What Tomorrow Brings

by Mary Fitzgerald

  ‘Amyas,’ I said, early one evening, as we were sitting on the veranda drinking wine. ‘Where do you live and what do you do?’

  He didn’t answer for a moment and then said, ‘I live in Cambridge.’

  Of course, I thought. He’s at the university. He’ll be a junior lecturer and those two boys he was with are his students. ‘Do you teach those two boys?’

  He grinned. ‘Yes. You could say that.’

  I adored the thought that my lover was an academic. I could see him in the years to come as a respected professor, someone of note, whose opinion was sought after by the highest in the land. With his brains and looks he could be anything. But I needed to know more. ‘Your parents? Where do they live?’

  He stood up and leant on the railing, looking out over the ocean. There was a mackerel sky above us and I tried to remember the old saying about it. Did it mean rain?

  ‘Where?’ I repeated.

  ‘They’re dead,’ he answered.

  ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He picked up his glass and emptied it into his mouth. ‘How about us going down to the pub,’ he said. ‘I want to see if Graham and Percy are still here.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Since he’d walked into my life, Amyas hadn’t seemed to want to go anywhere. He had appeared as contented with our solitude as I was, but now I was thrilled at the prospect of walking with him through the village.

  ‘Hello, Miss Blake,’ said Alan Williams, the landlord of the Lobster Pot, when we walked in. ‘I didn’t know you were down here.’

  ‘Yes,’ I smiled. I glanced at Amyas, who was waving to the two boys sitting at a table by the fireplace. ‘This is Mr Troy, a friend of mine.’

  ‘Yes, I know who he is.’ Alan frowned. ‘He was staying here. I thought he’d gone.’

  Amyas took over. ‘Persephone, go and sit with my pals, they’ll be pleased to see you. I’ll bring the drinks to the table.’

  Graham and Percy stood up when I went over. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Seffy Blake.’ We shook hands and they introduced themselves. When we sat down, Graham said, ‘We’re sorry about trespassing the other day. We hadn’t realised.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I answered and smiled at them. They were young, certainly younger than Amyas. I decided to ask him tonight how old he was. ‘I believe you’re on a walking holiday,’ I said, and they nodded.

  ‘We haven’t done much walking,’ admitted Percy, a blond-haired boy with nervous pale blue eyes. ‘We’ve really come away to make our minds up about something. It needs a lot of thought, so here, away from all the influences of home, we felt that we could come to . . .’ He stopped, his youthful face creased with concern.

  ‘Percy’s still a bit troubled,’ Graham butted in. ‘But I think we should go. It’s the only right thing to do.’

  ‘Go where?’ I asked.

  ‘To Spain. To fight. We want to join the International Brigade. Amyas believes in it utterly.’

  ‘Does he?’ I looked over to the bar where Amyas was picking up a tray of drinks. There were a few holidaymakers in the pub and I saw them looking at him. One girl whispered to her friend and the two of them giggled. I guessed what she’d said and grinned to myself. Yes he is, I wanted to yell to them across the room. He’s fantastic in bed, better than you could possibly imagine and it’s me he’s doing it with.

  ‘So, what are we talking about?’ he asked, putting the tray on the table. He pulled over a chair and sat beside me. His hand rested casually on my thigh and a familiar thrill went through me.

  Graham sighed. ‘Spain. What else?’

  ‘Have you made your decision?’ Amyas took a sip of his beer and looked around. The two girls were still staring at him, and when he smiled at them they blushed and looked away. ‘Going or not going?’

  ‘Going, for me,’ said Graham. He had stiff brown hair and a healthy round face. His broad shoulders looked like those of a farmer or a rugby player and I was sure that he would be a brave and competent fighter. But Percy was different. He was slighter and pale and his hands trembled when he picked up his glass of beer.

  ‘I do believe in the cause, absolutely,’ he said, looking almost pleadingly at Amyas. ‘But I’m my parents’ only child. It would be hard on them if anything, well . . .’ he bit his lip. ‘If I was to be killed.’

