Secrets From The Past

by Shaw, Dannielle

  The film had certainly begun harmlessly enough, with a typical American family (mother, father and young son) idyllically happy and enjoying life in Southern California. It was only as the film progressed…

  ‘Offered promotion? But that’s great!’ The loving, young, wife encouraged her dashing, executive husband. ‘I know you can do it, Jerry.’

  ‘But it will mean longer hours, honey and lots of travelling. Days, weeks even, when I might not get to see you and Little Jerry...’

  ‘Why worry about the days, when we’ll still have the nights,’ the pretty, young wife had murmured seductively in her husband’s ear. ‘Don’t forget we promised Little Jerry a brother or sister for Christmas.’

  In the film, that particular scenario had had a lasting effect on ‘Little Jerry.’ He remembered it during the long lonely days when he played with his toys in the back yard. What did it matter if he didn’t see his Dad so much. He still had his Mom. She was here painting the deck. Mom had told him how Dad was away working hard for them both and when he came back, she would see what they could do about ‘making’ him a baby brother. That way he wouldn’t be lonely any more. He would have someone to play with.

  Only ‘Little Jerry’ didn’t get his longed for baby brother, did he? With Dad away, Mom introduced him to a new ‘uncle’ instead. An ‘Uncle Kurt’ he didn’t much like; an ‘uncle’ who brought him candy and toys and gave him shiny dollars for his money box, before patting him on the head and saying things like, ‘Run along, kid, I need to talk to your Mom.’

  Most days, ‘Little Jerry, was happy to ‘run along’ and play with his new toys, but after a while it became boring. Until one day, when Mom and ‘Uncle Kurt’ were ‘talking’ he got to wondering what they were talking about.

  He knew what Mom and Dad talked about when Dad was home. They talked about Dad’s work and plans for the next vacation. But they also mostly talked over brunch at weekends, when they were always together. Dad never told ‘Little Jerry’ to run along.

  Transfixed by what was taking place on the screen, Alison felt a sickening lump rise in her throat as she watched ‘Little Jerry’ climb the stairs to his Mom’s bedroom. His Mom and ‘Uncle Kurt’ were sure having a funny conversation. His Dad never ‘spoke’ to his Mom like that (least ways if he did, the child was always asleep and didn’t know about it).

  Before the small boy even opened the bedroom door, Alison knew what he was going to find. Her blood ran cold. She and Tara had made the same discovery ten long, years before. Unaware Evangeline was now looking in her direction and that her grasp on her glass was vice-like, Alison gave a gasp of horror when it shattered in her hand and fell to the floor.

  ‘Oh! I’m so sorry! It must have slipped. I’ll get the dustpan and brush.’

  ‘No, you won’t!’ Evangeline commanded, taking control and switching off the DVD player. ‘You’ll sit there while I get a plaster!’ You’ve obviously cut your finger and you’re dripping blood on the carpet!’

  Momentarily stunned, Alison watched Evangeline fix the plaster to her finger, while at the same time carrying on a running conversation about her plans for Christmas and their forthcoming fancy dress party.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry about the glass and the carpet. I’ll replace the glass and get the carpet cl…’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Evangeline said, studying Alison’s ashen face. ‘The glass was one we used every day and the carpet’s due to be cleaned next week anyway.’

  Something in Alison’s body language prompted Evangeline to keep talking. Though, quite why Alison should appear in such a state of shock at having simply cut her finger was quite beyond her. The cut wasn’t deep and unless Alison was one of those people who fainted at the merest hint of blood…

  *

  It was only later, when Tom returned from taking Alison home that Evangeline became even more reflective.

  ‘Penny for them.’ Tom said softly, watching his wife studying her reflection in the dressing table mirror.

  Evangeline cupped her face in her hands. ‘I think they’re worth a great deal more than that Tom. These in fact could be priceless.’

  ‘That sounds ominous.’

  ‘It is,’ came the languid response, ‘and I know it’s a long shot, but something in that film Alison and I were watching this evening – and her subsequent reaction to it – got me thinking. What if Tara and Alison discovered Virginia and Miles in bed together?’

