Summer House

by Nichols, Mary

  Laura turned to them, her face drained of colour, but there was a determined angle to her jaw and a glint in her eyes which could have been steel, but could equally have been caused by tears. ‘Well, who’s going to start?’

  Oliver, who was standing beside his wife, looked worried and confused, his brain ticking over, juggling facts and dates, mulling over things said. Helen’s absence when he returned from France; gone to her husband was the story, but she had told him herself only days ago that she had stayed with an aunt and had not seen Richard since he left for France. Richard could not be Laura’s father, so who was? And what had it to do with Wayne? The cogs slowly slid into place and the picture became clear. He had to get his wife out of there. And fast. ‘Val, my dear, don’t you think this has gone far enough?’

  ‘No, I don’t. Lady, she calls herself, but she’s no better than she should be. She was always looking down her nose at me, when she bothered to look at all; most of the time I was invisible. I was only a chambermaid, fit only to make her bed and empty her slops and when her old man gave me the push I vowed to get even.’

  ‘But, my dear, was that Helen’s fault?’ He was doing his level best to speak calmly, to be logical and affectionate, and it made him sound as if he were talking to a child. Val hated him for it, when she felt like screaming and shouting and hitting out because her darling son, the child for whom she had sacrificed everything, had been hurt.

  ‘If she had managed to keep her knickers on the Earl would not have decided to get rid of me and anyone else who could point the finger. I guessed she was pregnant even before she did—’

  Helen gasped. ‘You are making it up—’

  ‘Mom, it doesn’t matter,’ Wayne said, anxious on her behalf. ‘It’s not important.’

  She ignored him. ‘So, where has your precious daughter been all her life?’

  ‘I was adopted,’ Laura said. ‘By two lovely people who are sadly both dead. Helen and I became reunited and as far as I am concerned that is the end of the story.’

  ‘No, because you got your claws into my son. He’s in love with you, God knows why, but I suppose he found out you were a bastard—’

  ‘Love child,’ Helen murmured, risking a glance at Oliver. He was looking at her in a strange kind of way, sorrowful, worried and bright at the same time, a sort of ‘I’ll talk to you later’ kind of look. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to him.

  ‘Is that so?’ Valerie seemed completely oblivious of her husband; her concern was purely for her son. ‘Then do Wayne the courtesy of naming your daughter’s father.’

  ‘Mom, I know. Leave it, please.’

  ‘You know?’ She looked from him to Helen, and then to Laura and finally her husband, who seemed to have been struck dumb. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ She suddenly realised she had fallen into a pit of her own making and put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, what have I done?’ She collapsed into one of the armchairs. ‘Why didn’t I put two and two together?’

  ‘Pity you didn’t,’ Helen said coldly. ‘Then you might have left well alone.’

  ‘Oh, Wayne,’ Valerie wailed, hugging her arms about herself and rocking backwards and forwards, while her tears washed her mascara down her cheeks. ‘Me and my big mouth. I am so sorry, son.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Mom, and Laura told me ages ago she was my half-sister.’

  Steve stood with his hand in Laura’s, unable to believe his ears. It was hard enough to credit that Laura was Helen’s daughter, but that she was also Oliver Donovan’s took some believing. No wonder she had said she would not marry Wayne. No wonder she needed her rock. His own emotions were in total disarray. His main rival had been ousted, but did it make any difference to the situation between him and Laura? He was still only an apology for a man. Mrs Donovan had only said what was in everyone’s mind, but this was no time to speculate on that. Laura needed him. Already tired from the harrowing work she did with burnt airmen like himself and with getting the party ready, the last half hour had exhausted her. He bent his head towards her. ‘You’ve had enough. Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Valerie seemed to have recovered from her bout of weeping and had wiped the mascara from her eyes. ‘Wayne, do you still love Laura? Would you marry her if you could?’

  ‘I can’t, she’s my sister.’

