Isabel's Wedding

by Pamela Oldfield

  ‘Ah! My dear Miss Redmond! I hope I haven’t disturbed you.’ Mrs Miller was holding out her be-ringed hand and Alice clasped it warmly.

  ‘Mrs Miller! You are looking very well!’

  She would finish her letter later, Alice told herself as she glanced round her gallery and, as always, waved elegantly to anyone she recognized. Being in her beloved gallery restored her good humour and before long the flutter in her heart went unnoticed.

  When the last client had left the gallery and the money had been checked and put away in the safe, Alice said goodnight to Miss Shelley and closed and locked the street door behind her. Sitting down again in her office she read through her unfinished letter and wondered how much to tell Olivia. Too little and she would not be satisfied. Too much and she would be distressed by the information.

  Alice picked up her pen and dipped it into the inkwell.

  But Jack was a selfish man and Ellen was soon pregnant again and Lucas was born. Your mother became a semi-invalid and I spent a lot of time with her while begging Jack to spare her further children . . .

  When the fourth child was on the way Alice had accused him of putting his own selfish desires before his wife’s health and now, in her mind’s eye, she clearly saw Jack’s furious face as he retaliated, calling her a born troublemaker and telling her to get out of the house and stay out!

  ‘But it was my house!’ she reminded herself with grim satisfaction. ‘He couldn’t throw me out.’

  Closing her eyes, she waited for a sudden small pain in her chest to pass. Indigestion? The idea was ridiculous. She ate like a bird and there was nothing wrong with her digestion. Never had been. It served her right, though, because she had rather gobbled the sandwich lunch Miss Shelley had made for her – thin white bread without the crusts, a slice of pork tongue and a hint of Dijon mustard.

  On impulse she now poured herself a small brandy and sipped it thoughtfully, waiting for the discomfort to fade. It took some time however and by then Alice had lost interest in the letter. Having to choose every word with care, in an effort to put a certain slant on the story, was wearing. Being forced to face uncomfortable truths added to her irritation and abruptly she pushed the pen and the unfinished letter into the top drawer of her desk. ‘You are not going to ruin my evening, Jack Fratton!’ she told him. ‘I shall finish it first thing tomorrow.’

  Minutes later, she closed the street door behind her, locked it and paused to peer in through the window to see the gallery through the eyes of casual passers by. Ah yes! There was a space on the wall where Nigel Stott’s painting had hung. Tomorrow she must find something suitable to replace it. Her face brightened a little. When her godson arrived the two of them would make such choices. As Alice moved away towards her home her mouth twisted at last into a tentative smile. At times like this it was only the thought of Lucas that kept her from despair.

  The next day Mrs Whinnie sat in her usual chair, fixing Olivia with a steely look. ‘I have a suggestion to make,’ she said bluntly. ‘I won’t be offended if you reject my offer but I think you should consider it.’

  Olivia closed the magazine she had just opened. An offer? It sounded intriguing so why was she so reluctant to hear it, she wondered.

  ‘I hear that your father has turned up at last. What’s he like? How you imagined he would be?’

  Taken aback by the old lady’s apparent change of direction, Olivia stammered, ‘I don’t really know yet. We haven’t talked much, at least, not in depth but he seems . . . reasonable, I suppose. Isabel appears to like him and he is going to take part in the wedding service and make a fatherly speech.’ Although how he will do that is a mystery, she thought, since he knows nothing about any of us.

  Mrs Whinnie frowned. ‘If you don’t want him to stay, will he go willingly or will you have to eject him? Men can be very stubborn. I have learned that the hard way – I was married three times. I know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Eject him? Good heavens, I hope not. I hope it doesn’t come to that.’ Olivia had a passing image of herself pushing him across the doorstep and tossing his few belongings after him. She shuddered.

  Mrs Whinnie sipped her tea, her gaze unwavering. ‘Is it his house?’

  ‘No. It belongs to my godmother.’ Olivia could feel her face redden with the beginnings of resentment. Surely Mrs Whinnie had no right to ask all these questions, she told herself. It was none of this woman’s business what went on in the Fratton household. She was gathering herself for a sharp protest when Mrs Whinnie spoke again.

