Liam's Story

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  But just as he was yawning and saying that he really must go to bed, his mother turned to the subject he had been trying to avoid all evening. After a brief enquiry as to the arrangements for next day, she said: ‘By the way, I do hope you managed to get over that – well, that fancy you had for her once. You did, didn’t you?’

  She almost caught him off-guard. Only because he had been expecting something like that, did he manage a light laugh. ‘Oh, Mother – that was years ago. I’ve known a lot of girls since then.’

  There was relief and approval in her smile. ‘Well, I thought you must have, but I had to ask.’ With a teasing twinkle in her eye, she asked: ‘Nobody serious, then?’

  Liam stood up, taking their cups to the sink. ‘If it’s marriage you’re talking about – no. Time enough for that when the war’s over.’

  Edward had been to the hospital to visit Robin the week before; the tiresome journey and the fact that several were going made him glad to bow out this time. Or so he said. Had he been able, Liam knew he would have gone to see Robin any day of the week. But it was neither practical nor sensible. Aware that he had so little time in York, Liam promised to spend the evening at home, and found himself focusing upon the leave he would have once he was declared fit.

  ‘It may be no more than a week, I don’t know, but I should get something – I haven’t had leave as such since I joined up in 1914. Anyway,’ he promised, ‘whatever I get, I’ll spend here, with you.’

  Edward tried to be dismissive, but he was grateful, Liam could see that. It reminded him most painfully of years that he had to make up to them both.

  At last, his mother was ready. She was wearing a hat and coat that Liam did not recognize, not fashionable by Tisha’s standards, but elegant. As she pulled on her gloves and checked the furl of her umbrella, he thought how attractive she looked; his comment produced a little flush of pleasure from her and a smile from Edward.

  Before they set off, Edward cupped her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly. ‘Give Robin my love. Tell him I’ll try to see him soon...’

  She hugged him, kissed his cheek. ‘I will, dear. Have a rest this afternoon – we were all up too late, last night.’

  Touched by their affection for one another, for the first time Liam viewed them from an adult perspective, and never doubted that as a child he had been lucky to have them both as parents. The pain he had nursed for four long years burned in his chest and he had to turn away. It seemed so selfish now.

  On the way to the hotel, it struck him that it would be the first time he had seen his mother and Robert Duncannon together since that afternoon before the war. He was the one person she had not talked about last night, and Liam wondered what she felt for him now. It occurred to him that perhaps she was suffering a certain embarrassment, trying to compose herself before meeting her ex-lover under the eyes of her son. Just as he was trying to compose himself before meeting Georgina. The irony of it brought forth a smile as well as a sigh.

  If there was any constraint on his mother’s part — and Liam was far from sure that there was — then Robert Duncannon was singularly unafraid of showing his affection. He kissed her warmly on the cheek, held her for a moment, and smiled at her as though she were the only woman in the world. When he told her that she was looking wonderful, her response was not a blush but a wry smile; and a refusal to take his arm. Far from being put out, Robert simply laughed.

  They seemed to know each other very well, which, given the years between, rather surprised Liam. Robert could not resist trying to tease and charm her, while she, with the benefit of past experience, constantly strove to put him in his place. Something about this exercise amused them both, so that together they seemed so much younger, and more alive.

  Liam thought it extraordinary, until he recalled that other occasion, when he had been angry and jealous, rubbed ail the wrong way because of a vibrancy between them that he simply did not understand. Now, he saw that it was an involuntary thing, and was no longer embarrassed. He was even a little amused by it himself.

  Walking behind, he glanced enquiringly at Georgina, and saw that her thoughts echoed his. ‘Have they always been like this?’

  She suppressed a smile. ‘Not always, no. But when Father is happy, he can charm the birds from the trees...’

  ‘Yes,’ Liam murmured dryly, ‘I’m beginning to understand that.’

