ALTHOUGH I FELT COMPLETELY fine and, indeed, ready to get back into the thick of it all, HR had insisted on a ‘phased return’, whereby I only worked during the mornings for the next few weeks. More fool them – if they wished to pay me a full-time salary for part-time hours, it was their lookout. At lunchtime on Friday, the end of my brief working day and my first week back, I met Raymond for the second time that week.
Since then, we’d been communicating solely by electronic means. I had spent the previous evening searching online. It was so easy to find things. Too easy, perhaps. I’d printed two newspaper articles without reading beyond the headlines, then sealed them in an envelope. I knew Raymond would have found them already himself, but it was important to me that I did the searching. It was my history and no one else’s. No one else alive, at any rate.
As requested, he’d joined me in the café, so that I wasn’t alone when I read them for the first time. I’d tried to cope alone for far too long, and it hadn’t done me any good at all. Sometimes you simply needed someone kind to sit with you while you dealt with things.
‘I feel like a spy or something,’ said Raymond, looking at the sealed envelope that lay between us.
‘You’re completely unsuited to a career in espionage,’ I told him. He raised his eyebrows.
‘Your face is too honest,’ I said, and he smiled. ‘Ready then?’ he said, serious now.
I nodded.
The envelope was a buff Manila self-sealing A4, which I had purloined from the office stationery cupboard. The paper had come from there too. I felt slightly guilty about it, especially since Bob, I knew now, had to factor this sort of thing into his running costs. I opened my mouth to tell Raymond about the stationery budget, but he nodded towards the envelope encouragingly, and I realized that I could delay matters no
further. I eased it open, then held it towards him to show him that there were two pages of A4 inside. Raymond shuffled even closer, so that we were touching, sides together, congruent. There was warmth and strength there and, gratefully, I drew on it. I started to read.
The Sun, 5 August 1997, p2
‘Pretty but deadly’ kiddie killer ‘fooled us all’, neighbours say
‘Killer Mum’ Sharon Smyth (pictured), 29, had been living in a quiet Maida Vale street for the last two years, neighbours said, before deliberately starting the fire that ended in tragedy.
‘She was such a pretty young woman – she had us all fooled,’ said a neighbour, who did not wish to be named. ‘Her little ones were always properly turned out, and they spoke so nice – everybody said what lovely manners they had,’ he told our reporter.
‘As time went on, you could tell something wasn’t right, though. The kiddies always seemed terrified of her. Sometimes they had bruises, and people heard a lot of crying in that house. She’d go out a lot. We just assumed there was a babysitter, but looking back on it …
‘One time, I was talking to the older girl – she was only nine or ten, I’d say – and the mum shot her such a look that she started to shake, trembling like a little dog. I dread to think what went on in there behind closed doors.’
Police confirmed yesterday that the fatal blaze at the property had been started deliberately.
A child (10), who cannot be named for legal reasons, remains in hospital in a critical condition.
I looked at Raymond. He looked at me. Neither of us said anything for a while.
‘You know how it ends, right?’ Raymond said, gentle, quiet, looking me in the eye.
I pulled out the second article.
London Evening Standard, 28 September 1997, p9
Maida Vale murder latest: two dead, plucky orphan recovers
Police confirmed today that the bodies recovered from the scene of last week’s Maida Vale house fire belonged to Sharon Smyth (29) and her youngest daughter Marianne (4). Her eldest child, Eleanor (10), was released today from hospital after making what doctors described as a ‘miraculous’ recovery from third-degree burns and smoke inhalation.
The spokesman confirmed that 29-year-old Smyth started the fire deliberately, and died at the scene as a result of smoke inhalation as she fled the property. Tests on both children revealed that a sedative had been administered, and provided evidence that they had been physically restrained.
Our reporter understands that Eleanor Smyth initially managed to free herself and escape the blaze. Neighbours then reported seeing the badly injured ten-year-old re- entering the house before the emergency services arrived. Firefighters allegedly found her attempting to open a locked wardrobe in an upstairs bedroom. The body of her four- year-old sister was recovered inside.
