House of Silence

by Gillard, Linda

  ‘Writing the books?’

  ‘Yes. I re-created Raymond - my idea of Raymond - as the boy-hero of my books. This strangely old-fashioned, heroic little boy, who isn’t very strong but who’s clever and resourceful. That was how I’d always imagined my twin brother, as he grew up alongside me, in my head. He was my hero, and he became the hero of my books… But of course, by then, there was another long shadow.’

  ‘Alfie.’

  ‘Yes. My own lost son… It all became very muddled in my mind. I felt free of Raymond, but I couldn’t let go of Alfie, my imaginary son. He was always there in the background, the other boy who might have been. Should have been… Then one day Frances introduced us to Tom. Tom Wilson. He was just as I’d imagined Alfie! He even looked something like the photographs she’d chosen to represent him. Tom was all I could have hoped for in a son: charming, intelligent, articulate. We talked about books and the theatre and we discovered we shared a passion for certain poets.’ Rae lowered her eyes and smiled. She looked positively girlish. ‘I’m ashamed to say, I think I fell a little in love with that boy… He reminded me of Alfred, you see, my second husband. He’d also been a blond charmer and was a very cultivated man. I was besotted with Tom, even before they filmed the documentary. And that dreadful experience was only redeemed for me by his presence. He was so kind and attentive. So funny! I knew I couldn’t bear to live without him in my life. So once again I retreated into a make-believe world where Tom was Alfie. So I could keep him.’

  She sighed and clasped her hands in front of her. ‘They tell me I had another breakdown after the documentary was filmed. I don’t really remember. I recall it was a very bad time. I remember feeling utterly confused - about Tom, Alfie, Raymond, TDH. It was all such a muddle! I could no longer keep all the stories straight in my head. All the lies… I had ideas for books, but I couldn’t sort out a logical sequence of events. That’s when Viv stepped in. She helped turn my ideas into proper stories, with a beginning, a middle and an end. You know, I think Viv’s the real writer in the family, not me.’

  ‘Have you ever told her that?’

  Rae thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t believe I have.’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘Yes, I probably should… Oh, there’s so many things I should have done!’

  ‘You still have time to do some of them.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. You know Gwen, you’re a lovely, lovely girl but…’ She lifted her hand and wagged a finger at me. ‘You’re also the most fearful nag.’

  ‘I know. It’s because I’m used to looking after people. Dippy actors who’ve lost their shoes and ageing designers who’ve lost their confidence… The homeless at the night shelter in Brighton… And my poor deceased family, who had to be organised, sobered up, occasionally found. I’ve had a lifetime of looking after people. And if they don’t co-operate - you have been warned, Rae - I nag. Without mercy.’

  She was laughing now and a wheezing sound was coming from her chest. ‘My goodness, I think I’ve finally met my match! Hurry back, Gwen. Come back in the spring and tell me more about your family.’

  ‘I will. Goodbye, Rae. Give my love to the garden.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘In person?’

  ‘In person.’

  ‘Promise?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, you dreadful girl! Away with you before you miss your train!’

  I stood my ground, pressing my lips firmly together, the way I clamped pins when doing a fitting. I’ve been told I look fearsome in this pose. Sure enough, Rae caved.

  ‘Oh, all right, I promise!’

  I leaned across the bed, kissed her papery cheek, mumbled ‘Goodbye’ and fled from the room before my stupid tears could overwhelm me.

  Rae

  That’s the car. I can hear it going down the drive… They’ve gone. Viv and Hattie and Gwen. But she said she’ll come back. In the spring. To see the magnolias…

  Alfie won’t be coming back. Not now… He said goodbye and he meant it was for good. But Vivien says I shall still see him. When he’s on the television. And I shall hear him when he’s on the radio… He said he’ll let her know when he’s going to be on, so she can mark it in my diary. I wouldn’t want to miss it. Not now…

  Frances said the next time Alfie’s in a show in town, she’ll take me to see it. She said we’ll have dinner and the best seats in the house!

  So I will see him. He just won’t be coming back to Creake Hall. Not any more… That’s what he said. I thought perhaps his eyes said something different, but I was probably imagining things… Wishful thinking…

  If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

  He told me to look after Hattie. He made a particular point of that. I promised him I would. That we all would. He looked pleased when I said that. No, relieved.

  He didn’t stay long. He said he didn’t want to drag things out. I think he meant he didn’t want me to get upset. I tried hard not to. I don’t think I disgraced myself. I didn’t blub until he’d gone. When I remembered what he’d said… How he’d said goodbye. He said, ‘I’d better be on my way’ and then he bent and kissed me on the cheek. I touched his hair… So soft! Just like a baby’s… And then he said, ‘Goodbye, Ma. I’ll miss you.’

  Ma.

  He didn’t call me Rae. He said, ‘Ma’.

  He didn’t have to say that. Not now it’s all over. He could have called me Rae. But he didn’t. He said Ma…

  I think Alfie might come back.

