Ann Troup - The Silent Girls

‘Bloody hell, Edie Morris!’

‘Hello Sam, and it’s Edie Byrne now. How are you, still terrorising the neighbourhood?’

‘Not so much these days, not so many annoying little girls following me around.’ he said, looking her up and down. ‘You’ve changed.’

‘I’d be a bit of a medical oddity if I hadn’t, it’s been thirty odd years.’ she said, returning his scrutiny and appraising him. She wished the years had been as kind to her and wondered why it was that men aged so much more appealingly than women. Where Sam had laughter lines, she had crow’s feet.

‘Back for the funeral are you? Bit of a mess to face next door. I don’t envy you, last time I was in there it was like the black hole of Calcutta.’

‘Something like that.’ Edie said, thinking about all the rooms she had yet to tackle. ‘When did you last visit?’

‘Years ago, when Dickie was alive. He was a bit prone to falling over and Dolly couldn’t lift him, I’d help out when I could.’

Edie felt another flush of guilt at the realisation that this other family had borne the burdens of her own while she and Rose had blithely got on with their lives. ‘We didn’t know how bad things had got, Dolly never let on.’ she said.

‘That’s what happens when you live away I suppose. So Edie Byrne, what’s with you these days, married? Kids?’

‘Recently unmarried and one kid, though he’s not much of a kid now. He’s twenty-six and doing his own thing. I take it Georgia is yours?’ Edie said, still wondering where the young girl had disappeared to, she had been expecting to meet her again.

‘Georgie? Not mine, I love her dearly but won’t lay claim to her. No, she’s Shelley’s kid, you remember Shelley?’

Edie didn’t, or if she did it was a vague flash. Even back then she had been hard pressed to keep track of the Campion brood. Lena had come from a big family and was always knee deep in relatives. ‘Vaguely, is she Davy’s daughter?’ Davy was Lena’s brother and a man who had given the younger Edie a severe dose of the creeps.

‘That’s her. She’s on her own now, so Mum helps out and so do I.’

Edie had forgotten how confusing Lena’s family could be, she supposed the children called Lena ‘Nan’ because it was simpler. ‘I never could keep track of you lot. There were so many,’ she said.

Sam laughed; it suited him, he had a face designed for laughter. ‘That’s true. How’s Rose, I always had a bit of a thing for her when I was a kid.’

Edie was surprised at this, Rose must be at least eight years older than Sam. ‘She’s OK, she’s laid up with a broken leg, but getting better. She’s married with twin girls.’

‘Blimey, she never did do anything by halves.’ Sam said.

Edie felt a little wistful that Sam remembered her as annoying and Rose as a paragon. Some things never changed.

‘So, how long are you staying?’

‘As long as it takes to get the house sorted out. By the look of it, that could be some time.’

‘If you’re planning on selling stuff I’ve got a friend who’s an auctioneer, I could get him to call round and take a look if you like?’

‘I’m not sure any of it will be worth much, but that would be helpful. Thanks. I might need a few days to sort through the junk though.’

‘I’ll give you my number, you can call me when you’re ready.’ Sam said, pulling out his mobile phone. He reeled off the number and Edie duly inserted it into her own phone’s memory. ‘Where’s that tea Mother, a man could die of thirst at this rate.’ he bawled. The sound of his voice was so deep and sudden that it ricocheted through Edie and made her want to wince. She held her breath for a moment and waited for her heart to steady, wondering how long it would take her to get over her fear of men who shouted. The interjection had unnerved her, and she felt the need to leave, she had stayed long enough for politeness’ sake. ‘Well, I should go, lots to do next door.’

Lena had returned and stood in the doorway, holding a cup and looking pensive. ‘Don’t do too much on your own, you’ll need some help. It’s quite the mess in there. Stay and have another cup of tea, leave it until after the funeral eh? We’ll help, won’t we Sam?’

Sam smiled. ‘Course we will, what are friends for eh?’

Edie gave them a weak smile, friends were people you saw frequently, not old neighbours who you hadn’t seen since you were a kid – but they were kind people, and kindness was not to be sniffed at. ‘That’s a lovely offer, thank you – I might well take you up on it if it’s all more than I bargained for.’ She turned to Lena, ‘I won’t stay for more tea, but thank you. I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow?’

Lena nodded. ‘Course, we’ll both be there. Have you organised a wake?’

‘Nothing much, just a few sandwiches in the hall at the crem, I’ve no idea who’s coming.’

Lena nodded again. ‘You never know with a funeral, all sorts crawl out of the woodwork. I could have done it here, you know.’

Edie didn’t know what to say, Rose had organised everything over the phone, she had just been nominated as the person who would show up and save what little face Dolly’s family had retained. ‘What a kind offer, but Rose arranged everything, I don’t suppose she would have wanted to put you out.’

Before she left Sam turned to her. ‘It’s been nice to see you again Edie, take care of yourself.’

‘You too, Sam.’ she said, surprised to realise that she meant it. ‘Well, I’ll be off then, I need to sort out somewhere to sleep.’ She turned to Lena. ‘Thank you so much for the tea and company.’

‘You’re welcome, and don’t be a stranger. If you have any questions, you know where I am.’ Lena said.

The old woman still looked a little pensive and her words puzzled Edie – questions about what?

Number 17 felt cold and lonely after the warmth and homeliness of Lena’s house. Despite the fact that it was June, Edie felt inclined to put the fire on in the lounge. There had never been central heating in the house and she remembered it being Baltic in winter with only two gas fires and a scattering of dangerous looking electric heaters to warm the whole house. As she lit the gas she worried about carbon monoxide poisoning and checked the flames for colour; they looked all right, but she was probably no great judge.

She hugged herself and huddled for a moment by the hearth, soaking in some warmth and wondering if the cold might actually be coming from the inside. It would take more than a few half-hearted flames to thaw her ice-defended core.

Ignoring the oppressive clutter of the lounge she made her way upstairs by dint of the feeble landing light, which swung in its shade and cast looming shadows across the stained and aged wallpaper. When she removed her hand from the bannister at the top she noticed that she had gathered a number of long, fine blond hairs on her palm. She shook them off.

Dolly’s bedroom turned out to be a no go zone; not only was it filthy and squalid, but it was full. Every surface was laden with clutter, and clothes had been piled onto the bed. More of the hair littered the room, both in fine filaments and huge hanks. Several disembodied wooden heads had been scattered around the room, each at a varying stages of baldness. It was a macabre sight, especially when lit by a bulb not much brighter than a candle. The fine details of the scene were hidden by inky cloaks of shadow which intensified the grotesquery and heightened Edie’s instinctive reaction, which was to recoil and run. At one time she had been fascinated by her aunt’s occupation and had been mesmerised by the precise creativity that formed the wigs that Dolly made. Now the half-made hair-pieces looked repulsive, like things that had been attacked, savaged and brutalised. The faceless wooden wig blocks made the whole scene even more disturbing, with the shadows painting gruesome features on their flat faces. Edie shut the door and suppressed a shudder. Dolly’s room was best faced in the cold and reasonable light of day.