by RJ Hunter
The thought that she might be the only one left on her floor frightened her as she neared the ringing telephone. Usually, there was always some sign of life in the building - laughing, shouting or the beat of music playing somewhere.
"Hello, Lloyd-Evans Hall." She listened intently for a few seconds, but there was no answer. "Hello, is anyone there. Can you hear me?" She knew there was someone on the other end, as she could hear a faint breathing sound and what seemed like someone trying to speak. The girl immediately assumed it was another of the crank calls they would sometimes get, and replaced the receiver, before hurrying back to her room and locking the door.
Edward put down the telephone, poured himself another large brandy and paced up and down his study. Even though there was a good fire burning, the room felt cold, and Edward himself, felt colder still. A bitter sense of loss had taken grip of him, and it had increased its frozen, black hold, until it seemed like it was squeezing the very life out of his sad heart.
He heard the heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and walked out into the hallway to meet the doctor.
Doctor Weller, a portly man in his mid-fifties, who always sported a colourful bow tie placed his hand on Edwards shoulder.
"Margaret wouldn't have felt a thing old boy. Brain haemorrhage, I'd say. In fact, I'm damn well certain of it. You knew it was on the cards, Edward."
"Thank-you Cecil. Do you think it was because of the arguments with Lizzie and Janice?"
"Yes, it's very possible, but we'll never know for sure. Look, Edward, I need to write out a death certificate for Margaret."
"Yes, of course, please come into the study. It all sounds so formal, and so final."
The doctor noticed Edward was close to breaking point.
"I think I'd better write you up for something, just to take the edge off things."
Edward shook his head, and began to pour them both a brandy.
"It's like she was just waiting, waiting to see Lizzie again, to know Bobby was coming home and the dog and..."
"And what?" Asked the doctor, taking a seat at Edward's desk.
"I think she had to know that I wasn't about to put her into a hospital."
"You've done your best old chap. It's all so very tragic. Listen, I don't think you should be here on your own tonight. Have you contacted anyone? What about the girls, or Mrs. Gardener?"
"I've just tried to ring Lizzie in Wales. The poor girl must have just got back. I couldn't speak to whoever it was who answered the phone. Cecil, what's happening to me for Christ's sake?"
The doctor stood and went over to Edward, "It's understandable man. Your wife has just died and you're in shock. I'll try Mrs. Gardener in a moment. Then, when she gets here we can call Janice. I think someone will need to be with you when the undertakers come."
"Yes, you're right, Cecil. I hadn't even thought of that" Edward sat and buried his head in his hands. He was fortunate to be able to release his pent up emotions in front of a man he'd known as a friend since the war. He sat quietly, as Dr. Weller filled out Margaret's certificate, before ringing Mrs. Gardener to ask her to come over.
"Do you remember France, Edward, and the heavy fighting near Caen, all those years ago?"
Edward looked up at the doctor, his face racked with pain.
"It's something I'll never forget. It was June '44. We didn't finally capture it until July. But why do you ask?"
"You mentioned Lizzie, and I was reminded of that young soldier."
Edward swallowed hard and took a gulp of his brandy.
"Lieutenant Thomas Cartwright was his name. The poor chap had the most terrible wounds. But I couldn't just leave him there to die, Cecil, not like that."
"No Edward, you managed to get Thomas to me, then you stayed by his side and preyed for him as his life slowly ebbed away."
"He asked me to reach into his pocket. There was a letter addressed to his wife, along with a blood-stained photograph of her with their baby. We both knew he would never see them again, but what could we do?"
"There was nothing I could do Edward. But you did something. You didn't want him to die all alone in a foreign country."
Edward began to sob.
"Thomas told me the name of his wife - It was Pamela, and the baby was called, Elizabeth. He couldn't wait to get back home to see them. I remember thinking of Margaret and Janice at the time, and how awful it would be, never to see them again." Edward had to stop in order to regain his composure before continuing, "He told me how he loved to keep reading Pamela's long letters. She would give him news of little Lizzie's progress, and tell him how much she loved him. Listen to me, Cecil - see what a sentimental old fool I've become."
