Ann Troup - The Lost Child

The sudden outburst of shared laughter softened Rosemary’s judgement and she found herself extending a hand, ‘Rosemary Tyler, come on in and have a cuppa. You can leave your mother on the doorstep,’ she added with a wink.

Elaine took the warm, work-hardened hand and shook it, basking in the relief that Rosemary had seemed to cease hostilities. Following her into the cottage she spied Derry peering at her from the gloom of the sitting room. She smiled at him, which had the effect of sending him scurrying into the shadows.

‘That’s our Derry, you mustn’t mind him, he’s a bit simple but he’s harmless – despite what you might have been told.’ Rosemary explained with a sour note.

‘I can’t say anyone’s mentioned him’ Elaine said.

Rosemary shook the kettle and, satisfied that it was full enough, switched it on. ‘You surprise me, round here you’d think Derry was responsible for bloody global warming. Anything goes wrong and they point the finger. Poor sod, wouldn’t harm a fly. You know that kid that went missing? They blamed him, as if a bloke like him would hurt a kid! All these years later and there’s still some that think it. I know, I see the way they look at him,’ she plonked tea bags into mugs with bristling high dudgeon. ‘Oi, Derry, come in here and say hello to Elaine – she’s your cousin.’

Elaine waited patiently as the coy giant of a man lumbered to the kitchen doorway and gave her a cautious smile.

‘Look at the size of him, you wouldn’t think he was starved of oxygen as a baby would you?’ Rosemary quipped. ‘Fetch me the milk out of the fridge, you great lump.’ She belied her words with a fond smile.

‘Nice to meet you properly, Derry’ Elaine said, noting the blush that saturated the big man’s cheeks. ‘I didn’t know I had family here, so you’re a nice surprise,’ she added. The compliment caused him to giggle and turn away from her.

‘You didn’t? Well, I must say it’s news to me that we have too. I never knew Jean had kids. Like I said she moved away when we were young. I know she came back to see Mum from time to time, but I didn’t see much of her, she was a bit up herself to be honest.’ Rosemary said, checking for Elaine’s reaction ‘Sorry, but I always call a spade a spade,’ she added by way of explanation for her blunt judgement.

Elaine was inclined to agree, but didn’t really feel able to say so.

‘So, are there more of you, brothers, sisters? Are you all going to turn up on the doorstep?’ Rosemary asked.

‘No, just me. My father died not long after I was born, so I was the only one.’ Elaine accepted a chipped and grubby mug of tea from Rosemary.

‘Hmmm, I remember him. Funny little bloke, bit like you, a bit too milky and weak for my liking. No match for Jean anyway.’

Elaine wasn’t sure how to take that, so sipped at the hot tea, which was a bit too milky and weak for her liking. ‘I never knew him, I don’t know what he was like. She didn’t talk about him much.’

‘No love lost there then eh? So what did she die of?’

Elaine placed the mug down, hoping she would have a chance to surreptitiously dump it if Rosemary left the room. ‘Cancer. She had breast cancer. But she hid it for a long time. She didn’t like doctors, or hospitals, so by the time we found out it was too late.’ Elaine tried not to recall the image of her mother’s suppurating, stinking breast – so rotten by the time she had admitted something was wrong that there wasn’t a doctor in the world who could have intervened. It had been appalling. ‘She was a great believer that all ills could be treated at home with a bit of Germolene and a stiff upper lip.’ Elaine explained, her hand going to her neck and hovering over the lumpy scar. Though she couldn’t remember how she’d got the injury, she still remembered the abject terror she had felt every time the antiseptic cream came out. Even now the thought made the scar tingle with remembered pain.

Rosemary snorted. ‘Sounds like Jean, once she was set on something that was it. Wild horses couldn’t shift her from a stupid idea. God knows why Mum had such a soft spot for her, couldn’t stand her myself. Still, I’m sorry she’s gone, for your sake.’ There was a nonchalant resignation in her choice of words. ‘Anyway, as for the ashes, you might want to find somewhere else, I can’t see Jean resting in peace around here,’ she waved her arm at the garden, which could be glimpsed through the dingy kitchen window. ‘Mum kept it nice, but I don’t have the time or the inclination. Takes me half my time to run around after that daft bugger,’ she said, pointing at Derry with her mug. ‘It would help if I could keep him off the estate, if I get one more phone call from that old bitch up there I will swing for someone! Apparently he frightens the guests.’

Elaine was reminded of her experience the day before at the ruined chapel, and Brodie’s assertion that someone was lurking in the trees. Now that she had met Derry she could see that there was no harm in him, but having recently experienced the shock of her life it was hard not to see both sides. ‘I haven’t met them yet.’

Rosemary scoffed, ‘Well there’s a bonus for you. If you think your mother was a snob just wait until you meet Miss high-and-mighty Gardiner-Hallow. Put it this way, she thinks hers smells of roses if you get my drift,’ she added with a knowing nod.

Elaine allowed herself a small smile to acknowledge the comparison. ‘I kind of feel sorry for people like that.’

Rosemary gave a derisive snort, ‘I bloody don’t! Rich as Croesus and still they’re not happy, carping about this that and the other like they’re still the lords and we’re the riff raff. Bitch-face Gardner would have us all back in serfdom if she could, grubbing about in the soil to feed her table. Look at the way she treats that Miriam, that woman must be seventy if she’s a day and she’s still at their beck and call. Still, Esther hung on madam’s coat tails like a bad smell, and what did she get? A crummy cottage and a few quid. You know she started work in that house when she was fourteen, never married, never had a life. Madness if you ask me.’

‘I thought she’d had a stroke.’ Elaine was surprised at the vehemence of Rosemary’s observations.

‘She did, couple of years back.’ Rosemary said as a sly grin stole over her face. ‘That shut her up all right, never one for holding back was Esther. Cor, I’d hate to be a fly on the wall in that woman’s head, the things she must be bottling up! If you think I’m blunt, Esther would have wiped the floor with you.’

Elaine was inclined to think that she was glad that she hadn’t met Esther. Someone more abrasive than Rosemary would be hard to contemplate.

‘Did you know they’ve got that kid there now, her and Miriam? As if either of them know how to look after a kid, especially one with troubles. I was told that the mother went loopy and is in the funny farm. Still, not surprising after what happened I suppose – though you’d think she would have got past it by now wouldn’t you? I mean, it’s been a long time. Still people don’t forget do they, they still think Derry took her. Found her cardigan in his den. Mind you, I think the police took one look at him and knew they couldn’t make it stick, but they were still bastards. Do you know they kept him locked up for weeks? Not sure he ever got over it really. And who was left to pick up the pieces, eh? Muggins of course. Anyway, like I was saying – they’ve got that kid there, staying with them bold as brass. I wonder what she makes of it all eh? Being dumped off here after everything that happened. That mother should be ashamed of herself, ought to have pulled herself together and got over it by now. If she’d been looking after the kid properly it would never have happened. Anyway, it’s ancient history now, leave it dead and buried, that’s what I say.’