Wives & Mothers

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  *

  The day of George Linton’s funeral was bleak and cold. A vicious March wind whipped across the churchyard, bending the elm trees and tingeing the already pale faces of the mourners with blue. Elaine kept a respectful distance as the family followed the coffin to the grave. She’d arrived in the church at the last minute. It had been packed and she had stood at the back, unable to see who occupied the front pews. Now she watched as Mrs Linton, her brother and assorted relatives grouped themselves around the grave for the final farewell.

  It was only as they turned to go after the interment that Elaine saw Alison. She walked alone behind the rest of the family, wearing a black suit that looked too thin for such cold weather. Her hair was cut in a short spiky style that made her eyes look huge and gave her thin face agamin look. Elaine barely recognised her. Picking her way across the churchyard she touched her arm.

  ‘Alison.’

  The other girl stared at her for a moment, then her face broke into a smile of delighted recognition. ‘Ellie. Oh, how lovely to see you.’ She threw her arms around Elaine and pressed a cold cheek against hers. ‘God, you’re like a ray of sunshine on a day like this.’ As she drew her head back Elaine saw the tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Are you coming back to the house for tea? Oh, please say you’ll come, for God’s sake. It’s about the only way I’ll be able to get through it.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come.’ Elaine slipped her arm through Alison’s and they were girls again. It was as though the past seven years had melted away.

  *

  ‘Tell me everything. I want to hear it all.’ Alison looked better now. The glass of sherry had brought the colour back to her cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes. But there was still an oddly pinched look about her face. The rounded teenage plumpness was gone, replaced by a gaunt, worldly, look. And Elaine thought she could see hurt reflected in the lovely hazel eyes. She was thin too. Far too thin. The black suit hung loosely on her angular frame, and the rounded bosom and hips that Elaine had so envied when they were growing up had been whittled down almost to nothing.

  The two sat on the window seat in the front room of the Lintons’ house apart from the feasting mourners. Alison leaned forward eagerly, pouring herself a second glass of sherry with tense, trembling fingers. ‘Come on — give. How’s Paul? And that baby of yours — she must be positively ancient by now. And your mother — how’s your mother? Does she still have the shop? And Morgan. I’ve heard all about him, of course. He made quite a name for himself, didn’t he?’

  Elaine laughed. ‘Which one would you like me to answer first? Anyway, I want to know what you’ve been doing with your life. I’m sure it’s far more interesting than mine.’

  The smile left Alison’s eyes for a moment. ‘No, it’s not fair, I asked first.’

  Elaine briefly outlined the events of the past few years, concentrating on Tricia and touching only lightly on the relationship between herself and Paul.

  ‘And your ma-in-law — is she still friendly with your mother?’

  Elaine smiled wryly. ‘No. As soon as he could Morgan paid her back the money she lent him to start his company. She showed every sign of trying to run it for him and he flatly refused to allow her to be involved in Morgan Knitwear any more.’

  ‘Good for him,’ Alison laughed.

  ‘She blamed Mum for the whole thing of course and they’ve barely spoken since.’

  ‘And what about all the old chums? Do you still see the Carnes?’

  ‘Not often. I believe that Tom is teaching in the Midlands somewhere, but apart from that I hardly ever see any of them.’

  ‘They were in church, you know. At least, Zoe and Red were.’

  ‘Were they? I didn’t see them. But then there were so many people.’

  ‘So you don’t go to their parties any more?’

  ‘No.’ Elaine looked down at her hands. ‘Ever since Patrick...’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re still carrying a torch for him?’ Alison leaned forward to peer into Elaine’s face, the old teasing look in her eyes.

  ‘Of course not. It was just a teenage romance.’

  ‘He’s married now, so Zoe tells me,’ Alison said lightly, unaware of the effect the news had on Elaine. ‘An actress, Cathryn Harte. No one’s ever heard of her, of course. It seems Patrick met her when he did some set designs for a West End show a couple of years ago. He thought he was made when he landed the job, apparently, but the show folded and the company went into liquidation, so nothing came of it for either of them. Now she’s touring and Patrick’s working for some advertising company or other in London.’

