House of Silence

by Gillard, Linda

  I was aware that, elsewhere in the house, goodbyes were being said, some undoubtedly painful. I kept my head bent over my needle, dreading the moment when it would be my turn to say goodbye to Alfie.

  ~~~

  Hattie made her way to the nursery and stood outside the door, listening for noises within. She could hear Alfie moving about, so she raised a tightly bunched fist and knocked on the door.

  ‘Alfie, it’s me. Hattie. Can I come in?’

  He opened the door. Over his shoulder, she could see an open suitcase on the bed and clothes lying on the floor. It was what she’d expected but she nevertheless felt dismayed.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Viv says she’s explained to you. About me. Me and the baby.’

  ‘Yes, she did. I was very relieved. Gobsmacked, but relieved. I can’t imagine how you felt.’

  ‘Numb. I don’t think it’s hit me yet. So I wanted to see you, before it does… You aren’t staying for lunch then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is your flat habitable?’

  ‘It’s not mine, it’s Rae’s. It always was.’

  ‘Are you going to give it back?’

  ‘Yes. I hate it anyway. Hate it because it isn’t mine and because I keep getting bloody burgled. I’m going to get myself a grotty bed-sit, somewhere so dire, burglars won’t sully their fingers breaking and entering. I shall sleep soundly at night and my conscience will be clear.’

  Hattie laughed to keep tears at bay, then said, ‘I suppose this is goodbye then?’

  ‘I suppose it is.’

  ‘You won’t come and see us any more?’

  ‘If I did, it would be as myself, not Alfie. And I don’t think that would be fair on Rae, do you? I think a clean break is best for her. For everyone.’

  ‘Will you revert to your own name now?’

  ‘I can’t. Equity names are for life. I’ll always be Alfie Donovan professionally, so that’s what I’ll have to stay. But I’ve promised Viv I’m not going to do any kiss-and-tell stories for the papers. I’ll remain Rae’s son, nominally. But I’m about to become Rae’s estranged son.’

  ‘Oh… I see.’ Alfie sensed she wanted to say more, so he waited while she shifted from one foot to another. ‘Alfie, are you and Gwen—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about that, Hattie. It’s none of your business, in any case.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just that I liked her so much!’

  ‘So did I. That’s why I don’t want to talk about it.’ He turned away and began to fling clothes into his case.

  ‘Alfie—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to say something to you. Something important.’

  He looked up from his packing, registered the expression on her face and straightened up. ‘Go ahead.’

  She clasped her hands in front of her as if she was about to burst into song. ‘I just wanted to say… you may not be my brother, but… you’re the only brother I’ve ever had. I’ve loved you, Alfie. Loved you for the wrong reasons. Gratitude mainly. Your existence meant mine was somehow less shameful. But… I have loved you. And I really, really don’t want to lose you. Please, can we still be friends? Somehow?’

  Alfie bowed his head and appeared to study the floorboards, then he looked up and said, ‘Oh, Hat… You’re a complete bloody pain in the arse.’ He opened his arms wide and Hattie flung herself at him. He held her for a long time, saying nothing, then, when she was calmer, he put his mouth to the tangled curls at her ear and murmured, ‘I think I might have missed you anyway. The way you miss a wart, once it’s been removed.’

  She hugged him with a force that drove the breath from his slender body. He staggered, then laughed and Hattie started to laugh too, her face shiny with tears. ‘You were a rubbish brother anyway.’

  ‘And I’ll be a rubbish friend.’

  ‘Don’t care,’ she replied. ‘I need all the friends I can get. I can’t afford to be too picky.’

  ‘Bloody cheek! You might at least put on a show of being grateful.’

  She grasped his hand with both of hers. ‘Oh, I am, Alfie… Believe me, I am.’

  Gwen

  I was alone in the sitting room, sewing, when Alfie came and found me. He stood in the doorway and said, ‘I’m leaving now.’

  ‘Oh… Have you said goodbye to the others?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I secured my needle in the quilt top and laid it aside. I stared down at my lap and noticed a tangle of threads. I gathered them up, rolled them into a ball and dropped them into the waste bin beside my chair. When I looked up Alfie was watching me.

  ‘I feel bad leaving you here on your own. Are you sure you won’t—’

  ‘No, Alfie, I’ll be fine here. I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. I think the family will be glad of a bit of distraction after you’ve gone. Everyone begged me to stay another day. Even Rae.’

  ‘You’ve been a big hit.’

  ‘I suppose so. They’ve all been very kind to me. I thought it was the least I could do.’

  He took a step into the room. ‘Look, Gwen, I don’t want to prolong the agony or the embarrassment, but I just wanted to say, I’m very, very sorry things ended this way. I wish I’d told you what was going on. And I wish you knew how close I came to telling you. How hard it was not to tell you.’

  ‘I think I see that now.’

  ‘It wasn’t as if I could ever offer you anything more than

  Alfie. Alfie is all that’s left now.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Alfie’s just a part you play. It isn’t you. I always knew it wasn’t you, right from the start. I could sense the discrepancy. The man who agreed to bring me here, against his better judgement; the man who listened to the sad tale of my mother’s death… That wasn’t Alfie, that was Tom. The angry young actor who’s fed up with playing fops and wastrels is Tom, too. You only let me get to know Alfie, but I sensed Tom. He was always there. It was unsettling. Exciting in a way, I suppose, the contradictions in you. But in the end, it became frightening. I felt I couldn’t trust you. And trust means everything to me.’

  He was silent for a long time, then said, ‘Will you be seeing more of Marek?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘So there’s no way we can… start again? You won’t give me another chance?’

  ‘If I didn’t want to see Marek, I’d give us another chance. But I don’t think it would have worked. I think of you as a friend. I think I always did. A friend I slept with. And you were lovely to sleep with! But it wasn’t love. I don’t think it was ever going to be love, do you?’

  ‘And what you feel for Marek - is that love?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It’s very different. It isn’t anything I’ve ever felt before.’

  He smiled. ‘Sounds wonderful… Well, I wish you both luck.’

  ‘Thank you… Would you like to keep in touch? Or would you prefer—’

  ‘I don’t know, Gwen. I don’t know anything about anything any more. Can I give you a call now and again? I’ll really miss talking to you. You were a good listener.’

  ‘Yes, call me whenever you like. I hope we can stay friends, but I’ll understand if we can’t. I betrayed you, Alfie. I’m not proud of that.’

  ‘And I was deceiving you. I’m not proud of that. Let’s call

  it quits… May I kiss you goodbye?’

  He stood waiting for an answer, so I murmured, ‘Yes, you may.’

  I stood up as he approached, steeling myself to meet his large, brown eyes, sad as a Labrador’s. A little smile played at the corner of his mouth. He raised a hand to my hair and removed a piece of thread. He held it between his fingers, regarding it fondly, as if it was something precious.

  ‘This is what I shall remember… Pieces of thread. On your clothes. And in your beautiful hair… Goodbye, Gwen.’ He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

  He was gone before I could bring myself to speak. I stood, staring
blindly at the door as it closed behind him.

