The Golden Thread

by Monica Carly

  When Carlo was eighteen he left school and applied to join the army. Maria was not happy about this, but it was what he had set his heart on doing, and he did look marvellous in the uniform.

  ‘What if there’s a war?’ Maria couldn’t help worrying.

  ‘Have no fear. My Carlo is indestructible. He will defeat the enemy, no problem, and come home victorious, you’ll see.’

  Carlo had just finished his training at Pirbright when Mrs Thatcher announced that England was at war with Argentina over the Falklands Islands.

  Chapter 41

  Maria, Stefano, and thirteen-year old Timothy were among the crowds who waved and cheered as the taskforce left for the Falkland Islands. Carlo waved back, smiling broadly and looking immensely proud and very handsome in his uniform. At eighteen years of age Carlo found the prospect of going to war exciting. He set off without a moment’s anxiety.

  Of the 255 casualties of the war, one of the youngest was Private Carlo Volpe of 3 Battalion, the Parachute Regiment. It happened on the night of 11 June during the battle for Mount Longden. The authorities, naturally, greatly regretted the loss.

  Stefano was devastated by the news, immediately storming out of the house. Timothy, overwhelmed by his own grief, nevertheless did what he could to comfort his distraught mother. Late that night Stefano returned highly inebriated, and the shouting began. Maria, who was sobbing herself to sleep, was now subjected to a barrage of angry questions.

  ‘Why this happen to Carlo? Why my very fine son have to be killed? Tell me that, huh! Tell me, woman – why my Carlo? Why?’

  Maria tried to pull the covers over her head to blot out the rage that was directed at her. But Stefano was not going to stop.

  ‘My son, my lovely son is dead. How could he die? Carlo was strong! Carlo run like the wind! Why should he die? Now what have I got left? Only hop hop hoppy, with his up down, up down. What use is he?’

  Maria could keep quiet no longer. ‘Stop it, Stefano, stop it! How dare you ridicule Tim like that? He’s been the bravest of boys! When have you ever heard him complain? You have taunted him, and ridiculed him, and he has taken it, without trying to hit back. He’s endured bullying at school without getting bitter. It’s about time you started to praise him, instead of humiliating him.’

  ‘You stupid woman. You never see how fine Carlo was. Because Carlo not your boy, you make mother’s boy of namby pamby Timothy! He is like very small mouse out in the fields, for people to tread on. My Carlo – he was a roaring lion!’

  Timothy, downstairs, hearing every word Stefano shouted, put his hands over his ears, unable to bear the onslaught on his mother. And what was that about Carlo not being Maria’s son? Whatever did that mean? Accustomed to his father’s frequent taunts, he had learned to shrug them off. But perhaps there was more reason for the way his father treated him than he realised. And if Carlo was not his mother’s son, whose son was he?

  Soon after that the physical abuse started. To begin with, Stefano carefully limited it to the times when he and Maria were alone in the house. Timothy would come home to find his mother with a bruised face and arms. Alarmed, he would enquire the cause, initially naively accepting her stories of having fallen down the stairs, or perhaps that she had unwittingly walked into an open cupboard door.

  Then Stefano grew more drunk and more reckless, so that Timothy, back from swimming, heard the sound of blows and his mother’s screams and pleadings. He rushed upstairs but the bedroom door was locked. Without hesitation he kicked it open. Never would he forget the scene that met his eyes – his mother cowering in a corner, Stefano wielding a cricket bat, lifting it up to bring it down with force once again. Grabbing hold of Stefano from behind and wresting the bat from his hands, Timothy threw his father down on the floor. Stefano tried to get up, but with his fist Timothy knocked him flat again. Stefano, in his drunken rage, lacking the control to outsmart his son, started to plead for mercy.

  ‘Get out of the bedroom,’ commanded Timothy, ‘and never, ever raise your hand to my mother again. What has she ever done to hurt you? I know how much she loved Carlo – don’t you think she’s suffering over his death every bit as much as you?’

