‘We need to get her back to bed.’ It was Mrs Foley speaking but Edward didn’t disagree. Patricia was frantic. He couldn’t be doing this.
‘Edward, you said I could go. You said you’d help me. Please. Please let me go. I have to go!’
She felt a sudden sharp pain on the left side of her face where Mrs Foley had slapped her.
‘You need to calm down.’ They began to half-carry, half-drag her back towards the house. Patricia struggled but it was useless. She felt the skin of her feet being torn and scratched as they pulled her across the yard and then into the kitchen. She was wailing now, screaming at the top of her voice. Words failed her.
Up the stairs they pulled her and then she was pushed onto the bed.
‘Hold her,’ Mrs Foley commanded and Edward, her Edward, eyes almost shut, as if he was in pain, pinned her down while his mother went across the room and picked up Elizabeth, who had begun to wail in unison with Patricia.
‘Leave her now,’ the old woman barked without a backwards glance as Edward trailed after her. The door was slammed and locked.
Patricia leapt from the bed and began to hammer on the door.
‘Edward! Please! Don’t do this!’ She pummelled her fists against the wood until they hurt. ‘Just one phone call! Please! Please!’ She slumped to the floor and buried her head between her knees, her body overcome by sobs and fatigue. Her house. The only thing she possessed in the world. She felt as if she was being slowly erased. Soon there wouldn’t be a trace left.
Hours crept by. Occasionally she could hear Elizabeth crying in another part of the house. She longed to be the one picking her up, cradling her, and kissing the sweet soft top of her head. Patricia tried to sleep but the cuts on her feet had begun to pulse with pain. She wondered if they would get infected and then she would die alone in this room. She began to cry again.
Much later （had she been sleeping?）， she heard the scrape of the key in the lock. Patricia turned her face towards the wall.
‘Patricia?’ It was Edward’s voice. He spoke in a whisper.
She turned and saw him silhouetted against the landing light. He was holding the baby. She reached out her arms and he placed Elizabeth into them. Patricia held the baby tightly and pressed her cheek against the child’s face, breathing in deeply.
Light was still flooding into the room and Edward hadn’t moved.
‘I’m sorry.’
Patricia glared at him and hissed over the baby’s head, ‘Sorry? You say you’re my friend, you claim you want to help me, but you are just as bad as her!’
‘No. I … please, Patricia. I do want to help. I will. I promise.’
‘I don’t believe you, why should I believe you?’ She shut her eyes, willing him to leave the room.
‘I brought up some hot water.’
‘What?’ She didn’t understand.
‘For your feet. They’ll need cleaning.’
She wanted to scream. If she hadn’t been holding Elizabeth, she would have struck him. How could this man, who was holding her against her will, allowing her old life to be taken away from her, also be this man, who wanted to care for her?
‘Edward, please tell me you understand.’
‘Understand what?’ He was carrying a steaming basin in from the landing.
‘That you understand I must leave. You can’t keep me here. Let me use the phone. Please, Edward.’ She was sitting up now, trying to read the expression on his face.
‘There is no phone.’
‘There is. I’ve heard it ringing.’
‘Mammy ripped it out. She did it weeks ago.’
Patricia was dumbfounded.
‘You just let her?’
‘She didn’t tell me she was going to.’ He sounded reasonable, as if they were talking about his mother throwing out an unread newspaper.
‘Didn’t you think to get someone out to fix it?’
He looked at her blankly for a moment, just blinking.
‘She wouldn’t like that.’
Patricia gave a long sigh. This was useless.
Edward was on his knees now, soaping up a flannel in the basin of hot water. Gently he took hold of Patricia’s right ankle and began to carefully soak the torn skin.
‘Is that too hot?’
She felt defeated, by him, by his mother, by his kindness. ‘No. That’s fine.’
She closed her eyes and the warm flannel slowly made its way around one foot and then the other. Under the arch, through the toes, across the ball, up the heel. Patricia thought of Edward on his knees helping a sick calf, or drying off a new lamb. There was such tenderness in this man, but he couldn’t seem to grasp the pain he was causing her.