Magda's Daughter by Catrin Collier Page B

out.’
    â€˜I’m not,’ she protested unconvincingly. ‘It’s just that I have so much to do. I have to go through all Mama’s possessions …’
    â€˜I thought Alma spent the last week helping you.’
    â€˜With the insurance papers and the business side, but not Mama’s clothes and personal things. Apart from the bed, which I changed so Auntie Alma could sleep in it, Mama’s bedroom is just as she left it.’
    He could see her visibly tensing at the thought of sifting through Magda’s belongings. ‘You don’t have to do anything, sunshine, especially on your own. Why don’t I come upstairs with you and pack everything in the flat that belonged to your mother into boxes and put them in the car? We can take them up to the new house and they can stay in the spare bedroom for as long as it takes you to get around to sorting through them.’
    â€˜My mother would be horrified. You know how spotless and tidy she kept the house. Everything neat and in its place. If something had happened to me she would have gone through everything at once … she wouldn’t have … wouldn’t have …’
    The moment Ned had been waiting for arrived. Helena sank her head in her hands and sobbed. Harsh cries tore from her throat, savage and rasping. Ned held her tight.
    â€˜You got your key?’
    She fumbled blindly in her handbag and handed him the key. He opened the door and closed it behind them as he led her inside. She sank down on the stairs and he wrapped his arms around her.
    They sat there for over an hour. Helena rested her head on Ned’s shoulder, her tears soaking through his shirtsleeves to his skin. When she finally grew quiet, Ned moved away and held her at arm’s length.
    â€˜I’ll drive you up to my parents’ house. You can go to bed. I’ll bring you your supper on a tray. You won’t have to talk to anyone.’
    â€˜No.’ Helena shook her head fiercely. ‘It’s bad enough that you’ve seen me like this. Besides, I haven’t packed any clothes.’
    â€˜If you want privacy we could stay here, or go up to the new house.’ When she didn’t answer, he released her, and rose to his feet. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
    She led the way into the living room. He followed, opened the sideboard and took out the bottle of brandy Magda kept there. She bought one every Christmas, and it invariably lasted until the next. He poured a small glass and handed it to Helena.
    â€˜There’s no urgency to clear the flat,’ he reminded her. ‘Alma said that you can keep it for as long as you like, rent-free.’
    â€˜I know, but every day the shop is closed, it’s losing money. And whoever runs it will need the flat. It wouldn’t be fair to leave our things here.’ She looked feverishly around the room. ‘Auntie Alma arranged to have half a dozen tea chests delivered from the grocer’s yesterday as well as some cardboard boxes. And we scavenged a pile of newspapers to wrap the china. They’re in the kitchen. It’s a good idea of yours to take everything up to the new house. That’s if you’re sure you don’t mind cluttering up the place,’ she qualified.
    â€˜Why would I mind? It’s your house as much as mine. And we’re not likely to need the spare bedroom often. If we do, we can always pile the boxes into a comer.’ He breathed a heady sigh of relief. Helena was talking to him – granted only about practical matters, but it was conversation of a sort.
    â€˜I’ll get the boxes.’ She put the untouched glass of brandy down on the table.
    â€˜Not now. Just pack a bag with what you need for tonight. We’ll come back tomorrow –’
    â€˜No!’ She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s only half past five. We could get a lot done this evening. But you don’t have to