The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O'Farrell Read Free Book Online

corrects.
    'Sorry?'
    She closes her eyes. 'My name,' she says, 'is Esme.'
    Iris glances towards the nurses. Has there been a mistake?
    'If you look at them once more,' Euphemia says, in a steady voice, 'just once more, they will come over and take me away. I shall be locked in solitary for a day, perhaps more. I would like to avoid this for reasons that I'm certain must be obvious to you, and I repeat to you that I won't
hurt you and I promise that I mean it, so please don't look at them again.'
    Iris swivels her gaze to the floor, to the woman's hands smoothing her dress over her knees, to her own feet laced into her shoes. 'OK. I'm sorry.'
    'I have always been Esme,' she continues, in the same tone. 'Unfortunately, they only have my official name, the name on my records and notes, which is Euphemia. Euphemia Esme. But I was always Esme. My sister,' she gives Iris a sideways glance, 'used to say that "Euphemia" sounded like someone sneezing.'
    'You haven't told them?' Iris asks. 'About being Esme?'
    Esme smiles, her eyes locked on Iris's. 'You think they listen to me?'
    Iris tries to meet her gaze but finds herself looking at the frayed neckline of the dress, the deep-set eyes, the fingers clutching the chair arms.
    Esme leans towards her. 'You must excuse me,' she murmurs. 'I am not used to speaking so much. I have rather fallen out of the habit of late and now I find I cannot stop. So,' she says, 'you must tell me. Kitty had children.'
    'Yes,' Iris says, puzzled. 'One. My father. You ... you didn't know?'
    'Me? No.' Her eyes glitter as they move about the dim room. 'I have, as you can see, been away a long time.'
    'He's dead,' Iris blurts out.
    'Who?'
    'My father. He died when I was very young.'
    'And Kitty?'
    The cigarette woman is still chanting Iris's name under her breath and somewhere the other woman is still talking about the tired man and the kettle. 'Kitty?' Iris repeats, distracted.
    'She is...' Esme leans closer, passes her tongue over her lips '...alive?'
    Iris wonders how to put it. 'Sort of,' she says cautiously.
    'Sort of?'
    'She has Alzheimer's.'
    Esme stares at her. 'Alzheimer's?'
    'It's a form of memory lo—'
    'I know what Alzheimer's is.'
    'Yes. Sorry.'
    Esme sits for a moment, looking out of the window. 'They are closing this place, aren't they?' she says abruptly.
    Iris hesitates, almost glances towards the nurses, then remembers she mustn't.
    'They deny it,' Esme says, 'but it's true. Isn't it?'
    Iris nods.
    Esme reaches out and laces both her hands round one of Iris's. 'You have come to take me away,' she says, in an urgent voice. 'That is why you are here.'
    Iris studies her face. Esme looks nothing like her grandmother. Can it really be possible that she and this woman are related? 'Esme, I didn't even know you existed until yesterday. I'd never even heard your name before. I would like to help you, I really would—'
    'Is that why you are here? Tell me yes or no.'
    'I will help you all I can—'
    'Yes or no,' Esme repeats.
    Iris swallows hard. 'No,' she says, 'I can't. I ... I haven't had the chance to—'
    But Esme is withdrawing her hands, turning her head away from her. And something about her changes, and Iris has to hold her breath because she has seen something passing over the woman's face, like a shadow cast on water. Iris stares, long after the impression has gone, long after Esme has got up and crossed the room and disappeared through one of the doors. Iris cannot believe it. In Esme's face, for a moment, she saw her father's.
     
    'I don't get it,' Alex is saying from the other side of the counter. It's a Saturday lunchtime and he and Fran have dropped into the shop, bringing Iris an inedible sandwich from an overpriced delicatessen. 'I don't understand.'
    'Alex, I've explained it to you four times now,' Iris says, leaning on the counter, fingering the thin pelt of a kid glove. Its softness is oddly distasteful and she shudders. 'How many more times do we have to go over it before it