Written in Blood(150)

‘I thought he didn’t want children, but he knew, you see, what was wrong with him.’

That was why he had always taken the responsibility for contraception. Not, as he had told his wife, because he was worried about the side effects of the pill, but for her own safety.

He should have told her though. That was the hardest thing to bear. Not unfaithfulness or the fact that he had sexual inclinations of which she had known nothing, but this decision to carry alone the dark knowledge that their days of happiness were numbered. Perhaps he was afraid she would reject him.

‘I’m sure that wasn’t it,’ interrupted Sue as Amy showed signs of increasing distress. ‘He wanted to save you pain. We do when we love someone.’

Amy didn’t seem to hear. She was moving around the room touching things - rocking the dappled horse, running a little green metal car backwards and forwards along the edge of a shelf, glancing through school exercise books. She was trying hard to invest these actions with emotion or meaning, but felt merely awkward and artificial. It seemed a ghostly place to her without even the memory of a life in it. Both sacred and pointless, like a mausoleum.

She pushed open the curtain and sunlight flooded the room, throwing into harsh relief the nursery artefacts so incongruously combined with ceremonial appointments of death. Suddenly the stifling atmosphere became unbearable.

‘Let’s go.’

‘Don’t you want to take something?’ The house was due to be cleared the next morning by a firm from Princes Risborough.

‘I have this.’ Amy’s fingers rested briefly on the locket. She was almost running down the landing. ‘Come on, Sue.’

Sue was glad to comply. When they were once more outside she looked up at the great brooding mass of grey stone, which now belonged to Amy, and was glad that she would never have to enter it again. They set off down the drive together.

It was a beautiful March day. The sky was a great stretched arc of cloudless blue. There were daffodils all along the drive and crocuses and aconites beneath the trees. As Amy closed the main gates Sue said, ‘I’ve brought some bread. Shall we feed the ducks?’

‘All right.’ They crossed over on to the Green and the ducks immediately started quacking and waddling towards them. ‘How is it they always know?’

‘They spot the bags. You can give them the cake if you like.’

Sue couldn’t get out of the habit of baking, even though there was only her and Amy and, more and more frequently, Amanda. The local wildlife, in all its varieties, had never been so well fed. She passed a huge lump of dried seed cake over to Amy, who crumbled it, saying, ‘We mustn’t forget that little one who always gets pushed out.’

‘I’ll see if I can coax him away while you distract the rest.’

Sue concealed her bread and moved off, leaving Amy surrounded by a bustling crew of eager birds. Then she crouched down by the side of the pond and tried to attract the attention of the very small mallard trying to push its way in, through or round the others but never quite making it. While tearing up a crust she thought about Hector, as she did most of the time now that she was a proper author, with a contract and commission for a second story. The working title for this was Hector Learns to Rumba and to say he looked remarkable in his Latin American costume would be putting it mildly.

Sue made little chucking noises, trying to attract the mallard’s attention, but without success. Perhaps it would be better to throw something so close to its beak that the others would not have a chance to snatch it. But they were packed very tightly together . . .

Amy was coming to the end of her cake. Sue watched as she distributed the final crumbs and reflected on how, in the space of a mere few weeks, their fortunes had both changed.

Amy was rich now. She had been offered what had seemed to them both an astonishing amount of money for Gresham House. And she was also, slowly, getting better. When she had first arrived at Trevelyan Villas from the hospital she had wept all through the daylight hours and had nightmares in the dark. Sue had felt quite desperate sometimes as to what best to do. But now, although Amy’s sleep was never unbroken, she had at least stopped crying and yesterday had even started talking about the future, wondering where she should decide to live for instance. And how she must soon start thinking of getting on with Rompers.

Sue herself was fine. She had heard once, via her solicitor, from Brian. He had written suggesting that he move back in, just until Sue got over the shock of him moving out. She had thrown the letter on the fire.

‘You’re miles away.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Sue straightened up. ‘Sorry.’