Distant Voices

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘How long will Penny be abroad?’

  ‘Three months.’ The car crawled into a long line of traffic and stopped. From somewhere ahead the sound of music drifted above the murmur of idling engines.

  ‘Three months isn’t so very long.’ Kim heard herself murmuring the words as Fel wound down the side window to rest his elbow. He gave no sign that he had heard.

  It was late by the time they climbed the stairs to their door. Wearily Kim put her bags down and went straight through to the kitchen, groping in the icebox for a can of frozen orange.

  ‘Come on, Kim, don’t keep on brooding about it.’ Fel followed her in.

  ‘I’m not brooding.’ She scowled at him and went to the kettle.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do, Kim. We can’t have them here.’ He gestured back towards the rest of their domain. Three tiny rooms.

  ‘We could.’

  He stared at her. ‘Kim, darling. We can’t afford it. You’d have to quit your job to look after them and we need your salary for a while. And anyway,’ he added triumphantly, ‘what about your singing career?’

  ‘What about Valentine’s?’ Kim echoed in a sad, tight little voice.

  ‘Oh God!’ Fel hit his forehead with his clenched fist. ‘I should never have told you that bit. Val is dead, honey. There’s nothing we can do for her now. If the kids can sing – well, they’ll sing. It makes no difference who looks after them.’

  Kim gave him a withering look. ‘I know you don’t believe that, Fel, so don’t say it. And I still think your mother should be the one to help. Why don’t you try to persuade her? You could you know.’

  ‘Kim, forget my mother. Leave her right out of this, honey.’ Fel frowned grimly. ‘I am not prepared even to try. I don’t even want to see my mother again for a bit.’

  Kim stared at him. Then she picked up her glass of orange and walked through into the bedroom. By the time he followed her she was asleep.

  The next morning after Fel had gone she called her office and told them she was sick. Then she sat for ten minutes with a cup of black coffee beside her, staring at the telephone. On her knee lay Fel’s address book. She had found the number under P – he had simply written Pen.

  Taking a deep breath she dialled. The girl who answered had a pleasant throaty voice.

  ‘Kim?’ she queried. ‘You mean Fel’s new wife?’

  ‘Yes, how are you?’

  ‘Distracted! Did he tell you what’s happening?’

  ‘Yes, Do you have to go?’

  ‘I can’t get out of it. Hey, Kim, why don’t we get together? I’m dying to meet you.’

  Penny’s home turned out to be a large untidy apartment on the West Side. Kim was distinctly nervous as she rang the bell but Penny soon made her forget that. She greeted her with a hug. She was a tall, big-boned girl, very like Fel but several years older, her long honey-blonde hair tied back in a pony tail which brushed heavily across her shoulders every time she moved. Kim liked her immediately.

  ‘Excuse the chaos,’ Penny said cheerfully, waving her arm around the room. ‘The kids had a party yesterday and I was so dead after it I left the lot to clear up today. Come on through and we’ll get some coffee.’

  ‘Where are the kids?’ Kim asked.

  ‘School. At least Tad is. And Betsy Hen goes to baby school now, mornings.’

  ‘Betsy Hen?’ Kim giggled.

  ‘Elizabeth Henrietta. She’s the cutest little madam you’ve ever seen. Oh Lord, Kim, what am I going to do?’

  Penny sat down on a stool and put her elbows on the breakfast bar.

  ‘I love those kids as if they were mine and most of the time I can cope. I’ve a lovely woman who will come in and take care of them when I’m on an assignment – I’m a journalist, I suppose Fel told you? She’s taking half the money she should as it is. But she can’t do it for three months. No one could.’

  ‘Can you keep the flat on?’ Kim asked curiously.

  Penny nodded. ‘Their father put it in my name before he went, bless him. It’s the only security he left us – but it was a lot. No, it’s not the accommodation that is the problem, it’s money. I’ve got to find the money to pay Annabel to come and take care of them.’ Penny reached for a bag of coffee beans and poured some into the grinder.

  ‘I was with your mother at the weekend when you rang,’ Kim said. ‘She thought you wanted her to take the children. That’s why she said she couldn’t help.’

