by Dawson, H A
Eventually, seeking solitude, she headed up the stairs to her bedroom. The door to her parents’ room was ajar, and her eyes fell on a dresser at the far side. She stepped inside.
Her letters were stacked in a pile. She flicked through them. Many were sealed.
Her heart sank and her mouth dried.
‘What are you doing?’
Janet spun around. Her father was staring.
‘You’ve not read them.’
‘Get out!’
She fled to her room, slammed the door shut and flattened herself onto her bed, the pain contorting her face. In her mind, she felt the comforting touch of Auntie Ann and listened to her soothing words. She longed for home, her real home, and it could not come soon enough.
Janet’s disillusionment was so great that when she returned home, she stopped writing letters. Even so, every now and then, her longing would re-emerge, and her hand would hover over a sheet of blank paper. Sometimes she even wrote a few words, until she remembered the unopened letters. Despite the hurt, she often checked the postal delivery, hoping they might write to her. It proved futile.
Ann and Gerry offered as much sympathy as they could muster, suggesting that the evacuation could have been as hard on her parents as it was on her. The separation must have been unbearable; the difficulty of seeing a child grow up away from their control was something they struggled to empathise with. To try to assist, they suggested Janet tried to be as understanding as possible and pleaded with her to continue to write. However, much to Ann’s dismay, she refused to do so.
By the time the war had ended, she considered herself mature enough to deal with the situation better and decided to return to London. The long journey gave her plenty of time to ponder their reunion, and as the rhythmical beat of the train settled her mind, she rehearsed her speech.
She would apologise for her lack of understanding of the situation, telling how she was wrong not to have appreciated the difficulties they had to face. She would respect the choices they had made. She would praise their war efforts and thank them for allowing her to move to safety. Then, they would make a new start.
Janet turned along the street to her home, and her heart beat ever faster, her eyes drawn to the door a third of the way down. There was no movement, no sign that they were anticipating her arrival.
The knock on the door was firm; it seemed appropriate. She held her breath, forced her quivers to subside.
The handle turned. The door opened. A woman gawped.
‘I was expecting to see Eric and Betty Smith,’ she said.
‘They don’t live here.’
‘Since when?’
‘A few weeks ago.’
‘Did they say where they were going?’
‘No, sorry.’
Janet was dumbfounded. She spoke to neighbours and she visited friends. Everyone was equally as ignorant as she was.
Chapter 11
Steven’s sweet seductive aroma danced around the car, arousing emotions in Leanne long laid to rest. Her racing pulse and tingling skin - a strange and welcoming phenomenon - caused the air to flood with hormones and her mind to fill with primitive hopes and desires. The moment was not predictable; it was not something Leanne ever wanted after Phillip’s passing, let alone desired.
The heavy feeling had remained with her for weeks, rarely lifting, rarely allowing her to see the world in anything other than darkness. She had felt sick, often carried a headache, and drifted through her days in a daze. Frequently, she thought back to his departure before the accident, searching for even the smallest of clue that could have warned her that her life was to change, but she found nothing. It made little sense. She had been happy, not weak and frail, not driven by despair. Why did everything have to change?
Now, as she recounted in her mind her sense of overwhelming loss, she could tell that the wounds were healing, and so long as she did not suffer any undue stress, the scars would lessen too. Leanne felt safe with Steven, mentally as well as physically, and she knew she was in a good place. It was to be a moment for enjoyment.
A warm and pleasant sensation enveloped her as she peeked at him and noted the relaxed way he held the steering wheel, his out-turned leg and foot and his lush strands of golden-brown hair framing the healthy glow in his cheeks. Days previous, this man had been a stranger. It was a bizarre turnaround.
They weaved along the lane, through the silent streets, and to the other side of the village before turning into a large drive. An outside light illuminated the garden. There was a shaped shrub in the centre of the lawn and pruned plants in the borders. Along the drive were three other cars.
Steven silenced the engine and turned towards her. ‘Ready?’
She nodded, yet the strained conversation she had had with Teresa replayed and her doubts emerged. Nonetheless, she wasn’t going to voice her concerns and followed him to the house trying to remove the stiffness from her gait and the anxieties from her mind.
She should be appreciating the opportunity given to her to acquire new friends. Tyler had managed it and had shown bravery by accepting a new challenge, and so she must do the same. Spurred on, Leanne stood by Steven’s side at the door with a newfound confidence. Within seconds of pressing the bell, it swung open. Teresa encouraged them inside, and then, making eye contact with Leanne, thanked them both for coming.
A room alongside the hallway was buzzing with people - about fifteen in total –and they spread into the large conservatory overlooking an extensive garden. Since it was dark outside it was difficult to see much; there were no lights coming from overlooking properties and no streetlights. Stepping deeper into the room, following in Steven’s shadow, heads turned. Leanne pressed her arm against her front and looked around the room, shrouding her nervousness.
Moments later, a man in his sixties with a carved complexion and a stout physique, approached them. His expression was deadpan. He introduced himself as Geoff, Teresa’s husband.
