The House at the Edge of the World by Julia Rochester Read Free Book Online

another familiar face doing
     ‘something useful’, like dusting, or mowing the lawn, or carrying a tea tray
     in the direction of my not-quite-widowed mother.
    Finally, as if summoned by incantation,
     Mum’s sister, Jane, materialized out of the mist. She appeared in the hallway oneday, just as May Rowsell was busying around collecting up untouched
     mugs of cold tea. May and Jane appraised each other and immediately Jane had May’s
     measure and May disappeared on the spot, leaving behind only the faintest puff of Devon
     violets-scented talcum powder and a tray of mugs abandoned on the table next to the
     telephone.
    Jane was even angrier than Mum, if that was
     possible. This was what came of descending to the country. She stood in the hallway and
     projected her voice: ‘Hell-O in there! It’s safe to come out now!’
     Corwin and I jerked to attention, as though someone had pulled on our strings. We went
     downstairs, where Jane glinted, petite and neat, in a shiny mackintosh and patent
     leather kitten heels.
    ‘Where’s your mother?’ she
     asked.
    Corwin jumped the last two stairs and
     attempted to wrest the advantage from Jane by pretending that we had asked her to come.
     ‘Thank you so much for coming,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘Mum is
     going to be so relieved to see you!’ He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Let
     me take your coat.’
    Mum had not wept a single tear since the day
     of my father’s fall. But the heat had gone out of her, and she was now sheathed in
     a cool, crisp shell, which restricted her movements. Jane assessed her, and said,
     ‘You look terrible! I’m running you a bath.’ Mum didn’t argue.
     Soon the scents of lavender and rose wafted down the stairs from the bathroom –
     aromatherapeutic weapons in Jane’s constant battle against the twin evils of
     ageing and dowdiness.
    Corwin and I were left alone in the living
     room for the first time since Before. The room felt all wrong – counterfeit. It was
     missing an essential but intangible element that made it our family room; my
     father’s part of its spirit, I presumed. I felt quite detached thinking this
     thought. The spirit of a house is organic – it seems a little lopsided after pruning,
     but it soon grows in.
    ‘She’ll be able to replace the
     sofa now.’
    ‘Lay off,
     Morwenna!’ said Corwin.
    I sat on the sofa. It truly was lumpy and
     scratchy and uncomfortable. I was determined to love it.
    When Mum and Jane re-emerged, Mum had a
     damp, propped-up look about her – like a rag doll that has been dropped in a puddle, put
     through the washing-machine and leaned against the radiator. Jane had blow-dried
     Mum’s hair and made her put on the shift dress that she had bought for my
     father’s Christmas work do.
    Jane ordered a light supper from me and
     aperitifs from Corwin. I put on some boots and went to garner salad. The mist still hung
     over the garden, which drooped and dripped. It was in mourning. There were weeds among
     the root vegetables, the courgettes had swelled to marrows, and a number of overripe
     tomatoes had fallen from the vines and lay rotting on the soil. I pulled at the weeds in
     a half-hearted attempt at rescue, but it was no good. The garden was doomed. As I
     snipped at the salad leaves I thought: She will dig up the vegetables. She will get rid
     of the chickens. She will replace the sofa. And then I realized. Mum could do none of
     those things because she could never, now, win the argument. The deep unfairness of this
     struck home. No wonder she was so angry.
    There was no bread. Matthew had not been
     seen for the last two days, although I had heard him moving around the house in the
     early hours of the morning. I could hear him thinking in the pauses in his shuffle. I
     went and pressed my ear to the door of his study. I feared hearing the sounds of grief,
     but there were none, so I knocked tentatively at the door.
    ‘Come in!’
    I opened the door to