  ‘Oh she could help all right. With one hand tied behind her.’ Penny pressed the button on the grinder viciously. ‘There are two reasons why she won’t help. One is they’re half black. Oh yes, you’ve no idea how bigoted she is. And the other is to spite me. She wants to pay me back for walking out on her all those years ago. If she doesn’t get her way with someone she’ll hold it against them for the rest of their lives. Never cross my mother, Kim. Never.’ She was pouring hot water into the jug.

  Kim closed her eyes and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Why did you leave home, Penny?’

  Penny glanced up. ‘Didn’t Fel tell you?’

  Kim shook her head.

  ‘Because I wanted out. As I expect you’ve discovered for yourself, my mother is a self-centred, domineering busybody. She had my life planned out for me to the last second and my wanting to be a writer did not even figure in her calculations. I was to many – a man of her choice would you believe – and raise her grandchildren for her and go to whist drives with her and plan little trips to town with her. I knew that she was clever enough to make it all happen too, so I fled before she had the chance. Since then she hasn’t wanted to know me. I was a fool to ring her yesterday, but she’s loaded and she has that big house, and hell – it was worth a try!’

  Kim bit her lip. ‘Fel said Valentine wanted them to sing,’ she said quietly after a moment.

  Penny smiled. ‘I reckon they will too. Here, have some sugar.’

  ‘I’m going to start training as an opera singer this winter.’ Kim spooned some of the dark molasses sugar into her mug and stirred it thoughtfully. ‘So I know how much the gift of music can mean.’ Pride and sympathy and longing were all there, in her face.

  Penny was watching her closely. ‘I know you want to help, honey. But you can’t. You concentrate on your own career and become a great success, right? My problem is something I’ve got to work out myself. Perhaps I’ll quit my job and try to get another that doesn’t need me to travel so much.’

  ‘But that’s so silly. Your mother has got to help,’ Kim cried. ‘It would all be so easy for her. She’s so rich. Do you think if I tried to explain to her how much you love them – or Fel? Fel could speak to her.’

  Penny shook her head. ‘She’s like a brick wall, Kim. Don’t bother. And don’t get involved for God’s sake or you’ll end up getting hurt too.’

  But Kim did bother. She took the train that afternoon and rang May from the station to come and collect her.

  May was delighted to see her. She drove her back to the house chatting amiably and ensconced her in a chair on the porch. But when Kim mentioned the reason for her visit her lips tightened.

  ‘They are nothing to do with us, Kim,’ she said primly. ‘They must have some relatives who would take them. Some of her relatives I mean; their own people.’ She flicked delicately at an invisible speck of dust on her silk shirt.

  ‘You know they haven’t.’ Kim shook her head. ‘Ma – you did say I could call you Ma?’ She smiled pleadingly. ‘I went to see Penny this morning. Have you been to her place?’

  ‘It’s not hers, dear. It belongs to that man.’

  ‘It’s her home,’ Kim persisted gently. ‘He’s given it to her and the kids. It’s such a happy place; it’s full of love. I think you’d enjoy it there. And Penny would so like to see you. She misses you, you know.’

  She was increasingly certain that Penny misjudged her mother. Underneath May Bernstein was as sentimental as anyone else. It was just a case of managing her right.

  ‘Pen
ny misses me?’ May looked astonished. But Kim saw the little touch of colour that had risen in the heavily made up face. ‘Did she say so?’

  Kim crossed her fingers. Then she nodded.

  ‘She was such a self-sufficient child,’ May complained suddenly. ‘She never needed me. It was Fel who demanded attention all the time. Penny has always gone her own way. She couldn’t wait to get out of here and into the world on her own. It hurt her poor dear father so much when she left.’

  ‘She was sorry too,’ Kim said gently. ‘She wanted to come back, but she was too proud. It’s her love of the children which has given her the courage to swallow her pride and cry for help.’ She was playing the sentimental bit as hard as she could, but she was sure she had read May Bernstein right. Behind the immaculate clothes and make-up, the money and the whist drives there was a very lonely woman begging for love from her children.

  Behind them the house felt very empty.

