“No, thank you. I can only stay a minute,” Mrs. Lewis says. “I’ve come with some hair ribbons that belong to Katharine. They’ve been at my place all this time. I’ve been meaning to return them to you.”
She hands the package to me.
I fumble for a response. She came all this way to return a few hair ribbons?
“I’m so sorry for your trouble,” I say. “That was so very good of you.”
“Yes, well, I suppose I could’ve sent them by post, but I did want to see how you and the child were getting on.”
“I’m so happy you’ve come,” I tell her. And I am. There was a time not so long ago when I wanted her address so that I could seeher.
Kat now wanders into the foyer to see who is at the door. She regards Mrs. Lewis with what seems half longing and half hesitation, as though she is afraid to let on that she is glad to see her.
Mrs. Lewis smiles at the child. “Hello, Miss Katharine.”
Kat leans shyly into my hip.
“Mrs. Lewis has come to say hello to us,” I say. “And bring you your hair ribbons that were accidentally left at her house. Isn’t that nice, love?”
Kat nods slowly, never taking her eyes off Mrs. Lewis.
“Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Lewis?” I ask.
“Only for a moment.”
I show her into the sitting room and again I ask if she wants tea or coffee and again Mrs. Lewis declines. A bit of awkward silence follows, and I sense that Mrs. Lewis, who is looking from me to Kat and back again, wishes to speak to me alone.
“Kat, my love,” I say brightly. “Would you be a dear and finish up watering the flowers on the patio?”
The little girl leaves the room without a word.
“I see not much has changed for the child,” Mrs. Lewis says sadly.
“Actually, I see progress. ’Tis just a little bit at a time, but still progress. I think ’tis only a matter of time before she recovers from all that has befallen her.”
“Yes, well. I hope you are right.” She glances up at the mantel and sees my wedding photograph with Martin, the one I had to convince Martin to purchase. Then she looks back at me. “And you? Are you faring well with Mr. Hocking?”
“Indeed, I am.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
Another stretch of silence hovers between us. Mrs. Lewis seems unsure how to proceed.
“Is there something you want to ask me, Mrs. Lewis?” I say.
The woman visibly relaxes. Then she leans forward, as though the house has ears and might repeat back to Martin what she is about to say.
“Before you came I was so worried about that child and her father,” Mrs. Lewis says softly. “Did you know he would leave her alone all day in their rooms, sometimes overnight?”
I stare back at the woman. Surely Mrs. Lewis is mistaken.
“Did you hear me? He would leave her alone all day and even overnight! I told him that was not safe and that I would look after her if he needed to be away. She’s just a little girl!”
“Are you... quite sure?” I finally ask. “Are you sure he didn’t take her with him?”
“She came downstairs for meals! And then she’d go back up again!”
I have no words in response. Mothers would know not to leave a five-year-old child alone all day long or, God forbid, overnight. Wouldn’t a father also know?