  The next day Stefano left the house. He took his most important possessions with him and never returned. To help his mother recuperate, Timothy decided it would be a good idea if they went away for few days. It was still summer holiday time, and perhaps, away from it all, she would open up to him. He may only have been thirteen, but he was emotionally mature for his age and there were questions he wanted to ask. They spent a few days in Cornwall, enjoying driving along the coast, visiting the picturesque bays. During that time Maria told him as much of the story as she thought appropriate.

  A pleasant phase superseded those dreadful times. Maria regained her strength and found the confidence to take a job in a local shop selling women’s clothing. She enjoyed this, as she could easily combine it with running the home for the two of them. Timothy worked hard at school and achieved good marks in his examinations. Although the pain of loss would never disappear, this was a time of peace and contentment for them both.

  The years passed and Timothy, who had decided on a legal profession, left school to begin his training to be a solicitor. When he qualified he found a firm to join in London, where his career started to flourish. All this time he continued to live with Maria. Although he had a good social life, and kept up his competitive swimming, he showed no sign of settling down with a partner. There were plenty of girl friends, but they never seemed to last very long.

  ‘If you don’t move out by the time you’re thirty,’ said Maria one day, ‘I shall kick you out.’

  Secretly, she was in no hurry for him to leave – he was never any trouble and she enjoyed his company – but she knew it was something he needed to do. Timothy was in no hurry to leave either, as the arrangement left him in a position to put some money in savings, even after he had passed on a generous proportion of his salary every month.

  Then something happened to delay these plans. He noticed that his mother grew weary more often, and lacked the energy to do very much. She changed her job to part time – fortunately, since her father had died and left her a capital sum, she did not need to earn – but even then she began to telephone the shop with various excuses. In the end it seemed best from everyone’s point of view if she left. Timothy insisted that she went to see the doctor. After blood tests had been carried out, she was told she was suffering from leukaemia.

  Timothy began to spend less time away from home, turning his hand to all sorts of household tasks, doing the best he could to lighten his mother’s load. Always interested in cooking, he now gradually undertook more of it. He assumed responsibility for the laundry – although he sometimes wondered if he was ironing creases into the clothes rather than ironing them out – and on Saturdays he went out to do the shopping. Maria hated seeing him shouldering these extra household burdens, but he made light of it all. When he turned thirty no one said anything about moving out.

  Various treatments were tried, with Maria frequently proclaiming she was much better. But the evidence to the contrary was painfully obvious. Without complaint she struggled to do all she could, but could not hide her growing weakness. One evening the two of them were passing the time quietly together, when she decided to open her heart to her son about the two things that were weighing on her mind.

  ‘Timothy, I’ve been thinking. Can I discuss a couple of things with you?’

  ‘Of course, Mum, if you’re sure you’re not too tired.’

  ‘Rubbish! No, of course I’m not. But we do have to face facts. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around, and I just want to say that it would make me so happy if you could find a nice girl to settle down with.’

  Timothy grinned. ‘Me too – but who’d have me?’

  ‘Stop being so ridiculously modest. You’re a catch for any girl.’

  ‘You might be slightly biased.’r />
  ‘Look, I’m trying to be serious here. I know it’s not my strong point. Dear me, how my poor sister despaired of me, when I was young, because all I was interested in was having fun! I didn’t take anything seriously!’

  ‘Seriously then, I’ll keep in mind what you say – I promise. Not sure how to achieve it, though. As we’re being honest tonight I’ll admit that so far – although I’ve been out with some really lovely girls – I don’t think I’ve met my soul mate.’

  ‘I know you can’t wave a magic wand. But it would make me the happiest woman in the world if I could attend your wedding before … well, you know what I’m saying.’

  ‘I do. I do understand. And was there something else?’