  She stood up suddenly. ‘No, she isn’t. If you want to marry Laura, you can.’ She heard Oliver gasp but ignored it. ‘This is a night for letting out secrets, so here’s another—’

  ‘No!’ Oliver shouted. ‘I forbid you to say it.’

  ‘How d’you know what I’m going to say?’

  ‘Don’t, please, Val. For the love we bear each other, for the love we have for our son, I beg you not to say it.’

  ‘Our son?’

  ‘Yes.’ He spoke firmly.

  ‘You would sacrifice Wayne’s happiness for your own? Fine father that makes you. I would rather go to hell than let him suffer a single minute of unhappiness. And if he wants Laura—’

  ‘No one has asked me what I want,’ Laura put in suddenly because, like everyone else, she had realised where the exchange was leading. ‘Brother or not, I have no wish to marry Wayne and I never told him I would. I am not in love with him.’

  ‘You might have come to it,’ he said. His face was chalk white, his lips pale and his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. He was hanging on to his hopes and dreams by a thread, but the thread was so fragile it could not support them. He sank into another chair, putting his hands over his face.

  ‘No, Wayne, you have been deluding yourself, and if anything I said or did contributed to that, then I’m sorry.’

  He got up suddenly, grabbed his mother by the arm and hauled her to her feet. ‘We’re going home and you’re going to tell me the rest of it, the whole truth. If Pop wants to hear it too, that’s up to him.’ He dragged her, protesting, towards the door. As he opened it they could hear the sound of music and laughter in the distance.

  Oliver opened his arms and let them drop. ‘Helen, saying I’m sorry is entirely inadequate, I know, but there it is. If I had known… What can I say? What can I do?’

  Helen felt extraordinarily calm. The tensions of the last few days had drained from her. The past had been confronted and overcome. ‘To me, nothing,’ she said. ‘Go to your wife. She needs you. And when she is ready to listen, you might tell her I never looked down on her; she imagined that.’

  He turned to Laura. ‘You are my daughter. I need to say something about that.’

  ‘Not now,’ she said. ‘Enough has been said tonight. Another time perhaps, when everyone has calmed down.’

  ‘Yes, you are right. Goodnight. I am sorry your party has been spoilt.’

  ‘I don’t know that it has,’ Laura said. ‘It sounds as if everyone is enjoying themselves.’

  Oliver left, shutting the door behind him.

  Laura’s knees buckled and she leant into Steve, burying her head in his shoulder. He put his arms about her and held her silently, rock steady.

  He heard Helen go to the sideboard and the clink of a bottle and glasses. ‘Here, give her this.’

  Laura lifted her head and looked at Helen. ‘You’ve been through the hoop yourself tonight, more than me. I kept saying to myself “If my mother can stay calm, then so can I,” but it was a terrible effort.’ She allowed Steve to settle her into a chair and give her the large tot of whisky Helen had poured. She sipped it and coughed. ‘It’s neat!’

  ‘Do you good.’

  She looked up at Steve. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Standing by me.’

  He sat on the arm of her chair. ‘I’ll always do that, you know that.’

  She smiled. ‘My rock.’

  ‘If you like.’

  They were silent for several minutes, each going over the events of the last hour, trying to come to terms with the situation. The secr
ets were all out now. Helen did not care for herself, but she worried about Laura. ‘What do you want to do now?’ she asked. ‘About the party. Can it go on without us?’

  ‘Hardly,’ Laura said, heaving herself to her feet. ‘Steve, will you dance with me? If anyone asks where we’ve been, we can be all mysterious and let them draw their own conclusions.’

  He laughed and held out his hand. ‘It will be a pleasure and a privilege.’ Later he would talk to her, for the moment he would simply enjoy her company.

  ‘I think I’ll stay here for a bit,’ Helen said. ‘You go.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Yes. I need to gather my wits.’

