Free A Winter Bride by Isla Dewar

know what I’m making. And they hang about watching me and nibbling at things. I like a clear run between the sink, the chopping board and the cooker. And I don’t like men to see my mistakes, like if I drop something on the floor and pick it up and put it on the plate. Men don’t like that. Men are afraid of two things—’ she’d held up two fingers encased in orange Marigold gloves ‘—bossy women and germs. Remember that.’ She’d started washing the cutlery. ‘When we’re done, I’ll show you my family albums. And leave them glasses. I’ll dry them myself. They’re precious.’
    Before looking at the albums, May had beckoned Nell upstairs. ‘Come, I’ll show you my collections.’
    She’d led Nell into her bedroom. A massive four-poster bed complete with thick floral drapes had been centre stage and the carpet had been white shag. ‘I love this room. This is where I come to find peace. I just sit by the window and relax,’ she’d said, crossing to the floor-to-ceiling louvred doors on the wall opposite the bed ‘Look. My precious shoes.’
    Nell had gasped. There had been rack upon rack filled with shoes – all colours, all styles.
    ‘I love shoes. Never could resist a pair I like. Got over five hundred pairs.’
    It had been plain to Nell that quite a few of them hadn’t been worn.
    ‘Then there’s my handbags. Got one or two of them. Always good to know there’s something in the cupboard to match whatever I’m wearing.’ She’d opened another door. Handbags had been neatly stacked side-by-side from carpet to ceiling. ‘Got quite a few now. Nothing lovelier that a soft leather handbag. Beautiful to touch.’
    Nell, proud owner of three pairs of shoes and one handbag, had been impressed.
    Then they’d gone back downstairs to the dining-room, where May had brought out many family albums, all stuffed with photos of Alistair and Johnny.
    ‘You know what people are going to be like from the minute they are conceived,’ May had said. ‘Harry and me were drunk the night I copped it with Johnny, so he’s the wild one. But we snipped up to bed one quiet Sunday when we both wanted a bit of a cuddle and that’s when Alistair came along. He’s the quiet, thoughtful one. Hardly kicked at all in the nine months I carried him. He was too busy sitting in there thinking.’
    On the drive home, Alistair had said, ‘Christ, she asked you to help with the washing-up. She never does that. She must like you. What did she talk about?’
    ‘Men. Then she got out a bottle of brandy and poured us both a huge glass and showed me the family albums. Pictures of you naked on a rug when you were a baby, and the like.’
    ‘Christ.’
    ‘Have you taken many girls home to meet your folks?’
    He shook his head. A small thrill buzzed through Nell. This must mean he was serious about her.
    She asked him what happened on Thursday evenings, as May had said Thursday nights were family nights and Nell was never to expect to see him then.
    ‘Me, my brother, mother and father all have a big meal and talk business. We discuss how to make money, then discuss how to make more money.’
    Nell had said, ‘Gosh.’ When her family got together with relatives they mostly discussed the price of coal. She leaned back, smiled to herself and asked what was in the locked cupboard in the kitchen.
    ‘Don’t ask,’ Alistair had said. ‘It’s another of her collections; her most important one.’
    It only took a few weeks for Nell to be fully sucked into the dazzle of Rutherford life. They called her name when she stepped over the front step. ‘Hey, it’s Nell.’ She was thrilled by their welcome. It made her feel special, and this was new to her.
    In time, she started to stay over with them at weekends and slept in the spare room. She’d lie listening as the house slipped into silence, waiting for Alistair to pad barefoot along the corridor, down the stairs to her room and into her bed. Telling him to keep his freezing feet