  ‘Miles?

  ‘Virginia’s lover.

  ‘Virginia wouldn’t be that stupid, would she? To risk being seen by her own daughter…’

  ‘Not in the early stages of the affair, but she could have become careless.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Because she used to invite Alison over and get her to stay the night with Tara, then in the morning tell Alison that she had a headache and ask her to take Tara out until lunchtime. That way she knew she’d be able to spend the morning in bed with Miles.’

  ‘That’s dreadful! Absolutely dreadful!’

  ‘I know it is,’ Evangeline said, biting her lip, ‘and thinking back to it all now, only makes me feel even more ashamed. Which is why it’s up to me to do something about it.’

  ‘Do? You’re not seriously thinking of confronting Alison with your theory, simply on the basis of a few sexually explicit scenes from an American film and her subsequent reaction to them?’

  ‘No. I intend to go and see Max. And with regard to the sexually explicit scenes, Tom, they might have been OK for adult viewing, but don’t forget Tara was only ten years old.’

  ‘But you have no proof, Evangeline.’

  ‘Maybe not, but since I’ve stopped drinking, which is damned hard, I hasten to add, I have been thinking more clearly. Deep down I have this gut wrenching feeling that on the day of the accident, Virginia and Miles were in bed together when Tara and Alison decided to back to the house. Perhaps they’d forgotten something or even gone back to check that Virginia was OK. As I said a few minutes ago, she was becoming careless. Perhaps this was a case of one headache too many.’

  ‘Speaking of headaches,’ Tom said, walking through to their ensuite and the bathroom cabinet. ‘We’ll both have headaches if we don’t get some sleep. Have you seen the time? As for your suggestion of going to see Max, I fail to see how that will help in the circumstances.’

  Reading her husband’s troubled mind, Evangeline continued. ‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking. You think I’ve caused quite enough damage already with those photographs. Don’t you see, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for. The chance to make amends. The opportunity to rid both Alison and Max of Church Haywood ghosts, especially if they’re going to stay in the area and I certainly hope they will. It might have escaped your notice, but they do make a charming couple together.’

  Tom studied Evangeline with new-found admiration. Perhaps he could help his wife with her proposed course of action. ‘Would you like me to... would you prefer it if I broached the subject with Max? It might be better coming from a man.’

  ‘No, darling,’ Evangeline said. ‘It’s very sweet and thoughtful of you, but I think I have to face Max on my own. If he’s rude and refuses to speak to me... then it’s no more than I deserve. It’s also something I shall have to worry about when the time comes. For the moment, however, I think we’ve better things to think about.’

  Feeling Tom’s comforting arms about her waist, Evangeline felt for the first time in months - or was it years? – that she was at peace with herself.

  Alison studied the contents of her wardrobe with concern. What could she wear tonight? She hadn’t been out to dinner with anyone in ages and Max had suggested an old coaching inn on the outskirts of Little Harberry.

  ‘Mmm, very nice,’ Bunty had remarked when told of the proposed venue. ‘Super food by all accounts, not that I’ve had the pleasure of eating there myself. I gather everything is freshly cooked, so you might have to wait a while for your meal. Still,’ she add
ed with a mischievious twinkle in her eye, ‘I don’t suppose either you or Max will mind that too much.’

  ‘Bunty! What are you implying?’

  ‘I expect you’ve lots to catch up on. Max has been away from the village for quite a while. Then of course there’s this proposed new bedroom idea for Rosie. What exactly did Max say when he rang?’

  ‘Not a great deal. Other than that Rosie’s parents have agreed to giving me the go-ahead to turn Great-grannie’s room into something resembling a Wild West film set. Which reminds me,’ Alison said, catching sight of herself in the mirror. ‘If I don’t do something about my hair, that’s what I’m going to look like in eight hours’ time - wild!’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Bunty added. ‘Anyway, what will you wear?’