  ‘And when he isn’t...’ For a moment she left the sentence unfinished, then glanced up at Liam. ‘You haven’t seen the other side of him. When the mood’s on him, he can be impatient, overbearing — quite insufferable.’ She shook her head. ‘So different from Edward.’

  Liam nodded. ‘I was just thinking that.’ Pondering the strangeness of life, he shook his head. His mother had been happy with Edward, and even though she had shouldered several burdens of late, there was a tenderness between them that spoke of limitless understanding. Looking back he could see the richness of contentment, and knew it was not just a hazy, childhood memory, but truth indeed.

  And yet, watching her now, she almost sparkled. It caught at him, and, without wishing to be disloyal, he could not help feeling that something had been lost. ‘It’s a shame, isn’t it?’

  ‘What is?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, that they never married.’

  But Georgina could not agree. ‘Oh, Liam, don’t be misled. Father’s a bachelor – always has been and always will be. He likes his freedom, and being on the move. He was never happy in one place for long. But Louisa – well, you know her, she loves her home and her garden and being settled.’ She shook her head, sadly. ‘He never really wanted that...’

  As they came to Lendal Bridge, the open vista of the river caught his attention and he paused, musing for a moment. ‘Was that it then? What made them part?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘So you don’t think...?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. Not really.’

  They moved on, but with a safe distance between themselves and the older couple, Georgina said: ‘If Louisa were free – which she isn’t – I could see them coming to some sort of arrangement...’

  ‘But not marriage.’

  ‘No, I can’t see them marrying. They know themselves and each other too well.’ A little later, she said: ‘Does that bother you?’

  Liam smiled and pressed the hand on his arm. ‘No. Nothing like that bothers me anymore.’

  Relaxed in the knowledge that his parents were too taken up with each other to spare keen eyes for their offspring, Liam enjoyed the journey and his lunch. Georgina was smiling too, chatting to Louisa as though it were no more than a convivial day out. That changed, however, as they drew near the hospital. His mother became rather taut and brisk, explaining that Robin was still confined to bed, still in a lot of pain, and that they would probably have to go into the ward in twos.

  ‘Perhaps if Liam and I go in first...?’

  Robert was in full agreement. ‘Of course. We don’t want to overwhelm him...’

  Wooden, temporary structures had been built adjacent to the main hospital, and Robin was in one of those, a good five or six beds down from Sister’s office, which was a good sign.

  Or should have been. Lying back against the pillows, with his ruffled hair no more than a charcoal smudge on the surrounding whiteness, he seemed barely there. The little mountain of a protecting frame beneath the blankets dwarfed him. Remembering his last sight of Robin, in the square at Albert, Liam was shocked. His brother’s smile, such a pale imitation of that other smile, was almost more than he could bear. Blinking rapidly, for a little while Liam had to let his mother do the talking.

  Robin pressed his hand. ‘You look disgustingly fit for a sick man,’ he said with an echo of his old spirit. ‘How are you?’

  Still wearing hospital blues, Liam felt like a malingerer in this surgical ward full of injured men. Forcing a smile, he said shortly: ‘As you say — disgustingly well. I just wish I could persuade the MO of
that fact. I might get some proper leave, then.’

  ‘Don’t rush it,’ his brother said, echoing Georgina’s sentiments. ‘It’ll come soon enough.’

  Liam knew what he meant, but their mother’s presence precluded talk of the war. He wanted to know about Robin’s injury, the action that had led to it, but did not like to ask. But he would, later, when he had more than just this one day.

  They stayed for about half an hour, then left to allow the others in. With an eloquent glance at Georgina as he strode past her in the lobby, Liam went straight outside. His mother came to stand with him for a while, but it was cold, and he was too upset to speak. She went inside, and a little while later, Georgina came to join him.

  ‘It didn’t seem fair to take up so much visiting time – I thought I’d let Louisa go in again.’

  Liam lit another cigarette. ‘What did you think?’

  ‘I had a word with Sister before we went in – he’s doing all right.’

