by Emma Fraser
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t want to think of it. I just wanted to shut it out. Pretend it never happened. Not even Linda knew.’
It explained so much. The imprisonment must have been traumatic, she and Linda not knowing from hour to hour whether they would be executed, hardly seeing daylight for days on end, and for it all to end in rape! No wonder Edith had barely spoken when she’d been released back to the camp.
‘We can get through this,’ Georgina pleaded.
‘How? For God’s sake, Georgina, how? How can I give birth to a child who is half Japanese? How could I bring myself to look at it! Every day I’ll be faced with a reminder that I was raped! Every day I’ll be reminded of what I suffered these last few years. Can you imagine what people will say? At the very least they’ll believe I collaborated. No one will ever wish to have anything to do with me. I will never be able to show my face anywhere again.’ She looked out towards the sea and all the animation drained out of her. ‘Far better both it and I die. You at least can have some kind of life.’
‘Hasn’t there been enough death and dying?’ Georgina cried.
‘I don’t care about my life any more. I thought being back here I would recover. I have such nightmares, Georgina. Every night. I can’t go on.’
‘I’ll take it,’ Georgina said quickly. ‘I’ll say it’s mine. I was the one who really collaborated after all. Please, Edith. The child and I can stay here. You can go back to nursing. No one need ever know. The shame will be all mine!’
Edith hesitated. ‘You promise to say it’s yours?’
‘Yes! Please, darling. Say you’ll think about it. If you die now, after everything, I don’t know if I can continue either.’
The last was said in desperation. If Edith couldn’t bear to live for herself she had to be given a reason to want to stay alive.
Georgina stepped forward slowly until she was standing next to her sister. She took Edith’s hand. ‘If you go in, it won’t be alone.’
Chapter Fifty
Charlotte
1984
‘Edith came back to the house with me,’ Georgina said. ‘Everything that happened after was how I told you, except it was Edith who had the baby, not me.
‘I kept my side of the bargain and when Mary was born I took on all the duties, responsibilities and,’ she smiled slightly, ‘the joys of being a mother. Edith helped care for us, but as I told you, at first she could hardly bring herself to look at Mary.’
‘You gave up any chance of being with Findlay, not because you had a child but because Edith had? Why didn’t you tell me right from the start Mary was Edith’s? ‘
‘Because I’d promised her I’d always claim Mary as mine. And Mary wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t go to Findlay. I had to look after them both.’ Her voice quavered. ‘One day, when Mary was only a few weeks old, I woke up to find her gone. I searched everywhere for her and Edith but they weren’t anywhere in the house. I was so terrified I could barely breathe. Especially when I remembered finding Edith down at the shore. I ran there and sure enough, balancing on those same rocks, was Edith with Mary in her arms. Edith was asleep but I was petrified that this time she intended to go into the sea with Mary. It took a while but eventually I persuaded her to hand me Mary and she let me lead them both back to the house.
‘I didn’t know what to do. I knew Edith loved Mary, that when she was awake she would never hurt her, but I couldn’t be sure what she was capable of when she was sleepwalking. All I could do was keep my eye on Mary all the time during the day and keep her in with me at night, locking my door to stop Edith coming in.’
‘Why didn’t you make her see a doctor?’
‘I tried but she wouldn’t have it. She said they’d lock her away and she couldn’t bear to ever spend another single second behind a locked door. I just couldn’t do it to her. Not after everything she’d been through. So I gave up on the doctor and kept as close an eye on her as I could. I locked all the outside doors as soon as she was asleep and unlocked them in the morning.
‘Over time she came to love Mary as much as I do. The sleepwalking stopped, as did the nightmares, and the three of us were happy. But then your mother came and Edith started sleepwalking again and behaving oddly. I was terrified of what she might do. I had to make Olivia leave. I tried to do the best I could to keep everyone safe.’ Her face crumpled. ‘But in the end I wasn’t able to save Edith.’
It was three days before Edith’s body washed up. Tossed by the tide onto the rocks, her final return to Greyfriars. Jamie helped with the police investigation – not that there was much doubt that Edith had taken her own life. A week later, she was buried on Kerista, with Georgina, Mary, Jamie and me – and Findlay – her mourners.
After the service I walked outside and looked across the sea. I no longer found the silence oppressive – quite the opposite – there was a comfort in the shushing of the waves, of the wind in the trees. I am a thousand winds that blow. I turned around and looked back at Greyfriars and thought of the people its walls had sheltered over the years. I thought of ghosts and that you don’t have to believe in their manifestation to know that they exist. Mum was there in my memories, in the love that I felt enveloping me, that I knew would always wrap around me. I thought that finally I was proud of myself and how now I could think of her without my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.
I sensed him behind me before I heard him. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned into him. His breath was warm on my neck.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘Go back to London. Try to salvage what’s left of my career.’ After my phone call to her, Annette had agreed to go to the police and revive her complaint against Simon. The new accusation had made it into the papers and since then one more girl had come forward accusing Simon of raping her before Annette or Lucy. I hoped this time he’d go down. Horrified that his son did appear to be guilty, Simon’s father had agreed not to make a complaint against me. Nevertheless, I was no longer welcome at Lambert and Lambert.