  Alison shrugged her shoulders. ‘I honestly don’t know. Just look at the contents of my wardrobe! There’s my black linen, my blue chambray and this skirt and that’s about it.’ She fingered the red, white and blue sash, adding wistfully, ‘And Max has seen all those.’

  ‘Then why not pop into town after lunch and have a look for a new outfit. You never know you what you might find. Besides, I think you need something a bit warmer than those summer clothes. They’ve forecast a heavy frost for tonight too.’

  With lunch finished, Alison contemplated the next meal she would be having. The meal she would be sharing with Max. Though looking forward to it immensely, she nevertheless hoped they would be able to get through dinner without any mention of Tara and the day she died.

  ‘It’s not that I want to forget you, Tara,’ she whispered to the tiny snapshot she kept of her friend on the dressing table. ‘It’s just that for once I want to be with your father as me, as I am now... and not as the schoolgirl I was.’

  Straightening the delicate silver photo frame, Alison turned to the photo of her mother on the opposite side of the dressing table. The photo was in colour and showed her mother wearing a pale lilac frock, with a sash of deep violet silk.

  ‘Violets,’ she whispered, feeling tears well in her eyes. ‘How you loved both the flowers and the colour. I must find you some next year.’

  Recalling that Connie’s gardener (Rosie’s granddad) had told her of the banks of wild violets that used to grow in profusion near the Stables, Alison determined - with Max’s permission - to dig up a small clump, to place on her mother’s grave in the spring.

  While Alison thought of her mother’s grave, Max was placing his customary posy of flowers on his daughter’s. It was there - as she’d hoped – that Evangeline eventually found him.

  Noticing the inflexible set of his jaw as she approached, Evangeline breathed deeply and braced herself for verbal combat.

  ‘Hello, Max. I was hoping I’d find you. Connie said I might see you here.’

  ‘Constance has no business to discuss my whereabouts, especially with you!’

  ‘Max,’ Evangeline pleaded. ‘I need to speak to you.’

  Remembering the last time they’d spoken - if you could call it that - Max snapped icily. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Evangeline, you said everything that was necessary on the night of the harvest supper!’

  ‘But I didn’t know then about...’

  ‘Oh! Don’t tell me you’ve more fascinating revelations about my wife! For your information - if you have - I don’t want to know thank you very much! If you’ll please excuse me.’

  Evangeline put out an arm to stop him and was met with a look of pure disdain and loathing. Max recalled the day in the primrose bedroom.

  ‘Max, please! I know you hate me and you have every reason to. But you must stop and listen to me..!’

  ‘Must? must? How dare you!’

  Evangeline, sensing she was in great danger of losing both the opportunity to put things right and her own self-control, made a grab at Max’s scarred wrist. ‘Yes, I do have more revelations if that’s what you want to call them, but they don’t concern the dead, they concern the living! They concern Alison!’

  In the process of shaking what he perceived to be scarlet claws, hooked onto his wrist, Max froze at the mention of the name.

  ‘Alison! What do you mean, Alison? Or do you intend to poison my mind against her as well as Virginia?’

  ‘No. I want to help her.’

  ‘Is she hurt?’ Max asked, finally noticing genuine anguish in Evangeline’s worried eyes.

  ‘No, not hurt - well not physically... but mentally I suspect.’

  Max looked across the churchyard, half expecting to find Alison in the shadows. There was no sign of her anywhere.

  ‘If this is a joke, Evangeline,’ Max muttered warily.

  ‘No, you have my word, it isn’t a joke. Perhaps if we went to your car?’

  Chapter 21

  ‘What do you think?’ Alison spun round to face Bunty, anxious to get an opinion of her new skirt and top.

  ‘I think it’s lovely. You look quite delightful.’

  ‘You don’t think the neckline’s too... low? Or that I should wear the other top instead?’

  Bunty laughed and studied the scooped neckline on the fine jersey knit top. ‘You call that low! Sorry, Alison, my dear. If you’re thinking that top makes you look like a brazen woman, then you’re very much mistaken. Take it from me, you’ll simply have to settle for looking perfectly sweet and charming as usual.’

  Embarrassed yet satisfied, Alison adjusted the sash of her skirt.

