What Tomorrow Brings

by Mary Fitzgerald

  I turned back to the steps. ‘I’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘No. Don’t.’ Percy stood up. ‘Come and talk to me. I need someone.’

  We walked down to the shoreline and let the sea wash over our ankles, feeling that odd sensation of excitement and alarm when the sand beneath our feet was gradually sucked away and then returned. At first Percy stood quietly beside me, sniffling a bit, and I could hear the occasional shuddering breath. I decided he must still be upset about making the decision to go to Spain. But suddenly he turned to me and said, ‘Graham’s gone and I don’t know how I’m going to live without him. I love him so much.’

  I couldn’t stop myself from giving a little gasp of shock.

  ‘You must think that I’m a dreadful person,’ he muttered. ‘Saying what I’ve just said. But I can’t help it.’

  I was shocked; I couldn’t help it. I had never spoken openly to a man who professed his love for another man. It was a crime, punishable with a prison sentence. We all knew it went on, but I felt awkward and confused and wished that Amyas was here with me to answer Percy’s question. But he wasn’t, and when I answered him it was from my heart and without guile.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you’re a dreadful person. I liked you yesterday and I still like you today. What you’ve said makes no difference.’ I took his hand and gave it a squeeze to show I meant it, but at that gesture of friendship his face crumpled and the tears that he’d said were gone returned. It was awful to see this grown man wailing like a lost child and, without thinking, I put my arms around him and let him dig his head into my neck and weep.

  While he wept I gazed over his shaking shoulders to the bay, where seagulls bobbed on the little waves and a cloud drifted over the sun making the water turn from blue to grey. That made the mood of despair heighten, but I held on to him until the shaking stopped and he was able to pull himself away.

  ‘Thank you, Seffy,’ he said, when his tears dried up and he was able to speak. ‘You’re a very kind girl, as well as beautiful.’

  Beautiful? Percy thought me beautiful? As we walked back to the rocks and sat down again, I asked myself what had happened to me over the last few weeks to make men like what they saw. Even the cynical Charlie Bradford had said I was not bad-looking. I thought briefly about Charlie and wondered where he was. Had he gone to Spain? I remembered how envious I’d been of his life when we’d been in the restaurant; how I longed to travel to dangerous places and record what I saw. Being a foreign correspondent had been the pinnacle of my dreams. But that, of course, was before Amyas came into my life. And now I wasn’t envious of anyone. Besides, there was nothing to stop Amyas and me travelling wherever we wished. The thought of the places we could visit was thrilling.

  ‘Amyas knew this would happen.’

  The sun was shining brilliantly again and the wind had dropped so that my imagining of foreign travel was accompanied by a climate to match.

  ‘What?’ I asked, dragging my mind away from Amyas and our future.

  ‘He told me, ages ago, that Graham didn’t really love me. That I was an experiment. Just to see what it was like.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ I said, appalled. ‘How cruel.’ Did men behave like this? Trying out sex with a man, rather than a woman, just to see what it was like? It seemed incredible and I gave Percy a sideways glance. Was he imagining it?

  ‘I didn’t believe Amyas, then, you know. I thought he was simply saying it because he was jealous.’

  Now I was totally confused. ‘Jealous of what? Of whom?’

  Percy turned his pale face to me. ‘Of Graham and me. He hated us being so close.’

  ‘D’you mean to say he didn’t approve? Of your . . . relationship?’

  ‘No.’ Percy looked back towards the sea. The boat with the red sail was tacking across the bay again and we both watched it. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to talk about Graham any more. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the whole situation. ‘Come up to the house,’ I said. ‘Have supper with us.’

  Percy shook his head. ‘Thanks, but no. In the mood I’m in, I’d just make you miserable.’

  ‘Come on,’ I urged. ‘Come for a drink, at least.’

  He was persuaded and climbed the steps, then allowed me to lead him across the terrace and on to the veranda. ‘Wait here,’ I said. ‘I’ll get us something to drink. Gin all right?’

  I found Amyas in my father’s study, still examining the books. There was a small pile of four or five old volumes on the desk, which I supposed he’d picked out to look at.

