“I need time, Evie. I need time. I’m so sorry.”
One evening after Peter had retired to bed early as usual, Evie lay on her own bed trying to make sense of her feelings. She knew now that Peter had suffered and had locked away terrible memories inside his mind. Somehow, she had to help him deal with these.
She caught sight of the silver box on her dresser. She opened the lid and rifled through the letters until she came to one addressed to her on her tenth birthday. There was something her mother had told her about Jack which she needed to read again.
Dearest Evie,
Happy birthday, darling, on your tenth birthday. I expect you’re very beautiful now. You’ve inherited my auburn hair and I’m sure it makes you look very distinctive. How is your life? I hope it’s full of love. I know that Daddy cares for you very much and will always love you, whatever the future may bring. Is Uncle Jack still with you? If he is, I expect he’s still spoiling you.
I want to tell you a little bit about Uncle Jack. In the future, you may find that he becomes important in your life. Uncle Jack needs to be loved. I think that’s why he found his way into our lives. In the war he was badly hurt. He worked behind enemy lines and was caught. He was badly beaten and tortured. He also blames himself for the death of two French agents who worked closely with him. I’m telling you this because I want you to know that he’s a very special man, not just the kind old uncle who gives you too many sweets. People who have been through what he’s been through seldom want to talk about their experiences but they need to be understood. Please remember this if you ever find yourself harbouring anger in your heart for Uncle Jack.
Evie stopped reading and put the letter down. She had forgotten about Jack’s war service but reading the letter again gave her an idea.
The next day she took Jack’s breakfast tray to him at eight in the morning. They made polite conversation about the weather as Evie drew back the curtains and put cushions behind Jack’s back to help him sit upright.
“Uncle Jack, I know you know what’s going on,” began Evie.
“There’s lots of goings on in this house, Evie, what do you mean?”
“Peter and me. That’s what I’m talking about. We were close – before he went away. We made promises to each other. But now it’s all different. He’s not the same man any more. I want to know why. I want to know what I can do to bring him back – the old Peter who left here in ’41. Mum told me in one of her letters that you’d been badly treated in the war. Can you help me to understand? What can I do to help Peter?”
There was a long pause whilst Jack sipped at his tea and gazed intently at the bedspread.
“What did your mother tell you?”
“Just that you were caught behind enemy lines and tortured. Oh and that two French agents were killed too.”
“Yvette and Simone,” whispered Jack under his breath.
“Did you say Yvette? That’s strange. It’s so similar to my own name. Who was Yvette?”
“She was a very special and very brave woman.”
“How did she die?”
“It’s difficult for me to tell you much, Evie. If you experience those things you spend a lifetime trying to forget them. But before you can do that, you need to talk to someone first. That’s where your mother helped me. She coaxed me to talk about what happened – to face up to the truth. You see, in that situation no one’s brave. In the end, everyone talks. It’s just a matter of time. It’s not just your own pain – it’s seeing pain being inflicted on others, maybe people you love. You’re humiliated. They do things to you that I can’t bring myself to describe. You say anything in the end – just to make it stop. But, of course, even then it doesn’t stop – it just goes on and on. And somewhere in all of that you lose faith. What can you possibly believe in that allows all this to happen? And if you lose faith – you lose the will to live. You might just as well be dead. And then you begin to want to die. Each time you come round from the last beating you curse your luck for being alive.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Jack. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to ...”
“You wanted to know how you can help Peter. Do as your mother did with me, Evie. Be there to listen. Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t make judgements. Just be there when he wants to start talking. And he will want to start talking. Sometime soon he’ll need to start talking.”
The next morning as Peter was preparing to leave the house, he encountered Evie in the hall putting on her outdoor clothes and boots.
“You’re not going to work in those, are you?”
“No, Peter. I’m coming with you.”
Peter’s face dropped. “But I need to be alone. I thought you understood. I just need time.”
“You don’t need to worry. I won’t talk to you. I just want to be with you. Now, put your coat on and we’ll go.”
Peter looked confused and a little crestfallen but he did as he was bid. They set off down Duck Lane, away from the town towards the meadows where Evie and Emma had played as children and where in earlier years Alice, Jed and Flora had planned their futures, brimming with optimism and idealism.