  ‘I only ask, Miss Fratton, because I have to tell you that before too long I shall need a permanent companion. My rheumatism is getting worse and the doctor has run out of ideas! “Some things just have to be suffered,” he told me. Can you believe that? The man’s a fraud and I told him so.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. It’s mine for living too long! I shall soon be less mobile than I am already and will become a prisoner in my own home and I dread the idea of one of those starchy nurses!’ She shuddered. ‘I shall need someone intelligent to talk to when that happens and to give me some support and I would gladly offer you the position, Miss Fratton, if you ever needed to find alternative accommodation. I think we would get on well together and I trust you. We could agree remuneration and you would have your own flat upstairs.’

  ‘How very thoughtful of you.’ Olivia was astonished by the offer because she had never expected to live anywhere else but Laurel House. Neither had she expected ever to need to earn a living. The truth was she had never allowed herself to wonder how she would fare when her sisters and brothers had all ‘fled the nest’.

  Mrs Whinnie watched her closely. ‘I would enjoy your company. You are a bright woman and attractive and you should be married by now but personally I don’t recommend it except from a financial point of view and wealthy men aren’t always available. I was lucky in that respect.’ She shrugged. ‘But most women do fancy the idea. If you do you should look about you now that your brothers and sisters are settled but you may be unlikely to marry simply because of adverse circumstances, by which I mean your age.’

  Olivia was flustered by the rather unhappy role that Mrs Whinnie had imagined for her. She had never seen herself as downtrodden by an unkind fate. For a few moments she searched for the right words.

  Slightly disconcerted by the lack of an answer Mrs Whinnie smiled. ‘Just say that you will think about it, Miss Fratton. Bear it in mind. I don’t expect an immediate answer. You have enough on your plate with a prodigal father to deal with!’ Her smile broadened.

  Olivia gathered her wits. ‘Thank you, Mrs Whinnie. I shall give your offer serious thought.’

  ‘Good. Then please turn to the horoscopes on page thirty. Let’s see what nonsense they have invented for the unfortunate Cancerians this month. Last week I was supposed to anticipate a change in my career, of all things!’ She laughed. ‘Since I have never had a career and don’t intend to start now it was most unlikely! Let’s see if this forecast is any better.’

  Deep in thought as she walked home, Olivia was startled to see a small mongrel sitting on the front step and clapped her hands to shoo it away. It took fright initially and fled to the house next door where it sat on their steps, watching her warily.

  She let herself in and found that Theo had called in on his way back from the auction rooms, and he and Jack were deep in conversation.

  Her brother looked up and smiled. ‘I’m explaining the way I have to go about my new project.’

  He looks animated, she thought with a mix of surprise and pleasure. Theo had always been the quiet one, always in the background, and she had been astonished when he became engaged, assuming that Cicely had taken the initiative, but pleased nonetheless to see it happen. Two quiet people, she had thought, but now it seemed there were hidden depths to her brother.

  ‘The book,’ said Jack. ‘Sounds like a great idea.’

  Theo nodded eagerly. ‘Miss Fawce
tt says she will give me the name of her publisher so that I can go up to London and talk to him about my idea for a book. If he likes it we might also discuss the format of the book.’

  Go up to London? Olivia hid her surprise. She had never imagined her brother as someone who would ‘go up to London’ – rather as someone who would stay firmly in the country, content with his lot and never venturing further than Canterbury.

  ‘Miss Fawcett thinks it might be a series instead of a one-off. And because I have a good background in antiques through my job the publisher might take more notice of me.’

  ‘I’m so pleased!’ Olivia told him. ‘Before we know it you’ll be a father and an author! Good things happen to nice people!’

  He grinned. ‘I know what you’re thinking but Father says if I wish it, he’ll come up on the London train with me when I go to the publishers and make sure I don’t get myself lost and then after my meeting we can find a restaurant and have lunch together.’

