Читать книгу Coming Home - Melanie Rose - Страница 9

‘I think Jadie wants you to go up to her.’ Tara’s voice made me jump for the second time that evening. ‘She’s hovering by her door with her favourite book and she won’t let me read it to her.’

I turned and saw Tara staring at me. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt. ‘I can’t imagine why, but she asked me to go up and kiss her good night,’ I explained apologetically.

‘She told you that?’

I nodded.

‘In actual words?’ She came round from behind the couch and seated herself next to me.

‘Yes. She asked me just now when she came down for her doll.’

‘I thought that might be what she wanted, because she wouldn’t let me turn off the light. She kept getting out of bed and standing by the door. I wasn’t sure I believed you before when you told me she’d spoken to you. I don’t understand it.’

‘Nor do I,’ I admitted. ‘Have you told her father she’s spoken to me?’

Tara shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to get his hopes up; the thought crossed my mind that you might be some sort of con artist, a trickster…I don’t know.’

I couldn’t say I blamed her. ‘Shall I go up to her?’ I asked.

I watched Tara struggle with herself. I could see she didn’t entirely trust me, but she obviously cared for Jadie and didn’t want to let her down. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she said at last. ‘But I’ll come up with you and wait on the landing where she can’t see me—if you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ I found myself responding immediately to the woman’s softer side. It was the first time she’d spoken to me with anything other than suspicion and distrust. Jadie was in her care: she was quite right not to leave her alone with a stranger.

Tara inclined her head in a gesture of thanks. We tiptoed up the stairs, the blanket draped about my shoulders like a thick cloak. Tara pointed out Jadie’s bedroom door. Jadie was sitting on the edge of her bed, apparently waiting for me.

‘Hi.’ I was feeling horribly self-conscious with Tara listening outside the door. The thought occurred to me that maybe I had a child of my own somewhere and I felt a further jolt of unease. But somehow I didn’t feel this was the case and I hoped my instincts could be relied upon as I perched next to Jadie on the edge of the pink quilted bedspread and looked down at her, unsure what she expected of me.

She held out the book, then climbed under her quilt and waited for me to pick it up.

‘You want me to read you a bedtime story?’ I willed her to talk so that Tara could hear her, but infuriatingly she just nodded. I picked up the book of fairy stories and I read out a story about a princess and a wicked witch, showing her the pictures as I went.

‘…And they all lived happily ever after,’ I finished, closing the book. ‘Now I’m going back downstairs and you must get to sleep. I’m staying in your grandma’s room tonight, so I’ll see you in the morning.’

She held out her arms for a hug and I only hesitated a moment before bending forwards and sliding my own arms round her slight form. As I held her I became aware of an ache deep in my chest. What was it about this child that made me feel so sad and yet so happy at the same time? I hugged her closely for a second or two, feeling the warmth of her body through the blanket. To my surprise she reached up, brought her face close to mine and planted a kiss on my cheek. ‘Night-night,’ she whispered.

‘Night-night, Jadie. See you tomorrow.’

Tara was waiting for me when I turned out the light and we crept back along the landing to the top of the stairs. I realised I was shaking.

‘Did you hear her?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

Tara shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t hear her say anything. Did she speak to you again?’

‘Only to whisper good night.’

We returned to the sitting room, where Tara gave the fire a prod with the poker, sending red sparks flying up the chimney. I watched as she put a couple of small logs on the fire from a basket in the hearth and hung the tongs back on a brass stand. The activity seemed somehow familiar to me, as if I’d seen her do it before and I felt a shiver run down my spine in spite of the extra warmth.

Tara obviously felt something too. ‘Who are you?’ She leaned back on her haunches, studying me much as Jadie had done earlier. ‘What are you really doing here?’

‘I don’t know.’ I made an awkward grimace. ‘Did Vincent tell you that I’ve lost my memory?’

‘He did. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though, any more than I believed Jadie had spoken to you.’ She pulled herself up off the floor, came over to the sofa and sat beside me. She didn’t look at me while she absently picked at her nails. Her voice was lower when she spoke again, and full of misgivings. ‘It’s really odd. I mean, you don’t know who you are and Jadie’s treating you as if she already knows you.’ She paused, frowning. ‘And why has she decided to talk to you? I do believe she spoke to you because otherwise you couldn’t have known about Amber. I just don’t understand why, after all this time, she chose to break her silence with you.’

‘Maybe because I’m a stranger,’ I suggested. ‘I had no expectation that she couldn’t talk and therefore it was a natural thing to do.’ I yawned, belatedly covering my mouth with my hand. ‘I’m sorry; it’s been a heck of a day.’

‘Wherever you come from you should have listened to the forecast before setting out,’ Tara admonished, sounding confident again now that the conversation had returned to the mundane. ‘Vincent decided not to go in to work today after hearing the bad weather warnings this morning and it was only the second time he hasn’t made it to the office in all the time I’ve worked here. Usually he leaves as soon as I arrive at seven thirty, but they were warning of blizzards even then. You must have been crazy; when he brought you in you weren’t even wearing a coat!’

She was right, of course, and the knowledge sent fresh spurts of panic through me, rekindling the sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want to dwell on why I had found myself out in the snowstorm with no warm clothes and no belongings; it was just too much for my tired brain to cope with. I decided to concentrate instead on finding out about the owner of my sanctuary.

‘What does Vincent do?’

‘He works in the City, in banking. I don’t know the details exactly.’

‘Do he and Jadie live alone—apart from you, of course?’

