Chapter 34 #3
‘You were a child!’ Her mother took a step forward, over the threshold on to the porch.
‘You have no idea what it was really like, because I made sure you didn’t!
Do you know how many times he threatened to – to do it?
How many things I’ve sold? Grandmother’s diamond bracelet – the platters – the good silver – do you know how bad the man was with money, always chasing a dream without ever putting in the thought and the work you need to make a success of it?
’ Her voice was hoarse with base-note anger, her beady eyes round.
‘Why do you think we moved out of the city, back to Orchard? Then out of the apartment into the gatehouse? He owed money all over the place, and most of the time he was so ill he couldn’t see a way to pay it back.
It was horrible, for years, and years.’ She licked her lips, lowering her voice and slowing her words.
‘Sometimes he’d be great for months at a time and I’d think, it’s just me, overreacting.
But, Allie, sometimes it was as though he’d been hit by a truck.
He couldn’t move. He shut himself away. He’d say he was going to the railroad, to the bridge, to the barn.
I was terrified you’d find him one day, and then he –’
She wiped her mouth, her forehead, her neck.
‘I didn’t let you see how ill your daddy was ’cause you loved him so much and he loved you. So I did the worrying, honey; I was the Grinch. All I wanted – all I wanted – was to look after you both. For us to … have a little family. Do normal things. You know? No, you don’t. Ah, I’m sorry.’
‘Mom –’
‘You couldn’t see what it was like, because I didn’t let you see, but that’s okay.’ And she waved her hand around, as if to say, Surely this is reason enough for everything. Case closed.
‘You should have told me, Mom,’ Alice said. ‘You and Dad should have told me.’
‘I couldn’t.’ Her mother put her hand on her shoulder. ‘It wasn’t for me to do that, Alice.’
‘You should have tried, Mom.’
‘I did the best I could, Allie. Sometimes that’s all you can do. And your dad did too, but everything went to hell anyway. All those years I worried and then he went and did it and you were there. You had to see it. And I’m so angry at him still. I’m so damn angry.’
She winced, closing one eye, and they stood there, standing across from each other.
‘I don’t know what to say to that, Mom. You married Wilder Kynaston, even though you know what he did to me.’
‘I’m sorry, honey.’ There was silence. ‘I don’t know if it means anything to you, but I’m happy.’
‘You’re happy?’ Alice laughed.
‘After a fashion. With your father, I stopped knowing how to be really happy.’
Alice knew exactly what this was like. She felt nothing then except terribly, terribly sad for her mother. ‘Didn’t you love him?’
Her mother looked upstairs, then around, eyes darting everywhere. She said slowly, clearly, ‘More than anyone, anything. But that’s not enough. I tried my best, honey. I really did.’
‘I – I know you did, Mom.’
‘I’m sorry you can’t –’
‘Can’t what?’ And Alice realized it didn’t matter.
Nothing would be the same now; she was never going to sit round the table at Thanksgiving drawing turkey hands with Wilder Kynaston and her mom, and her kids would not one day run around the lawns of Valhalla.
Once again, she just felt sad for her mom.
And herself. And she was tired suddenly, like she knew it was over.
‘Hey,’ she said. She gave her mom a polite smile. ‘I can’t stay long, Mom. Can I see Teddy, please? Should I go upstairs?’
Betsy was suddenly brisk. ‘I’ll go get her. She’s a lot worse lately, Alice. I think she misses you, and your dad. I’m no substitute, but then I never was, was I?’ She said it without any rancour, and Alice didn’t know what to say. And Betsy turned and went inside.
All Alice could think about was how much her father had suffered but also how much fun they’d had.
She was sure that he’d want her to remember that.
One time, he’d mended the very same ladder in the orchard that she’d just seen; it had broken again anyway and he’d fallen off, landed on the ground, feet up in the air like an overturned turtle.
And now there was maybe no one who remembered him in the way he should be remembered. Just her.
In the end Teddy came downstairs, but it took a while to coax her out of her room, and by the time she was sitting on the porch the events of the day were catching up with Alice, as was the lack of food, and she felt quite faint.
‘Teddy, hi,’ she said. ‘I missed you. How are you?’
Teddy sat on the bench, her huge eyes fixed on Alice. Alice leaned against one of the throw pillows, trying to make it like all the times before.
‘How have you been?’
Teddy’s arms were folded; her short shingled greying hair, which shook when she was angry or excited, perfectly still. Her face, unlined, unchanged; it was the most curious aspect of the whole affair, how young she still looked.
‘I know you’re annoyed with me for going away. But I had to leave. You’d have told me to go, if you understood why.’
