Clarence and Violet

‘Clarence isn’t a well man,’ Violet said, handing me a square head shovel. ‘He can’t face the autumnal leaves this year and our rose beds are a sorrowful state.’

‘I’m no Capability Brown,’ I said, resting my wheelbarrow. ‘However, I’ll do whatever I can, providing Cassie has her piano lessons.’ 

‘I’m sure we’ll all benefit from the arrangement,’ Violet said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Clarence has his little ways, but your daughter will flourish if she’s disciplined.’

#

I first met the old couple next door after Cassie announced she wanted to learn the piano. She’d heard the strains of Chopin drifting over our garden wall and fallen in love with its enchanting cadences. Karine suggested I introduce myself to the neighbours and enquire about lessons. We’d moved house during the summer months and had no interaction with either Clarence or Violet. If not for the piano music emanating from the property, one might’ve assumed their home was unoccupied.

#

I had to pick my way through overgrown weeds when I approached our neighbour’s front door. Bindweed had claimed possession of their Victorian villa’s imposing façade; its endless stems had undermined the masonry and throttled the sandstone pillars and steps of the wraparound porch. The heavy brass door knocker was thick with Verdigris and sent reverberations throughout the house as I waited, fascinated by the encroaching suburban jungle.

It took a couple of minutes for Violet to answer the door. I heard an entry chain click into place before she opened the door ajar. A beady eye peered at me from within and demanded to know my business.

‘It’s Richard from next door,’ I said. ‘We’ve not spoken before and---’

‘Are you selling something?’ She asked. ‘We’ve enough dishcloths, thank you.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m enquiring about music lessons for my daughter.’

‘Clarence!’ she said, disappearing from view. ‘You’re wanted at the door.’

The distant piano ceased playing. Its final refrain echoed through the house like a mournful soul to be replaced by the weary trudge of leather shoes scraping on floorboards. The chain rattled against the doorjamb and an elderly gentleman in a dark waistcoat and crisp white shirt emerged from the interior. 

‘Yes, who is it?’ said the thin, reedy voice, sending a shiver down my spine. 

‘He’s our new neighbour,’ said Violet, stroking his cheek before sliding her arm around his waist.

‘Pleased to me you,’ he said, opening the door further, revealing his pinched face and unblinking, glassy eyes. 

I explained my visit as Clarence rolled down his shirt sleeves and reattached the dangling cufflinks with his pencil thin fingers.

‘Does your daughter have any prior musical experience?’

‘Not much,’ I said. ‘But she loves listening to you play the piano.’

‘It seems you have a young admirer, dear,’ said Violet, kissing his cheek. 

Clarence’s bloodless slit of a mouth curled into a smile like an autumnal leaf buckling in the sunlight as its moisture evaporates. He said he was available on Saturday mornings and wouldn’t take payment if I helped maintain their front garden and the rose beds at the rear.

We shook hands in agreement, and Clarence promised to teach Cassie every week while I fulfilled my part of the deal under Violet’s watchful eye.

#

They’d neglected the thorny old rose bushes for years and now they required specialised care and attention. In that respect, I would defer to Violet’s greater experience and knowledge, and work under her guidance, taking notice of when, where and how to prune her precious shrubs. However, despite taking adequate precautions, wearing hardy clothes and thick gloves, it wasn’t long before I shredded my hands. Violet sighed, tutted her annoyance and led me inside for treatment. 

Cassie had finished her day’s lesson and, after she departed, Clarence joined us. Quick to delegate duties, Violet persuaded him to assist her while she cleaned and dressed my wounds. Rolling his eyes, he sighed and pulled up a chair beside me.

Under instruction, Clarence held my wounded hand in his fingers, presenting it to Violet as if she was an emergency paramedic performing a life-saving operation. While she endeavoured to stem the blood flow, I noticed single beads of perspiration gather on Clarence’s forehead until they trickled over the ravines etched across his parched brow. I could feel gentle tremors in Clarence’s hands as he stared at my bleeding wounds and noticed his ravenous gaze, especially when the rivulets of blood trickled into his cupped hands. By the time Violet had worked her magic, he’d collected a glistening puddle in his palm. 

‘I hope that will suffice,’ Violet said, finishing her handiwork. 

Smiling, I thanked her as she repacked her first-aid box. 

‘Be careful not to spill it on your clean shirt, Clarence,’ she said, frowning.  

He bit down on his pale lip as he removed his trembling hands and retreated out of the scullery. As he passed through the kitchen door, I glimpsed him raise his hand and the tip of his tongue flicked out between his dry lips. 

‘Clarence!’ Violet pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘Not in here, dear.’

‘Of course, my love,’ he said, cowering like a startled rodent. ‘I’ll use the sink,’ he said, scuttling away.

