“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”
Martha took a deep breath. She screwed her eyes shut, preparing herself to tell the next part of the story. “I found out that one of the ladies was Zelda, Lilian. Our nana is still alive.”
She paused, thinking that she might hear a gasp or a “What?” from Lilian, but the only sound that came from the other side of the phone was the clunk of her sister’s rings against the receiver.
“Um, did you hear what I said?” Martha asked after an unbearably long few moments.
“Well, yes,” Lilian snapped. “And it’s absolutely ridiculous. Zelda died years ago. We both know that.”
“We thought we knew.” Martha waited a while longer. The quietness was strange, like they had both entered a large church and were trying not to make a sound. When her sister didn’t speak, she began to babble. “I met up with her, Lilian.”
“You did what?”
“I was going to tell you about it, before I went to Benton Bay, but I had to go, there and then. It all seemed so surreal. But she was there, Lilian. I found her. I didn’t recognize her at first. I mean, it’s been so long—”
“It can’t be her.”
“She has the missing tooth. Do you remember the toffee apple at the fair? I went to her house, then we met at the fairground in Benton Bay. It’s definitely her.”
“I told you to leave all this alone.” Lilian’s voice was strained, like she was trying to squeeze on board a packed train.
“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I don’t know if I’m angrier with you, or at her.”
Martha frowned. “Why would you be angry with Nana? Our parents told us she’d died. Why on earth would they do that?” Her voice pinged up a notch. “I looked after them for fifteen years and they never said a thing. They must have known all that time. Do you know what’s gone on?”
Martha heard scratching, perhaps Lilian’s fingernails against her chin, or in her hair. She waited until her sister’s words flooded out.
“Look, I’ve just looked at my diary, and I am doing something tonight. Paul mentioned his friend might call round. I hope he doesn’t expect me to cook anything, because it’s not fully confirmed yet. I don’t even know who she is. I mean, I expect it’s a her. He seems to associate with women freely these days...”
Martha tried to decipher what Lilian was talking about and why. There seemed to be a huge disconnect in their conversation. “So, you can’t make it tonight?” she confirmed.
“No. And I don’t think that you should go, either.”
She sounds like Dad when he told Mum not to do something, Martha thought.
“Some things are better left in the past, Martha,” Lilian said. “Zelda wasn’t a reliable person. It’s very strange to hear she’s alive, after all this time, but it’s unlikely she’s still got all her marbles intact. She could tell you anything, and you wouldn’t know if it was the truth or not.”
“She’s told me very little. That’s why we should both go to dinner. You can meet her. We can ask her things and try to find out what’s gone on.”
“I’m very sorry, Martha,” Lilian said shortly. “I don’t think I want to know. It’s been such a long time and, well, I want to spend time with Paul. Things are rather tricky between us at the moment...”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Some things are easier to keep to yourself. You don’t want everyone to know.”
Martha felt her stomach dip. “But I’m your sister.”
“I know.” There was a noticeable pause before Lilian spoke again. “Look, just be careful with Zelda. Some things aren’t what they seem.”
A strange realization began to creep over Martha. Perhaps it was sisterly instinct. “Did you know about any of this?” she asked. “Did you know that Nana might be still alive?”
The question heralded Lilian’s longest silence yet. The cuckoo popped out of the clock and sang twelve times as Martha waited for her response.
“I didn’t know that Zelda was still alive,” Lilian said finally. “But I did know that she didn’t die in 1982.”
Lilian’s last words made Martha’s stomach turn over. Her hand shook and she tightened her grip on the receiver. She longed to question what her sister knew, but she could tell from her clipped tone their conversation was over. Martha offered to tell her how the dinner party went, and Lilian replied with a muted, “Okay.”
Martha decided to try and blank her sister’s words from her mind. She would find out soon enough, for herself, that evening. She couldn’t imagine how and why Lilian might know something like that and not tell her.
She concentrated on moving and looking inside more of the boxes, picking up speed as she removed them from the stack. She rummaged through the contents quickly, and she soon grew sweaty with her face turning red.
She was going to the dinner party, whether Lilian liked it or not.
19
Balloon Head
In the early afternoon, Martha had just finished drinking a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. She felt a little spaced out because, after her conversation with Lilian, all she had managed to eat for lunch was a slice of toast. Wiping her hands on a pot towel, she opened the door.
Suki stood there, her arms weighed down with shopping bags. Her bump poked through her open coat, and her nose was pink from the wind. “I thought we could take a look at that dragon,” she said, raising her bags by an inch.
Martha instantly reached out and tugged them off her. “You should not be carrying those in your condition. The ligaments in your back can relax during pregnancy, making you more susceptible to injury.”
“It’s not like I’m weight lifting.” Suki shrugged. She stepped inside and slipped off her coat. She circled a hand over her stomach. “This baby is heavier.”
Martha couldn’t prevent herself from flying into organizer mode. “Sit down and I’ll make you a drink,” she said. “The sofa is the most comfortable seat, not the wooden chair. I’ll move some boxes. Do you have enough cushions for your back? I’ll get you a coffee. Is caffeine okay when you’re pregnant?”
Suki held up her hands in surrender. “I’m here to try out papier-maché, not for butler service. I’m not very thirsty.” She held onto her belly as she maneuvered herself down onto the floor. After reaching up and taking the dragon’s head from the crates, she set it down on her lap. “Things are looking tidier in here,” she said. “Have you had a sort out?”
Martha nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Well, okay. I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer for my sister to help me look through the boxes, so I made a start.”
“Good for you. It looks much better.” Suki pulled her bag towards her and took out a large plastic bowl. She sprinkled gray powder into it and poured in water from a bottle. Taking a wooden stick, she gave it a stir. “This is how you make the papier-maché. Stick your hand in. It feels like clay.”
Martha knelt down beside her and rolled up her sleeves. She reached into the bowl. The mixture felt rather pleasing, cool and soothing to her fingertips. A sense of calmness washed over her as she pressed the mixture, feeling it squish and move.
Suki tilted and examined the dragon’s face. “I think I’ll glue a small piece of card over the hole in his cheek, then apply the papier-maché over the top of it.” She took a scoop of the mixture and began to spread it out under the dragon’s eye using her forefinger. “I remember doing this at school.”
“Me, too. We glued strips of newspaper to a balloon, then popped it and turned it into a head.”
“Yes. And stuck wool on for hair.”
They grinned at each other, at finding a common experience.
Suki took a moment to reposition her dress over her bump with the heels of her palms. “Do you have any children, Martha?”
Martha fell quiet. It was a question that made her want to retract her head like a tortoise. She stretched out her neck and gave her throat a brief stroke.