  ‘Then you mustn’t go,’ I said. ‘Let others take your place.’ I looked to Amyas for confirmation, but he was gazing out of the window to the harbour and fidgeting with the coins on the tray that he’d received as change. He seemed restless this evening and the first tremors of concern trickled slyly into my brain. ‘What d’you say, Amyas?’ I asked. ‘Percy should stay at home, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s not my decision.’

  ‘It was your idea in the first place,’ Graham spoke up, robustly. ‘You took us to the meetings, introduced us to the people who were organising the British end of the Brigade.’

  ‘I did.’ Amyas turned his head back from the view. ‘And you were glad to be there. Both of you. But now, as I said, it’s up to you.’

  They were silent. What Amyas had said was logical. He reminded me of one of my lecturers who had put propositions to us and then left us to work out what was real and what was imaginary. But this was much more important than a line from King Lear or the actual meaning of The Pilgrim’s Progress.

  A tap on my shoulder made me turn around. It was Mr Penney. I’d known him all my life and I stood up and gave him a hug.

  ‘Well, Miss Seffy, what are you doing here?’ His weather-beaten, fisherman’s face creased in a thousand places as he smiled at me. ‘The wife said you’d gone back to London. She’s been in Barnstaple, you know, but back now.’

  ‘I decided to stay on for a few days. The weather was so good.’ I was making excuses.

  ‘It’ll turn tonight. There’s a storm coming in.’ He looked over his shoulder to another fisherman, who was holding up darts and jerking his head towards the board. ‘Aye, Fancy, I’m coming.’ He turned back to me and grinned. ‘You be taking care, now, Miss Seffy.’

  I resumed my seat and prayed that Peter Penney would sink so much beer this night that he would forget about me and not tell his wife.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Amyas. I hadn’t introduced him or the boys. I don’t know why, it just hadn’t seemed appropriate.

  ‘He’s a fisherman. I’ve known him all my life. Mrs Penney, his wife, is our housekeeper when we’re here.’

  ‘Don’t you live here all the year?’ Percy seemed to be glad of the diversion.

  ‘No, we have a house in Eaton Square. Summer’s Rest is a holiday home.’

  Graham gave a long, low whistle. ‘I think we’re mixing with the quality here, Percy.’ He stared at me and then, narrowing his eyes towards Amyas, gave a small, rather sour laugh.

  ‘What?’ I asked puzzled. ‘Why did you laugh?’

  Percy touched my bare arm. ‘Ignore him, Seffy. He’s had too much beer.’

  It was an uncomfortable moment and I wondered if Amyas would respond, but he was gazing out at the harbour again. When Graham and Percy went for more drinks I asked him if something was wrong.

  ‘No, darling girl.’ He turned and smiled his brilliant smile at me. My heart melted yet again. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I was thinking, that’s all.’

  ‘About the war in Spain?’

  ‘That and something else.’

  ‘What?’

  He bent his head and gave me a quick kiss. ‘I’ll tell you when we get home.’

  Before we left I told Graham and Percy that they were welcome to swim in our bay. ‘And come and have a drink at the house,’ I added.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Percy. ‘We’d like that.’

  Graham nodded, but remained silent. I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that there was something difficult between him and Amyas. Perhaps he didn’t like me and was angry that Amyas was staying at my house instead of helping him to persuade Percy to join up. Whatever it was, I felt t
he atmosphere acutely.

  ‘Does Graham not like me?’ I asked Amyas as we walked home.

  ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Graham doesn’t like you? No. He thinks you’re fine. Probably too good for me. That’s what it’s about.’

  ‘But how could I be too good for you?’

  ‘You’ve got money,’ he said and his voice took on a bitter note. ‘I haven’t.’

  Poor Amyas. His lack of a fortune was the driving force of his life, but at that time I didn’t realise it. All I thought was why would anyone as clever and handsome as him care about money?

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘I’ve got enough for both of us.’

  He was quiet as we climbed the short hill back to the house and I wondered if I’d made another gaffe; showing off about how wealthy I was. I hadn’t meant to, and squirmed with embarrassment.

