‘That’s okay,’ I say, standing up and placing a placating hand on Brody’s arm. He looks down at it and I move it right away.Boundaries, woman, boundaries – you don’t have the excuse of being a spaniel. ‘We’ll pay her a visit, and say hello. What harm can it do?’
SEVEN
BRODY
Our walk to go and see the mysterious Moira coincides with a spell of sunshine, and makes me feel a million times better. The simple act of moving my body eases the pain I’ve been struggling with all day. As ever, once it’s retreated, I wonder why I was such a giant baby about it. I have to admit I’m glad to get away from Xander too and the eyes he was no doubt making at Kate… even though it’s none of my business who makes eyes at Kate, or how much she might enjoy it.
We left the bags at the pub, and now we’re maybe halfway up the ‘hill’ that the fisherman mentioned. It’s less of a hill, and more of a mountain, and my thighs are feeling the strain. It’s a good ache, though, one I’ve earned. Kate talks a lot more than I do, and barely seems to be noticing the climb – there’s no sign of oxygen depletion, and she’s nimble as a goat. She’s thin, I couldn’t help noticing in the inn. Not in a supermodel way, just in a maybe-skipping-meals way. Again, none of my business.
She suggests a break when we see a small wooden bench, and we both settle for a moment. I stare out at the panorama before us, and let out a slow whistle. It really is a knockout view. Endless sea, curving cliffs, green and yellow and blue stretching into infinity.
‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ she says, a small smile on her lips. ‘I love the little yellow flowers on the cliffs. Gorse, I think it’s called. Probably there’s heather too. It looks like the whole hillside is a rainbow.’
‘Yeah. It’s terrific.’
‘Is it what you imagined? You know, when you found the card, and let yourself picture it?’
‘The place, yes. The circumstances? Not so much.’
She laughs lightly, a delicate tinkle, a sound I could get used to.
‘Good job you have excellent company to make up for it then,’ she replies. I look at her face, and she immediately blushes. I should say something cute right now, I know. I should agree with her, or at least make a joke. I don’t, because I’m an asshole like that, and I’m finding I like it when she blushes.
I stand up, and she joins me, trotting along at my side as we follow the winding path higher and higher. We find the place at the very top, a modern building on one level, set up with ramps and rails. Me and my brothers added the same things at my mom and dad’s last year, after my pop had a small stroke.
The garden outside the house is neat and tidy, and comes complete with a pretty damn terrifying collection of garden gnomes. Evil little bastards, with their fishing rods and their smirking faces. Kate thinks differently, pointing at them and clapping her hands. Of all the weird things she’s done since we met, this is the worst. She actually seems to like them. What the hell is wrong with people?
I ignore the gnomes, and bang on the door. Nothing. I knock again. After a few seconds, there’s a female voice, shouting: ‘Hold your horses, I’m not Usain bloody Bolt!’
The door opens, and a tiny woman with short grey hair answers. She peers up at me, a tough look on her face. She’swearing an apron, and it’s covered in flour. She reminds me of one of the gnomes, and I take a step back.
‘Hi!’ says Kate, taking over. ‘We’re here to see Moira? Is she at home?’
‘Where else would she be?’ the old lady snaps, staring at us both like she’s about to stab us. ‘Are you selling something? Are you from thegovernment?’ She spits the last word out like she’s swearing. Stick this old dame in a trailer in Arkansas and you’d be expecting her to whip out a sawn-off shotgun and chase us away.
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Kate assures her, glancing at me as she speaks. ‘I know he looks scary, but he’s actually very nice…’
‘Scary?’ the gnome woman repeats, sneering as she inspects me. ‘I’ve seen worse at the fish market. Right. Well. You’d better be coming in then. I suppose you’ll be wanting tea…’
She turns her back, and Kate and I share a look.What the hell?Kate smooths down her hair, and walks right in.Shit. I suppose I don’t have any choice in the matter.
We go through into a room that is warm, and filled to the ceiling with little pottery figurines. Cats, dogs, Victorian children, and a collection of hideous little mugs in the shape of faces. They’re on every surface, every shelf, in glass cabinets, all staring at me with malice. Jesus. It’s a house of horrors. My tastes run more to the minimalist – couch, recliner, big-screen TV.
Over by the window, another woman sits in a wheelchair. She’s younger than the first one, but clearly shares the same genetics. Silver hair, sharp green eyes, a hand-crocheted shawl laid out over her knees. The window looks out over the bay, and I have to admit, it’s even better than a big screen TV.
‘Visitors, Moira!’ the other lady yells from elsewhere, her voice carrying all the warmth of an Alaskan winter.
Moira watches us curiously, offering a small smile as she makes her assessment. Her legs are completely still, one slipper hanging loosely from an immobile foot. She waves us closer.
‘Visitors! How splendid! You’ll have to pull a chair over, I cannae get up to greet you. I’m sorry about my sister Joanne. I’d make an excuse for her, but the truth of the matter is she’s just a nasty old biddy!’
I drag over two chairs, as Kate splutters: ‘I’m sure that’s not true!’
‘Oh, aye, it is, darling,’ Moria replies firmly. She leans closer, like she’s about to share a secret, and whispers: ‘Have you ever seen that film,Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’
I have. It was horrific – a tale about one sister holding her disabled sibling hostage. Is this for real? Does this woman need help? Should I call the local cops, or just get her out of here right now?
She lets out a cackle, slapping her thighs with glee. Right. She was joking. Brits have a weird sense of humour.