‘Will you change sides?’
‘I don’t want to be on one side or the other. I don’t want to prosecute the hopeless and the desperate. Someone else can do that. My heart has always been with defending. Even though I haven’t always got it right —’
‘No more rape cases then…?’
‘No. Even if I have to starve.’
He nuzzled my neck. ‘I would never let you starve.’
‘I know.’ I guessed what was coming next.
He turned me around and lifted my chin with his finger so I was staring into his eyes. My heart was thudding.
‘Come live with me in Glasgow?’
I thought of the people who needed me, Georgina and Mary, the Annettes and Lucys of this world.
‘I won’t give up being a barrister whatever happens. I’ll probably carry on working horrendous hours. We’ll hardly see each other – you haven’t seen me when I’m involved in a case – I can think of nothing else…’
‘Then I’ll just have to get a job with the Metropolitan police and move to London.’
‘Georgina won’t live forever. I’ll have to help her take care of Mary when Georgina gets too frail – and after – when Georgina dies.’
‘I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you.’
There was a lump in my throat. ‘I will miss her when she goes.’
He placed his hands on either side of my face, brushing away my tears with the pad of his thumb. ‘Anything else? Or are you telling me you don’t love me? Because I won’t believe it. Or are you telling me that you don’t love me enough?’
I held his gaze. ‘I’m telling you that I love you, more than I can say, but life with me won’t be easy.’
He laughed again, unable to hide the relief in his eyes. ‘Who said I like easy?’
Chapter Fifty-One
There was something I had to do before I returned to London and I told J
amie it was better I did it on my own.
I didn’t know if what I was thinking would ever happen, but I had to try. I rowed across to the mainland and, with Tiger trotting by my side, took the steep, bare path to Findlay’s house. Winter was coming in fast now and I stopped to inhale the sharp, crystal air, knowing I would miss it when I returned to London, but also knowing it wouldn’t be long before I came back.
He was sitting outside mending creels, his long fingers surprisingly nimble in the cold. Although my steps made no noise on the soft earth, I knew he was aware of my presence.
‘What do you want?’ he asked gruffly without looking up. ‘Why can’t women leave men in peace?’
I sat next to him, my gloved hands thrust deep in my pockets. Tiger and Baxter sniffed each other before starting a game of tag. ‘I’ve come to invite you to dinner at Greyfriars.’
‘Now why would you do that?’
‘Do you still love Georgina? Or did seeing her again change things?’
‘What? Because you think she’s old and old people can’t fancy each other?’ He rounded on me. ‘She’s as beautiful as the day I first saw her.’ His voice softened. ‘More beautiful even.’
‘Then come to dinner.’ I slid him a look. ‘Or are you worried she might not fancy you?’
He laughed harshly. ‘Now that is far more likely.’ His eyes clouded. ‘She didn’t seem that keen to talk to me at the funeral.’ I saw his anxiety for the first time.
‘The funeral of Edith probably wasn’t the best time for you to approach Georgina. She loved her sister very much. Everything she did was to protect Edith, to atone. All her life she’s been paying for falling in love with you. Don’t you think she deserves some happiness now? It’s not too late.’ Even as I said the words I wondered if that was true. Georgina had been changed in ways I could never fully appreciate by what had happened to her during the war. She, as much as Edith, was a victim of rape, and I knew her guilt about the commandant still tormented her. Was I right to interfere?
‘She’s been through some terrible experiences. Both of the sisters went through something so horrible it’s almost impossible to imagine. I don’t know if Georgina can ever shake that off, but I do know she wants to see you. However, I’m warning you, if you hurt my aunt…’
‘I would never hurt her. That’s why I don’t think I should see her again. She’s not the only person who has changed. I’m an old man.’ He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘One who has his own demons. Not exactly a catch.’
I stood. ‘Jamie told me you were a hero in the war. You don’t look much like one to me.’
I turned on my heel, whistled for Tiger and marched back down the hill.
Chapter Fifty-Two
I watch from the sitting room window as he strides towards the house – in the failing light he is tall, vigorous – the man Edith and Georgina loved. Dressed in a clean, pressed white shirt and clean–shaven, his wild hair tamed (or almost), and I am unbearably moved to see his neatly knotted tie. As he comes closer, his limbs appear to loosen and love blazes from his eyes. He has become a different man – his expression has lost that hunted look, his mouth the sarcastic lift. He stops for a moment as if doubtful and I hold my breath – he can’t change his mind. But then his face breaks into a wide smile – the first I have seen – and she comes running towards him as if the years have fallen from her too and she is once more the young woman he fell in love with. A foot or two away and she pauses, uncertain. Then he holds out his arms and as she steps into them and he wraps his arms around her, I know it will be all right. Everything is going to be all right.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Eighteen months later
I have slipped upstairs to the turret from where I can see my wedding guests gathered on the lawn. I wanted these few minutes alone, to hug my happiness before I allow myself to be enfolded in the arms of my new family.