  ‘But you – what did you think?’

  She pressed his hand and looked away. ‘It was a shock – seeing him like that. Yes, it was a shock. Dear Robin...’

  He wanted to hold her, needed her physical comfort. The impossibility of it made him swear, eloquently, under his breath. Abruptly, he turned away, pacing afresh the few yards between hut and railings. Georgina stood quite still, watching him.

  ‘Father’s taken some leave,’ she said as he returned to her side. ‘He wants to stay on in York for a few days.’

  His heart leapt at that. ‘But I thought we were all going back to London together?’

  ‘Apparently not. We shall have to make do with each other’s company...’

  ‘Then for heaven’s sake,’ he murmured huskily, ‘let’s take an early train.’

  The general uncertainty of travelling times made an early start advisable. Next morning they were at the station by seven, but so were many others. Without that private compartment arranged by Robert Duncannon on the way from London, Liam knew his First Class ticket would be questioned.

  ‘We’re going to have trouble with me in this uniform,’ Liam muttered, spotting several staff officers in the forward section of the train.

  ‘We won’t get a seat anywhere else, though,’ Georgina pointed out. ‘Standing room only, by the look of things.’

  In the end, they found a compartment with two elderly clerics and an iron-faced lady whose sweeping glance would have withered a sergeant-major. Georgina’s youth and nursing sister’s uniform attracted benevolent nods from the gentlemen, but they were clearly not quite sure what to think about Liam. The distinctive hat with its rising sun emblem had, thanks to the British press, become synonymous with bravery; and had he worn officer’s insignia, they would have been delighted to welcome him. The corporal’s stripes on his sheepskin jacket threw them a little; apparently he was in the wrong section of the train, but they were too polite to say so.

  Not so the lady with her feathered toque and fur stole. With her umbrella, she tapped him, none too gently, on the knee. ‘Young man – this is First Class.’

  Her attitude annoyed him. For her, and people like her, his friends were dying, his brother injured. He considered the polite reply, and then discarded it in favour of colonial innocence. While Georgina smothered a smile, he glanced around at plush seats and linen headrest covers, and nodded approvingly. ‘Yes, ma’am, I’d say it is and no mistake. Fair dinkum, as we say back home.’

  With that he took a seat facing Georgina, maintaining a poker-face.

  ‘You’ll know about it, young man, when the guard comes round!’

  Liam nodded politely, and stared out of the window. It was still dark, but as the train jerked and shuddered its way out of the station, he saw the first fingers of a grey dawn above the city walls. A savage amusement killed any regret; besides, he knew he would soon be back for a longer stay.

  A few minutes later the guard arrived. For the benefit of the female dragon next to him, Liam went through a mime of alarm while the others had their tickets checked and clipped. He even kept the guard waiting in weary impatience before producing that precious piece of card.

  ‘Jeez, thought I’d lost it. Here we are, mate – clip that!’

  With stony indifference, the guard did so, tipping his cap perfunctorily as he moved on to the next compartment.

  Abandoning that strong Australian accent, as soon the door closed, he leaned confidentially towards Georgina, and in a passable imitation of a British officer, said: ‘You know, for a minute there, darling, I really thought I’d lost that ticket.’

  He had the satisfaction of seeing one clergyman’s shoulders shake, and the other hide his smile behind a copy of The Times. He did not turn his head to look at the woman next to him, but he could feel her indignation.

  Eyes dancing, Georgina said, under her breath: ‘You’re very wicked.’

  It was impossible to conduct an intimate conversation, so they said little, but after the strain of guarding even their eyes, it was a relief to be able to look at one another without concern for other people. Liam wanted her so much he ached with it, and by her eyes she wanted him too. During the whole of the journey they were alone for no more than a few minutes, but it was enough to say what was in both their minds.

  When they arrived at King’s Cross they headed straight for the nearest hotel. Georgina made the booking, and, with the excuse of a train to catch later that night, paid in advance; Liam went into the bar, sidling up the stairs when the clerk’s back was turned. On the third floor she was waiting for him, anxiety and impatience written into every line.