Police have been unable to trace any living relatives of the child, who is being cared for by social services.
‘That’s all I found, too,’ Raymond said, as I pushed the printouts towards him.
I looked out of the window. People were shopping, talking on mobiles, pushing prams. The world just went on, regardless of what happened. That’s how it works.
Neither of us spoke for a while. ‘Are you OK?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘I’m going to keep seeing the counsellor. It helps.’
He looked at me carefully. ‘How do you feel?’ he said.
‘Not you as well.’ I sighed, and then I smiled so that he would know that I was joking. ‘I’m fine. I mean, yes, obviously, I’ve got a lot of things to work through, very serious things. Dr Temple and I are going to keep talking about all of it – Marianne’s death, how Mummy died too, and why I pretended for all those years that she was still there, still talking to me … it’s going to take time, and it’s not going to be easy,’ I said. I felt very calm. ‘Essentially, though, in all the ways that matter … I’m fine now. Fine,’ I repeated, stressing the word because, at last, it was true.
A woman jogged past, running after a Chihuahua, shouting its name in an increasingly anxious tone.
‘Marianne loved dogs,’ I said. ‘Every time we saw one, she’d point and laugh, then try to hug it.’
Raymond cleared his throat. More coffees came, and we drank slowly. ‘Will you be OK?’ Raymond said. He looked angry with himself. ‘Sorry. Stupid question. I just wish I’d known sooner,’ he said. ‘I wish I could have helped more.’ He glared at the wall, looking as though he was trying not to cry. ‘No one should have to go through what you’ve been through,’ he said finally, furious. ‘You lost your little sister, even though you tried your best to save her, and you were only a child yourself. That you could come through that, all of it, and then spend all
those years trying to deal with it on your own, it’s—’
I interrupted him. ‘When you read about “monsters”,’ I said, ‘household names … you forget they had families. They don’t just spring from nowhere. You never think about the people that are left behind to deal with the aftermath of it all.’
He nodded slowly.
‘I’ve requested access to my files from Social Services now. I’ve had cause to review my opinion of the Freedom of Information Act, Raymond, and let me tell you, it’s actually a splendid piece of legislation. When it arrives, I’m going to sit down and read it cover to cover – the Bumper Book of Eleanor. I need to know everything – all the little details. That’s going to help me. Or depress me. Or both.’
I smiled, to show him I wasn’t worried, and to make sure that he wasn’t worried either.
‘It’s more than that though, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘All those lost years, wasted years. Terrible things happened to you. You needed help back then and you didn’t get it. You’ve got a right to it now, Eleanor—’ He shook his head, unable to find the words.
‘In the end, what matters is this: I survived.’ I gave him a very small smile. ‘I survived, Raymond!’ I said, knowing that I was both lucky and unlucky, and grateful for it.
When it was time to leave, I noticed and appreciated Raymond’s effort to move the conversation towards something else, something normal.
‘What have you got planned for the rest of the week, then?’ he said.
I counted things off on my fingers. ‘I’ve got to take Glen to the vet for her vaccinations,’ I said, ‘and I’ve got a Christmas night out at the safari park to organize. Their website says that they’re closed for winter, but I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade them.’
We went outside and stood by the doorway for a moment, enjoying the sunshine. He rubbed his face, then looked over my shoulder towards the trees. He cleared his throat again. One of the many perils of being a smoker.
‘Eleanor, did you get my email about that concert? I was just wondering whether—’
‘Yes,’ I said, smiling. He nodded, looked closely at me, and then slowly smiled back. The moment hung in time like a drop of honey from a spoon, heavy, golden. We stood aside to let a woman in a wheelchair
and her friend go inside. Raymond’s lunch break was almost up. I had the rest of the day to spend however I wanted.
‘Bye then, Raymond,’ I said. He pulled me in for a hug and held me for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt the warm bulk of him, soft but strong. When we broke apart, I kissed his cheek, his bristles all soft and ticklish.
‘See you soon, Eleanor Oliphant,’ he said.
I picked up my shopper, fastened my jerkin and turned towards home.