Cecil patted his old friend on the shoulder, and felt a pang of emotion himself.
"But, you helped him Edward. You took a letter from that dying, young soldier under your command, and delivered it safely to his wife. You then told her how much he loved them."
"His death was my fault, I had to tell her that too. I was in command, and I led him and others like him to their deaths. It was all so unnecessary. It was me who killed him!" Cried out Edward, feeling the torment deep down in his soul.
"No!" Shouted Cecil. "The war killed him, not you. You were just doing your job, obeying orders. You gave life, by taking in Pamela, and bringing up her baby as if she were your own. You gave Lizzie a wonderful life, a life with purpose and with opportunity. You helped Pamela through an ordeal that nearly destroyed her. There was no-one else she could have turned to. Others would have given up by then, but you gave Pamela work as your personal secretary. You gave her a job where she could always see Lizzie and watch her grow up into a magnificent young woman. Edward - it wasn't a crime to fall in love with Pamela."
Edward took in a deep breath and stood up. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
"Thank-you. I'm fortunate to have a friend like you. That all happened a long, long time ago. Perhaps, it's best just to try and forget. But what you did tonight worked. By making me talk about those events released so much of the pain that has been dragging me down."
"Look, old chap, you must be strong. You're a good man Edward, and now your family need you. Pick up the phone and tell them the truth."
"I've told Pamela it's over, Cecil. She's gone."
"I certainly didn't approve of Pamela moving in here, and I think you should have kept things quiet. But what's done is done. You love Pamela, and she loves you. I would give it a bit of time, then get her back, Edward. The girls will soon come around, and Lizzie, especially needs to know the truth. She thinks you and Margaret are her parents, now she'll lose who she thought was her mum, only to find she's just gained another one - her real mum."
"Yes I see what you mean. But I will always be her father, no matter what."
"You will indeed, Edward, and what a great father you are."
Edward then paused thoughtfully for a while.
"Should I do it, Cecil? Should I really get Pamela back?"
"Yes, Edward, it's meant to be," replied the doctor, opening the door to Mrs. Gardener.
Edward, meanwhile emptied his glass, cleared his throat and lifted up the telephone once more. Again, he heard the continual ringing tone as his call went unanswered. Mrs. Gardener stepped into the study looking pale and anxious.
"I'll go up and attend to Mrs. Marchmont, before they come and take her." Said the housekeeper, sadly.
"Thank-you, I would be so grateful." Replied Edward, as he heard a female voice on the end of the line. He immediately recognised it as the girl who had answered earlier.
"Lloyd-Evans Hall, hello."
"Hello, I'd like to speak to my daughter, Lizzie Marchmont." Said Edward, "Please, it's very urgent."
After a short while, the girl returned, "I'm sorry, she's not in her room. She may be over at the dance. Can I take a message?"
A great cheer went up, as finally the president finished his long-winded speech, one that had been continually interrupted by th
e sound of musicians warming up behind him. Despite the speech not really being much different to last year's, nobody seemed to mind, and the president smiled proudly upon receiving such a noisy ovation.
Jenny and Maureen clapped enthusiastically, but their attention had been distracted by the irrational behaviour of their friend, Pauline. They stared at each other looking somewhat bewildered, before turning their attention to Pauline once more. The two girls had been extremely worried about her after she hadn't returned following her date with Frank. When she did finally get back, she looked ghastly, and Jenny and Maureen had put her straight to bed with a couple of aspirin. They both stayed close after she had fallen asleep and whispered re-assurances, as terrifying dreams made Pauline's body writhe in torment.
"Look at those marks on her!" Gasped Maureen, "Perhaps she was attacked by someone - maybe it was him, that Frank bloke? Look at her clothes, that lovely blouse - they're totally ruined."
"No human could do that," replied Jenny. "I think she was attacked by some sort of animal, a wolf, perhaps - maybe there's wolves in Falcondale?"