A skein of geese, carping in the evening sunshine, threw a V shadow across the shimmering, placid river.
Alice glanced over at it – thought she saw someone, standing by the bank.
Was he still here, in another apple tree, in the boarded-up gatehouse?
She blinked again – but he had gone. It was just her, now.
‘Teddy, you know, I’ve been in New York. I met some people who know you. A boy who knows you. And I wanted to ask you, about him coming to visit you sometime.’
Teddy’s mouth opened in an O, her neat bobbed hair shaking. A howl like a seal’s boomed around the porch, out into the woods. Betsy came running out.
‘You mustn’t get her all agitated, you hear?’ She turned to Teddy and said kindly, ‘You want your doll, honey?’
Teddy shook her head. ‘ Ravenoose! ’ she said, pointing at Alice. ‘ Ravenoose! ’
‘My friend, he’s been to Sevenstones,’ said Alice. ‘He told me all about it.’
More noises. ‘Do you want me to talk, like the old way?’ Alice said, quietly.
‘ Ravenoose! Ravenoose! ’
Her hands, waving around, as Alice watched the imaginary Teddy storm in, fling herself backwards on the bench and shove a throw pillow underneath her. Alice cleared her throat and said, in Teddy’s voice:
Alice, my dear. You’ve caused quite a commotion, wouldn’t you say? Why didn’t you come back?
‘You don’t ask why I ran away in the first place.’
I know why you ran away, Alice. But to burn all your bridges. It’s a little short-sighted, don’t you think? If you run away because of one or two rotten apples, you risk giving up your whole life to them.
‘Allie?’
Betsy Kynaston was in the doorway, an apron tied around her waist. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Why are you waving your arms about like that? Standing up, performing amateur dramatics. Here, Teddy!’ She wiped Teddy’s mouth. ‘She’s upset – can’t you see?’
‘We always talk like this,’ said Alice. She held Teddy’s hand, as Teddy howled and banged her other hand on the chair.
‘What’s the point? She doesn’t understand a word of it, Allie darling – not any of it.’
‘That’s crap, Mom.’
‘Allie, she’s a retard. Please don’t upset her. And don’t use language like that.’
As Betsy left, Alice turned to Teddy again. In her Teddy voice she said:
You should go. But the difference is that I have to stay here, don’t I? I can never leave. And you’re going again, aren’t you? I want you to go, Alice, my dear. As soon as you can get out of me what you want.
‘Teddy, I always knew about your life before the war,’ Alice said evenly, her voice her own now.
‘I knew about your school, about going to Vassar, to parties, how brave you were, how dashing, and how much trouble you caused!’ She smiled at Teddy.
‘My dad told me about how you cut your own hair and ate only green tomatoes. I heard about how you nearly died of meningitis. You should have died, and you didn’t; you beat it back.
I knew everything about you from everyone in the town, especially my dad.
But I didn’t understand what happened after you came back from the war, and it all stopped.
He told me they did something to you, and that he was your friend, and that your old friends stayed in touch with you through him.
But I never really saw you till he was dead, and then it was too late to ask the rest. I should have asked him, Teddy. I’m sorry.’
Teddy was rocking, hugging herself. Alice reached over and stroked her thin shoulder.
‘And then this boy rang one day. He was asking about you. He said someone was looking for you, someone from the war. And Teddy, he didn’t know anything. But he knew more than me. He’s a nice boy. He’s the son of someone you knew.’
‘ RAVENOOSE! RAVENOOSE! RAVENOOSE! ’
‘Shh,’ Alice said. ‘You have to let me finish.’
She looked around: on the lawn she could make out a figure some distance away, and she inhaled sharply, just as Teddy’s cries grew louder and she slammed her hands on the arms of her chair.
Alice turned to look at her, and found Teddy was pulling a thick envelope from under the throw pillow. She gave it to Alice.
‘Ravens,’ she said. ‘Ravens. Sevenstones. Hidden. Found them.’
‘Teddy, it’s okay.’ Alice leaned forward and patted her hand. The envelope was heavy. Inside were two letters and a package. She unfolded the letters and read them, her head spinning.
‘Oh, Teddy,’ she said, holding her friend’s hand.
‘Of course. Of course .’ She stared into her huge, vacant eyes.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘But this is good. This is good, I promise, Teddy. It’s going to be okay.
Hey,’ she said, turning her head and calling toward the trees. ‘Come over here. We won’t bite.’
She felt, rather than saw, the figure, approaching across the lawn. And so she said, ‘Hey. Hey, Tom. We’re waiting for you.’