  Steve led Laura back to the ballroom. The music had stopped between dances and as they entered the room everyone turned to face them. Someone started to sing ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow’, and the refrain was taken up by the whole company. Laura had been dry-eyed throughout the encounter with the Donovans but this was enough to make the tears flow. She wiped them away and thanked everyone. ‘Go on enjoying yourselves,’ she said. ‘Make it an evening to remember.’

  ‘It’s certainly that,’ Steve murmured, taking her into the dance as the strains of ‘I’ ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…’ came over the gramophone. He stuck close by her side for the rest of the evening and after they had danced the last waltz together, he remained in the background while she stood at the door and said goodbye to everyone. When the last guest had gone, she turned and kissed him on his scarred cheek. ‘Thanks, Steve, thanks for everything. Go home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘You’ll be all right?’

  ‘Yes, I must do my rounds, making sure this lot are safely tucked in.’ She nodded her head towards her patients, who were dispersing to their own rooms. ‘Then I’m off to bed. I’m shattered.’

  ‘It’s hardly surprising. Goodnight then.’ He kissed her gently on her forehead and set off down the drive, wondering what the repercussions of the night’s events might be.

  Laura wondered too as she went from room to room, from bed to bed, taking the congratulations on a great evening and the teasing about Steve with gentle good humour. She checked that Robby was fast asleep, clutching his new toy dog, and then went downstairs again to make herself a cup of cocoa. Helen was in the kitchen doing the same thing.

  ‘Have they all gone?’

  ‘Yes, and the men are all tucked up.’

  With the cocoa made they sat at the table to drink it. ‘What a night!’ Helen said.

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘It’s all out now. I suppose it will be all over the village tomorrow.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  Laura considered. ‘Not any more. But what about you?’

  ‘In a way I’m glad it’s out. Now there are no more secrets.’ She paused. ‘Does it mean you’ll be leaving here?’

  ‘Oh, Helen, of course not. We decided to brazen it out, remember?’ She put a hand out and covered Helen’s. ‘I loved Mum and I hold her memory dear, but you are my mother and I love you too.’

  ‘Oh, my child.’ Helen’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘How I’ve longed for you to say that.’

  ‘I think we should go to bed,’ Laura said. ‘I have a feeling we are going to need our sleep. I don’t think it’s the end of it by a long chalk.’

  Oliver rose the next morning bleary-eyed. He had spent the night on the scratchy horsehair sofa in the living room. It seemed as though his life had been shattered into a thousand little pieces and could never be put together again. Wayne, whom he adored, whom he had brought up as every loving father should, was not his son. Valerie had used him; he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, an easy target for her. He felt sick. And he felt worse when he realised he did have a child of his own: Laura. Helen had not rejected him; she had waited for him and needed him. If only he had known at the time, he would have beaten down the door of Beckbridge Hall and demanded to be told where she was. He would never have gone to the pub and got drunk, never slept with Valerie, never married her. At that moment he hated her. She had known Helen was pregnant and she hadn’t said a word. He had taxed her with it on returning to Beck Cottage the night before.

  ‘Why should I even think of it?’ she retorted. She looked a mess; make-up streaked all over her face, eyes red and swollen, ginger hair all awry. ‘I had no idea you were her lover. Though I should have guessed, I suppose. You spent enough time with her.’

  ‘That’s not why you were sacked, was it?’

  ‘No, stupid, it was because they found out I was pregnant. Couldn’t have someone like me corrupting the morals of the rest of the staff, could they?’

  ‘Who’s Wayne’s father?’

  ‘What d’you want to know that for?’

  ‘Because I do. Perhaps Wayne does too.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Wayne said. ‘I don’t want to know anything about the sordid past of either of you. I wish I’d never come to Beckbridge. And I’m leaving at first light.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Valerie wailed, grabbing his arm.

  ‘Back to my unit. I only had a forty-eight hour pass. The war must go on. And if I die in combat, then you won’t have to worry about me any more, will you?’

