas, she urged him, ‘We did, didn’t we, Thomas?’

‘We certainly did,’ he said grandly. ‘What’s more, we fed the ducks, and afterwards we drove into town and had fish and chips.’

‘And mushy peas!’ Eileen clapped her hands together.

Thomas laughed, ‘Yes, we did. And, if the weather permits, we’ll do it again next week.’

‘We could go on one of them boats, couldn’t we, Thomas?’

‘Ah, well, I don’t know about that.’ Thomas thought it best not to make promises. ‘That would be up to Libby,’ he said. ‘But first, you and Libby have got this whole weekend to enjoy.’ He went with them to the door.

‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Libby could see how happy her mother was. ‘I really appreciate what you do for us.’

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he told her sincerely. ‘I’m sure you already know that. And besides, what a sad, lonely old man I’d be, if I didn’t have you two to keep me on my toes!’

Libby gave him a kiss, and not to be outdone, Eileen did the same. ‘I love you,’ she told him, and he answered with a smile, ‘I love you too,’ as he gently ushered her out of the door. ‘Both of you.’

Worn out by the busy day, Eileen soon fell asleep in front of the telly. Coming in from the kitchen, Libby gently touched her on the arm. ‘Ready for your bath, are you?’

‘I don’t want a bath.’ Eileen was adamant. ‘I’m not dirty, so why do I need a bath?’

Recognising the signs of an argument in the offing, Libby said reassuringly, ‘No, Mum, you’re not dirty, and no one said you were. If you don’t want a bath, a wash will do just fine.’

‘I’m tired!’

‘So, we’ll make it a quick wash. Then I’ll put you to bed. Agreed?’

Eileen’s answer was to settle herself in the chair and prepare to go back to sleep.

‘Mum?’

‘What now, child?’

‘I’m ready to take you upstairs.’

‘Why am I going upstairs?’

‘Because it’s gone ten o’clock, and you’re falling asleep in your chair. Wouldn’t you rather sleep in the comfort of your bed?’

Rubbing her eyes, Eileen looked up at her daughter. ‘Libby?’

‘Yes, Mum?’

‘You’re a good girl.’

‘Well, thank you.’ She had abandoned ever trying to follow her mother’s train of thought. ‘So now, are you ready to go upstairs?’

‘If you like.’

‘Come on, then.’ She helped Eileen out of the chair, before taking her step by careful step up to the bedroom. Having decided that her mother was too weary to go into the bathroom, she then got her into her nightgown and seated her on the edge of the bed. ‘You sit there a minute,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long.’

She hurried to the bathroom, where she quickly ran a measure of both hot and cold water into a bowl, before swishing it about with her fingers. Gathering flannel, soap and towel, she hurried back to the bedroom and helped her mother to wash.

Settling her into bed, she switched on the nightlight. Libby knew only too well how her mother feared the darkness. Not for the first time, she wondered about this fear. ‘Maybe there isn’t a reason,’ she thought. ‘Maybe it’s just one of those instinctive, irrational fears that can never be explained.’

Libby wondered if there had ever been a time in her mother’s life when there was no fear of the night, or the shifting shadows; no pressing need to have a light on in her room. She knew her mother was not the only one to fear the dark. Still, it was a curious thing, all the same.

Exhausted, she climbed into her own bed and slid down under the duvet. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

While her daughter slept soundly, Eileen was beginning to toss and turn. Waking with a start, she lifted herself up against the pillow, her wide eyes scouring the room. Everything seemed as it should be – so what had startled her awake? What was it? Who was it?

Apprehensive, she glanced about the room until her gaze was drawn to the window. With her heart pounding, she got out of bed and ran to open the curtains. ‘Go away. Leave me be!’ She whispered it over and over, her voice trembling uncontrollably. ‘Please . . . go away.’

She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of, but the dark memories – crippling images engrained in her soul – tormented her. He was out there, watching her. Wanting to hurt her. She knew it.

In the adjoining room, Libby was woken by the screams. Scrambling out of bed, she raced next door, only to find the bed empty and her mother nowhere in sight.

Hurrying onto the landing, she called out, ‘Mum!’ She checked the stair-gate, but it was intact, just as she had left it.

‘Mum, where are you?’ Stepping over the stair-gate, she ran downstairs to quickly check the doors back and front. All was secure. She searched all the rooms – even the toilet, where Eileen had hidden before – but there was no sign of her anywhere.