  One day.

  He might…

  Endings and Beginnings

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Gwen

  Rae was persuaded to leave her room and eventually she ventured out into the garden, cautiously at first, then every day, sometimes several times a day, so that she became fully involved in the maintenance of the garden, taking on some light chores herself. Before he left, Marek suggested Viv had a conservatory built, so Rae could enjoy the garden in all weathers. Now even on cold, wet days she sits in her conservatory, notebook in hand, making plans for the garden.

  Viv engaged a new gardener after Marek left - an energetic young woman called Sally. They’ve become good friends. In fact I think they might be more than friends. Viv certainly seems very happy, but complains she doesn’t have time to write any more TDHs. She claims the next one will be the last book in the series. (But that’s what she said last time.)

  Deborah took early retirement and, with great misgivings and a handbag full of valium, went to India on her own. She didn’t come back on her own. She met Trevor, a retired Cambridge academic and a widower. They fell in love, she says, on a beach in Goa. Deb says it isn’t hard to fall in love on a beach in Goa, depending on how many cocktails you’ve drunk, but the miracle was, she found she was still keen on Trevor in England, in November, in the rain. So she’s cautiously optimistic about their future together, to the extent that she’s put the Beccles house on the market and moved in with him. She says her son Daniel couldn’t be more pleased and thinks Trevor is ‘a great bloke’.

  Frances joined the AA. Not the four-wheeled version. She’d always said that if she ever woke up in bed with a man whose name she couldn’t remember, she’d admit she had a drink problem. Apparently the young man in question was very nice about it, but Frances took it badly. She hasn’t had a drink for over a year now but says every day is ‘a bloody awful struggle.’ But I think she’s winning.

  Hattie is teaching City and Guilds Patchwork and Quilting and exhibits her work at the mill, which she’s turned into a studio where she teaches and works. She’s sold some pieces and now has a commission for a wedding quilt. In her spare time she makes tiny quilts for a charity that donates them to the parents of stillborn and miscarried babies. The baby is wrapped in a quilt and brought to the parents who can hold their dead child and begin their grieving process. Some parents decide to bury their baby wrapped in the quilt, but most decide to keep it as a memento of the precious time they spent with t
heir child. Hattie says some mothers claim they can still smell their baby on the quilt and, for that reason, they’ll never wash it.

  Alfie gave up the London flat and returned the keys to Rae. He now rents a large, rather seedy bed-sit in Notting Hill. He loves it. He says what he likes about it most is that he knows he’ll never be burgled. (He lives next door to a professional burglar who has assured him this is the case.) Alfie’s acting career took a surprising upturn when he played criminal twins in a TV drama series. He won a BAFTA award for his performance (perhaps I should say performances) and he’s now offered a much wider variety of rôles, most of them criminals, but this appears to delight him. He refers - gleefully - to Tom Dickon Harry turning in his literary grave.

  Marek left Creake Hall and now works as a family therapist in London. He visits the Holbrooks regularly and Viv - who misses him dreadfully - always sends him away with flowers, fruit and jars of homemade preserves.

  Marek and I are expecting our first child, so we’ve decided to marry. Viv insists on providing a grand reception for us at Creake Hall. Hordes of Polish and Scots relatives are expected to descend for the event, to welcome me into their family. I suspect some of them - especially the children - are more excited about meeting the creator of Tom Dickon Harry than meeting Marek’s new wife. (TDH is very big in Poland apparently.)

  Marek and I have asked Alfie if he will be Best Man.

  He said he would be honoured.

  ~~~~~

  About the Author

  Linda Gillard lives on the Black Isle in the Scottish Highlands and has been an actress, journalist and teacher. She’s the author of six novels, including STAR GAZING which was shortlisted in 2009 for Romantic Novel of the Year and The Robin Jenkins Literary Award, for writing that promotes the Scottish landscape.

  HOUSE OF SILENCE became a Kindle bestseller and was selected by Amazon as one of their Top Ten Best of 2011 in the Indie Author category.

  Linda’s latest novel, THE GLASS GUARDIAN is a supernatural love story set on the Isle of Skye.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’d like to thank the following people for their help and support while writing this book: Tina Betts, Liz Broomfield, Amy Glover, Philip Glover, Ruth Howell, Gillian Philip and Elaine Reid.

  I’d like to extend a special thank you to Sue Magee of The Bookbag. www.thebookbag.co.uk

  Blankets of Love is an initiative started in Australia in 1992 by two sisters, one a midwife and one a quilter, to offer beautiful small quilts as a lasting memento to parents of babies who have died at or around the time of birth.

  For more information see www.childbereavement.org.uk

  Also by Linda Gillard

  Emotional Geology

  A Lifetime Burning

  Star Gazing

  Untying the Knot

  The Glass Guardian

  www.lindagillard.co.uk

  Connect With Linda

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LindaGillardAuthor

  Website: http://www.lindagillard.co.uk

  Smashwords author page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LindaGillard