“Mum certainly thought so.” She took the cigarette packet out of Roz’s open briefcase and stripped away the cellophane.
“I used to keep her with me when she wasn’t in class. She didn’t mind that. The older girls treated her like a pet and that made her feel special. She had no friends of her own age.” She pulled some cigarettes on to the table and selected one.
“How did she hold down a job? You weren’t there to protect her then.”
“She didn’t. She never lasted anywhere longer than a month.
Most of the time she stayed at home with Mum. She made Mum’s life a misery.”
“What about Glitzy?”
Olive struck a match and lit the cigarette.
“The same. She’d only done three weeks and she was already talking about leaving. There was some trouble with the other girls. Amber got one of them sacked or something. I can’t remember now.
Anyway, that’s when Mum said enough was enough, and she’d have to see a psychiatrist.”
Roz sat in thoughtful silence for some moments.
“I know who your lover was,” she said abruptly.
“I know that you spent Sundays at the Belvedere in Farraday Street and that you signed in as Mr. and Mrs. Lewis. I’ve had his photograph identified by the owner of the Belvedere and by the receptionist at Wells Fargo I think he abandoned you in a hotel the night of your birthday when you told him you had aborted his baby, and that he went straight to Leven Road to have it out with Amber and your mother whom he regarded as jointly responsible for the murder of the son or daughter he had always wanted. I think your father was out of the house that night and that the whole thing got out of hand. I think you came home a long time afterwards, discovered the bodies, and went to pieces because you thought it was all your fault.” She took one of Olive’s hands in hers again and squeezed it tightly.
Olive closed her eyes and wept quietly, her soft skin caressing Roz’s fingers.
“No,” she said at last, releasing the hand.
“It didn’t happen like that. I wish it had. At least I’d know then why I did what I did.” Her eyes were curiously unfocused as if they were turned inwards upon herself.
“We didn’t plan anything for my birthday,” she said.
“We couldn’t. It wasn’t a Sunday and Sundays were the only days we could ever be together. That was when his sister-in-law came over to give him some time away from his wife. They both thought he spent the day at the British Legion.” She smiled but there was no humour in it.
“Poor Edward. He was so afraid they’d find out and turn him off without a penny. It was her house and her money and it made him miserable. Puddleglum was such a good name for him, especially when he wore his silly wig. He looked just like a marsh wiggle out of Narnia, tall and skinny and hairy.” She sighed.
“It was supposed to be a disguise, you know, in case anyone saw him. To me, it just looked funny. I liked him much better bald.” She sighed again.
“The Silver Chair was Amber’s and my favourite book when we were children.”
Roz had guessed.
“And you signed in as Mr. and Mrs. Lewis because it was C. S. Lewis who wrote it. Were you afraid of Mrs. Clarke finding out, or your parents?”
“We were afraid of everyone but mostly of Amber. Jealousy was a disease with her.”
“Did she know about your abortion?”
Olive shook her head.
“Only my mother knew. I never told Edward and I certainly didn’t tell Amber. She was the only one who was allowed to have sex in our house.
She did, too. All the time. Mum had to force her to take the pill every night so she didn’t get pregnant again.” She pulled a long face.
“Mum was furious when I fell. We both knew Amber would go mad.”
“Is that why you had the abortion?”
“Probably. It seemed the only sensible solution at the time.
Iregretitnow.”
“You’ll have other chances.”
“I doubt it.”
“So what did happen that night?” asked Roz after a moment or two.
Olive stared at her unblinkingly through the smoke from her cigarette.
“Amber found the birthday present Edward had given me. It was well hidden but she used to pry into everything.” Her mouth twisted.
“I was always having to put things back that she’d taken. People thought I was the snooper.” She encircled her wrist with finger and thumb.
“It was an identity bracelet with a tiny silver-chair charm en it. He’d had the tag inscribed: U. R. N. A. R. N. LA. Do you get it? You are Narnia, Narnia being heaven.”
