Louise Welsh - Death is a Welcome Guest

Magnus lifted Raisha’s hand from his shoulder. His clothes were hanging on the dining chairs where he had left them. He crossed the room and felt his jeans. They were still wet, but he pulled them on, wincing at the cold cardboard sensation of damp denim against his skin.

‘How was Belle after Melody’s suicide?’ Magnus shucked on his muddy T-shirt.

Raisha had returned to the couch and sat watching him with an amused expression on her face. ‘True to character. The real tragedy wasn’t Melody’s death but that it made Belle feel bad.’

He pulled out a chair and sat on it. ‘You’re hard on her.’

‘Perhaps, but you weren’t there. She was so hysterical there was no space for anyone else to grieve. In the end I gave her something to help her sleep.’

Magnus wondered if Raisha had been jealous of Belle the way she said the girl had been of Melody.

As if on cue she said, ‘You didn’t ask about me.’

‘Okay, how about you?’

Raisha levelled her gaze and her eyes met his. ‘A big part of me was sorry Melody killed herself, another part envied her for having the strength to do it.’

Her words about medicating Melody and sedating Belle had reminded Magnus that Raisha was a chemist. He said, ‘Are you planning on killing yourself?’

‘I told you, I can’t. I’m cursed with life.’

She gave the smile that signalled that Magnus could come to her. But the sun was fully up and all around the large room there were signs of the family who used to live there. Ghosts were meant to occupy the dark, but it felt to him that they had become more alive with the day. Magnus pulled on his socks and boots, ready to leave the house to them.

They embraced on the doorstep of the deserted house. Raisha’s hair was damp. Magnus breathed in its rosemary and lavender scent and wished that they had braved the phantoms and grasped a last chance to make love. He felt the slightness of Raisha’s frame, her birdlike bones beneath their thin coating of flesh, and remembered the women Belle had seen chained together.

‘Be careful, there are dangerous people about.’

‘That’s why I’m travelling quietly.’ Raisha pulled free of his grasp and nodded to a bicycle, a lightweight multi-gear affair, propped against the wall of the house. A cycling helmet dangled from its handlebars. ‘It’s the reason I came back here.’

‘Did you bury the children who lived in this house?’

‘It was empty. Maybe they’re alive somewhere, with their parents.’ Raisha’s eyes met his. ‘You think I’m mad.’

‘Not mad, but I don’t understand why you do it.’

She leaned into him, her arms circled his waist and she spoke into his chest. ‘I didn’t set out to become an undertaker. I wanted to find children who were alive and make them safe, but all I found were corpses. I couldn’t leave them to rot.’

Magnus stroked her hair. ‘And now?’

‘That’s another reason I have to move on.’ Raisha pulled away. She tucked her trousers into her socks, ready to mount the bike. ‘If there are children left alive, then they need someone to look after them.’

‘Did you sleep with me in the hope of becoming pregnant?’ The thought would have infuriated him before the sweats.

Raisha looked up. ‘I slept with you to shut out the pictures in my head. My second boy, Imran, was a difficult pregnancy and an even more difficult birth. We were both lucky to survive, but I can’t have any more children. I came to terms with it; after all I had two beautiful, healthy boys.’

A swoop of disappointment pierced Magnus’s chest. ‘I’m sorry.’

Raisha nodded, acknowledging his sympathy. She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘I’ve decided not to dwell on how things were, or how they are. I’m going to try and imagine how they might be. You should do the same. Forget Jacob, Jeb and the rest of them, they’ll only bring you more grief.’

It was good advice, impossible for him to take.

Magnus said, ‘No one could save the people who died from the sweats, but I might be able to save Jeb. I’ve got a feeling that if I don’t try, his death will haunt me.’

Raisha’s voice was almost playful. ‘What’s one more ghost?’

‘One too many.’

Raisha had the cycling helmet in her hand. She swung it gently by its chinstrap, as if trying to make up her mind about something. ‘I didn’t tell you this before, because I didn’t want to encourage you, but I saw Belle leave the barn not long before Henry discovered Melody’s body.’

Magnus took a step towards her. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I don’t know.’ Raisha caught the helmet with her free hand and then set it swinging again. ‘I was sitting on the doorstep of one of the outhouses when I saw Belle head for the barn. Melody had gone past earlier, crying. I wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone and so I sat as still as I could and hoped they wouldn’t notice me. I shouldn’t have worried.’ She gave the helmet another shove. ‘They were both too caught up in themselves to see me. I was about to find somewhere quieter to sit when Belle ran out of the barn into the courtyard. I saw her face as she passed. She looked stricken, as if her whole body were screaming, but she didn’t make a sound.’

‘You didn’t go after her, or go into the barn to see what had upset her?’

There was a bench in the centre of the lawn. Raisha crossed the grass and sat on it. Magnus followed her. The seat was small and their thighs touched. Raisha looked straight ahead, as if there had been no embrace, no lovemaking between them. ‘I couldn’t be expected to care that Belle was upset. We were all upset. It was only later that I wondered…’

Magnus finished the sentence for her. ‘If Melody was already dead?’ Raisha nodded and he asked, ‘What did the others say?’

Raisha had set the crown of the helmet on her knee and was fiddling with its straps. She spoke without looking at him. ‘I didn’t say anything about it to them. I wanted to give Belle a chance to explain.’

Someone had planted meadow flowers at the steep end of the garden, where the lawn dipped down towards a secluded lane. Cornflowers, poppies, wild orchids and yellow daisies lifted open faces to busy squadrons of attentive bees. Raisha watched them as she spoke. ‘Belle told me that she’d been reading by the library window and noticed Melody go into the barn. Belle wanted to speak to her, but something about the way Melody was walking made her think she was crying and so, uncharacteristically for Belle, she decided to give her some privacy. She stayed by the window and waited for Melody to come out.’

The garden was still except for the harried drone of the bees.

Magnus said, ‘But she didn’t.’

‘She didn’t. Eventually Belle’s patience was exhausted and she went to find her.’ Raisha let the straps of the cycling helmet go and looked at Magnus. ‘She said Melody had already hanged herself.’ Raisha’s eyes were wide. ‘All the things we saw in the cities, some of the things we did to stay alive, it’s a wonder we aren’t all insane. Did I tell you I sometimes see my children?’

It was a warm morning, but the hairs on Magnus’s arms rose on end. ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘They’re always together. I catch sight of them standing by the side of the road, or on the edge of a room, watching me. It doesn’t work if I look for them. They like to surprise me.’

Magnus glanced back towards the house, as if he expected to see two small boys watching them from the doorway. ‘Do you think they’re real?’

‘You mean do I think they’re ghosts or figments of my imagination?’

‘I don’t know what I mean.’