Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  ‘Fine. His father should be home at any time, and he can show him his cast.’

  A little perplexed at her remark, Peter left the room.

  CHAPTER 4

  As nice as it had been to be away, Peter acknowledged that he was glad to be home, with the people he was fond of and familiar sights and smells. Hotels were alright, but pretty soulless. He went up to the top floor, knocked on the door marked ‘Do Not Enter’, and walked in.

  Rob was lying on his bed playing a video game, his plastered leg propped up on a pillow. Tall, blond and blue-eyed, he never had any problems attracting the opposite sex, all the more so when in uniform; but Peter knew that underneath all that machismo was a kind and caring person. Although a year younger than himself, Rob was a good listener for his problems and came up with sound advice. At times, however, he could be a little impatient with Peter’s hesitancy and caution.

  ‘Hey, the wanderer returns! Have a good time, old son?’

  Peter sat down on the bed. ‘Yes, great. The skiing was good. Nice country.’

  ‘What about the après-ski, eh? Anything tasty?’

  ‘Not that I saw. I did meet a Canadian couple – father and daughter – in the hotel. I had about three days left when they came, but we joined up for meals and we skied a bit.’

  ‘So? What was the daughter like?’

  ‘Quite pleasant. She seemed pretty bright. She’s a trainee journalist. Her father builds boats. She skis well.’

  ‘And…?’

  Peter looked up. ‘And what?’

  ‘Peter, for God’s sake, what are you like! Are you going to keep in touch, you idiot?’

  ‘Well, I have her phone number and she has mine. Now I think about it, I’d better send a text to say I’ve arrived.’

  As he busied himself for a minute or two, Rob lay back on the bed and watched with amusement. When Peter had finished his task, he went on, ‘Did you get on with her alright, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘I enjoyed being with her, but nothing happened, if that’s what you’re referring to.’

  ‘Not that you’d have done it anyway, I suspect, knowing you. But we’ve got to start somewhere, I suppose. Make sure you keep in touch. You know what they say, “absence makes the heart grow fonder”, my old son.’

  Peter thought about this for a minute. He already missed her sparkling conversation. Perhaps he could ring and speak to her.

  ‘She did say that she might be coming over here to work on a British newspaper.’

  ‘Well, there you are then!’ Rob leant forward and clapped him on the back. ‘You’ve cracked it there, and without the help of yours truly.’

  They grinned at each other. Peter then remembered he ought to have asked about the leg.

  ‘How have you been getting on?’ pointing to the well-decorated cast. ‘I see Amy’s been busy prettying it up.’

  ‘Oh, I’m managing, but I’ll be darned glad to get it off. The boys have been busy as well.’ He pointed with a sly look to one particular portion of the cast. Peter leant over for a closer look, and then whistled.

  ‘I’ll say they have. It’s almost pornographic, Rob.’

  ‘I don’t know about “almost”, I think it already is,’ Rob chuckled, and then sobered. ‘Mum turned quite pink when she saw it and says that if Dad sees it, he’ll put a coat of whitewash over it, and the rest of me!’

  They both heard voices and a door slam down below.

  ‘Oh boy,’ Rob sighed, ‘here we go, sounds like one in, one out. If Dad’s back, it won’t be long before I’m hauled over the coals about it. I wonder if Amy has any correction fluid?’

  ‘Speaking of Amy, what’s with the fire engine red hair? Who’s she going out with who can put up with her like that?’

  ‘I think she sees herself as a rebellious art student. Don’t worry, if she came across someone she liked who put their foot down, she’d be all Miss Prim and Proper in no time at all. It’ll come, mark my words. What’s your girl like?’

  ‘She’s not “my girl”, for goodness’ sake.’ Peter shot him an exasperated look. ‘She’s a natural honey blonde with brown eyes, if you must know.’

  Rob studied him with a serious look for a moment. ‘Did you tell them about… well, you know.’

  ‘Your aversion to horses?’

  ‘No, you fool. You know what I mean.’

