The Good Sister, page 2
Apart from the newish refrigerator and a few appliances, it was still the kitchen she’d grown up with. The same old gas stove sat against one wall with the metal rack above where Bel remembered the dinner plates sitting to warm; the green cupboards against the other wall hadn’t changed at all. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the room where it had always sat, it’s smooth surface showing the result of many scrubbings over the years. The tile-patterned linoleum was now faded, wearing thin in places and curling up slightly on one corner. It all felt so familiar yet strange. It was as if she’d travelled back in time.
Bel thought the kitchen seemed to be stuck in a time warp. Given the state of her bedroom, she was guessing the rest of the house hadn’t changed much either, only the curtains changing with the seasons as they had throughout her childhood – velvet for winter and floral for summer.
She set the table and returned to the living room to sit by the window, turning her chair to enjoy the view across the river to the Botanic Gardens which used to be a favourite spot where she could escape the confines of her family and this house.
Bel hadn’t found it easy growing up in this house surrounded by adults, and had taken every opportunity she could to get away. Finally, in her mid-twenties she moved all the way to the other side of the world. Her childhood hadn’t had been unhappy, quite the opposite, but the house full of adults was also full of rules and expectations and she’d been glad to leave those behind.
That and the broken heart she’d been at pains to keep secret. It had been a relief to find the independence she hungered for and to start afresh in a new country.
There was a movement beside her.
‘I must have dozed off. Did you…?’
‘Dinner’s on and should be ready soon.’
‘Good girl.’ Isobel picked up her glass and raised it to her lips again, beamed and leant forward. ‘It’s so lovely to have you here. I don’t get out much, but we must try to do a few things. Maybe…’
‘Don’t worry about me. I can see Glasgow any-time. I’m happy just to spend time with you.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ Isobel repeated and slumped back into her chair. ‘Matthew will be here tomorrow. He’s the one I want you to meet. He takes care of things for me.’ She nodded. ‘He’s a good man, clever too.’
‘Matthew?’ Who was Matthew? Surely Aunt Isobel wasn’t going to try to introduce her to someone she deemed eligible for someone in her sixties? Bel had tried marriage once and wasn’t about to get involved with a man again at her age.
‘Matthew Reid. He’s my lawyer. A lovely young man.’
Bel breathed a sigh of relief. Her lawyer. Of course.
Two
Bel – 2015
For a moment Bel lay still. She missed the shrill birdcalls and the early morning snuffing of Toby, her little westie, back home. All she could hear was the gush of water in the distance. She opened her eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar room, the large wardrobe looming over her like a giant ready to pounce. Of course, she was in Scotland, in the old family home, and the water she heard was rain pouring down outside. Yesterday’s sunshine had disappeared. Glasgow had decided to put on its special summer weather for her.
She rose, pulled her wrap around her and, drawing back the curtains, peered out of the window. A sorry sight met her eyes. It must have been raining all night. Water was flowing in the gutters, the pavement was covered with puddles and passing cars were creating waves as they sped through the sheet of water lying on the roadway.
Bel turned back into the room, shivering. She was reminded again how cool Scotland could be, even in June. Picking up her toiletries, she went to the bathroom for a quick wash, then dressed quickly in a pair of blue tailored pants topped with a pink striped shirt.
Once she’d fixed her make-up and brushed her hair into its usual neat style, Bel felt ready to face the day. Making her way into the kitchen she was surprised to see her aunt already seated at the table with a steaming bowl of porridge and a pot of tea.
‘So, you’re up at last! Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes thanks.’ Bel crossed to give the old woman a kiss on the cheek. ‘And you?’
‘I don’t sleep much at night. I suppose it’s because I nap during the day. One of the nuisances of getting old. But I’ve always liked the early morning, even as a young girl.’ She paused, gazing off into space, then seemed to return to the present. ‘Make yourself something to eat. There’s porridge, if you like it, or bacon and eggs in the fridge. And help yourself to a cup of tea. I suppose you like that fancy coffee? I’ve never taken to it.’
‘Tea’ll be fine, thanks. And maybe some toast if there’s bread.’
