‘Don’t be so silly, Caroline. Whydon’t you go inside and check on your father.’
Caroline did as suggested and disappeared.
‘Is that her?’ Edward said, suddenlyseeing movement at the corner of the road. He strained his eyes throughthe dusky gloom to see, as the figure drew closer. It was Edith. Alone. With a despondent look on her face. Edward knew that if shehad any news at all, then it wasn’t good.
‘Anything, Edie?’ her mother called as sheapproached them.
‘No,’ Edith said. Her voice wasedged with despair.
‘What took you so long?’ Edward asked.
‘Your mum had a photo of Mary, so we wentdoor to door in Icklesham but nobody has seen her. I even went back tothe farms that I had called into on the way there to show them the photo, butnothing. Has nobody seen her in the village or around the estate?’
‘No,’ Edward said, almost inaudibly. ‘Nothing. She’s vanished.’
‘I think we need to call it a day fortoday,’ Edith’s mother said. ‘I can barely see the hands in front ofme. Come on, let’s go in and have some supper. I’m sure we’reworrying too much, you know. I’m sure she’ll wander in all sheepish andwe’ll look back on this day and laugh at how we set the whole village outlooking for her.’
Edward and Edith offered their bestattempts at a smile but everyone knew that Mary’s situation didn’t look good.
The setting of the sun that day left a darknessthat the Mercer family would feel for years to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday19th April 1911
Thesun was beginning to burn off a thin mist which had blown up from a squallysea. Slivers of sunlight began to slip in through the panes of the Mercerkitchen window. Edith was sitting with her mother. Both of themwere silent. It had been exactly one week now since Mary’s disappearanceand, as each day gave way into the next without word from her twin, Edith had beengrowing more and more anxious. Today was their eighteenth birthday, amilestone that they should be sharing together, just as they had shared everyprevious birthday. In her heart, Edith knew that Mary wasn’t going tocome home today. She had no clue at all as to her whereabouts but shejust felt her absence inside. If Edward’s theory that she had fallen andinjured herself was correct, then by now… she couldn't bring herself tothink the worst. It was just too awful to contemplate.
A clattering of the letterbox and the dullthud of post tumbling to the floor sent Edith dashing into the hallway. Among a pile of birthday cards, she spotted a letter addressed to herparents. It was Mary’s handwriting. She dropped the cards andpicked it up, turning it over in her hands, then took it to her mother, who waskneading dough in the kitchen. ‘Something for you; it’s from Mary.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ her mother cried.
Edith watched anxiously as her mother toreopen the letter.
Suddenly, her mother let out an awfulcry. ‘She’s in Scotland and she says she’s never coming home!’
Edith snatched the letter and, withquaking hands, carefully read it. Dear Mother and Father, It iswith great sadness and shame that I write you this letter. I have behavedand acted in an unforgivable manner, which, if you were to learn of the wholematter, would bring embarrassment to the Mercer name. Please know that intaking on the role of housemaid at Blackfriars, I only wanted to earn your loveand respect. In this, I have failed and ask that you respect my decisionto leave Winchelsea. I hope to start a new life in Scotland, where I maybe disconnected from the life and pains of Mary Mercer. I pray that Iwill one day receive your forgiveness. Your loving daughter, Mary.
‘What on earth’s she doing in Scotland?’her mother wailed.
‘Whatever’s happened?’ Edith’s fatherbarked from the doorway. He was half-dressed, standing in his underpants,socks and a ragged shirt. His beard and hair were shabby and matted—thesame as he looked every day, irrespective of visitors or occasions. Behind him stood an agitated-looking Caroline.
Edith looked up at her sister andfather. ‘We’ve had a letter from Mary. She’s in Scotland and shesays she’s not coming back.’
Her father walked over, grabbed the letterand begun to read with Caroline peering over his shoulder. ‘What’s theproblem?’ he asked his wife. ‘Reads to me like the most sensible thingshe’s ever done.’ He tossed the letter down onto the kitchen table andhobbled back upstairs.
‘But she didn’t do anything this bad,’Edith muttered quietly. ‘She only tried on Lady Philadelphia’sdress. From this letter you’d think she’d killed someone.’
‘Maybe she’s done something else that wedon’t know about,’ Caroline mused.
Edith flung her head around to faceCaroline. She had heard enough. ‘Maybe you should shut up and goback to Bristol. What are you still doing here? Nobody wantsyou! Go away!’ Edith screamed, flinging back her chair and reaching forMary’s letter. With a great deal of force she barged past Caroline,sending her to the floor as she dashed for the door.
‘You horrible little urchin!’ Carolineyelled. ‘You want horse-whipping!’
‘Bloody cow!’ Edith yelled, as she slammedthe front door shut behind her.
Edith'seyes were wet with tears as she crossed into the Blackfriars estate, clutchingthe letter from Mary. She still couldn’t believe it. Mary was inScotland. Something about Mary’s tone told her that all was notwell. It just didn’t sound like her. She dreadfully wantedthe letter to be real because then at least it meant that she was okay.
Edith reached the kitchen door toBlackfriars house and recalled when she had last stood here on a cold day inJanuary, ready for her job interview. Her life had been about tobegin. Since then her world had seemed to collapse: Mary had taken herjob; her brother-in-law, William had died, leaving her horrid sister, Carolineliving with her; her mother had caught tuberculosis; her father had sufferedwith a severe bout of melancholia; Mary had taken the man with whom Edith hadthought that she was destined to be and now this. What have I done todeserve such an awful time? Edith wondered.
She knocked on the door.
‘Oh, hello,’ Mrs Cuff said warmly. She was smartly dressed in her