  ‘Yes. It’s to do with my sister. Oh, Tim, I long to see Claudia again – especially now I’m … It’s been so long, and the pain of losing her love and friendship has never really gone away. Do you think you could try and find her, and just see if you could persuade her? I’m sure if you were to speak to her … how could she refuse you?’

  ‘I’ll do my very best – at least this is a practical thing I can get on with. I’ll get started straightaway. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to find her. Whether I can get her to change her mind is another matter. But I’ll do my damnedest – I promise you that.’

  In fact, to the surprise of both mother and son, the first concern was resolved far more quickly than either of them would have dreamed possible. It so happened that the receptionist at Timothy’s office was on the point of retirement. Mary Cummings had been worth her not inconsiderable weight in gold for many years. She always knew what to do in all circumstances, helping both members of staff and the public in a hundred different ways. But now it was time for her to retire.

  When her replacement turned up ripples of excitement passed all round the building. Nicola Price was young, blonde, and the possessor of a delightful figure and a glorious smile. Any oversights or mistakes she might make as a newcomer were instantly overlooked. All the men in the office found numerous reasons to go down to reception, either to offer her advice, or make her feel welcome – anything so long as they could be the recipient of that smile. The unattached ones tried to take her out – as did a few of the married ones. She would sometimes accept an invitation from the former, but it was clear that she did not view any of the men as prospective boyfriends. Rumours began to circulate that she already had someone in her life. Nicola neither agreed with this nor denied it, when she was asked. She somehow managed to sidestep the questions.

  Timothy worshipped from afar. It disturbed him to see the way the other men put her under pressure. He generally kept his distance, although he always exchanged pleasantries with her whenever he could. He was unaware that she was watching him.

  At Christmas time an office ‘do’ was arranged at a local hotel, where there would be a dinner, followed by dancing. Timothy dreaded the dancing and when that began, he went to stand by the bar. After several lively numbers the music switched to slower, more romantic melodies, and a medley of the love songs of Andrew Lloyd Webber was just beginning. There was a touch on his elbow. He turned round to find Nicola standing there.

  ‘Would you dance with me?’ Her upturned face and smile were irresistible.

  ‘I’m not much of a dancer,’ he mumbled.

  ‘That’s not important. Having a dance with you is.’

  He led her to the dance area, and as he held the slim body in his arms he knew he didn’t want to let go.

  ‘Love me, that’s all I ask of you,’ crooned the singer, and he felt her nestle closer. Then there was a pause in the music.

  ‘Would you like to go back to your friends?’ asked Timothy, ready to guide her to the table where she had been sitting.

  ‘I’d rather stay with you, if that’s okay with you.’

  ‘It’s more than okay.’

  At the end of the evening he asked if he could see her home. The underground train was packed, and he put a protective arm round her. Finally, when they arrived at her flat she asked him in for a cup of coffee. He looked quickly around, but the rumours of a boyfriend seemed unfounded as there were no signs of any other occupant.

  ‘I need to go home soon, as my mother is ill.’ He told her briefly about Maria. Her face registered concern. When he stood up to go she slid easily into his arms and the embrace was as of two people who have finally found each other.

  ‘What a difference an evening can make,’ he whispered as his cheek rested on her fair hair.

  ‘I’ve been trying to attract your attention for ages.’

  ‘Really? And I’ve been admiring you from a distance, but I never dared to hope …’ Thank you … thank you so very much.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For not being put off because I can’t dance like the other chaps.’

  ‘As if that matters!’ replied Nicola indignantly.

  Chapter 42

  Two months later Nicola announced, in a matter-of-fact tone, that she thought it would really be much more convenient all round if she moved in.

  ‘It would make it so much easier for me to help with your mother,’ she suggested, with irrefutable logic.

  Maria and Nicola had become firm friends. Nicola proved to be a practical person who enjoyed looking after the home and did not find household duties onerous. Her background, which in many ways had been a difficult one, had cultivated the independence which characterised her.