  ‘Really?’ Elaine swallowed hard. ‘And you? Last time I heard for you you were living in a commune.’

  Alison gave a brittle little laugh. ‘Oh, that. My hippy phase. That soon passed.’

  ‘And what about what’s-his-name — Luke? Did you marry him?’

  The smile faded from Alison’s face. ‘Oh, yes, I married him,’ she said. ‘That passed even sooner. The least said about it, the better. I’m into feminism now. There’s nothing like being independent — financially and emotionally.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Elaine said wistfully. ‘How long are you home for?’

  Alisone looked thoughtful. ‘I haven’t decided. I might stay on for a bit.’ Suddenly she put down her glass to hug her friend warmly. ‘Oh, Ellie, I have missed you. I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see you again. We must get together soon. It’s going to take days to catch up with all our news.’

  Elaine left soon after that, taking her leave of Mrs Linton and promising Alison that they would meet again soon. As she drove to the school to pick up Tricia, thoughts of Patrick filled her mind. So he had married? And to an actress. She might have known he would choose someone with an exotic career like that. Cathryn Harte. She said the name aloud to herself. It had a glamorous ring to it. She tried to imagine what she would be like; beautiful, intelligent, intellectual? Totally unlike the dull housewife she herself had become.

  *

  Mary Kingston moved back to her old home the following week. Elaine had prepared the first floor back bedroom for her. It got all the early morning sun and overlooked the garden. Elaine had thought her mother-in-law would be pleased. She was wrong.

  ‘I’m sorry, Elaine, but I know I wouldn’t sleep a wink in here. It used to be poor Edna’s room and it would bring back too many memories.’

  ‘Which room would you like then, Mother?’ Elaine asked patiently.

  ‘The one at the front, over the porch.’

  ‘But that’s my room.’

  Mary assumed a long suffering expression. ‘Oh, I see. Well, of course, I don’t want to put you out...’

  ‘I’ll move my things,’ Elaine said resignedly.

  ‘I’d have thought that room was far too small for two,’ Mary observed on her way downstairs.

  ‘It would be. I sleep there alone. Paul has the room next to the bathroom.’

  Mary stopped in her tracks to stare at her. ‘You mean you’ve turned Paul out of his own bed?’

  ‘No. It was Paul’s own choice. He’s a very light sleeper and...’ But Mary was screwing up her face as though she were eating a lemon. ‘It’s a big mistake,’ she pronounced. ‘Henry snored quite dreadfully. I never ever got a good night’s sleep. But I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking him to leave the marital bed. It’s extremely unwise and I’m afraid I find it rather shocking.’

  ‘And I’m afraid I feel that it’s a private matter between Paul and me,’ Elaine said crisply.

  It was the pattern for what was to come. In the days that followed Mary objected to practically everything that made up the Kingstons’ daily routine. She complained about Tricia’a practising, disagreed with the times Elaine served meals and insisted that the television set was moved from the living room to Paul’s study.

  ‘But he works in there most evenings,’ Elaine said. ‘It means that no one will be able to look at it.’

  ‘A
nd a good thing too if you ask me. That child watches far too much television. It’ll ruin her eyesight.’

  Elaine soon felt the strain. Mary had taken over the house again as though it was hers alone. She announced that she had arranged for three friends to visit her twice a week to play bridge. She told Elaine that they would be needing the drawing room on those afternoons and gave orders for what refreshments they would require. She asked for the furniture to be rearranged and complained about the alterations Elaine had made to the garden. As days went by, Elaine realised to her horror that she was slowly stepping into the role Edna had vacated. She knew that she must do something to stop it before it was too late.

  She told all this to Alison when they met for lunch a couple of weeks after George Linton’s funeral.