  I made coffee when we got in and we sat on the veranda with the cups in front of us. It was dark and moonless and the wind had got up, blowing in from the sea. Soon I felt a splash on my arm and then another as we sat in silence.

  ‘I want to marry you.’ Amyas spoke suddenly but his words were carried away on the wind and I wasn’t sure that I’d heard him properly.

  ‘What?’ I asked, astonished.

  ‘I can’t imagine life without you.’ He leant forward and took my arm. ‘You are the one woman I’ve been looking for all my life. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something indefinable about you.’ He looked deeply into my eyes and my heart did somersaults. ‘You are utterly perfect, in every way.’ He bent and kissed my hands, his lips hot as fire on my cold fingers. ‘Marry me, darling Persephone. Make me a better person.’

  It was only afterwards that I remembered that he had never said he loved me. He’d said I was perfect, utterly perfect and the woman he’d been looking for all his life. But he had never said love. I had. I’d laughed, entranced by joy and said, ‘Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you. I love you.’ And in the lovemaking that followed I’d repeated it several times but all he’d done was grin and roll me over and over until we fell out of bed in gales of laughter. I had never been so happy – but then I woke, suddenly in the night, and remembered what Amyas hadn’t said.

  Rain was pouring the next morning, steady, soaking rain, and a blanket of mist had rolled in from the sea. It seemed ominous, almost as though it was the end of summer. I’d been in Cornwall often enough to know that it rained frequently, so I was being foolish, I thought, and told myself it would probably dry up by lunchtime and we could go for a swim.

  Amyas was deeply asleep, lying on his face and I stroked a hand over his tanned back, loving the feel of the muscles beneath the skin. I was dizzy with passion, wanting him to wake up and take me in his arms, but he didn’t move. So I got up to make breakfast. We ate eggs in bed, while we planned our wedding. I wanted it to be at the little church on the headland with its Celtic cross and the wild flowers which grew between the gravestones. I would wear a simple white frock and only the family would attend. My mother’s hopes of a society wedding would be dashed, but I didn’t care.

  If I hadn’t had my head so full of plans I might have heard the noises from the kitchen and paused before bursting through the closed door.

  ‘The kettle’s just boiled, Miss Seffy.’ It was Mrs Penney, plump and bustling, pouring boiling water into the teapot and humming a little tune.

  ‘Oh,’ I gasped. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ I looked around the kitchen, anxiously, for signs of Amyas. His cigarettes were on the table and I stared at them. Mrs Penney looked at them too.

  ‘I see your sister’s still here,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘That girl smokes far too much, I’m sure it’s bad for her. I’ve said to Penney on more than one occasion that it’s his old pipe that causes him to cough all through the winter, and Miss Xanthe will be the same.’

  I heard the lavatory flush and my heart nearly stopped. Mrs Penney took another cup and saucer from the dresser. ‘I expect she’ll go back to bed,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’ll take a cup up to her.’

  ‘No.’ I could hear my voice squeaking in alarm. ‘No.’ I swallowed. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘It ain’t no bother.’ And before I could stop her she poured tea into the cup, picked it up and walked to the door. It opened before she reached it and Amyas, looking more god-like than ever and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist as gods always do, walked in.

  I don’t know how she kept hold of the cup and saucer, but it rattled in her hand and tea slopped on to the stone floor. ‘Oh mygar,’ she breathed, using a familiar Cornish expression, and looked back at me in my thin nightdress. ‘Miss Seffy!’ Her smile disappeared and her previously kindly face creased in shock. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I know what it looks like,’ I stuttered, my face scarlet. ‘But . . .’ I couldn’t think of any excuse that would sound even remotely true. ‘We’re getting married. Soon.’

  ‘That tea going begging?’ asked Amyas casually, and took the cup and saucer out of Mrs Penney’s hands. ‘Good morning,’ he smiled. ‘I’m Amyas.’

  I waited for her to melt and return his smile but she growled and walked back to face me. ‘How long has he been here?’ she said and jerked her head over her shoulder.

