The Burying Ground by David Mark

Author:David Mark [Mark, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canongate Books
Published: 2020-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

CORDELIA

I could see from the shape of her that something had changed. She’d gone stiff, like all her joints had lost their elasticity and she had transformed into a shop-window dummy. John was trying to get her to look at him. Was digging at us both for answers. He’d had a call at work. Harper’s lad. There’d been an accident. Felicity was fine but he might want to get himself home …

‘It’s fine, John,’ I said, and his name seemed to fit the shape of my tongue. I liked saying it. Wanted to say it again.

‘Mrs Hemlock,’ he said, and I could see the battle in him. It was manners versus the moment. He wanted us all gone. Wanted to hug his wife without anybody seeing. It was like that, then. People cared about losing something of themselves if too many people saw them for what they were.

‘Shall we give her a moment?’ I asked, and it surprised me as much as him. ‘I haven’t seen the mess since we got in. Is the house OK? We’d be as well to take a look, don’t you think?’

I pitied him for so many reasons. I saw the confusion in his face. He wanted answers and he wanted to hold the woman he loved. But people were watching. It was a rare, peculiar situation and he didn’t know what he was supposed to be. I could have made him do anything in that moment. He was so directionless that all it would have taken was a slight pursing of my lips and I could have blown him to the four winds. I’d have done it, too, were there anything to be gained. I’d have climbed inside his head and pulled things apart if it hadn’t been that Felicity was so much more important than anybody else within a thousand miles. It had almost killed me, seeing her laying there on the road. How had she become so important? When? All I knew was that I needed to save her from this moment and leave her to deal with whatever had caused her spine to turn so rigid.

‘Ah, ’tis good to see you,’ said Harper, and I noticed that his portrayal of a genial Irishman became more pronounced in the face of awkwardness. He was a clever man, there was no mistaking. Almost as clever as me.

‘Your boy …’

‘Ah, I told him not to worry you. Did he call from the house?’

‘I don’t know. It came through to work.’

‘And you came running home. Aye, you’re a good man, you mark my words. I’ll be leaving you to it, I suppose. Best check on the youngster, see he hasn’t pulled the rest of the house down while reversing, eh?’

They shook hands at that. Something passed between them that said this would be the end of it. Harper had done no wrong and John hadn’t shown himself up. I think I envied them. Envied them the ridiculous simplicity of their association.

‘I’ll be docked a half day,’ said John, when there was just the three of us in the kitchen.

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