They were more than relieved when Pauline finally woke after a few hours. However, she was reluctant to speak of how the date went, and then worked herself into a frenzy ranting on about an expensive necklace she had lost, and how Frank would be so angry. The girls wanted to call the campus nurse over, as they were so concerned. But eventually, they managed to calm Pauline, and persuade her to take a bath.
The girls however, were to be even more confused when their friend returned from the bathroom, looking and feeling much more refreshed, only to declare she was going to the dinner and dance that evening. Jenny and Maureen then had to search frantically through their limited wardrobes to find something suitable for Pauline to wear.
The applause stopped, but Pauline carried on clapping, as if she were in some sort of trance.
"Pauline! Pauline! Are you alright, can you hear me?" Called out Jenny anxiously, "Perhaps, we should take her back, Maureen. I don't think she should have come tonight in the first place."
Pauline, then stared at Jenny, before forcing an unconvincing smile.
"I'm ok, honestly - it's just so hot in here. Let's go and get another drink."
"You've had enough already, Pauline. Come on, we'll take you outside for a while."
"There's nothing wrong with me, Jenny. Stop treating me like a child!" Exclaimed Pauline indignantly. "I'm going up to the bar."
Jenny decided it wasn't worth pursuing the matter any further and sat back down to finish her lemonade.
Sally waited patiently in the powder room, while Lizzie seemed content to spend the rest of the night touching up her bright red lipstick.
"Sally, this dress makes me look absolutely enormous! Why on earth didn't you say something? I look like a total dog!"
"Just get a move on, Marchmont!" Replied Sally, giggling, while her friend continued to vainly survey herself in the unflattering mirror. "Lizzie, you look just fine. Do you realise we've been away for twenty minutes. Frank and Ken will be legless by now."
Lizzie snapped her bag shut and followed Sally back out into the hall.
"Have you seen this William chap yet? It could be a bit awkward with Frank here too."
"There's really nothing in it!" Replied Sally, going on the defensive. "Anyway, I expect he knows I'm seeing Frank. I think the whole of Falcondale does."
Lizzie stopped and turned to Sally, sensing something wasn't quite right.
"Have you and Frank had words? I can see he's had rather a lot to drink again."
Sally explained about what had happened with Frank earlier, and how he wanted to take her to a hotel. "It's just that he can be so aggressive and unpredictable when he's like this."
"Look Sally, if you want my advise, I would take this William somewhere else if he shows up. Just to avoid any trouble. Take him to one of the coffee bars in town."
"Yes, that's a good idea. But I think he wanted to dance with me."
"That's not good. I mean with Frank on the scene. But, on the other hand, Frank wont even be able to stand up soon, if he has any more whisky. Come on Sally, I thought I was the one who's meant to be miserable!"
The two women pushed their way through the crowd and headed back towards the table. They saw that Frank and Ken were still involved in their heated exchange, and decided to get them up and dancing as quickly as possible.
However, as they neared the table, Sally noticed a girl, standing directly behind Frank, glaring at him. "Look at her, Lizzie. Now you don't have to worry too much about what you're wearing!"
Lizzie screeched with laughter.
"Oh my! What a revolting dress - it's absolutely hideous, and that awful scarf. What on earth was she thinking! Isn't she one of those silly girl's from the club?"
"Yes, her name's Pauline," replied Sally, now also beginning to giggle. "She works behind the bar sometimes, and she drinks, Tizer!"
They sat down, but still Pauline continued to lurk behind Frank. Sally noticed the wild look in her eyes, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She began to regret ridiculing her to Lizzie, even though her comments were purely made in jest.
Pauline became aware that Sally had noticed her, and the two women's eyes locked together. Sally felt a shiver run down her spine and quickly averted her gaze.
Lizzie, also sensed an ugly atmosphere developing and got Ken up to dance. She motioned Sally to do the same, and soon, both couples had lost themselves among the dozens of couples already dancing. Frank recognised the group singing, 'Rocking Around The Christmas Tree', as the Blue Jets, from the previous night at the hotel, but he had to close one eye to focus.