‘You won’t get fat on that. You’re like me. One of Pharaoh’s lean cattle.’
Bel smiled at this saying which she remembered from her childhood when she had indeed been thin… tall and thin – what her grandmother had called a skinny Lizzie. Taking a seat opposite Isobel, Bel realised again how like her aunt she was. Both had the same tall build with wide shoulders and a long face with a square jaw. Bel remembered her aunt’s black hair in years gone by, just like her own had been before it turned to its present silver. But Isobel had kept the long hair of her youth, whereas Bel had chosen to keep hers short and neat.
‘You’ll meet Matthew today,’ Isobel reminded her, pushing aside her empty bowl. ‘He’ll be bringing over some papers.’
‘Right.’
‘You’re looking very smart. A good advert for your shop. What do you call it again?’
‘Isabella.’
Isobel smiled. ‘Our name, though you’ve fancied it up a bit. I suppose they do that over there. Your mother, Kate, and I had no such notions.’
‘I liked the name of the shop you three had. Plain and Fancy.’
‘It suited the times.’ Isobel’s eyes closed as if remembering bygone days, then snapped open again. ‘Now, we need to get breakfast cleared away. My cleaning lady comes this morning and she doesn’t like to find the breakfast dishes still on the table.’
‘Keeps you in order, does she?’ Bel chuckled at the thought of anyone trying to keep her aunt in order. ‘I can do some cleaning up while I’m here.’
‘No, no. That would annoy Betty even more. She has her ways, her set times for everything and does everything I need in her two days. It doesn’t do to get in her way or upset her routine. She’ll be doing the living room first. We’ll be talking with Matthew in there and there are some nice chocolate digestives in the pantry. He likes them with his tea.’
Obviously a much-liked and spoiled young man. Bel cleared the table without a word. She’d barely finished and was emptying the teapot when there was a loud ringing in the hallway and the sound of a door opening.
‘That’ll be Betty. She’s been with me for years and has her own key, but she always likes to give me warning that she’s arrived.’
Sure enough when the door closed there was a loud, ‘Hello there. It’s only me,’ followed by the arrival of a short wiry woman in her fifties, dressed in a yellow raincoat and wielding a dripping umbrella. ‘It’s fierce out,’ she said in the soft lilting accent of the Highlands. ‘I’m drookit and thought I was going to be blown away coming up the road. This’ll be your niece, then?’
Bel was conscious of the woman’s eyes examining her. ‘I’m Bel.’ She held out a hand.
‘I’ll no shake it till I’ve dried off. No sense in both of us being sodden. I’ll just take this off and get started, shall I?’ She looked at Isobel as if for confirmation, but didn’t wait for a reply and proceeded to remove her wet garments and carry them back into the hall.
‘She’s a canny woman,’ Isobel said in her absence. ‘Came to me after your mum passed away and she’s been with me ever since. Every Tuesday and Friday without fail, except for when her man had his accident and was in hospital for three weeks. Even then, she popped in when she could between visiting him. I don’t know what I’d do without her these days.’
‘Now then.’ Betty was back wearing a wrap-around overall and carrying a bucket with several cleaning implements and bottles sticking out of it. ‘You’re not going to sit in here, I hope. I can’t get on with folks under my feet. And you said you had yon solicitor man coming today too. So, I’ll need to be getting the room ready for him.’
‘That’s right,’ Isobel answered. ‘We’ll get out of your road. There are some things I want to show you,’ she said to Bel. ‘In my room. We can go in there while Betty’s doing this part of the house.’
Isobel rose and, picking up her cane, slowly led Bel into her bedroom. Bel gazed round the room which had once been the dining room. Clearly reading Bel’s thoughts, Isobel answered her unasked question, ‘Yes, this was the old dining room. I tend to eat in the kitchen these days and it made sense to turn this into my bedroom. It saves me the stairs. It’s all shut up there now, except for your room. Maybe you’ll be wanting to look around, but no one’s been up there for years, other than Betty.’
Bel stifled a smile, imagining the dust and cobwebs she’d find if she ventured beyond her bedroom.
