Never Close Your Eyes (42 page)

Carol looked puzzled. ‘But that was so long ago. And skin tone changes. Anyway, I think you look really nice in them and they'll be so warm.'

Griselda didn't seem to hear. ‘You always looked nice in everythin',' she went on. She seemed to be staring at a particular spot on the wall behind Carol. ‘You were tall and blonde and pretty and you weren't shy, like me. All the boys were after you.'

‘Yes, well, didn't do me much good, did it?' Carol said quickly. She looked around for somewhere to sit. There appeared to be only one chair.

Griselda snapped out of her daydream. ‘Take that one,' she said, reading her sister's mind. ‘I'll get another chair from the bedroom.'

She had a thick white parting but the rest of her hair was very black. Carol was reminded of the badger who sometimes put in an appearance in her garden. She felt the need to check the seat before settling down. She wasn't the world's tidiest person herself, but she didn't want to sit on an old sandwich or something. There was a hole in the chair and the springs didn't look up to much, but otherwise it was safe.

‘Cuppa?' Griselda said, coming back with a little upright chair for herself from the bedroom.

‘That'd be nice.' Carol hoped the mugs weren't too dirty.

Griselda made two cups of tea and passed one to her sister. ‘So,' she said, giving Carol a funny look. ‘What are you really here for? You're not foolin' me about Christmas. You never bin here at Christmas before. What's up?'

‘You've never
been
here,' Carol corrected. She took a sip of tea. ‘But you're right,' she sighed. ‘There is another reason why I came. I wanted to talk to you about Evie. To ask your advice, really.'

Griselda stared. ‘Ask my advice? Why?'

Carol sipped her tea cautiously. It tasted perfectly normal. ‘Because you're my sister,' she said. ‘And I thought, well, I thought you might be able to tell me something, to get some information from . . .' she paused, fiddling with the gold cross around her neck, ‘. . . the spirits.'

Griselda tipped back her head and roared with laughter, revealing several black holes where teeth had once been. ‘The spirits, she says? I can't believe me ears. Never thought I'd see the day. You've never held no truck with spirits, always told me to shut up about 'em. My! You've changed your tune.'

Carol set her cup down on the little table to her left and cleared her throat. ‘Yes, well, you know I don't like all that spiritualism business normally but' – she leaned forward to be closer to Griselda – ‘but I'm worried about Evie – and Freya. I just thought you might be able to give me a little reassurance, that's all.'

Griselda's eyes narrowed. ‘What are you so worried about anyway?'

Carol shuffled in her seat and looked at her hands. ‘There's this man I don't like.'

Griselda took a sip of tea. She made a slurping sound. Carol winced. ‘So?' Griselda said. ‘She's a grown woman. You can't tell her who she should be courtin'.'

Carol felt her face go hot. She glared at her sister. ‘I can't tell her anything, remember?'

Griselda grunted. ‘I s'pose not.'

‘Anyway, it's not just him,' Carol went on. ‘There's also Freya. She doesn't seem right. She's not happy. She seems a bit, well, furtive. I see her most days at the bus stop, you see, and she's changed. My instincts tell me something's wrong but I can't probe. It's awful being so powerless.' Carol felt tears pricking in her eyes. ‘I just hoped you might be able to shed some light on things.'

‘Don't cry.' Griselda leaned forward and patted her sister's knee clumsily. ‘Here,' she said, rising slowly. She had to lean heavily on the back of the chair for support. Her breathing was so bad. ‘I'll fetch you a tissue.'

Carol blew her nose. ‘So you will?'

Griselda drew the curtains. ‘It's easier in the dark,' she explained. ‘You just sit tight while I see who's around.'

She sat opposite Carol again and closed her eyes, breathing in and out deeply.

‘Now,' she said, ‘I just need a minute to connect. Ah yes, I can see you're worried, really worried. Poor you. You've got yourself in such a state. But there's no need, no need at all.'

Carol swallowed. She was tempted to say a quick Lord's Prayer, but she resisted. This sort of thing made her terribly nervous. Suddenly Griselda opened her eyes and looked Carol straight in the eye, making her flinch.

‘Now you listen to me,' she said. ‘You mustn't interfere. Evie's young man is going to make her very happy.'

Carol's shoulders relaxed. ‘Are you sure? But he seems so, well, unreliable.'

‘And Freya's just being a typical teenager,' Griselda went on. ‘There's no need to fret. She's growing up nicely. She's hunky dory. Tip top.'

Carol clapped her hands, she couldn't help herself. ‘What a relief! I'm so glad I came. I knew it was a good idea.'

Griselda reached across Carol and took the packet of cigarettes from the side table next to her. She lit a fag and peered into the distance, narrowing her eyes. ‘Yeah, well,' she said, inhaling deeply, ‘they're tellin' me clear as day. Couldn't be clearer. That girl's not in no trouble at all.'

Carol felt much happier on the tube going home. She knew it was irrational; she didn't really believe in Griselda's spirits any more than she believed in Father Christmas. Griselda was like a child. The spirits were her invisible friends that she'd never grown out of.

There again, just occasionally Carol would remember something Griselda had said in the past that would make her sit up straight, something that had come true. That's why, even though she was so sceptical, she still felt absurdly relieved if Griselda insisted that things would be all right. She certainly felt reassured now.

She pictured Griselda's dirty little room. It was sad to think of her living like that. But at least she seemed to be eating . . . well, if not properly, enough. And she seemed OK in herself. Barmy as ever, of course, but safe and reasonably healthy, despite her chest.

