CHAPTER 20
It came on quite without warning. One moment my mind was scrupulously clear, and I was thinking about the dust floating in the air between my eyes and the ceiling. The next, the walls were closing in around me and there seemed to be no air.
The thought came into my head as though dropped by an invisible hand above; my mother was a murderer and I would never see my father again.
I was overwhelmed by the feeling of being alone and nothing ever being right again. I couldn’t cope with them and my body began to shut down. My lungs seemed to shrink, my heart raced and I heaved in great sobbing breaths.
It lasted longer than I care to think about, too. Minutes. And almost as soon as the walls receded and the air thickened, it began again. I heaved, sobbed, and curled into a shaking ball on my bed, and tried not to close my eyes. The walls were closer in the dark.
Then I heaved again, and the chamber pot was in reach, but it was on my face and in my hair and my eyes stung and streamed.
I lay quietly after that. The thin trickles of a grey dawn light barely stained the walls, and grew little stronger in what must have been, oh, an hour? Two? Three?
The next time I saw her would likely be in a courtroom, if I saw her at all. My mother. As devoid of all feeling as a mother could be while still retaining the title. Bile and venom coursed from my stomach to my throat and I choked a little on my hatred. Vile, cruel, hideous shell of a human she was, and her blood, her poison ran in my veins. But not undiluted by Father’s, everything that was great and good and kind and patient, any talents or skills, any good qualities I dare boast I possessed were from him, they must be from him. Oh yes, the next time I saw her again would be in a courtroom, if I were feeling kind. And I would see her again.
Annie tapped on my door later that morning. I was still in my night clothes, half beneath the sheets, staring at air again, and the tiny dots and lines on the surface of my eyes. I was vaguely aware that I wasn’t clean, but I didn’t particularly care. This wasn’t a civilised society, not really.
‘Oh,’ she said, stopping in the doorway.
I rolled my head to the side to look at her, but there was nothing to say.
‘Come, Evey. I’ll draw you a bath.’
She did, and she cleaned my body and soaped my hair while I cried into the bubbles, but all was well, really, because you couldn’t tell where the tears began and the bathwater ended. And I loved her, in the small, unsure, barely formed way I could feel anything at that time, aside from anger.
By the time I had been dressed in one of Parker’s old dressing-robes and my hair had been towel dried and was hanging down my back in its long, heavy plait, I felt more normal again. More human. Annie and I sat side by side on one of the sofas in Parker’s living room, in front of a small fire. I sat with my legs over hers, and we had our arms around one another as we watched the reddish streaks of afternoon light pattern the dark wallpaper.
‘Parker wants to talk to you. Not necessarily now - or soon, even, but when you’re feeling better.’
I nodded.
Annie hesitated, before beginning again.
‘He - well, for you - he’s been given Julius’s remains.’
‘Oh. Thank you. Thank him for me.’
‘I will.’
She gave me a kiss on the forehead, and I felt empty.
There was nothing inside. My mind was scrupulously empty. My body was a cavernous furnace, waiting to be stoked up in fires of fury. I think I was waiting for something to happen, but nobody would do anything. Andrew and Annie gave me space or embraces as they saw fit, and Jackie avoided me if at all possible, not able to properly meet my gaze when we did meet. Parker left me to come to terms with my grief in my own time. But regardless of the motive, I was spending a lot of time alone.
My courses arrived, which was nice. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of a child following my last meeting with Michael, although of course it had been possible. But there was nothing inside me, nothing for a potential child to claw onto, to catch on to life. I wasn’t sure if I was glad or not, which was a sign I think of just how far I had gone from my former self. I didn’t want to be alone any more, I thought. Rather than suffer to spawn, I chose instead to go and pay that long overdue visit to Parker.
It was two weeks after the fire, almost to the hour, when I knocked on Parker’s office door. He bade me enter in a muffled and distracted voice, and I was surprised to see that a man was with him.
He had brown skin, although not so dark as Andrew’s, and he was older too. His head was bound in a neat turban of black cloth and he had a very tidy beard. The rest of his dress was entirely English in appearance; very dark and very smart, with well starched, if modest, shirt points and cuffs. When I opened the door he had been standing behind Parker, leaning on the mantel, scribbling onto paper. Upon my entrance, he gathered his things together without a word and left, only nodding as he passed me by.
‘He’s marvellous, Parker,’ I said, regretting the conversation that was to come and happy to deviate for as long as possible. ‘So tall. Who on earth is he?’
‘Evelyn.’ Parker rose, all the smaller and rounder for being in the presence of someone tall, even though the man had been a little stocky. ‘That was - no matter, what can I do for you?’
