The Bookshop on the Corner (28 page)

F
or a long while there was silence. There weren't any lights on inside the house; if Nina hadn't watched them both go in, she would have thought it was empty. Then at last there was a shout Nina recognized as Ainslee's, but it sounded something like “Don't answer it!”

It was too late, however, as a small grubby hand was already drawing back what sounded like several bolts from the other side of the door.

“Nina!”

Ben's sticky face was unable to hide his delight, and the smile that cracked his face made him unrecognizable from the sullen little boy she'd met for the first time on the steps of the van.

“Hi, Ben.”

“Have you got some books for me?”

Nina cursed herself for not having thought of this.

“No, sorry, I didn't . . . I should have brought some. Yes, I do, but they're at the van,” she improvised quickly. “Is your mum in?”

Ben's face immediately became evasive and he glanced to the left. Looking behind him, Nina could see an incredibly messy kitchen covered in garbage and old milk containers. The house smelled of dust, neglect, and something underneath it she couldn't quite identify.

“Ben! Who is that?” came Ainslee's voice. She appeared behind her brother and squinted at Nina standing out in the sun.

“What do you want?”

The normal quiet deference in Ainslee's voice had completely vanished. She sounded rebellious, angry and ready to throw Nina out. Suddenly Nina realized that Ainslee was substantially physically bigger than she was, and quite capable of doing so if she fancied.

“Um . . . I just wondered . . . is your mum in?”

Ainslee and Ben looked at each other.

“What's it to you?” said Ainslee rudely.

“I just . . . I just wanted to tell her how great I think you're doing, that's all. You left without your wages and I wanted to make sure you got them.”

“You didn't just come here to stick your nose in?”

Nina didn't know how to answer this, so she looked down.

“Is she here?”

“We're fine,” said Ainslee. “We don't need your charity.”

“It's not charity,” said Nina. “It's your wages. You earned them.”

Ainslee looked torn.

“Please,” said Nina. “Please, Ainslee. I don't mean any harm, I promise. I don't want to cause trouble. I just wanted to make sure . . . everything was all right.”

Her eye was caught by a sudden movement behind the children; it was a mouse, a huge one. Either a mouse or a rat, she
thought. And she knew straight away that she couldn't leave. She looked up at Ainslee, who had clearly come to the same conclusion; she let out a great sigh and heaved her shoulders.

“You can't tell anyone you've been here,” she said.

“Okay,” said Nina, not even bothering to cross her fingers. Something was clearly not working here, and she was determined to find out what it was. “I'll just come in for a minute . . .”

“You can't.”

“Is your mother here or not?”

Suddenly there was a small noise. It was a tinkling bell. Everyone looked at one another. Ben was hopping up and down, unable to control himself.

“Ainse,” he was saying, tugging her sweater. “Let her come in! She's NIIIICE!”

Ainslee stared straight back at Nina as if she'd never seen her before.

“I won't stay long,” said Nina in a calm tone. She needed to be here. She stepped over the threshold.

“Mrs. Clark?” she called out softly. “Mrs. Clark?”

And in response the bell tinkled once more.

The sitting room smelled, in the local parlance, foosty: dusty, old, and tired. There were piles of papers and books everywhere. Nina looked at them. “This looks like exam homework to me,” she said. Ainslee shrugged, unsmiling. The nervous, eager-to-please girl from the van had gone. In her place was someone far more truculent and intransigent, and she did not respond. Nina looked around and cleared her throat.

“Um,” she said. “Where's your mum?”

The door was badly warped, and Nina had to push it quite hard to make it open. The room was at the back of the house, decorated in old pink textured wallpaper, heavy and ridged. There was a smell of talcum powder and, heavier, the scent Nina had detected before and now recognized: the smell of illness.

“Hello?”

As she stepped into the room, the figure in the bed turned its head, painfully slowly. Nina nearly gasped. It was an old woman—wizened and completely ancient. Then she looked closer and realized that the woman wasn't that old, but that her face was marked with deep lines of pain, her neck twisted at a strange angle.

“Hello,” she said in a very soft, gravelly voice, still with the Highland musicality, that sounded as if she was having trouble finding the breath for it. “Excuse me for not getting up.”

“Are you Mrs. Clark?”

“Are you from the social services?”

“No,” said Nina.

“The school? I had a word with the school.”

“No, no, I'm not from the school . . . I'm from the book bus.”

“Oh, that van?” said the woman. Her breath rattled as she spoke. She looked intensely unwell. “I heard about it. It sounds great.”

“I'll . . . I'll bring you something to read,” said Nina. She risked a step closer. “It's just . . . it's just I was a bit worried about Ben.”