  Peter knew just what he meant. ‘We talked a bit about my career choice and there was a reference to my parents. I just said the usual: that they’d been in an accident.’ He looked at Rob and his grey eyes were now bleak.

  ‘It’s not the right sort of small talk at dinner to mention that your father was suspected of accepting bribes in his profession, and added to that, killing his wife after a violent row, and then taking his own life!’ The anguish came through in his voice.

  Rob eyed him, his face reflecting his unhappiness. ‘Sorry, I was an idiot to mention it. It’s obvious you don’t want to bring it up. There’s no reason for anyone to know, is there? Keep cool about it, Peter. This is your life, to do as you want, without any throwback to anything else. Focus on where you’re going now, not back to the past. Nothing can change that.’

  Peter gave him a fond smile. ‘Yes, oh wise one!’

  Looking a little more relieved, Rob began to shuffle himself off the bed.

  ‘Dinnertime soon, I shouldn’t wonder. We’d better get downstairs.’

  *

  Jerry sidestepped out of the way of what he took to be his daughter tearing out of the front door with a quick, ‘Hi, Dad. Bye.’

  Shaking his head, he dropped his bags in the hall and went in search of his wife. Sarah turned with a smile as he entered the kitchen, and he crossed over and wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  ‘How’s my girl, eh?’

  ‘Much better for having you back home. Good trip?’

  ‘The conference was a bit boring. One or two of the speakers knew less about the subject than I did. I had a good run home, though, which was a blessing. Was that apparition that passed me in the hall our one and only daughter? I’m glad it was dark. She’s going to give us a bad name with the neighbours.’

  Sarah laughed at him. ‘You should be so lucky. She came with me to the airport like that.’

  ‘Ah, so Peter’s back then. Did he have a good time?’

  ‘As far as you can tell with him. He’s a close one. You have to dig deep to find anything out. He’s up with Rob at the moment.’

  Jerry looked hard at his wife. He knew as well as the rest of the family what effect Peter sometimes had on her, but she appeared to be quite calm.

  ‘I’d better change before dinner. Do you mind if I make a quick couple of phone calls? I’ll be ten minutes, I promise.’

  Sarah’s look at her husband was disbelieving. ‘Oh yes, and the rest. I’ll give you twenty, and that’s all. Give the boys a shout, will you, Jerry.’

  ‘Sure thing.’ Jerry went out into the hall and retrieved his briefcase. When he reached his landing he called up the top flight of stairs, ‘Dinner, boys. Help in the kitchen needed, please.’

  He went into the main bedroom, and a couple of minutes later as he made his first call he smiled to himself, hearing Rob’s laborious clump down the stairs.

  Dinner was the usual warm family gathering. Everyone pitched in and helped. Jerry pressed Peter for a description of his holiday and it appeared that he had enjoyed himself. When Peter made a brief mention of his contact with Frank Benjamin and his daughter, Sarah and Jerry exchanged a look.

  ‘You say that this girl might come over to the UK?’ Jerry enquired.

  ‘It’s possible, I’m not sure.’ Peter replied.

  ‘Well, if she does, don’t forget, as they showed hospitality to you, you must bring her along to us and make her feel welcome over here.�
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  ‘Thanks, I will. If it happens.’

  Jerry looked at his wife, who nodded. It was time to mention the idea they had both talked about while Peter was away.

  ‘Pete, lad,’ Jerry began, ‘on Monday you’re about to start the next step of your life with a proper career, and…’ – he smiled – ‘as you can now be classed as an intrepid lone traveller, we wondered how you would feel about dropping the “Aunt” and “Uncle” bit. It’s your choice. We don’t mind either way.’ He eyed his son, moving his cast on the supporting stool next to him. ‘After all, we’ve been called other things from time to time.’

  ‘Oh, I’m over all that now, Dad. I’m all grown up,’ was Rob’s immediate reply.

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it!’ Chuckling, Jerry turned back to Peter. ‘What do you think?’

