don’t you check on Esther and Billy?’
‘You feeling bad about your comment earlier?’ I asked, a gentle tease in my voice.
He shrugged. ‘Just might be worth seeing they are okay,’ he conceded, so I left him and went up to Elinor’s room.
Elinor, who was missing. See, I did it again – I’m getting there.
The first thing Billy did when he saw me was ask about the body. I guess that gives me the ideal opportunity to address that with you too.
‘Grandad Ronan took it to Papa Harold’s. The police have probably come for it by now. You have a habit of stumbling across dead bodies. First the rat.’
‘And now a dog,’ Billy said, clearly pleased with himself.
Esther tutted in disapproval, but he didn’t notice, caught up in his own story.
‘It was a dog, wasn’t it?’ he asked, as if there was a doubt.
‘Yes,’ I told him, and Esther and I shared a look. To him, it was a story, an adventure, but for us it was a nightmare. We thought this was over. We thought they were extinct. What exactly does his discovery imply? was what we were both thinking. What does it mean for us?
Two further weeks have since passed and several things remain – Esther and Billy are still at my house, cleaning, convalescing; Elinor is still missing (there I go again); and the questions we asked ourselves the day Tristan dragged the dead dog from the river are still not answered. But other things have changed: I am ready to return to work, despite protests from all corners; Tristan has officially moved into my bed, just one or two protests on this front; and Aunt Penny and Esther have ceased all mention of a service.
‘My daughter is missing, not dead,’ I began to tell them regularly enough that it might sink in.
The looks they returned told of many things; many things they subsequently spoke of when they thought I’d couldn’t hear.
She’s just not facing the truth.
Death of a child is not an easy thing to face, especially when there is no, you know…
Proof?
Yes, no proof.
What they mean is: no body. But they can’t say it; can’t face their own words outright.
What if she gets ill, like last time?
And all that talk of going back to work.
She’s not coping, not coping at all.
But that was exactly it; coping was the very one thing I was doing, and I was doing it very well. Would they just have me fall apart? And then what? Become a gibbering wreck, a useless vegetable of a person? What use would I be when we eventually found Elinor? No, I needed to cope; there was strength in there. And I needed to work, as well. If you didn’t work, you didn’t get paid. And, despite money coming in from Tristan, seven weeks without earnings had left a hole in our finances.
And so, I take you back to where my telling began: Esther cleaning in my kitchen, Billy upstairs, resting, and me, Agnes Taylor, feeling resentful at their continued presence. I have already insulted her this morning – calling her child a screaming baby , reducing his maturity and masculinity in one verbal swipe. And I can already feel another slight surfacing. All I need is opportunity. Being Esther, this arises as soon as she recovers from the last one and opens her well-meaning mouth.
‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, but-.’
‘If you know it’s none of your business, why are you poking your nose in?’
‘If you’ll just give me a chance, Agnes, you’ll realise it is my business.’
‘What is your business?’
‘Tristan and you. In your room, at night. It’s-.’
‘None of your business,’ I complete for her.
‘It’s not healthy for Billy.’
‘Oh, then it certainly is your business.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can’t put young Billy at risk again.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So, you agree then? That it would be best for everyone?’
‘Yes,’ Esther agrees, but instantly wonders what she is agreeing to.
‘If you go today, I can help you pack. As I’m back to work tomorrow, I won’t have time
‘You feeling bad about your comment earlier?’ I asked, a gentle tease in my voice.
He shrugged. ‘Just might be worth seeing they are okay,’ he conceded, so I left him and went up to Elinor’s room.
Elinor, who was missing. See, I did it again – I’m getting there.
The first thing Billy did when he saw me was ask about the body. I guess that gives me the ideal opportunity to address that with you too.
‘Grandad Ronan took it to Papa Harold’s. The police have probably come for it by now. You have a habit of stumbling across dead bodies. First the rat.’
‘And now a dog,’ Billy said, clearly pleased with himself.
Esther tutted in disapproval, but he didn’t notice, caught up in his own story.
‘It was a dog, wasn’t it?’ he asked, as if there was a doubt.
‘Yes,’ I told him, and Esther and I shared a look. To him, it was a story, an adventure, but for us it was a nightmare. We thought this was over. We thought they were extinct. What exactly does his discovery imply? was what we were both thinking. What does it mean for us?
Two further weeks have since passed and several things remain – Esther and Billy are still at my house, cleaning, convalescing; Elinor is still missing (there I go again); and the questions we asked ourselves the day Tristan dragged the dead dog from the river are still not answered. But other things have changed: I am ready to return to work, despite protests from all corners; Tristan has officially moved into my bed, just one or two protests on this front; and Aunt Penny and Esther have ceased all mention of a service.
‘My daughter is missing, not dead,’ I began to tell them regularly enough that it might sink in.
The looks they returned told of many things; many things they subsequently spoke of when they thought I’d couldn’t hear.
She’s just not facing the truth.
Death of a child is not an easy thing to face, especially when there is no, you know…
Proof?
Yes, no proof.
What they mean is: no body. But they can’t say it; can’t face their own words outright.
What if she gets ill, like last time?
And all that talk of going back to work.
She’s not coping, not coping at all.
But that was exactly it; coping was the very one thing I was doing, and I was doing it very well. Would they just have me fall apart? And then what? Become a gibbering wreck, a useless vegetable of a person? What use would I be when we eventually found Elinor? No, I needed to cope; there was strength in there. And I needed to work, as well. If you didn’t work, you didn’t get paid. And, despite money coming in from Tristan, seven weeks without earnings had left a hole in our finances.
And so, I take you back to where my telling began: Esther cleaning in my kitchen, Billy upstairs, resting, and me, Agnes Taylor, feeling resentful at their continued presence. I have already insulted her this morning – calling her child a screaming baby , reducing his maturity and masculinity in one verbal swipe. And I can already feel another slight surfacing. All I need is opportunity. Being Esther, this arises as soon as she recovers from the last one and opens her well-meaning mouth.
‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, but-.’
‘If you know it’s none of your business, why are you poking your nose in?’
‘If you’ll just give me a chance, Agnes, you’ll realise it is my business.’
‘What is your business?’
‘Tristan and you. In your room, at night. It’s-.’
‘None of your business,’ I complete for her.
‘It’s not healthy for Billy.’
‘Oh, then it certainly is your business.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can’t put young Billy at risk again.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So, you agree then? That it would be best for everyone?’
‘Yes,’ Esther agrees, but instantly wonders what she is agreeing to.
‘If you go today, I can help you pack. As I’m back to work tomorrow, I won’t have time
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