Shadow Over Edmund Street by Suzanne Frankham (read a book .TXT) 📕

I’ve had a knock on the door once before, you see. You’ve brought it back. I don’t feel so good.’

‘Would food help?’ Alex was desperate. More than anything he wanted her to continue talking. Spill it all.

‘Oh God. There’s a lasagne in the oven.’ Rose leapt up from the chair. Stumbled forward.

‘Sit, I’ll see to it.’ Alex caught Marion’s eye. ‘Perhaps you should light the fire. I think Ms Jones is in shock.’

It was a gas log fire. Marion flicked a switch and very soon, light and warmth flooded the room. Rose pulled her chair close and put her hands out, trying to gather in the heat.

Alex tapped Marion on the shoulder. Talk, he mouthed.

She turned back to Rose. ‘Tell us how you and Edwina got to know each other?’

‘In the gym. I knew as soon as she walked in. She was old Ponsonby. I grew up here, you see, knew lots of Edwinas. Recognised her for what she was straight away. An old-style battler. Not many of them left.’ She stopped talking and stared at the fire.

Marion watched, waiting for her to start talking again. ‘It’s changed now. The women in the gym, they’re new money, lots of it, smart husbands, smart hairstyles, private schools for precious children. Then in walks Edwina. God. You should have seen their faces. She was about twenty kilos heavier, and she was wearing a homemade tracksuit with a rabbit on the front. Her shoes—sandshoes—I haven’t seen anything like them since I was a kid. She was poor. I could recognise it, smell it, see it in every single thing about her. Someone who’d battled for every cent. She was old Ponsonby.’

She went back to staring at the fire.

‘The two of you became friends,’ Marion prodded.

Rose closed her eyes and her head fell forward. ‘Not exactly friends. I guess I felt, I don’t know, protective towards her. She was out of her depth with some of those women. Don’t get me wrong they were always pleasant, but she had no idea how they live. Sorry,’ she jerked up straight, ‘I know that sounds awful.’

‘No,’ Marion said smooth as silk. ‘We need to know about Edwina. It’s important we understand her. Tell us more about your relationship.’

Rose stared at Marion. Nodded. It was an age before she started talking again. Alex had to strain to hear. ‘It was the old Ponsonby thing. We’d both grown up here so she gravitated towards me. It meant a lot to her. She was overwhelmed by what Ponsonby’s become. The smart women with bags of money. She’s quite a bit older than me so when she was a kid Ponsonby was tough. When I grew up here it was already pretty slick. Not like now of course. And I didn’t have a husband. We were both alone.’ She trailed off, went back to staring at the fire. Marion waited, knew she would pick up the story when she was ready.

‘But it was the hair thing. The Hair Day, I call it. She latched on. A bit like a leech.’

Alex couldn’t help himself. He smiled. Almost laughed. Turned so they wouldn’t see.

‘Tell me about it,’ Marion said. ‘It must have been some day for you to remember it so clearly.’

Alex listened, admiring the quiet comfort Marion brought to the room. Never jerked people out of their story.

Rose pulled her chair closer to the fire. ‘It was a weird day.’ Alex could see her shoulders shaking through the thin fabric of her T-shirt, even as she pulled on a cardigan Marion had found on the back of the chair and handed to her. ‘It was the university holidays, so I wasn’t working. I’m the lowest of the low at the university. A casual. In the labs. No students, no work. I went to the gym, then stayed for a coffee afterwards. I was relaxing, you know, didn’t have anything much to do. There was hardly anyone at coffee. Most of the women have kids to look after during the holidays. In the end there was only Edwina and me. She was sad. Her birthday. Turned out her children hadn’t rung and she’d been expecting her son to put money into her account but it wasn’t there. She’d been going to spend some of it on her hair. She was so … pathetic. Thing is I’d been to my accountant the week before, sorting out my finances, so I knew I was okay for money. Good in fact. Insurances you see, they threw money at me after my husband …’ she rubbed her hands together, held them out towards the fire.

Alex watched her. A tiny thing with sad brown eyes, perched on the end of an overstuffed chair.

‘The weather that day,’ Rose continued, her gaze once more locked on the fire, ‘it was raining cats and dogs. I felt so sorry for her. I gave in to an impulse and took her to my hairdresser. My birthday present. The salon wasn’t busy—rainy morning, school holidays, no one about. The hairdresser was great, got into the mood. Had one of his girls do her make-up, told her what sort of new glasses to buy. Started to take the awful perm out of her hair. Took a few processes to fix the perm, then he gave her a simple style. I saw her about a week later and the result was a miracle.’

Rose turned to Marion. ‘Do you have any idea what taking a perm out does to a person’s face? Her hair used to stick out at the sides, made her head seem huge’—she held her hands beside her face—‘and with the big 1980s glasses, well, it wasn’t a good look. When the birthday money from her son hit her bank account, she bought new glasses and some clothes. The rabbit tracksuit was thrown out and like magic you could see how much weight she’d lost. Yes,’ her voice petered out, ‘everything changed. The new Edwina emerged. From then on there was