Living with Strangers by Elizabeth Ellis Read Free Book Online

fine, thanks. I think I’ll go up now. See you in the morning.’ I hovered a moment, then wished them goodnight.
    ‘Goodnight, Madeleine,’ they said, and both returned to their books.
Plus ça change
… I thought.
    *
    Wide awake, I lay in my old bed looking up at the steep pitched ceiling. In the cot, Chloé slept sideways, her feet hanging down through the bars, worn out from the journey, the newness of it all. I eased her back gently – I didn’t want to risk her waking again.
    There was no sound in the house. I’d vaguely heard Paul come in, the stairs creaking as he made his way up to his room. Pulling a blanket from the bed, I wrapped myself in it, drew back the curtains and opened the window. I looked again down the long years to the garden, to the plum tree and the endless green-gold muddle that lay beneath. There was no moon, no stars, but I saw how the red glow of North London permanently lit the sky. I thought of my little home in France, of the flat above the bar where at night there was no light at all, just a deep, black stillness arching up over the house, and the darker line on the horizon that marked the edge of the forest.
    The air was damp and cool, but I caught a breath of something else too, a spring breath, something new. I closed the window, went to the desk where the bundle of letters now lay and unfastened them. The bedroom door was ajar; a thin strip of light came in from the landing, enough to see by, enough to remind me of what was contained within those fragile pages.
    Here, in the room where I’d written them, I picked up the letters one by one, stumbling again through my early years. I saw my father standing by the window, telling me Josef had gone, then the weeks, months, years of silence that followed, when I had tried to grow up in a home that was falling apart.

Seven
    7
th
June 1963
    Dear Joe
    It’s two months now since you went, two months, three weeks and four days to be precise. I wanted to write straight away. I used to sit there with a pen and paper, hoping for the words to come but nothing did.
    The weather’s hot – we’ve had exams at school. I didn’t revise at all and now they’ll probably put me down with the idiots unless Papa says something. But he doesn’t say much at all at the moment and I don’t really know what’s going on.
    That morning you left, I did ask – both of them. I asked what had happened, where you were. But they didn’t seem to be listening – not really in the room with me at all. They just mumbled that you couldn’t stay here and that it’s all for the best. They said it’s better I don’t know and that you’ll come back when it’s all over. ‘Don’t ask any more Madeleine.’ Those were Papa’s exact words. He used my long name, so it had to be something awful. ‘There’s no need for you to know. He had to go, that’s all.’
    I tried asking Adam, but he doesn’t say much now either when he’s home. You know what he’s like – he just wants to work hard and please everybody. He’s going to do law next year, apparently, wants to be a barrister or something, which sounds very dull. But then he always was a bit, wasn’t he? Dull I mean.
    We didn’t go on the Easter March this year. They promised last year, remember? I tried to bring it up, several times, but Molly gave me that look, the ‘not now’ one when she’s doing six things at once, so I left it. And Papa’s no better.
    It’s so quiet here – no one comes round any more. There aren’t any meetings, the schoolroom’s empty all the time and it echoes. I went in there the other day with Sophie, just to look. She wanted some music so I put your Chris Barber record on and we started to dance – crazy, stupid dancing all round the floor and she tripped over the rug and we fell about laughing – really laughing – the first time for months. Then Papa came in and told us to turn it down. He’s never done that before.
    One good thing though – I think I’ve