‘Come sit down, we won’t bite,’ he said.
‘Thanks for inviting me.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
Geoff removed a bottle of wine from the cupboard, extracted the cork, and poured some into his glass.
‘You have a lovely house,’ she continued.
‘You haven’t seen much of it yet, so what makes you say that?’
Uncomfortable, she shuffled her feet.
‘I should imagine it’s no match for yours.’
She glimpsed at Steven and looked back to Geoff, before swallowing her fear. ‘I hear you’re into property. Are you an estate agent?’
‘Hell no. I buy properties to renovate and sell - either that or let out. You thinking of selling?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Do you think it would be a good idea to let it out as a holiday home?’ Steven asked.
Geoff took a sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. ‘It’s a bit big as it stands. It might be an idea getting permission to split it. Either that or open it as a bed and breakfast. You’ll need quite a bit of money, though.’ He glanced towards her.
She sensed he was searching for information and so she remained as poker-faced as possible, not willing to divulge her financial gains, and waited for him to continue.
‘I should imagine you’re not short of a bob or too,’ he added.
‘Money’s not everything. To me, family is more important. I have a wonderful son who makes me proud. The rest is irrelevant.’
Geoff’s eyes rolled. He walked away.
With her arms pressed tight across her body, she glanced at her feet, self-conscious and yearning for privacy and solitude. Her mind was too tense to absorb her surroundings, the gentle murmur of voices and the movement of people between the rooms, and she felt alone inside her head. When Steven’s arm landed around her middle, she almost leapt out of her skin.
‘You told him,’ he said in a quiet voice.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.’
She looked at him with doleful eyes.
‘Come on, let’s go next door and find a quiet space. I’d like to get to know you better.’
They moved away from the oppressive air and into a smaller lounge, and sat side by side on a two-seater sofa. There was adoration in his eyes, and bit-by-bit her anxieties melted and her body softened.
‘Geoff can be a bit odd,’ he whispered, ‘don’t let him bother you.’
‘You know, I don’t care about the money or the house. Family is what’s important . . . and friends.’
‘I agree.’
‘Do they have children?’
‘No, they couldn’t have any. Teresa doesn’t like to talk about it. From what I can gather it’s caused problems over the years.’
‘So they did want them?’
‘I think so.’
She reached for her glass. She had at least been blessed with motherhood. She could not imagine how she would have felt had she been infertile.
‘They’re having quite a few difficulties at the moment, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t.’
‘Now, tell me something about yourself.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. What are your hobbies, your favourite food and the places you visit to relax? I don’t care what you tell me. I just want to know more about Leanne Stark.’
She grinned. ‘Where do I start?’
She hardly noticed the steady stream of people that passed between the rooms, so absorbing was their conversation. He paid her maximum attention, despite on occasions speaking with the other guests, and her sense of worth soared. It was as though she had known him forever, a wonderful experience.
‘I’m a website designer,’ he said, ‘it sounds a bit dull, but I can work from home and it pays well.’
‘Don’t you get lonely?’
‘No. I started doing it years ago so I could be around for Jack and Lily. Andrea is a doctor in the city, and wasn’t at home much.’
‘It must be quiet now they’ve gone.’
‘I’m used to it. I have Tansy to keep me company. What about you? Do you work?’
‘I did. I was made redundant last week . . . lack of business. I worked at a small craft company. They made things to sell out of soldered copper. They sold other people’s handmade crafts too.’
‘Soldered copper? How does that work?’
‘It gets bent into shape and looks like a skeleton. We had items such as animals and boats that we’d make regularly, but we’d also make things to order.’
‘Did you make them?’
‘I did have a go once, but it wasn’t my area. I’d prepare the materials, help in the shop, and search for other outlets to increase sales.’
‘Sounds fascinating. Any chance that they might rehire you when business improves?’
‘I doubt it, but you never know. I rather fancy doing something similar on my own. I’ve always wanted to make handmade jewellery.’
‘It sounds like you have an opportunity.’
‘Yes.’ But not the motivation, she added silently.
‘What ideas do you have?’
‘Beads are often used, but I fancy doing something a bit different. Maybe using pieces of sheet metal or wire, like what we did in the factory.’
‘Have you any designs?’
‘I have some in my head but none on paper.’
‘That’s a pity. I’d love to have seen them.’
She settled back into the sofa. Perhaps now was the time to have a go. She had time on her hands and it would be a pity to waste it. She reached across for her glass and took a quenching sip of wine.
‘Hi, you two.’
She turned her head. Teresa was approaching them.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’ she asked.
‘It should be us asking you that,’ Steven said, ‘it’s your party.’
‘I’m having a fine time. I’m sorry I haven’t had much of a chance to chat. Have you helped yourselves to the food?’
‘Yes, we had something earlier.’
‘Good.’ She looked to Leanne. ‘I’m sorry I was a bit off with you yesterday. I didn’t mean anything by it. I hope we can be friends.’
‘Sure. I’d like that.’