Isobel settled herself in a chair by the bed and indicated to Bel that she should pull up a small stool. Once Bel was perched awkwardly at her aunt’s side, Isobel drew a well-worn photo album from a drawer in the bedside table. The cover was faded leather in a shade that had most likely been red, and was cracked from use and the passage of years. Isobel patted it like an old friend.
She opened the book at the first page and rubbed her forefinger lovingly over the photo. ‘I want to show you this so you can understand what life was like back then,’ she said, ‘Here we are, the three of us. I was twenty in this photo, your mum was nineteen and your Aunt Kate was twenty-four. My, we thought we were the bee’s knees in those outfits.’ The picture showed three young women similarly dressed in spotted dresses topped by three-quarter length jackets with wide shoulders. The waists of the dresses seemed to be pulled in as they were very narrow. Their hair was coiled up behind their ears and all three were wearing hats sporting little feathers.
‘You all look very elegant,’ Bel said, peering at the three figures. ‘That’s Mum in the middle, isn’t it? And you’re on her right? Were you going somewhere special?’
‘We were. We were all dressed up to attend the Empire Exhibition.’
‘The Empire Exhibition – in Glasgow?’
‘It was held in Bellahouston Park and was the most exciting thing we could imagine. I remember that summer – it rained and rained – but it didn’t stop us. We travelled all the way across town to see the exhibit. There were pavilions from all over the empire and an amazingly high tower. I seem to recall it was over four hundred feet high.’
‘Wow, what happened to it?’
‘It was demolished the following year. Such a pity.’ Isobel shook her head. ‘It was 1938. What a year that was. It was a year before the war began, a year where we all thought we were invincible, that the world was our oyster. Your mum was walking out with your dad, Kate had just completed her business course and was all set to be a career woman and…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘And you, Aunt Isobel? What were you doing?’
‘I was being good.’ Isobel suddenly closed the book with a snap. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I thought I could do this, but I’m not ready to… It may be best you read it. I’ve written it down. It’s all in here.’ Isobel reached back into the drawer to take out a sheaf of papers covered in spidery writing. ‘Take these back to your room. Young Matthew will be here soon. I’ll just see how Betty’s doing and make sure she has the kettle on.’ Leaning on the arm of the chair, she eased herself up, grasped her cane and slowly made her way out of the room, leaving Bel staring after her in astonishment.
By the time Bel had taken the papers to her bedroom and returned to the kitchen, the kettle was boiling away. Betty had laid a tray set with an embroidered cloth with three gold-rimmed china cups and saucers, and a matching plate containing a stack of chocolate digestive biscuits.
‘We’d better be away through. Betty’s done in there, and he’ll be here in a minute.’
Smiling inwardly, Bel followed her aunt, curious to meet the young man who occasioned such minute preparation and appeared to be such a favourite of both her aunt and Betty.
‘Here he is!’ Isobel had taken her usual chair by the window and angled it so she could watch the road.
Bel glanced out to see a low-slung sports car draw up. Clearly young Matthew wasn’t short of cash and was a bit of a lad. She wondered how Isobel had discovered “young Matthew” and why she’d chosen him when there must be many more conservative and experienced lawyers in Glasgow.
The sound of the bell was followed by Betty’s hurried footsteps and a loud, ‘I’ll let him in,’ before the door was flung open and Betty announced with a flourish, ‘Mr Matthew.’
The man who entered the room was nothing like Bel’s imaginings. For a start, he wasn’t young. He was closer to her own sixty years and towered over Bel who’d stood up to greet him. Wearing the typically Scottish tweed jacket with a checked open-necked shirt and a pair of jeans, he looked as if he’d be more at home in a paddock than in a drawing room or office. His dark thatch of grey hair was shot through with silver and glistened with raindrops, and his square-cut jaw lent him a determined appearance. She supposed he did have an office, no doubt somewhere in Glasgow, but obviously made house calls too. He immediately went over to Isobel and planted a kiss on her cheek.
‘How’s my best girl this morning?’ he asked.
‘All the better for seeing you. Are you not wearing a coat in this rain?’
