Just Like the Other Girls

Elspeth reaches over and places her hand on mine. ‘No, you’d never be able to trust him again. It was a wicked thing for him to do. You deserve better.’

To my shame my eyes fill with tears. It’s the sort of thing I’d longed to hear from my mum, but she’d already died when I found out what Vince had done. I’d felt so alone, with nobody to turn to, apart from Courtney. And now Elspeth and Aggie are comforting me, showing me that I’m worth more, that they’re on my side.

Elspeth has a lot of appointments today. First I have to accompany her to the doctor’s, which is only a five-minute walk away. ‘Just for a check-up,’ she says, squeezing my hand as though to assure me that she’s not about to croak it at any minute, and then to a tailor to get a ripped lining mended. She walks slowly, clutching my arm, so by the time we’ve performed these errands and taken a detour to the florist to pick up some flowers – ‘It’s so important to have fresh flowers about the place, don’t you think, dear?’ – it’s nearly midday when we get home.

Elspeth says she’d like to rest before lunch so I help her into bed, close the curtains and retreat to the kitchen where I know I’ll find Aggie. I’ve been hoping to bump into Lewis but I haven’t seen him all day, although I did notice his abandoned wheelbarrow overturned in the garden. I wonder if he’ll be back after his row with Elspeth yesterday.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, pet?’ asks Aggie, as I offer to help cut up carrots for the stew she’s making for dinner.

‘Yes, please.’ This is my favourite time of day, when Elspeth is having a nap and I can sit in the cosy kitchen with Aggie and have a chat. I’ve been desperate to ask her about Matilde and Jemima.

‘What do you think about Jemima?’ I ask, as I slice a carrot. Aggie is chopping an onion and has to keep wiping her eyes.

‘Shocked. She didn’t seem the kind of girl to take her own life.’

‘Did you think she was depressed?’

‘Not at all. She was a chirpy little thing. Always going about the place singing. You know …’ She swipes at her eyes again. They’re streaming. ‘Sorry. Bloody onions. They get me every time.’

My mum used to be the same. ‘Here,’ I say, taking the knife out of her hand. ‘Let me do it. They don’t make me cry. Maybe because I wear contacts.’

She sniffs, ‘Oh, you are a lamb,’ and we swap jobs.

‘What were you about to say?’ I probe, as I cut into the onion.

‘What? Oh, yes. I was just going to say that you remind me of Jemima.’

‘Really? In what way?’ I think of the photograph in the locket. ‘Do you mean in looks?’

‘Yes, but also personality. You’re both bubbly, easygoing. Happy. You brighten up the place. I can see why Elspeth likes having a young companion. Especially as Kathryn can be so –’ She stops herself as if suddenly remembering where her loyalties lie. ‘Kathryn is a good person, just more reserved, that’s all.’

I don’t say anything but concentrate on chopping the onions into small cubes as instructed.

‘And she worries about Elspeth. It’d been just the two of them for years before she decided to employ Matilde.’

‘How long have you been with the family, Aggie?’

She pauses mid-chop to consider this. ‘A long time.’ She chuckles. ‘I started after Elspeth’s husband died back in 1987. Kathryn was fifteen then and Viola nearly seventeen.’

I pause, knife in the air. ‘Viola?’

Aggie looks up at me guiltily as though she’s said too much. ‘Viola is Elspeth’s elder daughter.’

I’m taken aback. Nobody’s ever mentioned her. ‘Where is Viola living now?’

She shrugs, her round face colouring. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, really. Elspeth is still funny about it all these years later. Viola ran away from home when she was eighteen. A year after I joined.’

‘Ran away? Do you mean she doesn’t keep in contact with her family?’

She shakes her short grey curls. ‘Nobody’s heard from her since. It broke Elspeth’s heart.’

I’m stumped. I don’t know what to say. ‘How awful. Poor Elspeth. At least she’s got Kathryn.’

Aggie purses her lips as though she’s afraid more revelations will spill out of her mouth involuntarily. She doesn’t say anything for a while, then blurts, ‘I don’t think Viola would’ve run away like that if Kathryn hadn’t come.’

I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

She puts her knife down and carries the bowl of chopped carrots to a pan sitting on the hob of the Aga. ‘Kathryn was eleven years old when Elspeth adopted her.’

‘Adopted? Kathryn’s adopted?’ I wasn’t expecting that. I think back to their interactions – Elspeth is very dismissive, almost cold towards Kathryn at times. Is that why? Or would she be the same even if Kathryn was her biological child?

‘Oh, yes,’ says Aggie. ‘Elspeth couldn’t have any more children after Viola. So when Viola was thirteen she and Huw adopted Kathryn. I’m not saying it was Kathryn’s fault that Viola left. I’m fond of that girl. Woman now, of course. And, my goodness, she had a lot to contend with growing up. But it was only natural that Viola would feel pushed out.’

I hand Aggie the plate of onions for her to add to the pan. ‘Imagine not knowing where your own child is. She’d be – what? Late forties now?’

‘Nearly fifty. Elspeth has heard nothing from her in all these years. She doesn’t even know if she’s alive or dead.’ She shakes her head. ‘A sorry state of affairs.’

‘Did Elspeth ever look for her?’

‘I think so. At the beginning. But it was like Viola disappeared off the face of the earth. She didn’t want to be found.’

The faces of Matilde and Jemima swirl in my mind. Did Viola really run away or is she dead too?





11





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