Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Allard was sitting in the kitchen by the fire. He held up an old family photograph album. ‘There’s some hysterical snaps of us. Remember that old Brownie camera Pa had...? There’s not one with an entire body in it. Great one of Buster, just his arse, rather fitting as his raspberries were about all he was good for...’

Allard continued snorting with laughter as he turned the pages. She put the kettle on and took one of the scones Allard had bought from the local bakery. She lathered butter over it, and with her mouth full leaned on his shoulders to look at the photographs.

‘Who’s that?’

Allard touched the faded black-and-white snapshot. ‘Fella called Charlie, your husband took over his rooms at Cambridge, he was killed at Dunkirk... Christ, here’s one of me in the Footlights’ revue. Well well, fancy the old man keeping that, I would have thought he’d have tossed it.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I’m in drag and you know what he was like...’

He snapped the book closed, his initial good humour gone. ‘Christ, he was a bastard even then.’

Before she could stop him he had thrown the book on to the fire.

‘Allard, you shouldn’t have done that... I would have liked to look through it. No matter what Pa said or did he never kept you short...’

Allard gave her a pinched, vicious look. ‘I was actually referring to Edward. He took more than Charlie’s rooms I can tell you...’

‘Why did you bring him home that Christmas?’

‘You know, I haven’t the foggiest. Maybe to use him as a cover for my flirtation with Henry... who knows, who cares, all in the past now... anyway you look at it he certainly trod through our lives. Family is littered with his wreckage...’

Allard went into the hall changing the subject, intent on sorting out all the furniture for the forthcoming auction.

Harriet gazed into the fire as the photographs charred into tiny black flecks.

Allard was pulling off the dust sheets from the dining-room chairs. He heard her going up the stairs and threw the sheets aside. ‘Harriet... are you going to help me or not? You haven’t done a thing, not a single thing since you arrived... Harry?’

She looked down to him, almost at the top of the stairs. ‘I am not wreckage, Allard. If I had the choice, I would choose him again... whatever place, whatever time, there could never be anyone else.’

Allard applauded. ‘When you get through playing Gone With The Wind , do you think you could come down here and give me a hand packing up?’

The gong from the first landing was thrown over the banisters. ‘How’s that for starters?’

Allard and Harriet had never got on all that well, even as children. Now they bickered over what they should do with tables, chairs and pictures. Allard kept one room filled with the things he wanted, and it was crammed to the rafters.

Harriet launched into a tirade. ‘How on earth are you going to fit all this junk into a cottage? You keep on grabbing everything from the “for sale” pile.’

‘I do not, I simply do not, I am preparing for my old age, and I intend to live it out in comfort, so mind your own bloody business. Some of this old stuff is worth a packet and we won’t get a good price from those local idiots.’

Jinks pushed open the front door. She could hear their voices arguing away but could not see them over the jumble of furniture piled almost to the ceiling. She called, ‘Mother?... Mother?’

‘We’re up here, darling — at last, someone who can act as referee. Helloooo, my lovely girl, how are you?’

‘Hello Mother, Uncle Allard — I’m wonderfully well, how are you two?’

Allard was covered in dust, his face grimy. ‘Bloody awful if you must know. Your mother is doing nothing but causing havoc here. I was doing perfectly well without her. I wish she’d never come.’

Harriet swiped at him with a duster. ‘Half of this is mine and I want to make sure my daughter gets her fair share. If you would excuse us, Allard, we are going into my room, for a private conversation.’

Allard muttered that he didn’t give a toss what they said about him and he watched Jinks pick her way up the stairs to reach her mother.

Jinks was no longer surprised by her mother’s appearance. She had not really changed, despite her grey hair sticking up on end and the beads clinking around her neck as she bustled along the landing. Jinks couldn’t help but smile as she slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘How are you?’

‘Well, it’s very difficult, you know. Allard’s really a little bit odd, he really is. And so finicky about what he eats. Come on, let’s have a good natter. I’ve been waiting for you to arrive for weeks.’

Harriet closed her bedroom door and moved to the bed, patting it for her daughter to sit beside her. Jinks felt a sudden surge of emotion, so strong she hugged Harriet tight, kissing the top of her head. ‘I love you Ma, I love you so.’

‘Oh, this isn’t like you, what are you being so soppy for? Now then, wait until you see what I’ve got and he — him downstairs — he knows nothing about. It’s our secret...’

Harriet opened a bag, tied up with string, and began to take out jewel cases, so many that in the end the bed was covered with them. Jinks reached over to open one and promptly had her hand slapped. ‘No... don’t you dare open one. There’s a story to each, and I want to sort them out so you can see them in order.’

Jinks watched her mother as she placed the boxes in line along the bed. This took considerable time as she peeked inside each one before she put it down, then switched them around until she was satisfied. She was totally preoccupied with what she was doing, so her daughter could sit back and watch. After a while Jinks inched around the mess of boxes to stand at the window. She looked down into the garden. ‘How’s your vegetarian gardener’s book coming along?’

‘Oh heavens, I’ve not had time to finish it, what with Allard and everything. Now then, I’m almost ready.’

‘It looks as if you’ll need me to do some weeding, how are your lettuces?’

‘It’s not the right time of year for them, now don’t interrupt.’

Jinks leaned against the windowsill and studied her nails. ‘Have you heard from you-know-who?’

‘Well I got all the divorce papers, and sent them back, but I’ve heard nothing. He won’t get around to it. Even Dewint doesn’t know where he is... There you see? I’m muddled now.’

‘I’ve got a place at Cambridge if I want, and Oxford... I had my interviews last month...’

‘Oh that’s nice, dear. I’m nearly ready.’

‘I got my usual birthday card. Miss Henderson’s even started signing it now she knows that I know, so the charade is rather a waste of time. Does he send you money?’

‘Good heavens yes, of course, more than I know what to do with. Not that I tell him downstairs, he’s such a tight-wad. Oh brill, I’m ready... now sit down, I’m going to tell you a story.’

Jinks sat on the edge of the bed, and Harriet, sitting cross-legged on the floor, picked up a red jewel case. For a moment she stared at the box in her hands, hands worn rough from all the gardening. She smiled, hunching her shoulders like a girl, a gleeful gesture. ‘Now then... take your glasses off, close your eyes, and I shall begin.’

Jinks did as she was instructed and instinctively rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had tied her long, dark auburn hair back from her face. She kept it long hoping in some way it would make her look shorter. Her height meant she even had to hunch her legs to sit down on the bed. She was, embarrassingly, almost six foot in her stockinged feet. The tweed skirt and twin set she wore were given to her by Harriet. The colour didn’t really suit her but she had no interest in clothes. She sighed, her thoughts drifting, and suddenly she realized her mother was silent, very silent... she was holding up a small gold bracelet. The cold winter sunlight caught it, it glittered magically, rainbow colours.