26

Mrs Careen sat down on the chair beside Calum and set the tray with the teapot and their cups on the coffee table that lay between them. Calum had glanced about this lounge while she’d got the drinks. It was dark outside now, but inside was well lit; it looked as if it had been decorated by someone younger than Mrs Careen. Put simply, there was nothing garishly silver or reflective that you tend to see in the homes of most older women in England. It was just - warm.

Calum fought the urge to ask a follow-up question like ‘whose kids were they?’ He knew Mrs Careen was taking the time to assess exactly what to divulge and what to withhold. He would do what Conor always did with him, take the route of silence, and see how far she’d go.

“I can only tell you the things that matter for you specifically, Calum,” she said.

“Of course, I understand,” he lied, aware that he was about to have a conversation much older than he could convincingly carry.

She remembered his earnestness then, even as he now sat awkwardly, a boy trying desperately to look ready to understand adult things. She said then -

“The girls, Mr Armitage met their mother when he was living in North America. The way he farms, the way he tends his garden, it isn’t like most of us. He likes old things, ancient things. So he’d travel to communities where they retain such practices. Frankly, I think he resents that any of us own our homes, himself included. If he could, I dare say he’d roam the plains, tracking, killing, eating buffalo.”

Calum flinched at the word killing. Mrs Careen reminded herself to speak slowly and tenderly, try the words on before letting them out.

“I’m not sure where he was exactly, but he was living on a reserve, a place where Native American Indians still live, with a group that still practised many of their old ways. It's where he learnt many of his stories, and where he decided much of what he believes about the world and people. The girls each had different mothers. You mustn’t ever speak to Mr Armitage of this, boy, not unless he speaks to you about it first.”

Calum nodded.

“The girls' mothers, they all passed - big accident. Mr Armitage never told me what it was. But that’s how they came into his care. God, I don’t know how or why they landed with him - I suppose they must have thought the girls some kind of curse or something. Regardless, they wound up with our Mr Armitage. For some reason, he thought it would be easier to raise them here, so he filed to become their legal guardian and returned home to us. None of us neighbours knew quite what was happening when Mr Armitage returned - three years after he’d left - with three girls, all younger than ten years old. But we knew instantly that he loved them, and they him in return.

The four of them were totally inseparable. I’d never seen him happier. I didn’t know until later how often he had to comfort the girls at night when they cried for their mothers. Things were very different then. Sometimes when Mr Armitage needed to travel, the girls would stay over at Number Seven. They would tend his garden together - it was marvellously beautiful - and he too loved the girls. We all did. They brought so much life to our lives, Calum. Them gone - was hell for us. When the girls went missing, Mr Armitage went to our neighbour for help, and, well, that worked out well.”

Calum saw on her face that she knew she’d told him too much. It seemed to him that she’d been desperate to tell someone, and those she had around her were unavailable - wounds of their own - and none of them had anything to treat them with.

“I’m so sorry, Calum, I’m only telling you because it’s so important that we don’t lose you like we have these others.”

“Do you think I’ll see Conor again?” He continued - quietly - so as not to conjure her - “Ella?”

“I hope so,” she replied, “but for now you’re the only one we have here to protect.”