A Place for Us by Evans Harriet

Author:Evans, Harriet [Evans, Harriet]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Martha

November 2012

IT WAS KAREN who broke the silence. She stood up, walked over to the sideboard, and poured Martha some red wine. “Here,” she said, and then she crouched down beside her mother-in-law and handed her the glass. She pulled Martha’s neatly pressed handkerchief out of her pocket and gave it to her, and Martha blew her nose, still crying, as Karen stroked her arm, her hand, the back of her neck. “There, there,” Karen said softly. “It’s all right. You did the right thing. You did the right thing.”

The others watched her without moving, rooted to their seats as though by some kind of magic. Martha’s sobs hung in the heavy, silent air, only the faintest rattle of chase-scene music from Luke’s DVD echoing from the other side of the house.

Eventually Karen stood up again and went back to her seat. She spread her hands wide and, with a little laugh of strained near-hysteria, she said, “You know, someone has to say something eventually.”

She turned to her husband, who wouldn’t meet her glance. His eyes were full of tears.

“I gave her money,” said Florence eventually. “For her school. Last year. And she e-mailed me,” more loudly. “A couple of days ago, Ma. Was—was that you?”

Martha nodded.

“You were e-mailing us all?” Florence said hoarsely. “All that time?”

“Since . . . after Bill and Karen’s wedding.” Martha wiped her nose and stuffed the handkerchief in her pocket. “Not before. She did it all before.”

“What happened to the money?” Bill said.

“That’s what you care about?” Martha turned to him. “Honestly, Bill? I tell you this story and that’s what you want to know?”

Bill said softly, “I was just wondering, that’s all. Ma, it must have been quite a lot.”

“The charity and the orphanage, they sacked her for stealing. I sent them the money back, in her name, to apologize. And then I kept on sending them money, as if it was from her, from all of us.” Martha shrugged, her hands in her pockets. “I thought that’s what she’d want.”

“Daisy was out for herself—” Florence stopped. “I’m sorry.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve, and looked from her father to her mother. “This is . . . Ma, this is crazy. Absolutely bloody crazy. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Martha sat upright. This was the hardest bit of all. “I wanted people . . . to . . . to think well of her. She wasn’t like you two. She found things

difficult.”

“I—” Florence exploded, her mouth open, but she closed it swiftly, shaking her head. “We all find things difficult, you know, Ma. That doesn’t mean—you lie, and steal, and cheat, and abandon people, and hurt people, and . . .” Her voice broke. “That doesn’t mean you do those things.”

“I know,” Martha said. “I know that.” Her fingers touched her forehead, as if buying herself time. After a pause, she looked up at her eldest granddaughter. “Cat?”

Cat shook her head, her lips clamped together, grimacing. She covered her face with her hands.

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