  ~~~

  Alfie had arranged things with Viv. There was to be no fuss. Farewells were to be said privately and he was to take his leave of Creake Hall with no ceremony. As he descended the stairs for the final time, he took a last look at the portraits on the walls and derived some small satisfaction from the knowledge that they had no more right to be there than he had. Perhaps less. What was it Rae had said? It had almost unmanned him, as had the old lady’s pitiful tears and the quiet dignity with which she’d eventually said goodbye. Alfie didn’t remember his own mother, but the woman he’d almost come to think of as his mother had said, ‘You’ve been more of a son to me than I was ever a mother to my girls. You put me to shame, Tom.’ Then she’d taken hold of his hand, grasped it firmly and said, ‘I want you to know, I’m very, very proud of you! I couldn’t have wished for a better son. I could only have wished for my own. Goodbye. God bless…’

  Alfie arranged his belated Christmas gifts on the hall table, setting Gwen’s apart from the family’s. He picked up two carrier bags containing presents intended for him, then set them down again. Reaching into his jacket pocket for a pen, he leaned across the table and pulled one of the gifts towards him. He struck out the word “Alfie” on the label and wrote “Tom”. He repeated the exercise with each of the remaining parcels. He put his pen away, picked up the carrier bags and struggled through the unwieldy oak door for what he believed - and very nearly hoped - would be the last time.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Gwen

  I hate goodbyes. They feel like little deaths to me. I had to endure a minor holocaust of sad farewells at Creake Hall, some sadder than others. Deborah hugged me to her ample bosom, as if I were the daughter she’d never had. Frances took my hand in hers and regarded me thoughtfully, her elegant head on one side, as if I were the subject of a particularly challenging portrait.

  ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Gwen,’ she said, unsmiling. (It occurred to me that Frances had perhaps trained herself not to smile to discourage wrinkles.) ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you and Tom. Really, I am. He’s a nice guy and I think you were probably rather good for him. And good to him. He needs that, poor lamb.’

  Anxious to change the subject, I said, ‘It was nice meeting you too. Perhaps we’ll run into each other in London.’

  ‘I’ve got a website. Get in touch if you’re in town. Perhaps we’ll do lunch. That would be fun,’ she added, still unsmiling. ‘Really,’ she added, her beautiful eyes earnest now. ‘It would.’

  I decided I liked Frances after all. Alfie had said she was an acquired taste, like Guinness or Marmite, and he was right. But I liked both. And Frances.

  Hattie insisted on accompanying Viv and me on the drive to Norwich station, so it only remained for me to say goodbye to Rae who’d kept to her room since her fainting fit. After I’d said goodbye to Deborah and Frances, I made my way upstairs, knocked and entered Rae’s room. There was a heady smell of hyacinths now and I caught sight of vivid blue spikes in a china bowl as I made my way to her bedside. Rae didn’t speak but waved me to sit down.

  She’d aged. Yesterday had clearly taken its toll, but Viv said Rae had refused to see a doctor. Now she lay back on her pillows, evidently weak, but her eyes remained alert. Her hands scrabbled at the bedclothes, as if she was anxious to sit up. I smiled and laid my hand on one of hers. It became still beneath mine, so I left it there.

  ‘I’ve come to say goodbye, Rae.’

  She took several deep breaths before she was able to speak. ‘Must you go so soon? I’ve so enjoyed your company.’

  ‘I’d like to get back home.’

  ‘And where is that? If you told me, I’m afraid I’ve already forgotten.’

  ‘Brighton.’

  ‘Oh dear, that’s a long way! Is Viv taking you?’

  ‘No, I’m going to catch a train. Viv’s taking me to Norwich station.’

  ‘I do wish you could stay another day. But I expect you’re anxious to get away… A fine sort of Christmas you’ve had here! I am so sorry, my dear.’

  ‘Please don’t be! I’ve had a wonderful time. I feel as if I’ve made lots of new friends. In fact, you almost feel like family to me. Everyone has been so kind. There have been problems, I know, but in some respects, this was the nicest Christmas I’ve ever had. I shall remember it forever. And I shall remember all of you very fondly.’

  Rae struggled to lift her head off the pillow. ‘But will you come back? I do wish you would! I would so love to show you the garden in spring. That’s the best season. Come back in the spring, my dear, and Viv will show you round the garden. There’s such a lot to see at that time of year. The bulbs, the blossom in the orchard, all the trees breaking into leaf. It’s glorious!’

  ‘I’d much rather you showed me round the garden, Rae.’

  Her smile faded. ‘Oh, I very rarely go out nowadays. But I can see it all from my windows.’

  ‘But you don’t smell it. Or touch it.’ Speech failed me as I suddenly remembered something Marek had said, his voice unsteady with emotion as his hands had stroked my naked body. Like the petals of a magnolia. So smooth… and firm. I took a gamble and, fixing Rae with a look, said, ‘When was the last time you touched the blooms on your magnolia, Rae?’

  Her mouth formed a startled “O”, then she made a little tutting sound. ‘Some years ago, my dear. Far too many,’ she added sadly.

  ‘Well, I’d like to come back when the magnolia is in flower. Will you show it to me? And will you show me round your garden? If you aren’t up to the walk, we’ll get a chair and I’ll wheel you round.’