‘Too tough. I left my umbrella in the hall. Didn’t want to leave puddles on your good carpet.’
Isobel chuckled. ‘I want you to meet my niece. She’s all the way from Sydney, Australia.’ Her outstretched hand gestured in Bel’s direction.
Matthew turned his glance towards Bel who had been listening to this exchange with amusement. ‘So, this is Bel.’ He held out his hand to shake hers and she felt his eyes rake her up and down. ‘Another braw MacDonald lassie,’ he said at last.
Bel couldn’t help but feel he’d overdone the Scots accent for her benefit and reddened. ‘I grew up in this house,’ she said defensively, though not sure why she felt the need to explain herself.
‘Of course you did. Matthew knows that. I filled him in on his last visit. So you can stop pretending to be a yokel.’ Isobel directed her last remark to Matthew.
‘Your aunt’s told me all about you – how proud she is of you, Very successful, aren’t you?.’ Matthew’s eyes, which Bel now saw were the hue of dark chocolate, twinkled as he spoke as if daring her to contradict. Why did she feel as if he was throwing down a challenge?
‘Now sit down, both of you. Betty’ll be bringing in the tea,’
‘I can fetch it,’ Bel offered, eager to leave the room and regain her equilibrium.
On her way to the kitchen, Bel stopped for a few seconds in the hallway, hands to her flaming cheeks. What was the matter with her? Why did she have the impression her aunt’s solicitor was mocking her? Was it the way he’d spoken or some tacit message she’d seen in his eyes? She met Betty at the kitchen door, the loaded tray in her hands.
‘I’ll take it, Betty,’ Bel said, her cheeks cooling as she relieved the woman of her burden.
Back in the front room, her aunt and Matthew were chatting about some local identity who’d been featured in that day’s paper. Bel placed the tray carefully on a low table and poured the tea.
‘Matthew takes his black with two sugars,’ Isobel instructed, ‘and I’ll have mine with one and milk.’
While they were drinking tea, and Matthew was making a hole in the plate of biscuits, Isobel inquired about Robbie and Fiona, who Bel gathered were Matthew’s children or grandchildren. This appeared to be a regular routine in which both engaged. So it wasn’t until the cups were empty and Betty had been summoned to clear them away, that the real purpose of his visit became apparent.
Isobel straightened her back and began to speak. ‘Matthew here knows my wishes. He has it all written down. I want you to know them too, so there won’t be any mistakes.’ She nodded. ‘He’s helped me write a living will. The law’s a bit of an ass about this in Scotland, so I want you to make sure it’ll be upheld if – when – I’m no longer able.’
‘You mean you want to refuse medical treatment?’
‘In a nutshell. I’ve had a good life. When my time comes, I don’t want the doctors trying to keep me alive with all their medications and interventions. I want to go peacefully. I feel it’s going to be soon and…’
Tears began to well in Bel’s eyes. Why hadn’t she visited before now? Why had she been so caught up in her own life that she’d kept postponing a trip to Scotland? But in her heart of hearts she knew. She’d been afraid – a sixty-year-old woman afraid of the memories this house held for her.
Matthew must have recognised Bel’s anguish. He held out a large handkerchief which she clutched gratefully, throwing a teary smile in his direction. ‘Thanks.’ She made an attempt to return it, but he shook his head.
‘Dinnae fash yourself,’ Isobel said in a brisk voice. Bel smiled inwardly at the Scottish term for worry she hadn’t heard for years. ‘It comes to us all and I’m ready to go. And, if possible, I’d like you to be here when my time comes. Matthew here is a good man, but he’s not family. You’re all the family I have left. That’s why I wrote to you and why you’re here.’
Bel studied her aunt. She looked so well, so alive, sitting upright in her chair, the watery light from the window illuminating her hair like a halo. It was difficult to accept that she was calmly discussing her demise. She swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll stay as long as you need me, Aunt Isobel. You know that.’
‘I know nothing of the sort,’ the older woman replied. ‘That’s why I had Matthew come along this morning. I needed you to understand a few matters. There’s this house for example.’