The train stopped at Stepney Green. Several people got on, including a young woman with a pushchair. The baby, a girl, stared at Carol and rattled a toy in her hand. She couldn't be more than a year old. Griselda had told Carol that she was pregnant long before she knew the truth herself. Now that
was
weird. Carol was furious at the time. She said Griselda was disgusting, a horrible little girl for saying such a dreadful thing.

‘Well, I know what you've been doing,' Griselda had whispered. She didn't have her cockney accent back then. She had a nice voice, quite a sweet voice, but at that moment she sounded nasty and sneaky.

Carol shivered. It was a mean thing that she'd done, of course. Derek was Griselda's boyfriend. Well, sort of. But they were only young. Griselda was only, what, thirteen then to his seventeen or eighteen? You could hardly call it a serious relationship.

The train whooshed into the tunnel and rattled on for several minutes before stopping again at Whitechapel. A chap waiting on the platform reminded Carol a little of Derek. He was smallish and slight, neatly dressed, nothing to write home about. Derek had a squint. You were never quite sure if he was looking at you or not. She'd only gone with him because she was tipsy. She'd never have done it otherwise. She'd met him in the park on her way back from school. Griselda had got another detention and had to stay behind.

Derek was with a group of mates, talking and laughing. He'd broken off from the group and come over to say hello. Carol had her uniform on, her satchel over her shoulder. He said he had the day off from the garage where he worked and offered her a sip of his cider. She didn't normally drink alcohol, she didn't like the taste, but she didn't want to look stupid in front of his mates so she said yes.

She sat beside him on the grass and took off her satchel. It was a warm summer's day. She said she mustn't be long or Mother would be in a bate. He shifted his body very close to hers and they talked about Griselda. He said she was ‘away with the fairies'. She remembered that phrase; she'd never heard it before. He said he was going to chuck her. Carol tried to defend her, but in the end she had to agree that her sister
was
peculiar. ‘What do you think's the matter with her?' she asked. His mates got up and left.

She told him about their parents, how she felt she had to protect Griselda because she made them so angry. Derek seemed very kind and sympathetic. He held her hand and said she had beautiful long fingers. Then he'd kissed her on the lips. She'd never had a proper kiss before, though lots of her friends had. Derek smelled of cider and tobacco. His lips felt nice. He seemed very experienced.

The doors closed and the train started up again. The young man must have gone in another carriage because Carol couldn't see him anywhere. She stared at the poster in front and tried to focus: ‘if u cn rd this u cld bcm a sctry and gt a gd jb.' It didn't work. Her mind slid back to the subject that she most wanted to forget. She could still picture Griselda's tear-stained face, her wild hair. She'd called Carol all the names under the sun and said she'd never speak to her again. Carol felt herself wince. But it had only lasted a few days. Griselda got over it.

When they found out that Carol really was pregnant and Mum and Dad hit the roof, it was Griselda who comforted her. And when she gave birth and they took the baby away, Griselda was the one who climbed into bed with her and held her all through the night while her body shook with sobs. Griselda's nightie was soaked through.

Carol sighed. It was unlucky that she'd got pregnant after that one time. So many regrets. But you couldn't live on regrets now, could you? Besides, if she hadn't bumped into Derek that afternoon there'd be no Evie, and Evie was her everything, her reason for living.

It's a good job Griselda was the forgiving type, that's all. Because it wasn't nice of her to steal her own sister's boyfriend, no matter how weedy he was. Well, it was all water under the bridge now.

Carol left the train and walked slowly back up the two flights of steps at Richmond Station and out into the fresh air. It was only 3.30 p.m. but it was getting dark already. The air was really cold now that the sun had gone in. She was pleased to see that her bike was still chained to the railings where she'd left it. She trudged over to unlock it. She was tired now, ready to put her feet up. And she missed Victoria and Albert. It was rare for her to be away from them for so long.

She'd padlocked her helmet to the bike. She unlocked it, put it on her head and clicked the fastening under her chin. Then she wheeled her bike on to the main road. With luck there'd be something worth watching on the television tonight, like a nature programme. She liked those. Otherwise she'd listen to something on the wireless and do a bit more writing. She licked her lips, which were dry and cracked.

She looked over her shoulder and pushed herself off from the pavement. The cold wind bit at her cheeks. She couldn't wait to be back in the warm. She must try to stop worrying about Evie and Freya now and stop interfering. There was no need.

All in all it had been a most satisfactory day.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

‘“A door slammed and Marcellus strode in. Cornelia caught his gaze; his eyes were ice-cold. Her stomach lurched. It was several weeks since she had seen him. He'd been away all this time in the country. She'd forgotten how tall and broad he was. He must be the same height almost exactly as Spiculus—”'

‘But I thought Spiculus was the hero and Marcellus was the villain!' Pamela interrupted.

Evie took a deep breath and tried to smile. Her cheeks felt tight and inflexible. ‘That's right.'

‘Well, you can't have your hero being the same height as your villain,' Pamela went on. ‘Spunkulus, or whatever his name is, has to be much taller and more handsome. It's traditional.'

‘Rubbish!' Nic said. ‘I know plenty of men who are short and very attractive. It's a myth that women are only attracted to very tall men.'

‘She's not saying that her hero is short,' said Jonathan, the one who was writing about the sexual adventures of a young man in Spain and Italy. He was sitting right at the back of the class and had to shout. ‘She's saying that he and the villain are both equally tall.'

Evie closed her eyes and braced herself. She'd had a productive couple of weeks on her historical romance and she was pleased with how it was going. Since the fallout with Steve at Christmas, they'd been seeing less of each other and although she hadn't actually broken things off, she'd been playing it deliberately cool.