  May reached for the bourbon bottle which stood on a tray on the table in the corner of the porch. She poured herself a hefty measure, then, on second thoughts she offered Kim some too.

  Kim shook her head. She took a deep breath. ‘I met the two children just before I left. They came home at lunchtime. They worship Penny, Ma, they really do.’

  She couldn’t put the thought of the two small faces out of her mind. They had inherited their real mother’s dark skin and her curly hair, but there could be no mistake about who their mother was now. They had thrown themselves at Penny, burying their faces in her mane of blonde hair, talking nineteen to the dozen about what they had both done that morning. Then, shyly, they had kissed Kim too and she had lost her heart to them. It was then she had decided to go to her mother-in-law for help.

  ‘I know Penny finds it hard to talk about her feelings,’ Kim went on slowly. This was she decided an inspiration. ‘For all she’s a brilliant journalist, she’s holding a lot of herself inside. And she’s afraid of being hurt, afraid you’d reject her after all this time. But she needs you so much, Ma. She wants you to help her. She loves those two kids as though they were her own. And she desperately wants you to love them too, to tell her she’s right to give them a home and security. To come and see them. They haven’t got a grandma except for you.’ She was putting every ounce of emotion she possessed into her plea.

  May sat down heavily on a wicker chair. ‘Penny thinks I’d reject her?’ she repeated slowly. ‘But she was so aggressive on the phone. She sounded as if she’s become a real hard bitch.’ She tightened her lips at the memory.

  ‘That was fear,’ Kim put in quickly. ‘She was on the defensive. She expected you to say no.’

  ‘And I did, eh?’ There was a wan smile round the older woman’s eyes.

  Kim walked over to the tray and poured herself a glass of lemonade. The heavy cloud which had overcast the morning was thinning and a patch of pale sunshine shone down on the lawn.

  ‘So you think I should go and see her?’ May said suddenly into the silence.

  Kim turned, her face bright with hope. ‘Would you? Of course it’s terribly untidy and everything but –’

  ‘Penny has always been untidy. Her bedroom used to be a pigsty.’ May put down her glass. ‘Did this man leave any money at all to support his kids?’

  Kim surreptitiously crossed her fingers again. This time it wasn’t for a lie. It was for luck. ‘Not a penny. Just the apartment. Penny’s finding it quite difficult I think. But she’s managing.’

  ‘And you say she loves them?’

  Kim nodded, holding her breath.

  With a groan May levered herself up out of the chair. ‘And you love them too? Why for God’s sake? You don’t even know them. All right. Tell me. How do I know she wouldn’t slam the door in my face if I went there?’

  ‘She wouldn’t.’

  ‘If she had the money could she find someone to take care of the kids? I wouldn’t have them here. I meant what I said.’

  ‘She’s got someone. She just can’t afford to pay her any more – and certainly not for three months.’

  ‘Does Fel know you’re here, Kim?’ May turned suddenly and concentrated her stare on Kim’s face.

  Kim swallowed. She shook her head. ‘He didn’t want me to interfere.’

  May grinned maliciously. ‘And Penny?’

  ‘No she doesn’t know either.’

  ‘I thought not. Come on. You’re going to have to get back if you want that train. I’m going to write to Penny tomorrow.’

  Kim felt her heart leap with happiness.

  Putting down her glass she gave one last look out towards the tennis court. Already she could picture Tad and Betsy Hen playing out there; and then, running up to the house as she had done yesterday, into the music room. Perhaps they would be allowed to practise on that beautiful Bechstein with all the photos on it.

  How wrong Fel and Penny had been. May was as sentimental and soft underneath as the next person. And so easy to manage.

  She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I’m making some conditions for all this, Kim,’ May said quietly. There was a strange harshness to her face. ‘I’ll help Penny with as much money as she needs, not only now, but to bring up those brats and give them a decent education. But only if she promises never to bring them here. I don’t want to see them. Or her for that matter, as long as she’s living like that. And you’ll have to promise me something too.’

  Kim’s heart sank. ‘Of course, Ma. You know I will. Anything.’