  ‘No, don’t say that, Wayne, don’t ever say that,’ Valerie implored him. ‘You are my whole life. I did it for you, to give you a good home. If I’d stayed in England we’d have had a terrible life, scrimping and saving to make ends meet and everyone looking down on us, calling us names. We couldn’t have stayed in Beckbridge, so where would we have gone?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t think about it. I’m going to bed.’ He had slammed out of the cottage to go to his grandmother’s, where he had been sleeping since Ken had returned, leaving Oliver and Valerie facing each other.

  ‘I suppose first chance you get you’ll be off to the Hall, making it up with her ladyship,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to kip down on the sofa. I’ll make up my mind tomorrow.’

  Tomorrow had arrived and he got up from his uncomfortable bed and pulled on his clothes. Then he went out to the back scullery, had a quick wash and shave and returned to the kitchen. Joyce was up and cooking breakfast. ‘What happened to you last night?’ she asked him. ‘One minute you were there and the next you had disappeared.’

  ‘Valerie wasn’t well.’

  ‘What was the matter with her? She was all right when we set out.’

  ‘Better ask her.’

  ‘You had a row?’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘And some.’

  ‘Make it up. Life’s too short for rows. Go and see if Wayne is up. I’ll put an egg in the pan for him.’

  He was glad to go. Lily was in her dressing gown clearing out her grate, raking the clinker and ashes onto a sheet of newspaper. ‘Wayne up?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s gone. Said he had to catch the early train. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘I knew he was going today, but I didn’t realise he’d be off so early. How was he getting to the station?’

  ‘He said he’d walk. He was in a funny mood.’

  ‘He was tired, I expect. We had a late night.’

  Oliver went back to Beck Cottage. Joyce and Valerie were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea. Joyce poured another cup and pushed it silently towards him. He drank it standing up, then reached for his coat and cap. ‘When are you coming back?’ Valerie called out as he reached the door.

  ‘Don’t know. Expect me when you see me.’

  ‘Where did you and Laura get to last night?’ Kathy asked Steve. She was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He had come down as soon as he heard his parents moving about. His father was outside looking after the animals, Alice was the only other person in the room.

  ‘We had some talking to do.’

  ‘Oh, does that mean you and she—’

/>   ‘No, Mum, it doesn’t.’ He was weary beyond imagining and he didn’t feel like a cross-examination.

  ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll lose her.’

  ‘I never had her, Mum.’

  ‘It’s that Wayne, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘The cat’s out of the bag,’ Alice said suddenly. ‘I knew it as soon as I heard the Donovans had come over.’

  He turned sharply towards her. ‘What do you know of it, Gran?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Yes, what’s it all about?’ his mother asked.

  ‘Laura is Aunt Helen’s daughter,’ Steve said.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. When she went away at the end of the last war, she never wrote. I guessed something of the sort.’

  ‘Did you guess who the man was?’

  ‘I put two and two together.’ Kathy paused. ‘I know it’s shocking, Steve, but it was all a long time ago and none of it is Laura’s fault. Did she know about it?’

  ‘Aunt Helen told her some time ago. She didn’t tell me though.’

  ‘And you think she should have?’

  ‘It would have been nice to know.’

  ‘Don’t blame her, Steve, we all have our secrets. You can forgive her for it, can’t you?’

  ‘There is nothing to forgive. She’s been a brick, an angel. Without her I don’t think I could have survived.’

  ‘There you are then. When are you going to propose?’

  ‘Propose? Don’t be daft! I can’t ask her to marry me. I am an apology for a man.’

  Startled by his vehemence, Kathy stopped what she was doing and came to put her hand on his arm. ‘Steven, how can you say that? I never heard anything so ridiculous.’

  ‘You would have heard it if you had been standing next to me last night.’

  ‘I don’t believe Laura would ever say that.’

  ‘Not Laura, she’s far too nice to hurt my feelings; it was someone else, but it doesn’t make any difference who said it, it’s the truth.’

  ‘It is nothing of the sort. Snap out of it, Steve. There were at least a dozen men at the party last night who look ten times worse than you do.’