he tripped. The stairs were stone, narrow and unforgiving. At last they were at the bottom, and she quietly opened the door to the courtyard. She helped Walter into his jacket, and said, “Off we go,” as if they were setting out for a picnic in Cathanger fields.
“Where’re we going?” Father said at last, glancing back at the flat window, as if he expected to see his son’s angry face.
“Tresham,” said Enid. “But first, Waverley Station. It’s not far, but there’s steps, so we’ll take it gently. Plenty of time, Father,” she added, though she had looked at her watch and seen that they would only just make the train from Edinburgh to Kings Cross. She hoped there had been no changes to the timetable. Trains were fewer on a Sunday. They should be in Tresham soon after midnight, and Enid hoped against hope she’d be able to telephone for a taxi. Her father leaned on her as they made their way through the darkening streets. She prayed that he would be up to the long journey. The rain had stopped, luckily, but the skies were heavily overcast, and streetlamps had come on early.
Having safely descended the steps, they were making good progress down Market Street when Walter suddenly stopped. “What about Edward?” he said. “What’ll happen to him?”
Enid gulped, but urged him on, saying that Edward would be fine. He’d always managed to get out of trouble before. He would find a way this time. Now it was important to get back to Cathanger, where they could help him more than if they were shut up in that flat. “Did he say that? Did he tell you why we had to come to Edinburgh?” Father said anxiously.
“Sort of,” said Enid. “Just wouldn’t let us go back again straight away. And you need to see a doctor. So that’s why we’ve escaped. Come on, Father, I can see the station. Nearly there.”
It was a rush, first buying tickets and then finding the right platform. Enid had nearly given up when her handbag flew open and scattered its contents all over the station forecourt. But Walter, suddenly galvanized into action, had helped her collect it up, and at last they were in the train, subsiding gratefully into their seats as the guard blew his whistle and they moved slowly out of Edinburgh on their way south.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Forty-Seven
The taxi cruised down Long Farnden main street and drew to a halt outside the Meade’s house. It was after midnight, and the village was asleep. No lights showed, except for security lights in the big house by the shop.
“There’s Melvyn!” said Enid. “Oh, do be careful, driver! I couldn’t bear him to be run over.”
“What are you talking about, Enid?” said Walter, peering out. “There’s nobody about.”
“She means the cat,” said the taxi driver. “It’s all right, missus,” he said. “I seen it already.”
“Pull up here, please,” Enid said, leaning forward to put her hand on the door. She felt comforted, reassured, just from the look of Lois’s solid house, full of people she knew. Now they would be all right. Her father had slept during most of the train journey, but now he was awake and querulous.
“Where’re we going?” he repeated, over and over, as the taxi left the station.
“To get help,” Enid said. “No good going to Cathanger first. It’ll be bolted and barred, for sure. We’ll go to Mrs M’s and find Gran, and then we’ll be fine.”
Walter was not convinced. “I’m hungry,” he said now. “And cold. I wish we’d stayed in Edinburgh.”
Enid gritted her teeth. She opened her handbag, paid the driver, and got her father out on to the pavement. “Now,” she said firmly, “be very quiet. We won’t wake the children, if we’re lucky. Come on, Father, best foot forward.”
¦
Lois struggled out of sleep. She’d been dreaming that she was down at Cathanger, and bulldozers had arrived to knock the place down. Bang, crash! They wouldn’t listen as she pleaded with them to stop. Bang, bang! Now more or less awake, she could still hear the noise. Then she realized it was the door knocker. “Derek! Derek! Wake up! Somebody’s at the door!”
“Let them bugger off then,” said Derek, turning over and burrowing under the duvet.
“No, we’d better go and see. Might be an emergency in the village. Fire or something.”
Derek groaned. “Oh, all right,” he said and stumbled out of bed. Minutes later, he was back. “Lois,” he whispered, “you’d better come straight away. Visitors.” He helped her on with her wrap, and they went downstairs. When she asked who they were, he just put his finger to his lips, motioning her to be quiet.
The light was on in the sitting-room, and the curtains still drawn. On the sofa, sitting as primly as when she came for interview, sat Enid. Next to her, her father slumped in the corner. Enid was holding his hand.
“So sorry to disturb you, Mrs M,” she said, and burst into tears.
¦
Much later, when the story had been told, and Gran had appeared, embraced Enid and clucked about like an old hen, preparing food and makeshift beds, they all sat quietly, calming down before sleep.
Lois looked at Enid’s exhausted face, and decided the necessary call to Cowgill could easily wait until morning. There would be much to do, and she could see that Gran intended to help her friend as much as possible. It was not going to be easy. Enid would be betraying her own brother…more than that, her twin. And then, afterwards, there would months and months of repercussions, all the horrors of evidence and trial. She hoped Enid and Walter could stand up to the strain. Old Walter was looking frail and ill. His only son, finally facing the music. What would it do to him?
“Come on, then,” said Derek, taking the lead. “Everybody back to bed. Tomorrow’s another day.”
They began to stir in their seats, when Walter said, “Just a minute. I got something to say.”
“Can’t it wait, Mr Abraham?” said Lois.
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Sooner the better. Sit down Enid.”
They all stared at him, and Lois had a sinking feeling. Old Walter looked grim, grasping the arm of the sofa so hard that his knuckles were white.
“It was me,” he said. “Couldn’t stand any more. I killed her. It was the storm, and she was wild. Hit out at me with a poker, an’ I grabbed her. Pushed her on to the bed and put a pillow over her head, and suffocated her. She struggled…stronger than I thought…but I held on until she stopped. Then Edward came in and saw what I’d done. He was beside himself. Dunno why,” he said reflectively. “Wasn’t that fond of her himself. Still, I thought he’d go for me, he looked so mad. Tried to take it out on me later, that night your lad came down to the mill.” Lois barely nodded.
The old man took out a grubby handkerchief and blew his nose hard. Then he sighed, and continued in a quiet, remote voice, “After he’d got over the shock of seeing what I’d done, Edward pulled himself together and took over. We carried her on the path by the stream to hide her until next day, and I slipped. She went in. Gone in a minute. It was that deep, the night we had the flood. You’d gone to bed early,” he added, turning to Enid, whose expression of anxious concern did not change. “So we had to be back quick, in case you woke up. It was a noisy night, with the wind banging about an’ everything.” He turned to Lois. “Then you come down, looking for help with your car, and asking awkward questions.” He looked accusingly at her, and she stared back at him, remembering only too well that dreadful night.
Walter shook his head, as if trying to clear his head of tumbling thoughts. “Edward said we’d find her first thing, and we did,” he continued. “We put her to rest, down by the stream in the meadow, under a nice bit o’grass…Then we planned what to do next. Edward thought up the nursing home story, and he moved into Mother’s room. Pretended to be her.”
The silence was complete. Gran coughed and broke the spell.
“My God,” said Lois, and Derek took her hand.
“God help us all,” said Gran, and moved across to put her arm round Enid’s shoulders.
The old man looked at his daughter, and she turned to him. She gently removed Gran’s arm, and stood up.
“Time for bed, Father,” she said, and he meekly followed her out of the room.