“Oh, he's quite the tearaway,” said Mrs. Clark slowly. Every word seemed to be torn from her throat. The room felt oppres
sive, and Nina's skin prickled. She forced herself to move closer to the bed.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “But what's wrong with you?”

“MS,” said the woman. “I have good days and bad days, you know.”

She didn't sound like she had good days. Nina moved closer.

“But you can . . . you should be able to get up and about in a wheelchair with MS,” she said. “Do you have someone coming in to help you?”

“Naw,” came a sharp voice behind Nina's back. She turned. It was Ainslee, eyes bright and burning. “Naw. We don't need anything like that.”

Nina blinked. “But some social services care . . . someone to help look after you . . .”

Ainslee shook her head sternly. “What, have some interfering old busybody come in and tell me I can't look after my own mum? No chance.”

“That's not what they do,” said Nina. “They help with the cleaning and—”

“I'm not sixteen,” said Ainslee fiercely. “You know what they'd do? They'd pack us off to a children's home. Me and Ben, to separate homes. Have you heard what goes on in those types of places?”

Nina nodded. “But it wouldn't . . . it wouldn't be like that. I'm sure they'd do everything they could to keep you at home with your mum, or to keep you together.”

“No they wouldn't,” said Ainslee. “I can look after her. I can look after her just fine.” Her voice was tight.

“She's a great girl,” said the woman in the bed.

“I know,” said Nina. “I know she's a great girl, she works for
me, too. But honestly, she should be taking her exams. And Ben needs to go to school every day when they start back.”

“I DON'T WANT TO,” came a loud voice from outside.

“I know, I know,” said Mrs. Clark, letting out a deep retching cough. “But I need them so much. When we're all together, we just curl up on the bed, and we don't need anyone else, and we have a nice cozy time. We don't need to go anywhere, do we? They're not nice at that school anyway.”

Ainslee nodded. “We're fine.”

Nina moved forward. “There are definitely things that can be done. It can absolutely be better than this, I promise.”

“But I need them,” said the woman plaintively.

Nina shook her head. “You need help,” she said. “But not from them.”

“They're my family.”

“They are,” said Nina. “But they have to have their own lives, too.”

There was a silence, and Nina was horrified to see a tear start to steal down Mrs. Clark's waxy cheek.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“No,” said the woman. “It's all right for you. You're not ill. You haven't got kids who love you. You don't know what it's like.”

Nina shook her head. “I don't,” she said. “But there has to be a better way than this. You deserve people who can look after you properly.”

She could feel Ainslee bristling behind her and stood stock-still. Mrs. Clark sighed.

“Ainslee used to be so good, didn't you, Ainslee? You was happy to do it all. Cleaned and changed the beds and made the dinner . . . I don't know why you stopped.” She looked around
as if seeing the horrible mess for the first time. “I don't even know how it got so bad.”

Ainslee let out a sigh.

“Haven't you been making Ben go to school?” said the woman. “He has to go to school, Ainslee. You used to be so good at it.”

“Aye,” said Ainslee. “Aye. But that . . . that was all I ever did. That was all I was ever going to do. Be your slave. Be stuck here forever. Cleaning and washing and scrubbing. I don't . . . I don't want to do that. I want to do other things.”

She looked angrily at Nina.

“I like working for her.”

Mrs. Clark's tears were falling swiftly now. “But I thought . . . you always said you didn't mind.”

“Because I didn't want them to take me away. Or Benny. But I thought . . . when I was little, I thought you were going to get better. I didn't realize you were always going to be the same. Forever. I didn't know that. That I was going to be here forever.”

Both of them were crying now, and Mrs. Clark reached out a hand. Ainslee took it, and grasped it, hard.

“We can fix it,” said the woman, looking at Nina. “Can't we?”

Nina looked around. “Well, I think I know where we can get started,” she said.

She couldn't get Ben to stay in the house with his mother and sister; instead, he trailed after her, asking lots of questions in a frightened voice. Nina tried to placate him as best she could, then finally got him to keep quiet by letting him sit up front in the van, which he absolutely loved. Even better, he saw some of
his school friends playing in the swings park, and Nina let him honk the horn so they all turned around and he waved furiously. Nina smiled, seeing how quickly the mood of an eight-year-old could turn.

At the farm, she jumped down and ran into the barn, gathering up all the heavy-duty cleaning materials she'd bought for cleaning the van, and a host of thick black garbage bags for good measure. As she was loading them into the back, Lennox strode across the farmyard, Parsley at his heels. He stopped when he saw her, went slightly pink, then cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, drawing closer. “What's all that for? Have you run someone over and are trying to get rid of the evidence?”

Nina flushed too, and told herself not to look at those long, strong, hardworking fingers. Not to think about them and wonder what they could do. No. She wouldn't. Nor his blue eyes, drilling into her.