Covering the stairs two at a time, Libby headed for the bathroom. That too, was empty. Returning to her mother’s bedroom, she searched again, under the bed and in the cupboards – but still there was no sign of Eileen.

Intent on calling the police, she turned towards the door – and it was then that she heard the low, whimpering sounds.

They were coming from behind the long curtains at the window.

‘Mum?’ She went forward, speaking softly, knowing how quickly her mother’s mood could change. Confusion became fear. Fear escalated into violence – against others, and against herself.

‘It’s all right, Mum. I’m here.’

Easing back the curtain, she found Eileen crouching on all fours, her stricken eyes peeping over the low window-sill.

‘He’s there,’ Eileen whispered hoarsely. ‘He’s out there . . . waiting for us!’ She made a shivering sound. ‘Get back, child! He mustn’t see you!’ Frantically clawing at her daughter’s bare feet, she tried desperately to draw her back. ‘Come away from the window!’

Libby tried to calm her. ‘There is nothing out there, Mum,’ she coaxed. ‘Please believe me. You’re safe enough here – we’re safe enough.’

‘No! He’s hurt. He knows we’re here. He’s been here before.’ When she swivelled her gaze upwards, Libby was shocked at the terror in her mother’s face.

Reaching up, Eileen grabbed hold of Libby’s hand. ‘Close the curtains,’ she implored. ‘I don’t want him to hurt you – it’s not your fault. Come away, child – come away!’

She drew Libby down beside her. ‘Ssh. Ssh, now. He’s listening. He can hear us, you know.’ Her whole body was shaking with fear.

Grabbing both ends of the curtains, Libby swished them shut. ‘Come back to bed now, Mum.’ Shaken by the experience, she coaxed Eileen to her feet. ‘Has he gone now?’ Eileen whispered. ‘Are we safe?’

Choked with emotion, Libby assured her that she was safe now, that no one could see them, and that there was no one out there.

‘Mother, listen to me,’ Libby said as she lay on the bed beside her. ‘Just now, when you thought you saw something – will you tell me about it? Please, Mum – describe what you think you saw.’ She had to get her talking, opening her heart and mind. That was the way. Over the years, she had been advised by the people who knew best that it was all right to gently question.

Visibly nervous, Eileen mumbled, ‘No, it’s a secret. He’s listening. He’s always listening. It’s too late, you see. Wicked! Wicked, that’s what it is!’ Then she was crying – deep, racking sobs that broke Libby’s heart.

For what seemed an age, Eileen wept – until all the fight and fear seemed to ebb away. Then she suddenly asked Libby, ‘Why are you in my bed? I can’t sleep with you in my bed!’

Libby breathed a sigh of relief at this abrupt change of mood. She played along: ‘I thought we might talk, that’s all.’

‘Naughty girl! I’m very tired. You must go back to your own bed.’

Knowing that her mother had completely forgotten the incident at the window, Libby said, ‘I’ll leave you to sleep, then. Goodnight, Mum.’

There was no answer. Eileen was already asleep.

For Libby, though, there was no rest now. Whatever her mother imagined she had seen, it had somehow got to her as well.

So, what terrible person had her mother imagined? Who did she think was ‘out there’? And why was this person so ‘wicked’?

All these years her mother had been losing her sense of reality, but there was never anything that Libby could not handle, or explain at least to some degree. Tonight though, she could find no explanation for the state of terror she found her mother in. Something, whether real or imagined, had truly spooked her. Libby would not easily forget seeing her mother crouched in fear behind the curtains, convinced that something ‘wicked’ was out there.

A disturbing thought suddenly came into Libby’s mind. What if it was not the first time her mother had suffered this particular trauma? What if she had experienced it all before, and suffered in silence? And what if she had not screamed? What if she had crouched by the window all night long, not daring to move or call for help? ‘He’s been here before.’ Her mother truly believed that.

Libby herself could not accept the possibility that some unknown stalker was out there, spying on them. As far as she was aware, neither she nor her mother had any enemies. So, why would anyone want to hurt them?

These past years, Eileen had suffered many attacks of paranoia, but this time it was different. It felt more real. And what did she mean when she told Libby, ‘I don’t want him to hurt you – it’s not your fault’?

Deeply troubled, Libby turned over and sank into a restless sleep.