  ‘I’ve got Percy on the veranda,’ I whispered to him. ‘Graham’s left him and it’s breaking his heart. I’ve brought him in for a drink and a chat. Go and talk to him.’

  Amyas looked up. ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I told you. On the veranda.’ I looked over my shoulder to make sure I couldn’t be overheard before adding, ‘He says that you told him it would happen. I think he’s angry with you. Be careful.’

  Amyas sighed. ‘Stupid kid,’ and with a lingering look at the pile of books, he walked back through the house. I watched him stroll away, my heart throbbing with love. He looked so fine in his white shirt and buttermilk linen trousers. His belongings had been sent up from the pub, but truth to tell there wasn’t much. Mrs Penney had washed his clothes along with mine, grumbling constantly under her breath but leaving two freshly ironed shirts on the table on the landing. She refused to accept that he slept in my bed. I smiled to myself and went to get the gin and glasses.

  If I thought there would be a difficult atmosphere between Amyas and Percy then I was wrong. By the time I reached the veranda with the tray of drinks, Percy was sitting back in the wooden chair with a calm expression and all sign of the tears had gone. And as the evening clouds gathered over the sea, the fleeting looks of misery which had darkened the boy’s face became more and more sporadic, as Amyas talked him back into control.

  We didn’t discuss Spain, it seemed too emotive a subject then, and instead we chatted about books. I was reading A. J. Cronin’s The Citadel. At least, I’d brought it down with me but since Amyas had come into my life I’d barely opened the covers. Percy had brought Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier and was hugely impressed with it. ‘I can’t understand why so many people object to his ideas,’ Percy complained. ‘They seem so logical.’

  ‘Logical, if you accept Orwell’s underlying rationale,’ said Amyas. ‘But, if you don’t?’

  Both Percy and I stared at him. ‘Read it again,’ Amyas advised. ‘And be more like Orwell; question everything. Get it into your head that he’s playing devil’s advocate.’

  Percy frowned and pushed a trembling hand through his straight blond hair. I was scared that he might get upset again so I hastily changed the subject. ‘They still haven’t found Amelia Earhart. They think her plane crashed into the sea, although that area is dotted with islands and she might have been able to land. It’s awful, isn’t it. She was such an adventurer.’

  Amyas gave me a private smile. He guessed that I envied her. At least, I envied her spirit, not her supposed sad death.

  Percy stayed for supper; more of Mrs Penney’s vegetable soup, then thick slices of pork pie with cold boiled potatoes and chutney. ‘I needed this,’ he said, sitting back after putting his knife and fork neatly on his empty plate. ‘I couldn’t eat any breakfast or lunch.’

  ‘When did Graham go?’ asked Amyas.

  ‘First thing. About six o’clock.’ Percy stared at the remains of the pie, just a few crumbs of pastry which Amyas was picking slowly off the plate. ‘He said he’d been awake most of the night, thinking about what to do and once he’d decided, he couldn’t wait any longer. When he woke me, his bags were already packed. It was awful. He wouldn’t even discuss it; he said we’d talked enough.’ Tears started welling in Percy’s pale blue eyes. ‘Then he went.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Amyas.
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  ‘His parents first, I think, in Yorkshire, and then Spain, I suppose.’

  ‘You can’t just go to Spain,’ said Amyas. ‘You have to make your way to Paris first, to an address in the 9th arrondissement. They organise your way into Spain. It’s not like going on holiday.’

  ‘Yes, I knew that,’ Percy said, irritated, which was more than I did. I was surprised that Amyas knew, but then he seemed to know everything. Once again I despaired at my ignorance of how the world worked.

  ‘It does sound exciting,’ I said, forgetting that Percy had pulled out of Graham’s plan. Amyas laughed. ‘You’d like to go, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled, surprising myself by realising that what I said was true. I yearned for adventure.

  ‘They have women’s brigades, you know. D’you fancy joining them? You could. It would suit you.’

  I laughed, but inside I felt appalled. Didn’t he care if I went away? Weren’t we going to be together for life?