  ‘But why do you put up with it?’ her friend demanded. ‘Why can’t you and Paul buy a house of your own?’

  ‘Because his mother doesn’t want to live at Langmere Lodge by herself.’

  Alison gave a snort of annoyance. ‘Then tell her to move into one of those up-market old people’s homes. She can boss people about there to her heart’s content.’

  ‘She wouldn’t go. Langmere Lodge is still her house. There’s nothing I can do about it, and nothing that Paul will. He just keeps out of the way and leaves it all to me.’

  ‘You’ve got more patience than I have,’ Alison said. ‘If it were me I’d tell the bossy old cow to take a running jump.’ She leaned across the table. ‘Why don’t you get a job? At least it’d get you out from under her feet for most of the time.’

  ‘Let’s face it, there’s nothing I can do,’ Elaine said with a sigh. ‘All the training I ever did was a domestic science course and I never even finished that.’

  ‘What of it? I did the same.’

  ‘Ali, why did you stop writing to me?’ Elaine asked. It was something that had been nagging at her ever since the day of the funeral.

  Alison was silent for a moment, then she looked up at Elaine with pain-filled eyes. ‘I fell into some rather bad ways. I didn’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘What kind of bad ways?’

  ‘Dope, to name but a few.’ She gave an ironic little laugh, searching her friend’s eyes for signs of disapproval. ‘It was Luke. He started me off. Well, I’d smoked a bit of pot here and there ever since school. Everyone did it in those days.’ She glanced at Elaine. ‘Well, everyone but you, that is. Anyway, it never seemed to do me any harm.’

  ‘But you became addicted?’

  ‘I got into the harder stuff.’ Alison’s fingers nervously pleated the edge of the tablecloth. ‘Luke was quite a bit older than me. He’d served in the army — been in Vietnam. After he came out he went a bit wild — kicked around a lot. I knew all this when I said I’d marry him, but I was young and it seemed rather romantic.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I suppose I had some mad idea that I could reform him. He said he wanted to settle down and have a family.’

  Elaine waited, but when Alison didn’t go on she asked: ‘And did you?’

  ‘Almost. Our baby son was still-born. Afterwards I was very depressed, especially when the doctor said I wouldn’t be able to have any more. Luke lost interest in me then. He got bored with having a weeping female around all the time so he introduced me to the stuff to keep me quiet. It was sheer bliss in the beginning. It seemed like the answer to everything — till I got hooked and it all got out of hand. That was when he finally walked out and left me to it.’

  ‘Oh, Alison.’ Elaine reached across the table to cover the thin restless hand with hers. Now she knew the reason for the change in Alison; the gauntness and the haunted look. Just for a moment she was tempted to share her own unhappiness; to tell Alison about her heartbreak over Patrick — the truth about Tricia. But something stopped her. Instead she said: ‘Darling, I’m so sorry. Did you love him very much?’

  ‘When I first met him I was completely bowled over. I’d never met anyone like him before. But falling for Luke was a bit like driving a car off the roof of a skyscraper. For a while it felt like flying — then I hit the ground.’

  Elaine nodded. ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘Do you?’ Alison looked up. ‘I doubt it. After he left I knew it was a question of pick myself up or sink. At first it didn’t seem to matter much either way, then someone put me in touch with an organisation that helps addicts. The drying out process was sheer hell. There were times when I wished I could just die.’

  ‘But you beat it in the end?’

  ‘Eventually. Afterwards I went back to California to work for the Railtons again. They were wonderful to me. They took me into the business and taught me everything.’

  ‘What kind of business was it?’

  ‘They ran a bridal service.’ Alison laughed dryly. ‘Funny, the irony of it never occured to me at the time. They did everything — dress hire, marquee hire, floral displays, catering, cars — right down to the printing and the press announcements.’

  Elaine smiled. ‘That sounds really interesting.’

  ‘It saved my life, I can tell you.’