‘How long are you planning on staying?’
She glanced to Steven. ‘Just another week. My son will be back from his father’s then.’
‘Will you be coming down on weekends?’
‘Maybe for a while. I’m trying to find out more about my family’s past.’ She hesitated, noting an anxious look in Teresa’s eyes. ‘I’m looking for my mother.’
Teresa averted her gaze, concentrating her attentions on the scuffle of bodies by the doorway.
‘How long have you lived in the village?’ Leanne asked.
‘On and off, for years.’
‘So you must know a lot of people.’
She looked at the wooden floor, polished and with a small rectangular Chinese rug near the fireplace. There were logs piled at one side and an ornate vase at the other. ‘Most of the people I know moved into the village only a few years ago, after the new housing estate was built. Like Steven.’
‘How did you two meet?’
‘He very kindly did the village website.’
‘Leanne’s thinking of designing and making jewellery,’ Steven said.
‘Now that sounds interesting. You must show me what you do some time. I’ve made a few pieces myself. I could do with some inspiration.’
The conversation flowed, and Leanne found herself warming to Teresa. She did not seem at all like she had done the previous day and was the quietly spoken woman Steve had inferred. She was more Leanne’s type than anticipated. Geoff, on the other hand, seemed deliberately obtuse, and as soon as he entered the room, her guard raised.
‘What’s going on in here?’ he asked.
There was a dark glare in his eyes, and she wondered if he was like that with everyone or specifically her. His entire demeanour was threatening, the piercing stare, the puffed out chest and the widening arms.
Teresa turned to him. ‘Leanne was telling me she’s thinking of setting up a handmade jewellery business.’
‘I can’t believe there’s much money in that.’
Teresa’s jaw tightened and her hand made a fist. ‘Does it always have to come down to money?’
‘You telling me, you don’t like what we have?’
‘Let’s not do this now.’
Geoff refocused his gaze. ‘Tell me, Leanne, it’s no fun being poor, is it?’
‘No.’
‘Have you had a comfortable life?’
‘I suppose I have.’
‘And have you been treated well?’
She nodded.
‘Roy and Janet never made you suffer?’
‘Of course not.’
Where was this going? Apprehensively, she looked to Steven. He seemed unperturbed by the line of questioning, as though he’d expected it.
‘Then you’re lucky. Not all of us have had it so good. Some of us have had to focus on money. If you know what you are doing, it’s a reliable way of remaining stress-free.’
‘Geoff-’ Teresa said.
He raised his hand. ‘I suspect Roy and Janet have had a good life too. Have you ever asked yourself if they deserved it, or ever considered why they inherited such a large house and never lived there?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Wouldn’t you think if you kept your nose clean and treated everyone well that you’d get a reward?’ He paused, assessing her blank expression. ‘That’s not how it works. You see I was the man people shit on. I didn’t deserve it, no not at all, but I had to tolerate it. There are some bad people in this world. It’s in the blood. You won’t find out until it’s too late. So you make the first move or someone else will.’
‘Geoff!’ Teresa said. ‘You’ve said enou
gh!’
‘Leanne understands me, don’t you Leanne?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good girl. So you’ll appreciate me saying that if someone you knew treated you like shit, you’d want revenge too.’
He strode away, a can of beer in hand. Leanne gawked, watching his frame stagger into someone at the doorway and then out of view.
‘I’m sorry,’ Teresa said, ‘he’s had too much to drink. Ignore him.’
Leanne looked to Steven, helpless, as Teresa trotted after Geoff.
‘He gets like that,’ he confirmed, ‘tends to ramble.’
‘He was implying something. Did he know my grandparents?’
‘Only vaguely so far as I know.’
‘So what was he on about? It sounded like he was threatening me.’
He laid his hand on her thigh. ‘You’re reading too much into it. I’ve known him a while and whilst I don’t particularly like him I know he’s not dangerous. Believe me, it’s just the drink talking.’
‘I still think he knows something.’
‘If he’s implying anything, it’s probably aimed at me. He doesn’t like my relationship with Teresa.’
She narrowed her eyes, questioning his comment.
‘Just forget it. It’s not worth it.’
She remained quiet and pensive and looked through the open doorway where she could just about see Teresa and Geoff talking in the opposite room. Their conversation was strained, and periodically they glanced towards her. Then it struck. Were Steven and Teresa having an affair? It made sense and explained why Teresa had taken an instant dislike to her. She looked to Steven, who was chatting with another man at his side and her hopes of a growing relationship dived.
Needing a moment to process her thoughts, she stood up and headed out of the room. People were starting to depart, and the earlier muggy air generated by too many bodies was starting to lessen. She glanced at the bouquet of flowers upon a small table, inhaled a fresh floral scent and headed to the washroom.
She felt weighed down by a persistent ache inside. Splashing her face, she called upon her memories of Janet and Phillip to provide her with strength, and in an instant saw her grandmother’s creased skin, loose around her arms and face, and Phillip’s encouraging smile. She longed for their support and craved a hug.