Michele Forbes - Ghost Moth

The waiting over.

Her hair falling from its soft coil. His hands loosening it. The movement filling the pores of her scalp. She cannot take enough of him in. A brushstroke of cloud in the evening sky. The ticking of the clock. A bruise now on her left hip.

One evening when Katherine arrived at the tailors’ rooms, Tom was not there. Ivy, as usual, was sitting at her desk. Her blouse this time had tight red roses on it. Her slender white fingers moved like bleached bones across the yellowing pages of her ledger book. Her mouse brown hair was so neatly pinned back on either side of her head, it seemed as though her lily-pale ears had just bloomed out of it. She smelled of tea and lavender. Katherine stood by the open doorway of the anteroom. Ivy lifted her head from her work. When she spoke, she revealed a row of tiny teeth.

“If you’re looking for him , he’s gone!” Her tone was almost triumphant.

“Mr. McKinley, he’s gone?” I have never seen a mouth so small as hers, thought Katherine.

“Yes, gone. But he’ll be back. Said he’d be half an hour.”

“Oh, right, thank you.”

“Though I reckon he’ll be ages if Mr. Boyne has his way.”

“Mr. Boyne?”

“Mr. McKinley has important business with him, if you know what I mean.” Ivy’s mouth was a tiny, bitter slit.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Money issues.” Ivy raised her eyebrows and then gave a slow and precise nod to Katherine as though to denote that she would be saying no more on the matter. But barely a moment passed before she continued. “Thought you’d heard. Nothing that a few whiskies between them in the Orpheus won’t solve, I suppose.” Ivy looked gratified. “But we all know that Mr. Boyne is not a patient man.”

“Sorry — Miss Beacham, isn’t it?” Ivy narrowed her eyes in confirmation. “Miss Beacham, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You see, I was just as surprised as everyone else — I never thought Mr. McKinley would be the gambling type.” Ivy shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Gambling type?”

“They say it was only a mere flutter here and there — the dogs on a Saturday, the occasional horse race — but last month Mr. McKinley lost a whole week’s wages following a tip-off from a man he hardly knew who works in the pub just across the road there — apparently!” Ivy swiveled on her ledger books, pointing out the window located on her right to indicate the pub in question. “And then, in a panic, he borrowed money from Mr. Boyne’s business in order to get himself back on track — unbeknownst to Mr. Boyne, of course —but Mr. McKinley lost that, as well. Terrible, isn’t it? They say all he needed was one win, just one to sort it all out, and now it’s all one big mess. Mr. Boyne — apparently — wants to proceed with—”

Katherine cut across Ivy. “They say? Who say?”

“Oh, people — you know.” Ivy toyed with the tiny pearl buttons on her rose-covered blouse.

“No, I don’t know, and I really don’t think it’s anybody’s business what Mr. McKinley—”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve done my job. I’ve passed on the message about his being half an hour late for your fitting. ” Ivy’s mouth snapped closed like a trap, but her eyes held on Katherine. It was as though Ivy was waiting to see what Katherine would do now that she had received this information about Mr. McKinley.

Katherine stared back at Ivy with a cheeky defiance.What a nasty piece of work, she thought, walking slowly into the anteroom and closing the door behind her.

Despite this little display of arrogance, Katherine felt uneasy. What could Ivy have meant? Was Tom in some kind of trouble? Was he hiding something from her? Her conscience prodded her, urging her to find the one fault that would bring her back to her senses; willing her to find the solid reason that would prove that her relationship with Tom was all wrong. See? her conscience was trying to say. It wasn’t meant to be. You know nothing about him. You don’t know what he could be hiding. You should be with George. What has possessed you?

Katherine paced the room, unable to sit easy in the wooden chair, frequently glancing out of the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of Tom making his way back along High Street, pulling absentmindedly at this piece of material and that.

Above her on top of the work cabinet, the porcelain statuette of the tailor, which Katherine had given to Tom as a present, still stood; she had placed it there the first night they had stayed together in the tailors’ rooms; a sentry to their lovemaking. As she flicked through scraps of paper on Tom’s desk, Katherine felt as though its eyes were watching her, two tiny infinities, sequinned black, following her every move. Judging her perhaps. Katherine reached up and turned the statuette around so that it faced the wall.

Twenty minutes later, Katherine heard the familiar ring of Tom’s voice from the main room, then the high-pitched trill of Ivy’s voice in reply, but plaintive not chirpy. Katherine opened the door of the anteroom. Tom was leaning over Ivy as she sat at her desk. There was a serious look on his face. Ivy had her back to Katherine and her head bowed, as though she was working fastidiously at the figures in her ledger book, but the tip of each lily pale ear was now ridged with pink. Tom lifted his head and quickly turned to Katherine. “Just checking that Miss Beacham had passed on my message, Miss Fallon,” he said with a smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No, it’s fine. . really.” Katherine was immediately warmed by his polite pretense. “Yes, Miss Beacham informed me you’d be late.” She played along with him, holding her position at the doorway.

“This shouldn’t take long, Miss Fallon. I’ve only some adjustments to make on the bolero, that’s all.” Tom straightened himself and walked toward Katherine.

Ivy sniffled loudly as he left her side.

Once inside the anteroom, Katherine’s words rushed at Tom, “Where were you?”

“Sorry, Katherine, I had a few things to sort out.” He seemed calm, good-humored. Then, taking her hand, he said casually, “Would you like to walk the embankment tonight?”

“Is everything all right?” Katherine kept her voice quiet.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

The outer door clicked shut. Ivy was gone. Katherine’s mind was racing now.

“What were the things you had to sort out, Tom?” Katherine could see plainly that Tom was a little taken aback by the seriousness of her tone.

“I had a meeting with Mr. Boyne,” he said slowly, “I’m trying to reclaim some of the assets that had originally belonged to my father. The legalities are complicated, but I think I can find a way of getting around that. I have to play my cards right with Mr. Boyne, though; he’s no dozer, so it might take a bit of time.”

As Katherine stood before Tom, there was nothing in his manner to suggest to her that he was hiding anything from her. Maybe best just to forget what Ivy said, Katherine thought. What a story for her to spin. All that stuff about gambling. What was she thinking? Tom wouldn’t lie. Best put no stock in it. She looked into Tom’s eyes; they were soft and clear and direct. She felt her breath catch a little. “That’s fine. .” she replied gently. “I was just wondering where you were. . that’s all.”

“Let me take you for a walk,” he said.

Only a crease of light reached them from the other side of the river, so that she could hardly see her feet in front of her. Her walk with him across the uneven ground sent a shudder through her bones with each misjudged step. Lifting her foot higher than necessary or not high enough. Scuffing her shoes against embedded stones. Catching the pocket of her coat on the hollow tubes of broken reeds. Hidden brambles plucking at her sleeve and calling her back. Knowing that the water was only feet away from her, only inches away at times. She could feel the coldness of it waiting.