  In the past few weeks Timothy had learned a great deal about her. When she was eight her parents were both tragically killed in a car crash. She and her brother had been cared for after that by their grandmother, who had battled to bring them up despite failing health. Clive, of whom she was obviously very fond, had been protective of his little sister, and done his best to act in the guise of parent. The arrangement had worked well all the time Nicola was at school. But by the time she had completed her secretarial course and found her first job, Granny Price had become too ill to cope, and had died shortly afterwards. With the proceeds from their parents’ house divided between them, Nicola and Clive had been able to go their separate ways, each buying a small flat. They always remained in close contact – Nicola described Clive as her ‘best friend’.

  ‘He’s five years older than me, which seems a lot when you are still very young.’

  ‘That’s strange,’ said Timothy. ‘My brother was five years older, also. What a coincidence!’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a brother. Why isn’t he here to help with your mother?’

  Then Timothy explained in detail all that happened to the family, how Carlo had been killed in the war, and how their father, unable to live with the loss, had finally left. When Timothy spoke of the violence to Maria, Nicola was moved to tears.

  ‘Aren’t there any other relatives?’ asked Nicola.

  Timothy then embarked on the story of Claudia and Maria, explaining the events that had happened to cause a rift between them.

  ‘So they haven’t been in contact – for how long?’

  ‘It must be almost forty years now. I’m thirty-four – going on thirty-five – and I was born five years after Carlo, whose birth coincided with the time that Stefano came on the scene at the girls’ family home.’

  ‘Do you think he really did pursue Claudia?’

  ‘How do we know? But it seems their father, Hugh, was in touch with them both. He was something of a go-between. He told Maria that Claudia was extremely bitter, and heart-broken to the point that she was ill. She took herself off for a year to recover. In fact she delayed her teaching career until she had revived sufficiently to put her heart into it. But apparently, even when she returned, she looked dreadfully thin and miserable.’

  ‘And what’s your mother’s take on it?’

  ‘She’s bewildered. Stefano swore to her that he had never proposed marriage to Claudia. He said she was not his type, and I’m sure she wasn’t. I think my mother was pretty attractive in th
ose days, and liked a good time. I think she would have appealed to him far more.’

  Nicola was thoughtful. ‘I wonder,’ she said.

  ‘Wonder what?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Just my feminine curiosity, trying to work things out. What I’m wondering is, why did she go away for a whole year? It seems a long time to get over something like that. Is Maria still sad that she doesn’t have any contact with her sister?’

  ‘It’s the one great burden she now carries. Up to recently she had two, but fortunately your arrival in my life cleared away one of her concerns. So now I’m working hard on trying to track Claudia down. As soon as I’ve achieved that, I’ll go and see her, and try my hardest to persuade her to see Mum. If I told her how ill Mum is now, I’m sure … I do so wish she and Claudia could be reconciled before ….’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Nicola. ‘That would be very good indeed.’

  Chapter 43

  The ring of the doorbell took Claudia by surprise – she was not expecting a caller. Rarely did anyone ever drop in uninvited. Her visitors, such as they were, had always come by arrangement.

  Claudia’s home had been feeling quieter than ever since Socrates’ demise – that is, until three days ago, when Fran had arrived, carrying a basket, from the depths of which a series of high pitched squeaks could be heard. Gingerly lifting the lid Fran had invited Claudia to look inside. Suddenly up popped a tiny black head with a pair of bright eyes that looked around inquisitively – then catching sight of Claudia, focused trustingly on her.

  ‘Oh, what a lovely kitten!’

  Claudia had lifted him out of his basket to examine him more closely. Then she held the tiny body against her, whereupon the kitten set about climbing up her chest until he reached her shoulder, nestling there contentedly against the nape of her neck.

  ‘His name,’ said Fran, ‘is Archimedes, because he comes with a set of principles.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘He requires the best seat in the house, dainty morsels of food at regular intervals, and to have his every whim satisfied. In return he offers you his unwavering devotion for the rest of his life.’