They walked in silence along footpaths and climbed styles over walls onto rough farm tracks. Peter walked with his hands in his pockets and his head lowered. Every so often he would stop and look, not at the scene in front of him, but at some other image in a distant place. His face would contort and sometimes fill with fear. Evie said nothing but occasionally took his hand, feeling his damp clammy palm against hers.
The next day was the same. The sky was overcast so they put on waterproof jackets. After an hour of silent walking, Peter stopped and looked at Evie. He reached out to hold her hands and for the first time since his return he looked her straight in the eyes. Evie remained silent, determined that she would ask no questions. Peter seemed to be struggling with words or perhaps with the ideas that would give meaning to his words. But there seemed to be a barrier that he just couldn’t overcome. He turned away from Evie unable to bear looking at her.
Twice more on that same day, Peter tried to get his words out but was beaten by the demons that had taken control of his mind. Evie wondered how long she could keep this up. She was needed back at the construction company as Jed was beginning to get anxious about her absence. The third day dawned bright and crisp. A hint of an early spring hung in the air. Wild daffodils formed a yellow ribbon along the embankments and hedgerows.
“Let’s go a different way today, Peter,” said Evie as they arrived at the first meadow. “Let’s go to Offa’s Mount. It’ll be beautiful up there today. You’ll be able to see for miles.”
Without saying anything, Peter followed her along the track which led away from Frampton to higher ground to the west of the town. It took just over an hour to trudge the three miles to Offa’s Mount. Evie noticed that Peter’s walk was getting more steady and confident. He was also beginning to look around him rather than keeping his eyes focused on the ground.
The top of the Mount was sparse, boasting only a stone mound on which was placed a roughly cast metal plate indicating the four points of the compass. Evie and Peter stopped by the mound and looked out over the flat East Anglian countryside. An early mist still hung over the fields giving the appearance of an undulating ethereal ocean. The sun overhead was bright with just the faintest hint of warmth registering on exposed flesh. They both stood in silence, mesmerised by the simple beauty of the scene which lay before them.
When Evie looked at Peter, she was astonished to see tears rolling down his cheeks. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.
“What is it, Peter, my darling? What is it?”
“When you’re in those God forsaken camps, this is what you think about,” he replied shakily. “When they tie you up in a cage and leave you to roast in the jungle heat, you try to make your mind go somewhere else. You try to detach it from your body. And this is where I came. You remember, we came here the day before I left. This was my last
memory of peace and happiness. I made it my special memory. And when they hit me, or pretended they were about to shoot me or beat my best friend to pulp in front of me, I always tried to come here. To stand at this place and look out over this beautiful country.”
Evie held him but said nothing. Jack had told her just to listen.
“It’s not so much the pain or dying. The mind has a funny way of dealing with those. It’s fear. There’s always fear. You learn to live with it, learn to expect it all the time. Fear of being betrayed, fear of letting down a comrade, fear of being weak, fear of just waking up. And that’s what it’s like now, Evie. I’m consumed with fear. People tell us we’re heroes but they didn’t see us crying out for mercy or begging for food or begging to die. I’ve got to live with these memories, Evie, and I don’t know how to.”
There was a long silence as they held on to each other.
“I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through, Peter, and I can’t say anything that will help. But I can always be here to listen and to help share some of the pain. I know you’re not the same young airman who came to visit us in 1941, but I don’t know who you are now. I want to find out. I want to be a part of your future – not your past. And I know it’s early days but you must begin to think about the future. It’s the only way to lay the past to rest.”
They sat down by the base of the stone mound and words began to tumble out. Peter talked of being shot down off the coast of Singapore in the days before the Japanese invaded the island. He told Evie how he had managed to swim to the coast of Malaya and hide in the jungle from Japanese patrols. How eventually he’d given himself up to villagers, hoping that they would hide him but how, in fact, he was traded to the Japanese for a couple of bags of rice. Rather than being taken to a main camp, he was held in the jungle in a makeshift prison run by Malayan collaborators, brutal people who exacted terrible punishments for minor infringements of rules. He was there for three years, half starved and often suffering from dysentery. Death seemed like a blessed relief – always just out of reach.
Evie told Peter about her war years. She didn’t hide from him the fact that she had relationships with a number of men. She needed him to understand that she too had known despair and desolation – that the old pre war values of chastity and monogamy were irrelevant in a world where relationships might last only a few days before a soldier would be gunned down or an airman shot out of the skies. Whatever remained of their relationship, Evie was determined that it could only be built on honesty, that no dark shadows should remain harbouring demons that might one day endanger their future.