#

There was something pathetic about Clarence; he was old in mind and body. During the weeks I worked at his house, I observed him watching Cassie’s inexperienced fingers trip and tumble over the piano keys. 

‘Rotate those wrists, Cassie,’ he said, prowling behind her like a jackal.

‘Use the weight of your arm to press the keys,’ he said, standing over her shoulder.

‘Elbows down, dear, you’re flapping like a chicken,’ he said, whispering in her ear.  

‘Don’t be too strict with Cassie,’ I’d said, wincing at his manner.

‘In this world, it’s the ruthless people who succeed,’ he said, baring his teeth. 

‘I want Cassie to enjoy her lessons and look forward to her visits.’

‘But success is the reward for cruelty, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘If Cassie’s unhappy,’ I said, challenging his stare. ‘She’ll let me know.’

Although Clarence could be strict with Cassie, often he appeared oblivious, staring beyond her as if transported to another world. Was he haunted by ghosts from his past or tortured by awful secrets held in that forlorn old house? 

The old couple had a strange symbiotic relationship; Clarence deferred to Violet on all occasions, and she seemed to relish a morbid hold over him. If Clarence wasn’t afraid of Violet, it was only because he’d accepted his dependency, and therefore no longer worried about the inevitable. The pair were bound by duty and responsibility until either or both parties expired because of natural causes or provoked a violent denouement.

#

When summer ended and the embers crackled and spat in the scullery fireplace, I had opportunities to talk to Violet as we recovered from our labours. Pulling a tin from her leather apron, she’d roll herself a cigarette from unruly strands of tobacco, strike a match and inhale deeply before leaning back and releasing a vertical plume of smoke towards the heavens. It was like watching an ancient steam train taking a well-earned break to release pressure from its overworked engine.

I put Violet’s irascible temperament down to her advancing years and the strain of looking after Clarence. She struggled with the household chores, and he was no help. 

‘Clarence is more ineffectual than indolent,’ she said, when we discussed the gardening requirements. ‘He struggles to use a can opener, let alone boil an egg.’

‘I’m sure he means well,’ I’d said, hoping to console her misery.

‘God knows what he’d do if I went first,’ Violet said, chuffing on her rollie. ‘But that won’t happen, so help me, God.’

I gauged her oath and shivered, as if in a nightmare I’d known what was coming next. Violet observed my reaction, holding my gaze with her bright little eyes. She drew on her cigarette until its fiery tip crackled and then crushed the life out of it under her heel.

#

Cassie seemed at home in Clarence’s book-lined study full of hefty leather-bound volumes; their spines twisted and yellowing through age and dust mite infestation. She practiced and practiced until her arms throbbed and her fingers ached.

Meanwhile, Clarence perched behind her on his balloon-back chair, sucking in his thin lips to draw asthmatic breaths, and observing her every move. His tar-black eyes never left Cassie's face for an instant, as if expecting her to relax and disobey his instructions.

‘Sit up straight!’ He’d bark and watch her stiffen. ‘You’re not here to slouch.’ 

Outside, autumnal gusts caught grotesque limbs of the trees beyond the windows, making the branches sway and cavort in a demonic reverie. 

#

Violet and I continued our gardening chores regardless of adverse weather and we’d swap stories. However, the more we confided in each other, the more I realised something was untoward in her household. Violet had become obsessed by events that had happened many years ago. Her mind had caught hold of childhood recollections, twisted them, warped them into a notion far removed from reality. She couldn’t get the painful memories out of her mind, and they controlled her very soul. Hatred and vengeance had distorted her outlook and she couldn’t see beyond its tight hold.

#

I spent the entire autumn in Violet’s rose garden, clearing away mountains of brambles and bindweed, and countless sycamore saplings. Once I’d removed the natural debris, I set about clearing the detritus that fly-tippers had jettisoned over the garden walls: rusty bikes, broken microwaves and spent car parts.

On completion, Violet requested I prepare a new rose bed and instructed me to dig an eight-feet-long hole to a depth of eighteen inches. Her plan was to fill it with fresh composted material in readiness for planting the propagated saplings she’d nurtured from cuttings in her ramshackle greenhouse. I’d no reason to suspect there was an ulterior motive and started excavating the trench forthwith.

‘Let me know when you’re almost finished,’ she said, ‘and I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘It shouldn’t take too long,’ I said, chuckling.

‘You’ll need of a strong beverage,’ she said, peering over her spectacles, ‘after I’ve inspected your work.’

‘Aye, aye, captain!’ I said, shouldering my shovel and saluting.

‘As you were,’ she said, returning a cheeky grin, and marched back to the house.