The rugby crowd began to make their presence felt, by holding a drinking competition. This involved competitors standing in a line, then downing a pint of ale. They would then balance the empty glass on top of their heads. Those who lost were required to drop their trousers and pants and have their backsides squirted with soda siphons. This was to the thunderous applause of the many onlookers, who cheered and made disparaging remarks about some of the genitalia on display. Eventually, the high-spirited antics had to be toned down when some of the female students complained, and Mr. Meredith had to step in.
Most of the faculty had by now, completed their obligations and a group, including the Dean, were heading towards the exit. Mr. Meredith had been assured by Jane, that in her five years of service at the university, there had never been any trouble at this particular event, despite the vast amounts of alcohol consumed by the guests. He swapped festive greetings and shook hands with several colleagues, while Jane fetched their coats. As he waited, he was approached for a dance by a young first-year, but had to decline and apologise on this occasion, even though it was a slow one. He wanted to go, and eagerly awaited Jane's return. He smiled as he saw her, and fidgeted with his car keys in anticipation of the drink they were going to have together, after the function.
Jenny and Maureen looked around for prospective partners, as the Blue Jets played their 'Moon River' number, but none came forward. After a few moments, they caught sight of Pauline again, and ran to her excitedly.
"Come on Pauline, they're playing your favourite tune. Guess what, Jenny just got turned down for a dance by Meredith!" Called out Maureen, laughing. But, Pauline just ignored her and walked off.
"Where's she going? not to get more drink I hope." Sighed, Jenny, concerned about her friend.
The young student was getting ready for bed when she thought she heard some activity from the along the corridor. She left her room, and tiptoed up to Lizzie's door in her bare feet. The message she had written out earlier was still attached to the door. The girl recalled how worried and desperate Lizzie's father had sounded on the telephone. She knew of Lizzie, and would acknowledge her if they met, but Lizzie was a bit too wacky for some tastes. However, the girl was still worried and thought about what she should do.
Returning to her room, she slipped on a jumper and some slacks, then, lift
ing her heavy duffle coat from the back of the door, she reluctantly headed over to the assembly hall.
It was a cold night, with light snow flakes already beginning to fall, as she pulled her hood up over her head, and hoped not to be recognised. Nearing the hall, she heard the steady beat of loud music, and the ear-piercing, drunken squeals of girls. There were several people milling around outside, saying farewells, or chatting to friends. She saw a group of local lads, no doubt about to try their luck gate crashing. No chance, she thought, especially dressed so casually. Then, she wondered how she would get in? There was still one of the porters checking tickets at the door. Perhaps, she could get someone else to deliver the message to Lizzie. Suddenly, the very idea of actually going inside was making her nervous. After all, she had never wanted to go in the first place, and get leered at and groped by all those drunks. The thought of it repulsed her. She was considering turning back, and just putting the message back on Lizzie's door, and forgetting the whole thing. It was then, that she came face-to-face with Mr. Meredith, and his secretary, as they were leaving.
"Hello, it's Karen isn't it? Remarked the Dean with a friendly smile. "I didn't see you at the dance tonight?"
Karen explained that she was packing, and told him about him about Lizzie's urgent message. Without hesitation, Meredith instructed the porter to allow Karen into the function. She thanked the Dean, and after wishing each other a merry Christmas, she entered the assembly hall with grave misgivings.
Despite Sally's negative feelings towards Frank, it did feel good to be back in his arms again. She closed her eyes and allowed him to lead her as they glided across the highly-waxed, parquet floor as one. Despite being more than a little drunk, he was still a highly accomplished dancer. He nuzzled her neck and teased her earlobes with his tongue. Sally thought about William, but had already given up hope of actually seeing him there at this stage. Perhaps, it was best if she didn't. Frank was in a strange, volatile mood, and who knows how he would react. She had learnt that when he had been drinking heavily, it was best to just give him a free rein, and keep the peace. However, Sally had reached a conclusion. Regardless of what might or might not happen with William Peddlescoombe, she was going to rid herself of Frank. It might not happen that evening, but she would certainly finish with him before the spring term commences.