  ‘Better and better!’ Olivia felt an unlikely jolt of envy which she quickly brushed aside. If Theo and Jack wanted to go out together, so be it. If she was not included in the outing, she told herself, that was no problem. Jack was obviously trying to be ‘fatherly’. Better late than never, she assured herself.

  To change the subject she said, ‘There was a dog on the doorstep when I came in.’

  Theo held up a hand. ‘Blame me,’ he told her. ‘It appeared from nowhere and attached itself to me. Probably a stray. It looks kind of scrawny and it’s not wearing a collar. I made the mistake of petting it a bit.’

  Olivia smiled. ‘I know what you’re going to say, Theo, and yes, there are a few scraps of bacon fat I was saving for the birds. They’re on the draining board.’

  When he’d disappeared in search of them she said, ‘Theo always wanted a pet but Aunt Alice was against the idea. She’s never liked dogs or cats in the house.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Especially dogs! She hates the way people fuss over them. She always refers to them as ‘pampered’! You have been warned.’

  ‘But Theo has a home of his own now,’ Jack reminded her, ‘and it’s on a farm. Most farmers keep a dog or two to keep down the rats.’

  Theo found the dog waiting on the step and returned with it scampering beside him. ‘I’ll give it to him outside in the garden,’ he told Olivia, ‘and I’ll give him some milk.’

  When he had gone Jack said, ‘Theo is on a roll right now!’

  ‘A roll?’

  He grinned. ‘Things are going well.’

  Olivia stared at him. Their father had gone away an Englishman but had come home an American. Would their mother have liked the change in the man she loved? If she had lived would she ever have found it in her heart to forgive him? Would Ellen think he deserved a second chance? Was there going to be a way back for him? Would living with Jack Fratton be a better choice than becoming Mrs Whinnie’s companion?

  Without waiting to think what she was saying she asked suddenly, ‘Was it worth it? Leaving us the way you did?’ Her voice was hoarse and she felt tears forming – tears which she brushed away with the back of her hand as she forced herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly.

  He rested his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. ‘It’s a long story . . .’

  ‘I don’t want to hear your excuses!’ she said grimly. ‘I just want an answer to the question. I think we’re entitled to that much.’

  He slowly glanced up at her. ‘Without the story, Olivia, you won’t understand the answer.’

  Abruptly her mood changed and she no longer wanted to hear the answer because it might be more than she could bear.

  Instead she sat up. In what she hoped was a brisk no-nonsense voice she said, ‘Well, that’s that! Now, about your speech for Isabel’s wedding – I’d better give you some idea of Isabel’s life, otherwise you will have nothing to say and it will be a very short speech.’

  Hiding his confusion at this about-turn he nodded.

  Olivia took a deep breath. ‘With an absent father and a dead mother, Isabel has always craved affection and . . . and admiration . . .’

  He frowned. ‘I can’t say that!’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you do. I’m simply telling you about her life. I thought that was what you wanted. You must say whatever you think suitable on the day.’ She kept her tone deliberately cool.

  He nodded. Watching her face carefully he waited for her to go on.

  ‘Isabel was a moody little girl – happy and excited one minute and despairing the next. She still is.’

  ‘Did she get along with Alice?’

  ‘I think she wanted to but she knew in her heart that Luke was her godmother’s favourite and maybe she didn’t want to risk rejection. Aunt Alice tried not to show it but we all knew. Luke was the star . . .’ She frowned. ‘Alice was never a mother in any sense of the word. She was more of a nanny, maybe a cross between a housekeeper and a nanny. I suppose for Mother’s sake she stepped into the gap to prevent us being sent to an orphanage but I don’t think she had ever wanted a traditional life – a home, children, grandchildren.’

  Even as a child, Olivia had seen through Aunt Alice’s attempts at motherhood and had somehow known that her godmother’s heart was miles away in a far-flung corner of Cornwall where she planned one day to set up her own gallery. Poor Alice had longed for the glamour and excitement of the art world where she could reign as Queen. How terribly long the years must have seemed, trapped in a mundane world which she had never chosen.

