Flesh & blood
An extract from Amanda Geard’s new mystery The Midnight House
Blackwater Hall, County Kerry, 1939. Charlotte was waiting by the sweet peas. “You didn’t tell me about Lord Hawley,” Nancy called across the walled garden that was thankfully empty of other people. “Why didn’t you mention anything? In your letters?”
She picked her way along a gravel path half hidden under squash leaves.
“What was there to say?” Charlotte had amassed a collection of flowers. Even from where her sister-in-law Nancy stood, the scent was heady. “Does Teddy know?”
Charlotte shook her head. Nancy had supposed and expected that her husband wouldn’t know.
At the far end of the garden, built over a cast-iron bench, was a living arbour, its green leaves entwined with drooping blue clematis. It was surrounded with white and yellow lilies.
They sat on it in silence. The air was pleasantly heavy with far-off rain, the scent of lilies almost overwhelming. Nancy reached out to touch one, its orange pollen staining her fingers.
“So, what does it mean?”
Charlotte picked a flower from above her. A sprinkle of dew rained down on them. “It means my life is mapped out.”
“It’s just a visit. It can hardly –”
“I heard Father discussing figures with Mother.” “Perhaps we’ll still be here, Teddy and I.” Nancy didn’t think it would help.
Charlotte plucked a petal from the blue clematis. “I’ve written to him, Lord Hawley. Thads, what a funny name.”
“Thads?”
“Thaddeus. His father was a classicist. He’s actually rather pleasant. A bit eccentric.”
Nancy smiled, but her expression slipped when Charlotte added, “But he’s old.” “How old?”’ “Forty-five.” “Perhaps when you get to know him…” “No.” Charlotte shook her head. “I want to break away.”
Nancy paused. “You should talk to Teddy. He’ll understand.”
“Yes, he found his own path,” said Charlotte, “and it changed our family.”
Nancy was quiet.
“Don’t… don’t misunderstand my meaning. In a good way.”
Charlotte grinned, a little of her humour returning. “But still, maybe I should call you Trouble from now on. Trouble Rathmore.”
At Nancy’s raised eyebrows she continued, “I want my own life.”
Nancy felt she was being drawn into something dangerous. “Charlotte, I don’t know how to put this.” She rubbed pollen into little circles on her palms, its stain satisfyingly rich. “Teddy’s a man. It’s different. I wish it weren’t.”
“But I have skills. I could come to London. I could be a secretary too. Or I can work with my hands. Needlework?”
Nancy looked at this creature from another era. “When was the last time you went to a city?” “Dublin, two years ago.”
“And?”
Charlotte turned over her sister-in-law’s palms, tracing the orange stigmata. Then she let go, suddenly self-conscious.
“It was busy… so busy. I simply couldn’t understand how everyone knew where to be. We stayed at The Gresham. And the Abbey Theatre was wonderful. Juno And The Paycock. I insisted on going, but Father only made it to Act Two. I never saw the end.”
Nancy shifted. “It is lovely to see that side of the city. The hustle, the finery. The entertainment. But city living is quite something else. Particularly on a budget. Everything costs something. And at the end of each month when the rent is paid and the cupboards are bare, you simply start again.”
“I know what you think of me. Spoiled girl. Can’t get her hands dirty.”
“I don’t think that.”
“You’re probably right.”
Nancy changed the subject.
“Can I come to the next society meeting?”
Charlotte coloured. “Well, I… I’d be embarrassed. We’re only playing at it really.” “Good, that’s settled. Thursday, is it?”
She laughed. “I see your plan, Nancy. I can change subjects too. Let me see…” She scratched her chin, a theatrical move. Nancy noticed the translucent skin on her hands; so fine, so delicate. She folded her own away in shame. “You’ve been married two and a half years. What’s it like?”
Nancy laughed. “I’d feel odd discussing it… Teddy’s your brother.”
Charlotte made a face.
“I feel very lucky. I’ve never made that a secret in my letters, have I?” said Nancy.
“You seem happy together.”
“We are. But some people find a happy marriage highly suspicious, so we won’t spread the news too far.”
“So, what’s the secret to it?”
She thought. “Respect, mostly. And an even footing.”
Charlotte looked confused.
“Not socially… You must know your partner wants you for yourself, not for something you should be or could be.”
“I see…”
Nancy closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean…”’ “Of course not.”
“I’m sorry.” How many times would either of them say that today? Nancy felt the conversation was spiralling down and away, out of her control.
Charlotte took her hand. “I’m happy for you and Teddy. Goodness, if you hadn’t met, I wouldn’t know you.” She smiled. “Where would I be then? Who would I write my secrets to?”
Charlotte had been candid with her during their correspondence – her admission about the Ballinn Dramatics Secret Society, her feelings about her mother, her dissatisfaction with her lot. Why could she herself not be so frank?
As if reading her mind, Charlotte asked,
“And children?”
“Not for a few years. Twenty-five feels too young for a family these days.” She wondered if she was blushing.
Teddy appeared through the archway, his hand held high to shield a sliver of sun cutting through the clouds. “There you are.”
Charlotte ran to him, desperate to smooth over the cross words they’d exchanged that morning. “I’m sorry, Teddy.”
“Hush now.” He put his arms around her, winking over her shoulder at his wife, seated amongst the sapphire clematis.
‘Some people
find a happy marriage
highly suspicious’
Nancy felt a tug deep in her chest. For a lesser woman, it would be jealousy. The worry that her husband might love his sister more than his wife. That their shared memories would be richer than those she and Teddy had forged together. But for Nancy it was something else. In that simple hug, Teddy had showed a love of family.
She felt, not for the first time, inadequate. She only wished her body would stop failing and that she could provide him with another reason to feel that way. Another person to love. His own flesh and blood.