  ‘I know the skirt is similar in style to the one I bought for the harvest supper, but I do find wraparounds so comfortable. If the food at the restaurant is as good as you say - and I over indulge and have a pudding - then I can always loosen the waistband.’

  ‘Then I hope you do over-indulge.’ Bunty urged. ‘It’s about time you fattened yourself up a bit. You need to eat more.’

  ‘You make me sound like the Christmas goose.’

  Mention of the Christmas goose turned Bunty’s mind quite naturally to thoughts of stuffing. In the circumstances she decided to keep quiet. It hardly seemed appropriate, with Alison going on her first proper date with Max, to lead the conversation into any areas which could be misinterpreted or misconstrued.

  Alison, Bunty pondered, was such a strange girl at times. Sometimes open and fun-loving and others deeply thoughtful and reflective to the extent of being almost distant and secretive.

  Oh, well, she thought, waving goodbye from the front door, perhaps after tonight, things will improve for them both.

  ‘I must say you’re looking lovely,’ Max whispered to Alison, where she was studying the gold embossed menu. ‘How would you describe the colour? It’s definitely not denim blue, is it?’

  At the reference to her fondness for denim, Alison looked up into kindly teasing eyes.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ she smiled shyly. ‘I suppose it’s what you’d call navy-black.’

  ‘From where I’m sitting it looks like midnight-blue.’ He refrained from adding, ‘complete with moon and stars,’ it would have sounded so contrived. Yet he knew he was right. From where he was sitting Alison did look like night, bedecked with moon and stars. The stars were in her eyes, reflecting the light from the candles on the table, and the moon hung suspended at her neck, by way of a delicate crescent pendant of violets.

  Conscious of Max’s gaze, in the direction of her throat, Alison remarked. ‘It was my mother’s... The pendant, it belonged to my mother. I think it’s Victorian. She was always so fond of violets. In fact I was I was wondering…’ she said, nervously fingering the pendant, ‘if I could possibly have a small clump of violets from the land at Craven’s Stables. Mr Jennings told me there used to banks of them... and I’d like to plant some on my mother’s grave.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Max, somewhat taken aback. He’d expected her to ask for something else. ‘And is that it?’

  ‘It?’

  ‘All you wanted to ask?’

  ‘Yes. Were you expecting me to ask for something else?’

  ‘I did wonder if you
were going to ask me again about renting space at Craven’s Stables.’

  ‘Oh, no! I’ve long since given up that idea.’

  ‘You have? Why?’

  ‘There’s no point in pursuing that idea further. You are still intending to live there, I suppose?’

  ‘You suppose correctly, Alison, but if you did want a room... a base to work from... I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.’

  ‘No,’ Alison blushed. ‘I don’t think I need it at the moment. With Bunty going to Australia for Christmas, I shall have plenty of room at the cottage. Don’t forget, I also have the project for Rosie’s bedroom.’

  ‘Of course. Rosie’s Ranch. I’m so pleased her parents have given us the go-ahead. How soon can you begin?’

  ‘I’m hoping to call round on Monday morning and with luck get it all finished before Christmas.’

  ‘Then it looks as if we both have our work cut out for us. You’ll be dealing with the Ranch and I’ll be dealing with the Stables. The only things missing are the cattle and horses!’

  ‘And do you intend to have any? Horses I mean.’

  Max shook his head. ‘I very much doubt it. Constance was always the horsey member in the family. Quite frankly, and I don’t really know why, horses always terrified me.’

  At that precise moment, Alison found it hard to think of Max being terrified of anything. Then again, perhaps like herself, he’d kept his fears deeply hidden.

  ‘I’ve noticed how you nearly always refer to your sister as Constance, unlike the rest of us who call her Connie.’

  Max shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose I do. Force of habit, I expect. Father always insisted she should be called Constance. During his lifetime woe betide anyone who ever called her Connie.’

  Thanks to the timely intervention of the waiter, Alison refrained from adding how her own name used to be shortened to Ally. It was a nickname she loathed.