  She hesitated, then a mischievous light appeared in her eyes. She narrowed them and said, ‘I do believe I’m being bullied!’

  ‘No, not bullied. Cajoled.’

  ‘Nagged!’

  ‘All right then - nagged! But do we have a deal?’

  With what looked like a superhuman effort, Rae hauled herself away from her pillows and leaned forward, offering me her large, knobbly hand. ‘It’s a deal!’

  I took it and we shook. She sank back onto her pillows, laughing. As her laughter subsided, she sighed and looked at me. ‘You’ve been good for me, Gwen. Good for all of us.’

  ‘Please don’t mention it. We’re friends now.’

  ‘Indeed we are! Now don’t let me keep you, if you need to be getting along. I wouldn’t want you to miss your train. We don’t need to say goodbye, do we? Not a proper goodbye at any rate, because you’ll be back in the spring!’

  I looked at my watch. ‘I’ve got a little while yet. Viv said she’d give me a shout when she’s ready… Rae, before I go, can I ask you something? Something rather personal. You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.’

  She smiled. ‘I don’t think I have any secrets left, my dear. What did you want to know?’

  ‘I wanted to know - I wanted to understand, why you wanted a son so very badly.’

  Rae looked surprised, but not shocked. ‘That’s a very good question. One that nobody’s ever asked me before. Perhaps if they had - well, there’s no point in speculating now, I suppose.’ Her gnarled fingers clutched at the covers. On a sharp intake of breath she said, ‘I had a brother. And he died… My father never forgave me.’

  My heart in my mouth, I said, ‘Was it your fault he died?’

  ‘Oh, no! Not at all. My mother gave birth to twins, you see. My brother Raymond and me. Neither of us was a large or healthy baby - we were several weeks premature - and poor Raymond didn’t survive. He lived for two weeks, then died. It must have broken my parents’ heart, to watch me grow and thrive, while Raymond struggled for life. And then to see him lose the fight…’ She turned to me and said, her voice quite matter-of-fact, ‘The wrong child died, you see. That’s what my father said. I heard him say it to my mother when I was unfortunately old enough to understand what he meant.’ She looked away towards the window and her breathing seemed to become laboured. �
�I felt as if I’d been turned to stone. Looking back now, I think my heart was turned to stone. My father had wished me dead.’ She waved her hand in a hopeless gesture. ‘I was just a little girl, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t bring Raymond back. I knew I hadn’t been the cause of his death, but somehow I felt responsible. As if I’d stolen something that was rightly his.

  ‘I decided to do the only thing I could. I resolved to try to be something like the son my parents had wanted instead of me. And when I grew up and married, I dearly wanted to present my father with a grandson. I saw it as making some sort of reparation… But of course that didn’t happen. Then, when I finally lost my own son, I understood just what my father had gone through. I felt as if I was being punished - punished for a second time because, Heaven knows, my father had never made any bones about my being a disappointment to him! He punished me for not being his beloved son and when I lost mine, it just seemed like the last straw. Something snapped. It seemed so terribly unjust…

  ‘They tell me I went mad. I ignored my husband and my other children and I reverted to a world of make-believe where I could be what I’d always longed to be: the mother of a son. It seems so sad and foolish now. To have turned my back on all that I had. Four healthy daughters. A loving husband. It was madness.’

  ‘But a madness brought on by grief.’

  ‘Yes. But also by a lifetime of living in the shadow of Raymond. The child who might have been… And Raymond would have been the perfect child, you see! In my imagination, he was a paragon! Everything I could never be!’

  I considered Rae’s words for a moment, then something occurred to me. ‘Tom Dickon Harry was based on Raymond, wasn’t he? Not Alfie!’

  ‘Oh, yes! How clever of you to realise. I claimed TDH was based on Alfie, but that wasn’t strictly true. The idea was already there in my head - had been for my entire life - in the form of my dead brother. I’d wanted my son to be an incarnation of my brother, so that the long shadow he’d cast would no longer fall across my life. And when I lost my baby, I refused to accept that was my last chance… to be free.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘It was many more years before I found a way to be free of Raymond.’