‘I can’t find the pond,’ he said.
I pointed to the raised paved area with the bird bath on top. ‘Daddy filled it in afterwards. Come in and get your coffee while it’s still hot.’
He took my arm and admired the shrubbery as we crossed into the house.
‘You don’t have to talk about it, Lydia, but I think it would do you some good.’
When Laurence was going to spend the weekend in Athlone, I knew I would be desperately lonely, so I invited Malcolm to stay with me on Saturday.
He arrived at lunchtime, bringing a surprise guest with him. She had aged badly, but I recognized her immediately. I have always kept myself in shape and taken pride in my appearance. We were the same age, she and I, but her hair was short and grey, her face wrinkled, her navy clothes shapeless. I noticed the crucifix around her neck and realized she was a nun.
‘Amy Malone,’ I said, and I clutched on to the sideboard in the hall and then my knees could no longer support my weight and I fell to the floor.
When I came round, Malcolm was waving a cushion over my face and Amy was still there.
‘Have a cup of sugary tea, dear. I know it must be a terrible shock.’
Amy had watched me sit on my sister’s chest and extinguish her life.
‘Oh, Dr Mitchell, you should have warned her. I wouldn’t have come if I thought you hadn’t prepared her!’
I sat up and waved away their ministrations. ‘Please.’ When I was able, I sat on the sofa and drank a cup of sickly sweet tea.
‘Now, Lydia, you remember Amy, of course you do. She is Sister Madeleine now, with the Loreto nuns. And I brought her along to talk to you.’
‘Malcolm, how dare you? I don’t want—’
‘Sister Madeleine knows it wasn’t your fault, don’t you, Sister?’
I walked past them and went straight to the drinks cabinet while they babbled behind me in a blind panic.
‘We were so young, Lydia. We were children. You couldn’t have known that Diana was going to die. It was an accident and you were not to blame in any way. It was God’s will. The Good Lord would never want you to feel guilty. You never intended her to die.’
‘There, you see? I thought it would be a good idea to bring you two together so that you could talk about that day and lay old ghosts to rest.’
‘It’s not a day I’ll ever forget, God bless her soul. It was a childish row that got out of hand. You couldn’t have understood that she might die. It was just one of those things, Lydia, and you know I get down on my knees every night, and I pray for you and Diana.’
‘Why don’t I leave you to it for twenty minutes? And when I come back, perhaps Sister Madeleine could lead us in a prayer at the site of the old pond? What do you say, Lydia?’
I did not turn to face them but drained the glass of brandy and then refilled it.
‘Please leave,’ I said.
‘But, Lydia, Sister Madeleine has come all the way from Sligo to see you—’
‘Leave.’
‘I’m so dreadfully sorry, Lydia. I had no idea this was going to be a surprise for you. Dr Mitchell, please take me back to the station.’
‘There’s no need—’
Amy and I both turned on him then, and they left together in a burst of embarrassment.
Malcolm telephoned later but I hung up on him. I drank the rest of the bottle of brandy and wondered how Laurence was, and if he was missing me. I wondered what Bridget’s family home would be like, and knew that it couldn’t possibly compare to ours. I raised the blind in the kitchen and looked out at Diana’s grave. I knew it was Annie’s, but I liked to think it was Diana out there, and that she was sitting on the edge of the pond, waving at me, beckoning me to come and join her outside. I raised my hand and waved. I climbed up on to a stool and tore down the blind. I put back the original curtains. Laurence would have to get used to it.
Malcolm came to Avalon the next day to apologize. I didn’t let him past the hall, but I allowed him to think he might some day be forgiven, and fortunately Laurence came home and interrupted us. Malcolm made small talk and then left. Laurence’s mission had been successful. The letter had been safely posted.
In the evening, Laurence received a phone call and then reported that he had just broken off his relationship with Bridget. I knew it would never last. I was surprised it had gone on so long, but I assumed that seeing the drab little lives of others had opened his eyes. He must have realized that he could never be with someone like Bridget. Things would settle down now.
My mother-in-law, Eleanor, came for dinner. She was irritatingly punctual. If she was invited for seven, she would arrive early and hover on the porch outside until the grandfather clock in the hall chimed before she rang the doorbell. After Andrew died, she had insisted on coming once a month whether I invited her or not, so in the end I was forced to make the last Sunday of the month a regular fixture. I always made sure Laurence was there. After all, she hadn’t come to see me.
She was very pleased that Laurence had been able to keep weight off for over a year, as if he had achieved it on his own. I could see that she was fond of him, but he was still quite wary of her. He told me how she had treated him when I was in the clinic. He certainly did not love her as much as he loved me. I wasn’t going to tell her about Malcolm, obviously. Each time she visited, she stopped and looked at every single photograph of Andrew on the mantelpiece. After Laurence had ‘found out’ about Annie, he had wanted to put away all those photos, but I insisted they stay. Eleanor often made comments about the big old draughty house we lived in, implying that it was way too big for the two of us. She often talked about how lonely I must be and how boring it must be to spend days by myself. It was perfectly clear she wanted to move in. She had been increasingly frail recently, and I think she felt the cottage in Killiney was a little too remote.
‘And Laurence will be moving out sometime. Won’t you, dear?’
‘I hope so,’ said Laurence.
‘Maybe you will be planning a family of your own. When am I going to meet this Bridget girl?’
I could see Laurence squirming with embarrassment.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you like her, Lydia? Is she good enough for our handsome Laurence?’
‘Nobody’s good enough for our Laurence,’ I said, and changed the subject to spare his blushes.
I thought that the letter would be enough, that it would put a stop to things. It infuriated me that her family could not just leave things be. Laurence had done an excellent job of throwing the Doyle family off course. He pretended to help Annie’s sister, and took over the really crucial parts of her search. He told her that there was no record of Andrew’s car, that it must be a red herring. I told him that he should find photographs of people of note who wore trilby hats, but Laurence would not countenance putting anybody else in the frame of suspicion. The letter was supposed to put an end to all the subterfuge. But now, Annie Doyle’s sister was furious with her and wanted to track her down to confront her. How ridiculous.
And then Laurence announced out of the blue that he was going to Rome for a holiday in three days’ time. He had once been on a school rugby trip to Marseilles when he was in Carmichael Abbey but had never expressed a desire to leave the country before. I told him that it was a ridiculous idea and that we couldn’t afford it, but he sharply reminded me that he was earning our income. Laurence was by then in management in the dole office. The cream rises to the top. Still, his salary wasn’t even a third of what Andrew’s had been. I could not understand why he had made this sudden decision, and why Rome?
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