Two days later, when Sylvia entered the house, she almost tripped over the large cardboard box in the hall. “Damn, what’s this?” she said, scrabbling on the floor for the letters she had dropped. “Karen, are you there? What’s this?”
Karen came out of the kitchen, eating a chocolate biscuit. “Dunno,” she said. “A man brought it.”
“What man?”
“Dunno.” She shrugged. “Postman?”
“Put the light on, will you?”
“Bulb’s gone again.”
“Damn this house.” Sylvia bent down and peered at the box. “I can’t see any postage on it. It’s addressed to Lizzie. Fancy that.”
“Maybe it was a friend of hers,” Karen said, carefully. “This man who brought it.”
“Well, I don’t know what she wants to have her post sent here for. I’d be very annoyed if I thought she’d been giving this address to people. Anyway, if she thinks I’m trailing round after her, she’s mistaken. She can just come and collect it. I’ll phone her up.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bother,” Karen said. “It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s a big box. I wonder what it is?” Sylvia took it in both hands. “Not heavy.” She shook it. “Rattles a bit.”
“Probably something from mail order,” Karen suggested.
“Probably. Must be some cowboy outfit. Don’t even run to printed labels.”
“Well, you know how it is,” Karen said. “You send for something and it turns up weeks later when you’ve forgotten about it, right?”
“Or unsolicited goods,” Sylvia said. “She’s not obliged to return them. I’ll tell her her Rights.”
“I wouldn’t bother.”
“Of course I must. I’ve got her number somewhere.”
Karen quailed. They had not thought of this. It had been a case of out of sight, out of mind; they never expected to see Lizzie again, and they had not thought of Sylvia being able to trace her. A diversion was needed. “What’s the post?” Karen said craftily.
“It’s from the solicitor. Come in the kitchen where I can see.” Kari followed her. Sylvia turned. Her face shone. “We’ve got it,” she said. “We can move. Vacant possession.”
“When?”
“It can’t be soon enough for me. Your father’s taking out a bridging loan. It’ll probably bankrupt us, but I can’t wait.” She sat down abruptly on a kitchen chair, suddenly deflated, the smile wiped from her face. “Only what about Suzanne? I don’t want to go off and leave her like this. She’s my daughter, I love her. And the baby, I haven’t seen Gemma since the hospital. It’s cruel of Suzanne to break off contact like this, not even to ring up and let us know she’s all right.”
“Never mind, Mum. You’ve got me.”
“Yes,” Sylvia said without enthusiasm. She opened her bag and took out her address book. There was a loose sheet of paper inside.
“I’ve got Lizzie’s number here,” she said. “I can ask if she’s heard from Suzanne. It comes to something, when you have to go to a scrubber like that for news of your only grandchild. Number 56, Napier Street. That’s funny. I should have noticed before. I thought she lived at Eugene Terrace, at an Indian shop.”
“Perhaps they evicted her.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Karen, do you have to eat your way through every packet of biscuits that comes into this house? Is it any wonder you’ve got spots?”
It would soon be Easter. The telephone rang often in Mr. Kowalski’s hall. Sometimes he ignored it, sometimes he shook his fist at it and threatened to rip it out of the wall; what was it but a tool for criminals and a source of disease? Sometimes he lifted the receiver, and bellowed down it in one or other of his many languages.
Muriel intercepted the postman. There was another letter for Miss Blank. She opened it. Mrs. Sidney cast aspersions on my writing, she thought; but I can read perfectly well.
Dear Lizzie,
When I phoned up the number you gave me I got this man with an accent. I could not get any sense out of him so I am writing. I am at my friend Edwina’s and this is the address, but do not give it to my mother. Can you baby- sit Gemma next Wednesday? Ring me up and tell me if you can. She is no trouble, she sleeps a lot. We are all going up to Manchester to see about the squat, because it looks as if it might be on again. Sean has reconnected the electricity, and we have met this geophysicist who does a lot of plumbing, it is known as the black economy. I don’t want to take Gemma with me because of the cold, you know what April is, the cruellest month, so please I hope you can. I will be back for teatime and I can pay you.
Love, Suzanne.
Enclosed was a scrap of paper with Edwina’s address and telephone number. “It falls into your lap,” Mrs. Wilmot observed to her landlord.
“What?” Mr. K. dropped back. He was edgy these days.
“No, I mean, opportunity knocks. It’s an expression, Mr. K.”
“You poor old Wilmot,” Mr. K. said sorrowfully. “When the ship sinks, we will be like drowned rats. You, I, Miss Anaemia, all shall go down in the shipwreck of my fortunes, unless our Blessed Lady smiles on us. Those,” he added with some satisfaction, “are expressions too.”