  Telling myself not to be silly I got up and gathered the plates to take to the kitchen. There was cheese in the pantry and I thought it would do to finish off the meal. It was while I was in there that the phone rang. It’ll be my mother, I thought, and, feeling slightly sick at the prospect of what she might say, I rushed into the hall to pick up the receiver. Amyas had reached it before me.

  ‘It’s your sister,’ he called. I heard him laughing at something she’d said and answering, ‘naughty girl’, and that uneasy feeling increased. He chatted for another minute before casually handing the phone to me. ‘I’ll take Percy for a walk on the beach,’ he said. ‘I want to give him a few pointers. Join us when you’ve finished.’

  I nodded. ‘All right, I won’t be long,’ then watching him go, I spoke into the receiver. ‘What d’you want, Xanthe?’ I asked, irritated with her although I had no real cause to be.

  ‘Goodness,’ she giggled. ‘You do sound angry. Aren’t things going well in paradise?’

  ‘They’re wonderful,’ I said, making an effort to calm down. ‘I’m getting married to the most fantastic man and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. What could possibly be wrong?’

  ‘Well, it could be the fact that Mummy and Daddy don’t approve and have got private investigators in to find out all they can about your Mr Troy. Oh yes. Trust me. Money has changed hands. That’s what I called to tell you, so don’t you be mean to me.’

  I gripped the receiver tightly, trying to control my furious reaction. That the man I wanted as my husband was being investigated by my parents was positively medieval. They wouldn’t find anything bad, I knew that. You only had to look at Amyas and hear him speak to know that he was perfectly acceptable. Anyway, no matter what the investigator found, I would never give him up.

  ‘Seffy? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’ I gave myself a little shake. ‘Yes, I’m here. I was trying to take in what you said. It seems a horrid thing for Mother to do. She’s such a snob.’

  ‘She is,’ agreed Xanthe and gave one of her tinkling laughs, ‘but I can’t say that I blame her. After all, we don’t want any riff-raff in the family, no matter how gorgeous they might be. Anyway, sis, I must fly. Johnny Blazer is taking me to the Café de Paris and we’ll probably go on somewhere after that. I’ll see you Thursday with Mummy and Daddy.’

  ‘Are you coming down too?’ I asked, aghast at the prospect.

  ‘You bet,’ she laughed. ‘I wouldn’t miss what promises to be the row of the century for anything. Bye.’

  My mind was whirling when I went on to the veranda so I thought I would wait a while to calm down before I went to join Amyas and Percy but, to my surprise, I found Percy waiting for me.

  ‘Is Amyas here?’ I asked, looking back towards the house.

  ‘No,’ Percy shook his head. ‘He’s gone for a swim, so I’m going back to the pub. I’ve decided to go home tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘Was that Amyas’s idea?’

  It was now Percy’s turn to look surprised. ‘No,’ he said, rather crossly. ‘I do have a mind of my own, you know.’

  ‘Of course.’ I could feel my cheeks burning. ‘Sorry.’

  He touched my arm. ‘Don’t be, Seffy. You’re the best person I’ve met for years. No, I want to go home and talk to my father. He’s very understanding and I feel that he would give me good advice.’ He paused. ‘Better advice.’

  I ignored the implications of that remark and smiled at him. I was glad he had someone who loved him. ‘Well, I’m happy for you,’ I said, and leaning forward I grasped his slight shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘We must keep in touch,’ I added, ‘and I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding.’

  He sprang back from me as though he’d had an electric shock. ‘Wedding?’ He frowned. ‘Whose wedding?’

  ‘Mine and Amyas’s.’ I grinned, loving our names being spoken together. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I didn’t know. Oh dear.’

  My grin faded. ‘Oh dear? Why? Amyas and I are in love. He wants to marry me.’ I looked at his concerned face. ‘I love him, Percy. I want to be with him for ever.’

  ‘Mm,’ he said, then he picked up his jacket which he’d thrown across the railing. ‘I’d better get going. Thank you for supper, Seffy. I’ve had a lovely evening. Goodnight.’

  He started to walk across the terrace towards the lane which led down to the village and I stood on the veranda, waiting for him to turn back and explain. He had to. But he walked on until he was through our gate. I couldn’t bear it. ‘Percy,’ I called. ‘Wait.’