  ‘So why did you leave?’

  Alison shrugged. ‘Homesickness mainly. I just woke up one morning and longed to be home; to feel good old English rain trickling down my neck and taste a British Rail sandwich again.’ Her smile faded. ‘Then, while I was still thinking about it, the cable came to say Dad had died. Funny how fate has a way of stepping in to make up your mind for you.’

  ‘So you’ll stay?’

  Alison nodded. ‘I think so, yes. If I can find something interesting to do.’ She looked up. ‘By the way, no one else knows any of what I’ve just told you, apart from the divorce. So keep it to yourself eh?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve been wondering if I could start a bridal service here. I’ve been doing a bit of research and there doesn’t seem to be anything of that sort for miles around. I worked with the Railtons for almost two years so I know how the business works.’

  ‘It sounds exciting. Would you do it on your own?’

  ‘Not if I could help it.’ Alison looked up at her, a ghost of the old mischievous gleam back in her eyes. ‘Actually, I’d thought of asking a certain old school friend to go into partnership with me.’ She grinned. ‘How about it, Ellie — are you game?’

  For a moment Elaine stared at her. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes. I think we could work together, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. But...’ Elaine’s mind was racing ahead. ‘Wouldn’t we need money?’

  Alison laughed. ‘It would help, yes.’

  ‘But — I haven’t got any. There’s no way I could put any money into your scheme, Ali. Maybe you should ask someone who has some cash to invest.’

  ‘Would Paul help?’

  Elaine shook her head. ‘I can’t see him financing any business I had anything to do with.’

  Her friend grinned and suddenly the old Alison looked out from the hazel eyes. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll do it somehow. We’ll start on a shoestring. Where there’s a will there’s a way. We’ll make it go — you just see.’

  Her enthusiasm was infectious and Elaine felt her heart lift. A new excitement stirred inside her. Life was beginning to open up again for her. She could feel it in her bones.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Now that Mary was living at Langmere Lodge it was almost impossible for Elaine to find the privacy to speak to Paul alone. She chose her moment, after Mary had gone up to her room. Making coffee she carried the tray through to Paul in his study. As she poured it she glanced at him as he sat at his desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he worked on a pile of exercise books.

  ‘If you could spare a moment, Paul, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.’

  He pushed the books aside and took off his glasses, accepting the cup of coffee she passed him. ‘What is it? Tricia again? I’ve sent for a prospectus from a school in Hertfordshire. They specialise in musical educatio
n. It looks very good actually. I was rather impressed.’ He drew the folder out of a drawer and passed it to her. She glanced at it briefly.

  ‘She’d have to board.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But Paul, she’s only seven.’

  ‘She’d be almost eight by the time she started there. They take them at that age. It’ll do her the world of good.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You baby her too much,’ he said tersely. ‘Mother was only saying so the other day. Too much cosseting is bad for a child. You’ll make her too dependent on you.’

  She swallowed her resentment. She’d no wish to start an argument with him about his mother’s interference just now. ‘I suppose we could ask her,’ she said.

  ‘Ask her?’ Paul snorted. ‘How can you expect a seven-year-old child to know what’s best for her? There’s an open day next month. I suggest we all go over and have a look. Then of course she’d have to pass the entrance exam.’ He finished his coffee and put on his glasses again in preparation for continuing his work.

  ‘Paul, I didn’t come to talk to you about Tricia,’ Elaine said. He looked up. ‘Oh? Then what?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I had lunch with Alison today. She and I want to go into business together.’

  He looked incredulous. ‘Into business? Doing what, may I ask?’ His scathing tone brought the blood rushing to her cheeks. ‘Alison has been working for some people who run a bridal service in the States. We’d like to start one here.’

  ‘Bridle service? But you don’t know the first thing about horses.’ She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. ‘Not bridle — bridal, as in weddings. The idea is to organise the whole thing — dress hire, catering, cars, flowers...’