I waited a moment, then slid into the chair opposite his desk.
‘Thank you for taking me in. Taking us in, I mean.’
Parker rocked back in his chair, his hands clasped together with avuncular pride.
‘It’s nothing, don’t even give it a thought, I beg you. What are we, if not a family?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose. Annie said you wanted to talk to me. She said you had… my father.’
Parker nodded solemnly.
‘I have. And he is, well, yours, I suppose, to do as you wish with.’
‘Would we not bury him?’
Parker hummed a little into his clasped hands.
‘Wouldn’t we, Parker?’
He didn’t meet my eyes.
‘I mean, yes, of course, but there is the issue of where, and I hate to say it, Evelyn - you know more than anybody how fond I was of your father - but we don’t really have any money. Not for a proper plot in town, not like he deserves. So I was wondering if you would rather wait, until all of the business side of things has sorted itself out. Until my insurance is paid, and we can do the thing properly.’
‘I see.’
‘Well, yes, and the thing of it is, Evey, that since there are rumours going round that this fire was deliberate, the blaggards might not pay out at all.’ Parker unclasped his hands and roughly rubbed his face. ‘But even supposing they do, they’ll take a devil of a time sorting it.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘But Father - will he…’ I didn’t know how to say it. It was vulgar and crass and seemed disrespectful. ‘Won’t he go off?’
Parker rubbed his face again and then peeped at me through his fingers. He gave a heaving sigh and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk between us.
‘That’s the other thing, Evey. After the fire, there was very little left. Very little indeed. It was burning so long, all that’s left are his,’- Parker paused here to cough and dab at his forehead with his handkerchief. ‘Well, his shin bones.’
‘Oh. I suppose that makes sense.’
‘I have them for you. I thought we could get a nice box - when we can afford it, something really grand with painted scenes on or inlaid into the wood or something. He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Something classical, something a bit Greek? What do you think?’
I swallowed. He would like it, I was sure. The only thing he’d probably rather would have been to be ground down and put into paint.
‘Where is he now?’
Parker looked deeply uncomfortable. He cleared his throat twice, dabbed his forehead and cleared his throat again.
‘In my desk drawer,’ he said quietly.
I tried not to look but, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see from where I sat, I could not help but lean forward a little.
I nodded.
‘For now then, if you have no objection, could we keep them there? In your care, I mean. Where you see fit. While I decide what to do.’
‘Yes, yes. Of course. As long as you need. There isn’t a Thompson alive or dead who isn’t welcome in this house,’ he blustered.
I fixed him with a look that I hoped was expressionless, and he started coughing again. Foolish Parker. Perhaps he hadn’t realised.
I made to rise, but he held out his hand to stop me. The hand which wasn’t grasping his damp handkerchief.
‘There is just one more thing though, Evelyn. And we needn’t talk about it if you’d rather not, of course, but really, ideally, I would like to talk about it sooner rather than later. If you don’t mind.’
I sat back in my seat again.
‘Of course, Parker. What would you like to talk about?’
He huffed and shuffled a little before he spoke. I was growing irritated by his discomfort, and began slowly and methodically cracking each of my knuckles in turn.
‘It’s about the troupe. What to do now. Now… now that Liberty has gone.’
I rolled my lips between my teeth and considered for a moment.
‘I honestly don’t know.’
Parker shifted in his chair again.
‘See, the thing of it is, like with the insurance, I’ve got no money coming in - not really. And I can - and will - happily take you and Annie in and keep you for as long as you want or need. But Andrew and Jackson? They’re idling away now, waiting for what happens next, and I can’t keep giving you all pin money like I did before all this, do you see?’
Poor Parker, so worried, so concerned and glowing with sweat at having to keep us all like that.
‘Have you asked them about it?’
‘Yes, yes I have.’
‘And what did they say?’ I prompted gently.
‘Oh, that it all depended on if the troupe would reform in the end. You know, if they had a job to come back to here once the insurance had been sorted out. The question, Evelyn, is if you would be interested in that happening. We’d need a new name, of course, but if you were interested in directing? We could take on more people, new people, really grow it like a phoenix, I suppose, rising from the ashes, don’t you think?’
Parker was getting quite excited. His cheeks glowed red and he started making dramatic gestures with his hands, painting smoke and triumph broadly in the air between us.
‘I suppose. I don’t know, Parker. You should do it regardless, though.’ I watched his hand sink down on to the desk. ‘Do change the name, though, won’t you?’
‘Of course, of course, no doubt about it.’
‘And I’ll let you know. Nearer the time, if I want to be part of it.’ I rose then, not willing to linger. ‘But until that time, I think it may be wise to seek gainful employment.’