  I ran after him, determined to ask him why I shouldn’t marry my beautiful lover.

  ‘Tell me,’ I begged. ‘What’s wrong with me marrying Amyas?’ I could hear the desperation in my voice. What Percy knew, my mother’s investigator would find out. ‘You must know him well,’ I said. ‘He’s your lecturer at the university and you’ve come away on holiday with him. So you must know him.’

  Percy gave a short laugh. ‘I know him and he isn’t a lecturer at the university. Did he tell you that he was?’

  I thought back. Did he say that he was, or had I just assumed it? ‘No, not exactly,’ I muttered. ‘But he knows so much.’

  ‘Oh, he does,’ Percy conceded. ‘He knows everything and everybody.’

  I was confused. ‘Then what? What does he do?’

  Percy shrugged. ‘Nothing. He does nothing.’

  I felt like crying. Everything was crumbling. My assumptions had been proved wrong and my parents would have an unassailable reason for rejecting Amyas. But then, I thought, he must have some money – he must have or he wouldn’t have been able to come to Cornwall. Perhaps he’s privately wealthy. Perhaps he doesn’t need to work, his family supports him like mine do and he’s no different from me. That’s it, I decided. He has private means. And I felt happier.

  ‘Ask him about Mrs Cartwright,’ said Percy suddenly. ‘That’ll put an end to your marriage plans.’

  ‘Who?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘Who is Mrs Cartwright?’

  But he wouldn’t say. He walked away, leaving me to stand helplessly in the lane.

  When I got back to the house Amyas was talking on the telephone and I stood there waiting, with dread, to hear that my parents had already found out something so awful that I was going to be ordered to leave the house that night. However, after a moment I realised that Amyas was talking to someone he knew and that the conversation had nothing to do with me, with us. I walked on into living room still confused, but relieved that there was at least one more night of reprieve.

  Later, in bed, I plucked up the courage to tell Amyas that my parents were having him investigated, and would be here on Thursday. ‘They’re determined to find out everything about you,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry, it’s awful.’

  He said nothing at first, then stroked my face. ‘Do you love me?’ he asked.

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then it doesn’t matter.’


  I switched off the light and lay listening to the rain, which had returned. I had to ask. ‘Who’s Mrs Cartwright?’

  ‘Christ!’ Amyas sat up in bed. ‘You’ve been talking to Percy.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, sitting up too. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘She’s my landlady, in Cambridge.’

  ‘Is she more than that?’ Why am I doing this? I wondered. Surely he would have told me if he was involved with someone else.

  He got out of bed and pulled on his slacks. ‘You’re spoiling everything.’ He sounded angry. All at once I was frightened. He’s hiding some terrible secret, I thought, and remembered that he’d told me nothing about himself. Then the terrible thought came to me that perhaps he was married already and that this Mrs Cartwright was really his wife. Oh, God.

  He’d left the bedroom and I threw myself out of bed and dragged on my nightdress. I found him in Father’s study, sitting at the desk, looking for all the world as though he owned it. For some reason that made my fright dissolve into anger. How dare he sit there, I thought. Keeping himself so secret.

  ‘Tell me,’ I demanded. ‘You have to.’

  Idly he turned the page of the book in front of him. ‘I don’t have to,’ he said slowly. ‘But as you’re insisting, I will. Mrs Cartwright rescued me when I was in difficulties. She took me to live with her in her home, which, I might add, is very beautiful and always full of the most interesting guests. Is she more than a landlady? Well,’ he looked up at me and grinned. ‘I have to say, yes.’

  I gasped. ‘Does she know about me?’ My voice was tiny. ‘Have you phoned her?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s none of her business.’

  ‘But of course it is.’ My tiny voice had grown. ‘If you’re sleeping with her and sleeping with me then it is her business.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t remember saying that I was sleeping with her.’

  That was Amyas in a nutshell. Always mysterious, never ever giving a straight answer. Charlie said once that it was a defence mechanism and that he couldn’t help it, but I was never sure. I thought later that much of his life was an act, but if it was, he gave the most perfect performance.