At the Jerusalem by Paul Bailey

Author:Paul Bailey [Bailey, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781789545708
Publisher: Head of Zeus

Part Two

A pretty enough house, no doubt of that. A lot of care had been lavished on it. Each room had its own floral-patterned wallpaper, which was – she had to confess – an unusual touch.

‘To think,’ Thelma said, ‘that in all these years you’ve never set foot before in Roselea.’

‘It is hard to imagine,’ Henry added.

‘Yes.’

They sat in the sitting-room – there were roses on the walls. Thelma had called it ‘the lounge’. (You had a lounge in a public place, in a hotel – not in a home.)

Mrs Gadny sipped at the port Henry had given her. ‘It’s a cosy home you have, Thelma.’

‘Thank you, dear.’

‘A palace when you think of my old—’

‘Oh no—’

‘A palace.’

She had kept herself polite all day. She’d shown no sadness at leaving the Terrace (she’d waved to those of the neighbours who’d been watching, as if she’d been royalty); she’d not lingered in her rooms before going, as people were supposed to do. She’d walked out of the house to the waiting car wearing as big a smile as was manageable.

‘Henry will carry your cases up to your room.’

Her room had violets on its walls.

‘I shall never be able to thank you both—’

‘Don’t you try to, dear.’

‘Dear’ seemed to be Thelma’s favourite word.

‘Don’t you dare try to.’

Thelma sat beneath a lamp. Mrs Gadny could see the black roots in Thelma’s new blonde hair.

‘We want you to feel part of our family, dear. Don’t we, Henry?’

‘Yes.’

Thelma smiled at her.

‘I shall try to pay my way.’

Henry said, ‘We’ll see.’

She still had her pride. In seventy years she had never sunk so low she had to accept charity. ‘We shan’t see, Henry. I shall pay a weekly sum. For my bed and board.’

‘Fill your stepmother’s glass, Henry. And let us both have another sherry. Talk about money gets me down. You can discuss that some other time. I want us all to have a happy evening.’

*

The child obviously didn’t enjoy being kissed. She wiped her mouth immediately afterwards.

‘I’m your father’s stepmother, Edna.’

‘I know.’

‘Speak so you can be heard,’ Thelma said.

‘I shall be staying with you, Edna.’

‘I know.’

‘I can hear you now.’

‘I know.’

‘She’s shy with you,’ Thelma said, ‘but you’ll find young Michael shyer.’

He was in the doorway, his head against the door.

‘He has phases,’ Henry explained. ‘I mean, some times he’ll be almost friendly, other times not.’

‘Come into the room, Michael. Say “Hullo” to your grandmother.’

Michael took one large step forward. ‘Hullo.’

‘Hullo, Michael. Haven’t you grown?’ Michael looked at the carpet. ‘Hasn’t he grown, Thelma?’

‘Yes.’ Thelma smiled at her children. ‘Go to the bathroom and wash your hands before we eat.’

Edna pushed her brother before her.

*

Her few old bits of china made the room look almost homely. The bed had a hard mattress. This pleased her: it was what she was accustomed to.

Her window overlooked the back garden.

Once between the sheets, she would try to sleep. She would not allow herself any thoughts of the Terrace. The past, as they said, was the past. She was in her new home now.

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