  ‘A week,’ I muttered. Thinking back, I realise that there should have been no need for my embarrassment in front of Mrs Penney. After all, she wasn’t my mother, but . . .

  ‘Seffy Blake, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.’ She put her hands on her hips and scowled at me. ‘Carrying on with this . . . what is he? A jowster? I’m ashamed of you, your ma will break her heart and your pa, well he’ll be so upset.’

  I nodded. ‘I know. But we are getting married.’ I looked at Amyas, hoping that he would charm her, like he did everyone else, but he just stood there, an amused look on his face, watching as she wagged her finger at me. Suddenly she spun round to face him. ‘You, get some clothes on. You should be ashamed of yourself. Standing there, half naked.’

  I knew that she would phone my mother. I could have begged her not to, but what would be the point? They’d have to know, sooner or later, and when, that evening, the telephone rang and I picked it up to hear my mother’s hysterical voice on the other end of the line, I was ready for her.

  ‘I’m getting married,’ I argued. ‘Soon. There’ll be no shame.’

  ‘But who is he?’ Mother sobbed. ‘Who are his people?’

  The fact that I didn’t know almost sent her into a total breakdown. ‘We’re coming down,’ she whispered finally, after exhausting herself with weeping and shouting. ‘Your father and I. We’ll put a stop to all this nonsense.’

  Chapter Four

  WE WERE QUIETER in our lovemaking that night. Amyas shrugged when I said that my parents were coming down to Cornwall to confront us. ‘That’s all right,’ he said, confident, I thought, that they would like him.

  I was nervous. ‘They’re coming the day after tomorrow. They’ve an important dinner party to attend and Mother wants everything to appear normal. As far as she’s concerned, this is a blip. Something that she can put a stop to.’ I looked at him lying easily on the bed. ‘She can’t, can she?’

  ‘No,’ he murmured.

  I was comforted by that and lay back beside him wondering yet again why he’d picked me. There must have been other girls, other loves. ‘Have you loved anyone else?’ I asked, half joking.

  He shook his head. ‘Not the way I love you.’

  I wanted to believe him, so I did.

  Mrs Penney came again the next day, banging around the house with her mop and bucket and following me into every room. Her anger and disapproval didn’t stop her from making soup for us and she’d brought fresh bread. ‘The village is scandalised,’ she muttered, when I went into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. ‘Alan Williams, at the Lobster Pot, says that man didn’t pay his bill until the other night.’ She gave me a fierce look. ‘I hope you didn’t pay it, Miss Seffy.’ I shook my head, my
cheeks burning.

  I went down to the beach later in the afternoon, when the rain had drifted away and the warm sun had returned to dry up the sand and glitter on the blue-green water. Amyas decided not to come with me. He’d found a book on Father’s bookshelf that he wanted to look at. ‘It’s a quite rare edition,’ he said, turning the volume over in his hands. ‘Too precious to be taken on to the beach.’

  ‘All right,’ I smiled. ‘See you later.’

  He grinned and kissed me and for a moment I thought he would drop the book and take me in his arms, but he didn’t. His thoughts were elsewhere that afternoon. I didn’t mind, really, because although I would have revelled in the lovemaking, I wasn’t sorry to have time to myself. I needed to think, and I couldn’t do that when I was with him. His presence swamped my brain with desire, leaving no room for anything else. And for over a week I hadn’t wanted anything else. But now I needed to plan a way to handle my parents. To show them what a marvellous being Amyas was, and that if they would look beyond class and connections they would see that he could be an asset to our family. Anyway, for all I knew, his family was as good or better than mine and he’d be able to show them that. After all, he seemed to know the people that Xanthe mixed with and they were acceptable to Mother.

  But when I walked on to the beach I found that I wasn’t alone. Percy was sitting beside the rocks, with his head in his hands. He didn’t hear me approaching until I was quite close and when he looked up I saw, to my dismay, that he’d been crying.

  ‘Oh! I’m so sorry, Percy,’ I murmured, embarrassed to have stumbled upon him when he was so obviously upset.

  He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got over it now.’