‘I suppose you could say that, though I’m here more than he is. Vincent works long hours and he hands Jadie over to me Monday to Friday. He’s not usually back until after I’ve got Jadie into bed. I cook his dinner and then I go home.’

‘You don’t work weekends then?’

‘Not usually. Jadie’s grandmother comes every Friday evening or Saturday morning and stays until Monday when I arrive. She looks after Jadie when I’m not here.’

I yawned again and Tara stood up. ‘I’ll show you to your room, if you like.’

Her tone was friendlier now, and I responded in kind. ‘Thanks. I’m hoping that a good night’s sleep will clear my head and that my memory will be back by the morning.’ I had been trying to be brave and act normally but it was frightening not knowing who I was or where I belonged. I felt like a child, dependent on others for my most basic needs; hollow inside and horribly vulnerable.

Following Tara back up the staircase, the blankets still draped round me, I ran my hands up the polished wood banisters and felt a reassuring warmth creep through me. What was it about this house that seemed so familiar, so comforting? Whatever it was, it helped in some small way to dispel my feelings of helplessness.

We passed the closed door next to Jadie’s room, which I assumed must have been Amber’s, and Tara waved her hand at the next room along, telling me it was the bathroom. There was another short flight of steps at the end of the corridor, over the boot room, which Tara mentioned led to an attic room where she slept occasionally if she stayed over. The last room on the right was to be mine.

Tara flicked on the light and stood back to let me pass. I went into a well-furnished, old-fashioned room with a queen-size bed dominating the space.

‘Is there anything you need?’ she asked abruptly as she turned to leave.

I stood awkwardly, feeling even lonelier and more displaced than ever as I stared round the room. Despite Tara’s thinly veiled hostility I found I didn’t want her to leave but, not wanting to impose more than I already had, I merely murmured, ‘What happened to my clothes?’

‘I pulled your wet things off you when you were brought in,’ she replied. ‘Your boots are drying in the boot room and I’ve washed your clothes and hung them in the kitchen to dry. Do you want them now?’

I nodded and she went off to fetch them with a cluck of her tongue and an exasperated sigh, leaving me alone. After a moment I ventured forwards, half heartedly pulling out drawers and glancing through the contents. The room looked comfortable enough. I sat on the bed, bouncing slightly to test the springs and tried to think sensibly.

Surely I must have had a handbag with me when I’d set out. What about all the things one would normally take when going out? Surely I owned a mobile phone, purse, credit cards, driving licence…everything that gives a person their identity. I didn’t have so much as a hairbrush or lipstick to call my own.

Tara returned a few minutes later carrying a pair of denim jeans and a thin sage-green sweater with three-quarter-length sleeves.

‘The jeans are still a bit damp round the waistband.’ She handed them over to me. ‘You can hang them over the radiator in here and they’ll be dry by the morning.’

‘Thank you.’ I took them despondently and she left me alone. Where had I bought this sweater, I wondered as I held the unfamiliar clothes, and who had I been with? Where had I been going when I’d put it on this morning? Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. More than ever I felt cast adrift—as if I’d been beamed here from another planet.

A floorboard creaked in the open doorway and I turned, expecting to see Tara return, but to my surprise I found Vincent leaning against the doorframe, contemplating me thoughtfully.

‘Tara’s just reminded me that you have nothing with you in the way of luggage. My wife left most of her things when she did her disappearing act a while back and I’ve never really got round to sorting through them.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘Would you like to come and see if there’s anything you could use?’

‘That’s very kind of you.’ I gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m so sorry to be such a nuisance.’

‘Not at all,’ he replied politely.

Clutching the blanket to me, I followed Vincent back along the landing to his own bedroom, ancient floorboards creaking under our feet. He turned on the lights and then stood back to let me pass in ahead of him. It was a beautiful room with a four-poster bed at its centre, elaborately draped with embroidered cream and red silk. The curtains at the window were made from the same material, with crimson tassels and tie-backs that matched the blood-red carpet. It looked like the king’s chamber in a medieval castle, or the interior of a sultan’s palace.

‘Here.’ He pulled open a cleverly concealed door fitted within a faded tapestry wall hanging, which ran the length of the room. ‘You’re welcome to borrow anything you want.’

I peered into a long walk-in cupboard containing a whole range of women’s clothes on hangers and in drawers, rows of shoes nestling tidily underneath at one end, and a man’s closet at the other. I glanced questioningly at Vincent, who was hanging back, watching me.

‘These would be useful, if you’re sure your wife wouldn’t mind.’ I pulled a pair of silk pyjamas and a dressing gown randomly from the first drawers. Picking through his absent wife’s belongings while he watched made me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

‘I’m quite sure she wouldn’t mind,’ he said shortly. ‘If she’d been interested in anything here she wouldn’t have been so quick to abandon us. You can keep them, for all I care.’

‘Thank you.’ At the pain in his voice I lowered my gaze, blushing with embarrassment.

‘I’m sorry if I sound harsh.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s not your fault…If you need anything else, please just take it.’ He turned away and walked towards the door. ‘I hope you find your room comfortable. Good night.’

Walking slowly back along the landing with the borrowed nightwear clutched in the folds of the blanket, I pondered this strange dysfunctional family and wondered if perhaps there was such a thing as fate. I paused outside Jadie’s room and listened to her slightly ragged breathing. Whether it was by chance or design I didn’t know, but I felt deep in my bones that there was some sort of inevitability to my being here where I had no identity and yet felt so strangely at home.

If I had known then how strange things were going to become, I might have wished I’d made a bolt for the front door when I’d had the chance.