  Peter was thinking. When told as a small boy about his parents, he remembered adoption being discussed. Something inside him hadn’t wanted that. He had real parents, even though they weren’t with him. The ‘Aunt’ and ‘Uncle’ thing became the norm. Over the years, he’d become so intertwined with this household there didn’t seem any difference anyway, apart from the surname. He realised that he was now being offered an adult option to his status. It was typical of the caring attitude towards him that this had even been considered.

  ‘Yes, I think I’d like that, if you’re sure about it,’ he said.

  ‘OK, consider it done then.’

  While Peter had been thinking, Jerry had been eyeing his son’s leg on the stool next to him.

  ‘You’ve a pretty good art collection there, Rob.’ He looked a little closer, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Not very correct from an anatomical point of view, or even possible, come to that! Might be an idea to cover it over in public. We don’t want you scaring any little old ladies, do we.’

  Rob grinned at Peter and sighed with relief. ‘Thanks, Dad. The boys went a bit mad, I think. I’ll make sure it doesn’t offend.’

  ‘Good. Well, I think maybe you two could deal with the washing up while my wife and I have some time to ourselves in the front room.’

  As Sarah and he left, Rob gave a loud whistle. ‘Good old Dad. You know he’s mad, but he doesn’t make a meal of it. Treats you like an adult. That was a nice suggestion they made to you, Peter.’

  Peter stood and began to clear the table. ‘I’ve always thought they were terrific people. They’ve done their best for me. Has it ever bothered you and Amy, about me being here?’

  Rob looked at him in genuine surprise. ‘Lord no, it’s been so natural I haven’t given it much thought. I don’t think Amy has either. She’s never mentioned it to me. We think of you as a proper brother, and that’s it. It’s nice having you around.’

  Such displays of care and support, Peter realised, continued to warm the lonelier areas inside him.

  CHAPTER 5

  Without, for once, the involvement of his great uncle, Peter had obtained a position as a pupil with an old and well-respected barristers chambers. Although this had not been a conscious independent decision, he was pleased about making the choice for himself. At his interviews he had been impressed by the atmosphere of genuine friendliness in the chambers.

  Despite this, however, it was with some trepidation that he presented himself on the Monday morning. The Chief Clerk, John Moore, introduced him to a blur of names and faces and then took him through to a room overlooking a courtyard garden. Jonathan Raven was a man in his forties, but already with a shock of iron grey hair. He was a senior barrister and son of the present head of chambers. He was to steer Peter through his first months. They had met once and Peter had taken an instant liking to him.

  ‘Well now, welcome, Peter. All ready for the fray?’

  ‘I think so, sir.’

  ‘Right, well we’ll start by you not calling me “sir” all the time. In front of clients it’s Mr Raven, but otherwise try Jonathan. OK?’

  ‘Thanks… Jonathan.’

  ‘Right. Well then, pull up a chair. I imagine you’ll feel a little out of your depth at first, but if I think you can manage it, I’ll put some work your way. We have a busy time coming up just now. One or two big cases. I suggest you read through some of the case notes and Court documents I’m dealing with at the moment just to familiarise yourself with the contents and how things have panned out. I’m not in Court until tomorrow and I think John Moore will take you along so you that can see things in operation. Sound OK?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m looking forward to it. I seem to have been studying for so long, and now I’m almost at the end of it, it’s nice to be doing some proper work.’

  Jonathan Raven considered him for a moment or two.

  ‘Judge Lionel Franklin is a relative of yours, and he’s been your mentor, I believe?’

  There was something in his tone of voice that alerted Peter.

  ‘He’s my great uncle. My mother’s uncle. He was of tremendous help by giving me extra coaching when I was at school, which helped my grades. He wanted me to study at Cambridge under an old associate of his, Professor Davenport.’

  ‘Mmm… my father has spoken of Franklin. He’s had several sparring matches with him in Court, I understand. Tended to come up with points relating to some outrageous old cases which made him unpopular with many a counsel.’

  ‘But isn’t a full disclosure of any legal issues of paramount importance?’