  Jack said, ‘We seem to be getting a little off track.’

  ‘So we are. Sorry. Yes, Isabel. Where was I?’

  He glanced down at his hands, avoiding her gaze. ‘I called her Annabel instead of Isabel. It was just a slip. I could have kicked myself. I hope she didn’t read too much into it.’

  ‘She will have done but it’s too late now.’ Olivia frowned then went on. ‘Izzie didn’t do too well at school but when Alice suggested she go to a boarding school she took it the wrong way and thought she was trying to get rid of her.’ She leaned forward. ‘This wedding is going to be her big day – the most important in her whole life to date. I’m so afraid something will go wrong at the last moment. She’d be devastated.’

  He was looking at her, his expression unreadable but somehow disturbing.

  She said ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? Tell me!’

  He hesitated.

  ‘Tell me!’

  He spoke reluctantly. ‘I don’t know if you’re strong enough.’

  ‘Probably not, if you want the truth, but you cannot stop now.’

  He closed his eyes, searching for words, and while he did so Olivia’s thoughts ran riot. He was about to confess a crime, she decided with mounting panic. Anything else would cause him less anguish and whatever it was would make it impossible for her to present him to the family as an acceptable member of their home. Fear was creeping in and suddenly she did not want to hear what he had to confess. She held up her hand in protest. ‘No, Father. Please! I’ve changed my mind. Don’t say another word! I don’t want to know what you’ve done. Truly! It’s better we don’t know. Better you stay a few weeks then just go away again.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Olivia. I haven’t committed a crime, if that’s what you think. It’s not—’

  She put her hands over her ears. ‘Please! I really don’t want to hear whatever it is. I can’t stand any more shocks. I’ve enough on my plate already!’

  For a long minute he regarded her in silence.

  Removing her hands from her ears she rushed on before he could utter another word. ‘Isn’t it enough that you turn up here out of the blue after all these years, wanting forgiveness?’

  ‘I haven’t asked for forgiveness. Not once. Just another chance to . . . Just a chance to see you all and know that you are fine.’

  ‘Then why talk about confessing?’

  ‘You put the words into my mouth. I said nothing about a conf
ession. You jumped to that conclusion. What I want to give you is an explanation of that time . . . the reason for my going and—’

  ‘And not coming back!’ She was halfway to the door. ‘And then we’ll know why you’ve come back. Is that it?’

  ‘You could say that.’ He watched her leave, doubt still written all over her face. Slowly he shook his head. ‘You haven’t heard the worst of it,’ he muttered as she closed the door, ‘and maybe you never will.’ He waited for her retreating footsteps but after a silence the door opened again. ‘Tell me then!’ she said. ‘The not knowing is worse!’

  ‘Sit down.’

  He launched into his account of the fateful night. ‘We four had been friends for years and Ellen should have married Larry. It was understood between them. Between all of us. They adored each other. They had just gotten engaged when . . . something happened that was not in the plans. You four children should have been Larry’s children. Larry’s and Ellen’s. You should have been Olivia Kline.’

  Olivia frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. ‘But then I wouldn’t have been me,’ she said slowly. ‘We would all have been different people! You can’t mean that!’

  He recognized the confusion in her face. Relentlessly he continued. ‘But Larry would never have abandoned you all.’

  ‘So you say!’

  ‘Believe me, I know.’

  ‘You haven’t told me what it was that happened although I already know there was a quarrel. Half the street knows it!’

  ‘To make things worse, Alice was in love with Jack – with me, that is. Although she was about ten years older than the rest of us, Alice had flirted with the idea of marriage.’

  ‘To you. That would have been neat.’

  He nodded. ‘Then one night Ellen and I . . . got a little drunk and . . . you can guess what happened.’

  As his meaning dawned. ‘You and Mother?’ Shocked, Olivia could not bring herself to put his implied intimacy into words.

  Jack shrugged. ‘Then she found out she was expecting a baby. Theo.’

  ‘So Mother had to marry you, then, instead of Larry Kline?’