  May’s eyes were as green as the sea and she stared up into her daughter-in-law’s face. ‘You give up all ideas of having a singing career, okay. I want you and Fel to move in here. I mentioned it to him yesterday and he said you would never agree. Now that’s not right, is it dear? You and I, we’d get on just fine. And I want you to stay home and look after my son and give me grandchildren. Unless you agree there’s no deal. Those kids can rot for all I care.’

  And she turned away and put her tumbler back on the tray, the gold charms of her bracelet clanking heavily against the glass.

  Island Shadows

  The sun reflected on the tidal mud, turning it to molten silver. Blinded by the glare, Jill reached up onto her head for her dark glasses, extricating them from a wind-blown tangle of hair, and lowered them onto her nose. Ahead of her, the golden retriever trotted eagerly, nose up, pointing, plumed tail jaunty. She could smell it too now: coffee and something fried; uncomfortably powerful smells, activating pre-breakfast taste buds with painful precision. ‘Collie, come here.’ She had noticed the dog’s quickening pace too late. ‘Collie!’

  But already the retriever had vanished round the low, wood-topped promontory and she was alone on the shore.

  Reluctantly, lead in hand, she jogged after the dog, cursing it roundly under her breath. Wretched animal! Disobedient! Stupid! Idiot! Greedy! Her shoes slipped in the muddy sand and her breath caught in her throat, assailed by the icy wind. A small fishing boat chugged up the centre of the estuary, the engine sounding unnaturally loud above the wind and the sharp slap of the tide on the shore. For a moment she heard the distant piping of a bird, then the sound vanished, torn and shredded like the clouds.

  Around the headland the cliff had collapsed and the woods, autumn leaves already nearly gone, dropped towards the water, giving a comparatively sheltered mooring. Several boats were still anchored there, and one, near the shore, had run a plank from its deck down to the sand. She was just in time to see her dog trotting purposefully up the plank, tail still waving, to disappear into the boat.

  It was fairly large – an old wooden barge, two-masted with black, tarred cabin and brass-rimmed portholes. Smoke was coming from a chimney in the roof of the cabin, and whisked dancing into the sky.

  She stopped in despair, waiting for the tirades of abuse which she knew must inevitably follow Collie’s illegal boarding.

  None came. The boat lay quiet, its reflection broken and jagged in the slapping water, festoons of bro
wn weed floating round it like a streaming, frothy skirt.

  ‘Collie!’

  Her call was not as loud as it might have been. There was still a chance she could extricate the dog without their visit being discovered.

  ‘Collie, come here.’

  The gang plank was bleached and dry, split by sun and wind and water. It led up at a steep angle. The dog must have jumped without hesitation down into the waist of the ship. She bit her lip. ‘Collie drat you! Come back!’

  She was conscious suddenly that she could hear music from the boat – faint, distorted by the wind, hardly audible – the chanting of monks. Plainsong. Unaccountably the sound reassured her.

  The tide was coming in. She stared at the end of the plank. It was stirring, carving elliptical patterns in the muddy sand around it as it worked loose, easing up and down. The boat itself, she realised suddenly, was beginning to stir. It had been firmly aground but now, soon, it would be afloat.

  ‘Collie!’ She shouted properly this time and almost at once she saw a head appearing over the far side of the cabin roof. A man’s head.

  She bit her lip, embarrassed and suddenly shy, rooted to the spot as he came to the side and looked down.

  ‘The mutt eating my breakfast is yours, I take it.’ The voice was deep, musical, surprisingly unangry considering the content of his words. He was very tanned, with short grizzled hair and piercing light-blue eyes. The faded denim shirt he wore was threadbare and torn and covered in paint stains.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I’m so sorry. She didn’t hear me call.’

  He still hadn’t smiled. Looking down at her intently he didn’t even speak for several seconds and she stepped back, feeling the intrusion of that intense gaze as an almost physical assault. Then at last his face lightened slightly. ‘You had better come and collect her.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She hesitated. The plank was narrow and steep and her tatty trainers already muddy and slippery. She put her hand on the cold overlapping boards of the boat’s side and reluctantly put one foot on the plank. Above her he was watching.