I find it difficult to believe that eighteen months ago, with the death of Mum I had thought myself alone – now I am surrounded by more family than I know what to do with.
These last months have sped by and it has not always been easy. I have spoken to the registrar of births, deaths and marriages and, not without difficulty, have had Mary’s birth registered. She is now officially Mary Guthrie although in the space where a father’s name should go, it says unknown. Not every loose end can, or should be, tied up. I think about my father, half-sister and -brother and sometimes wonder whether I should try to track them down. Perhaps I will one day.
The commandant, according to records, was executed for war crimes in 1946.
Mary is sitting on a wicker chair, with the ever-present Georgina protectively by her side. My great-aunt has since recovered the sparkle my mother spoke of, along with her love of champagne, and is waving her glass around as she talks animatedly to my new husband, who appears to be as under her spell as he is mine. Close by Georgina is Findlay, who, I have discovered, polishes up rather well. He is handsome in his morning coat, and has, I have also learned, a roguish sense of humour. He still enjoys his whisky but his wife keeps a close but loving eye on the amount he drinks.
Mary is slowly becoming used to company and although still painfully shy has ventured as far as Edinburgh in recent weeks. At first it was brief trips to Balcreen, the villagers agog when they learned of her existence, but they have become accustomed to seeing her dark-haired figure arm in arm with Georgina. She has let it be known that Mary is her daughter, although not the circumstances of her birth.
‘Let them think what they like!’ she says. ‘Mary is mine in every way.’
My aunt and I have come to a rather complicated arrangement about the houses, which although the lawyer in me is more than a little aghast at its lack of precision, suits us both. I think Mum would have been pleased and that makes her absence easier to bear. The house in Edinburgh has been sold and a portion of the proceeds used to buy a small flat in Mary’s name in Edinburgh. Whether she will ever feel able to live there on her own, only time will tell. Certainly Georgina likes to have her daughter with her at Greyfriars although she is looking to a time when she might not be there. She doesn’t like to think of Mary living alone at Greyfriars, which I will inherit in full when Georgina and Findlay die. I desperately hope that won’t be for a long time.
The remainder of the proceeds of the house in Edinburgh, along with that from the sale of Findlay’s house, has been spent on restoring Greyfriars to its former glory. The ivy has been cut back, the garden tamed. Every window has been repaired or replaced, likewise every rotten floorboard. It has been painted and polished until it gleams and shines like the old dowager lady she is and a large chunk of the money has been spent on building a simple stone causeway from the road across to the pier. Findlay, Georgina and Mary often sally forth on trips to Oban and Fort William, and Georgina has rediscovered the joys of shopping for herself. She’s still to be found in trousers and wellington boots, but delights in dressing up for dinner. Should she, Findlay and Mary decide to make the flat in Edinburgh their home, Georgina and I have discussed turning Greyfriars into a refuge for women who need a sanctuary for whatever reason. I think Mum would approve of that too.
Agnes is here as well. Although she is a little bemused at the turn my life has taken, she is happy for me. She and her family have spent the week here at Greyfriars and together have revisited her childhood home in Balcreen.
Shouts of laughter fly through the air and Jamie’s nieces and nephews scamper across the lawn, watched by the proud eyes of their parents. I have a whole other family too now.
I press my hand to my stomach, still flat but surely not for much longer, as my husband comes to stand behind me. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. ‘Happy?’ he asks.
It won’t always be easy for us. Jamie and I have equally strong views on justice and they don’t always align. I no longer work for Lambert and Lambert, but have set up on my own, in a small office in a less salubrious part of London. Sophie is my partne
r and we focus on human rights cases. My practice took some time to recover – reputations are forgotten as quickly as they are made, but recover it did – and although there is little money in our new line of work, it is enough. We win some and lose some. The losses I still find painful.
I continue to work long hours, although I try to leave one evening a week and a day at the weekend free just for Jamie. It doesn’t always pan out the way we’d want – the evenings I am free, he is often working.
I love my husband with an intensity that takes my breath away. It seems the Guthrie women might not have always loved wisely but they love deeply.
‘We should go downstairs,’ Jamie says. ‘If you are ready?’
I lean into him. Just for a moment I think I see a figure – a woman – although I can’t be sure of how she looks or what she is wearing – standing in the trees looking directly at me. I blink and the image is gone. Edith? Mum? Mum’s child ghost all grown up? Who knows? I want to believe that Mum knows I am not alone or lonely any more, and will never be. This child will almost certainly be an only one – a visit to the doctor suggested I am about to go into early menopause – so Jamie and I decided not to wait until we tried for a baby. We were surprised but delighted when I fell pregnant within a couple of months. But only child or not, he or she will, like me, be watched over by good people, will know right from wrong, and be overwhelmed with love. All I care about is that everyone I love and who loves me is here at Greyfriars and that it is, once again, a happy place.