#

Karine looked pale and her hand trembled as she greeted me at the door. 

‘They call next door the “monster mansion,”’ she said, shaking her head as if to extinguish the thought. ‘When I was in town, I spoke to the woman who runs the hardware store. She said her husband had refused to do any more repairs for Violet because she owed him so much money and their niece refused to clean their house for the same reason.’ 

‘Well, at least we’re helping in kind and Cassie’s loving her lessons—-’

‘They say Clarence isn’t all he appears to be and—-’

‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘He’s just a harmless old gentleman who’s been spoiled rotten his entire life.’

‘I don’t know, love,’ Karine said, biting her lip. ‘I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.’

‘They’re both eccentric. Nothing more—-’

‘She told me the local children refuse to go there on Halloween.’

‘Rubbish,’ I snorted. ‘That’s just local gossip and tittle-tattle.’

‘So you’re happy with the arrangement?’

‘If Cassie’s happy, that’s fine by me.’

#

Every Saturday, as I thrashed about in the undergrowth outside, I listened to Cassie practicing her scales and arpeggios. I smiled at all her faltering steps, imagining her awkward attempts at thumb-tucks during her encounters with major scale exercises. With the onset of rain, I loaded up the wheelbarrow with gardening implements and headed indoors.

After removing my soiled footwear, I padded through the house to the music room to watch my daughter’s progress. I halted in the doorway to discover Clarence resting one hand on her lower back whilst tucking long strands of Cassis’s unruly hair behind her ear. 

‘We’ll have to ask Aunty Violet for a hair clip,’ he whispered. ‘All that loose hair will never do.’

I cleared my throat twice and tapped on the door, announcing my presence. 

Cassie continued her exercise, unperturbed, as Clarence turned his head to face me. ‘That’s lovely, my dear,’ he said, removing his skeletal hand from her rear. ‘Well done, Cassie. Now watch those naughty wrists, my dear.’

‘Yes!’ Cassie said in triumph. ‘I did it! I can play two octaves.’

‘And once again, Cassie, while I talk to your father.’

‘Daddy!’ Cassie said, turning to meet my approval. ‘Did you hear me?’

‘Very good, Cassie,’ I said, processing what I’d witnessed. ‘One more time for luck and then we’ll have to go home.’

#

After the “hair clip incident,” Karine said she was unhappy with Cassie continuing her lessons with Clarence. 

‘But,’ darling, I said. ‘We’ve bought her a new keyboard and—-’

‘We can pay a peripatetic tutor to visit us.’ 

‘I don’t suppose there are any local—-’

‘There’s a young woman in town who’s—-’

‘You’ve spoken already?’

‘She’s available two nights a week after school and—-’

‘So, it’s already arranged?’

‘Yes.’ Karine sniffed. ‘She starts next Tuesday.’

#

Two weeks later, it was Violet who knocked on our door, stifling her sobs with an embroidered handkerchief.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb your evening,’ she whispered, brushing away tears with the back of her wrist. ‘I need your help.’

‘Oh no, it’s not—-?’

‘Yes, it’s Clarence,’ she said, clasping my wrist. ‘Please come with me.’

‘Dear God, what’s happened—-?’

‘Please,’ she said, tugging me off the doorstep. ‘Don’t judge me.’

#

The moon appeared in fitful glimpses through the thickening clouds, highlighting snatches of detail as Violet escorted me to her back garden. I followed her past the dense shrubs and lush blooms to where I’d dug out the rectangular trench for the new rose bed. I felt a strange tightening around my chest and my breaths stung the back of my throat as I pondered her urgency.

‘It’s over there.’ Violet pointed to the nearby shovel, standing proud in the ground like a guard at attention, awaiting orders. ‘I need you to fill the hole.’

A fortnight ago, there’d been the fresh smell of rain on wet leaves and grass underfoot. Now there was a stench of cold, damp earth and another nameless odour; the cloying miasma of decomposition.

‘I don’t have the strength,’ she said, resting her withered hand on my arm.

Looking down in the gloom, I spotted loose folds of cloth poking through the soil. My nostrils widened as I drew in a rapid breath. The elongated mound below me was an unmistakable shape. At my feet lay a body swathed in a pale shroud.

‘It’s what Clarence wanted,’ she said, closing her eyelids. ‘He asked to rest in peace amongst all our siblings.’

‘Your siblings?’

‘Why, yes,’ she said, glancing at the other rose beds. ‘I promised my brother you’d fulfil his last request.’

After swallowing, I said, ‘Clarence should have asked me if—-’

‘I must insist on your discretion,’ Violet whispered, staring up at me. ‘So, let’s not make a fuss,’ she said, narrowing her eyes. ‘You know how neighbours can gossip.’

The End