  He reached for her even before the door was closed, crushing her into his arms, raining hungry, demanding kisses onto face, hair, mouth, while she struggled to unfasten her cape and his jacket, and close the door behind them. In privacy at last, she gave up, opening her mouth to him, responding to that fierce hunger with a need of her own. He loved kissing her, loved the feel of her teeth and the honeyed sweetness of her tongue; but the soft interior of her mouth made him want her in other ways, and that need was becoming very difficult to control.

  As he began to tug at the stiff collar of her dress, she forced herself away from him.

  ‘Liam – we have to arrive looking as though we’ve just stepped off a train…’ She paused, gasping a little, holding a firm hand against his chest. ‘Let me take off my own clothes – let me fold them, please.’

  He laughed, a little shakily, pecked at her lips and began to undress. Folding his own uniform, he watched her do the same, knowing she was teasing him a little now, and loving it. She came to him and he kissed her breasts, running his hands down over hipbones and haunches, to cup the soft flesh beneath. His words, as he pressed himself against her, were explicit, as were hers in reply, but it was becoming part of a ritual, a sort of vicarious satisfaction, and he did not want that. Almost roughly, he pushed her onto the bed, kneeling over her before she could rise. ‘I mean it,’ he said.

  But it seemed his intensity killed something. Her desire seemed to evaporate before his eyes. ‘All right then, go ahead...’

  Her acquiescence was feigned, he knew that, and he could no more have forced her than slapped her face. With a defeated sigh he collapsed on the bed, cradling her in his arms. ‘Darling, I’m sorry...’

  She was more upset, kissing him, fondling him, despairing at the lack of time and the need they both shared.

  That despair tinged the rest of their lovemaking, bringing them closer in anguish than in joy. Afterwards, holding her, Liam found himself thinking that it would always be like this: stolen moments in anonymous places, longings that turned to ashes, and a love that was set to break both their hearts.

  Twenty-eight

  Queen’s Gate, SW

  November 28th.

  My Dear,

  What a pleasure it was to see you again, and, despite the circumstances, to know that you are happier than when last we met. Robin is improving, and in such good hands will continue to
do so, of that I have no doubt. To see Liam again was for me a pleasure, so for you – well, I could see the happiness in your face.

  He is a fine young man. You have every reason to be proud of him, you and Edward, both. I had so little to do with his upbringing, I claim no praise at all. As his mother, I dare say you will see changes in him that I have missed, but I do not think he is the worse for them. If he has suffered from the war, then I am sure that it has also matured him, and it strikes me now that his willingness to understand is a direct result of that. I know that war altered my perception, all those years ago in the Sudan – but it came a little too late, didn’t it? I thank God that it was not too late for Liam.

  I was pleased to have Tisha’s news. Rest assured that in the absence of young Fearnley, I shall keep an eye on her as much as I can. It will be strange to have a grandchild. Here I am, approaching fifty-five years old, and yet – at the moment, anyway – feeling no more than half that.

  Yes, it was good to see you, and this run of good news and good luck is uplifting after all the gloom and despondency of this year. I hope and pray it continues, and that Robin makes a swift recovery. He will, I am sure, and although his regiment is unlikely to want him back, that strikes me as being the best part of all. I never thought I would live to say such a thing, but I am heartily sick of all this death. We need our young men, but I have my moments of wondering whether Sir Douglas understands that.

  I may be talking treason, my dear, so perhaps I had better close. My regards to Edward – he seems much better for seeing Liam, and I’m glad to have been instrumental in that –

  Ever yours,

  Robert.

  It was hardly a love letter, yet its warmth touched Zoe. Since 1900 he had written infrequently, and nothing survived of his correspondence before that date, but what Louisa had kept glowed with affection and regard. Reading those letters had changed Zoe’s view of him entirely.