  ‘Indeed, but where do you draw the line of obscurity? The law is the law, of course, but things have to move forward and change with the times; even law, to a certain extent. Any information has its part, but there is also common sense, fairness and justice; which is, after all, what we are supposed to be upholding.’

  Peter went on the defensive, his voice taking on an unconsciously belligerent tone. ‘Are you suggesting that my great uncle wasn’t doing that?’

  Jonathan Raven gave him a stern look through narrowed eyes. ‘Well, perhaps we can have a theoretical conversation on the point some other time, Peter, but for now we’d better get on with some work.’

  Peter picked up on the slight censure in the other man’s voice and calmed himself down. ‘Yes, of course. What would you like me to do?’

  *

  Peter found himself so engrossed by all he was seeing and learning, that he realised he had forgotten to contact his great uncle since his return. On the Friday evening he mentioned to Sarah that he would like to make arrangements to see him at his Club the next day. Peter had learnt to drive and, when needed, Sarah gave up her car to him.

  ‘Of course, you can have the car. I’m not on duty until Monday, and I don’t need to go out.’

  She appeared to be about to say something else, but then thought better of it. Again, he recognised the disapproving attitude both Sarah and Uncle Luigi always took whenever his great uncle was mentioned. For a long while now, Peter had been given the clear impression that they were unhappy about any association with him. Nothing explicit was said as to why they held this stance; and if he was honest, he resented their feelings.

  ‘You’re never happy about me seeing Great Uncle Lionel, are you?’

  He noticed Sarah didn’t turn to face him, but continued preparing the evening meal. ‘You must do as you wish, Peter, but I can’t deny the fact that I don’t like the man.’

  ‘I can’t see why. After all, as well as his professional guidance, he’s been generous with his financial assistance over the years, and we owe him a lot. Besides, I feel a fondness for him. He is my one true blood relative, although a little removed, but proper family all the same.’

  Sarah then turned to look at him and he saw the sheen of tears in her blue eyes. Realising far too late how his words must have sounded, he moved over and put his arms around her. He was annoyed with himself for making such a careless remark, and held her close.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I’d never hurt you
for the world. You know how much I love you and Jerry, and the “terrible two”, and I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me.’ He gave a sigh. ‘I just can’t deny the family association. I hope you can see that.’

  Sarah sniffed and looked up at him. ‘Yes, I know. It’s just—’

  ‘Look, perhaps we should agree to keep off the whole subject, eh? If I need the car I’ll just ask for it and not tell you where I’m going. Is that OK?’

  She gave him a watery smile, nodded and turned back to her task.

  *

  Lionel Franklin now lived on the top floor of the Grosvenor Club. He was in his middle seventies, and although still sharp enough in his mental faculties was less able with his mobility.

  So, he mused to himself, Peter was back, and coming to see him. He had done well enough in all his exams. Brian Davenport said he was quite bright, and thought he would succeed in his career, although remarking that attempts to instil various views in him had met with a certain amount of resistance. Some throwback to that damn father of his! Franklin felt the anger rising in him again at missing out on the pleasure of seeing Hartman brought down to his knees. However, he had been able to maintain a certain amount of control over the boy and, despite the feeling of animosity from Sarah McIntyre, had pressed home his advantage and steered him towards the ideal career goal.

  It was a nuisance that Peter had found his own place in chambers. There were other firms more suited to him than Ravens. Old Anthony Raven had been a thorn in his side at times in the past, trying to outsmart him.

  It seemed the boy still had the odd spark of independent spirit, and was nowhere near compliant enough yet, but he had time to do a bit more work on him. Over the years the McIntyres, and that Italian godfather, must have had an influence on him. He would have to increase the pressure, he decided. Test him now and again. Keep him unsettled. Make him more reliant.

  The telephone rang to announce Peter’s arrival, and a few moments later he breezed into the room. Franklin noticed the tan and had the uncomfortable feeling that Peter was looking more and more like his father. The sharpness of his initial greeting betrayed his frustration.