They returned to Hope Cottage by mid afternoon as the sun was losing its warmth. Jack was asleep in his chair by the fire. Peter took Evie silently by the hand and led her through the parlour to his room. He shut the door and pulled Evie to him. Their lips made light inquisitive contact. Then he was kissing her wildly, passionately, out of control.
“Stop, Peter,” she whispered breathlessly. “Not this way.”
He sat down on the bed, confused. Then Evie began to undress. Peter watched her in silence. When she was naked, she began to unbutton Peter’s shirt and remove the rest of his clothes. Then she pulled him down onto the bed.
They made love selfishly and greedily, each seeking atonement for the years they had been forced to spend apart. When they climaxed together, their bodies fused and they clasped each other until they both cried out with pain.
Afterwards, they lay for over an hour in each other’s arms. Evie began to talk to Peter about a future, a shared future, perhaps with children. Peter talked about his boyhood dreams to travel and work abroad. Now all that seemed so irrelevant. He had travelled and made it back home. He yearned to belong somewhere and to belong with someone.
That evening, Peter and Evie announced that they were going out and would probably find somewhere to eat in Cromer. Evie had prepared a meal for the two men which Jed put the finishing touches to when he arrived home from work. Jed was glad that he had the opportunity to speak to Jack alone about an issue that was causing him growing concern.
“They seem to be getting on well, them two,” suggested Jed as he was ladling out the stew.
“Peter and Evie? I saw it coming,” remarked Jack. “It doesn’t surprise me. Spent the last three days together they have. Spent a lot of time in Peter’s room this afternoon too and I don’t expect they were playing cards either.”
Jed dished out the vegetables in silence and pushed Jack’s wheelchair up to the table.
“You see, Jack, there’s a bit of a problem. Suppose they decide to get married?”
“Well, that’s alright isn’t it? Peter’s a good lad. Had a difficult time of it, obviously, but there’s no one better placed than Evie to help him sort himself out.”
“That’s not the point,” persisted Jed. “They can’t get married.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because Evie’s your child,” said Jed with a sudden edge to his voice, “and Peter’s your nephew. Don’t you see? That makes them first cousins.”
“Well, it’s not illegal for first cousins to get married is it?”
“It’s not illegal but there can be problems. If they have children there may be, well, health issues. Sometimes they can be deformed. Sometimes they can be a bit ... simple.”
“How do you know all about this?” asked Jack, laying down his knife and fork as the conversation became more tense.
“It’s been a big issue in these parts, especially in some of the isolated villages round here. ‘In breeding’ they call it. You’ve heard of people talking about village idiots. Well, that’s what they mean, simple people, often with a deformity and it’s usually from in breeding.”
“Well, you can’t stop them getting married,” replied Jack. “If it’s legal, you can’t get in their way.”
“No, but we can tell them the truth and let them decide. You can’t let them go into this not knowing.”
“You can’t tell Evie the truth, not now, not after all this time,” replied Jack, becoming visibly agitated. “It would kill her. And what would she think of us? She’d turn against us. She’d know we’d lied to her all these years. You can’t do that, Jed.”
“But we can’t let Evie and Peter marry without knowing the truth. That would be immoral. I always knew this lie would have to end one day and I think that day has arrived.”
“It was meant to protect us all. Don’t you remember, Jed? You agreed with it. Alice wanted it and we all agreed. You’d be letting Alice down if you told Evie now.”
“I’m not sure Alice ever intended it to go on this long and I’m sure if she’d lived she would have told Evie herself. And there’s another thing, Jack.”
Jed paused and looked away out through the parlour windows to the wintry night beyond.
“It’s not just this lie – it’s the other one too. I want that out in the open.”
Jack looked coldly at Jed, his face hardening. “What other lie?”
“You know, the one about Flora and her girl Emma.”
“You better watch what you’re saying, Jed. You know nothing about me and Flora.”
Jed turned back from the window and faced Jack directly. “I was there, Jack. I saw it. I saw what you did to Flora. You took her forcefully, against her will. You raped her. And it’s to my everlasting shame I did nothing about it.”
Jack erupted into a violent coughing fit, wheezing and struggling to get his breath. It took over ten minutes before they were able to resume talking.
“You were there like a bloody peeping Tom and you watched. What does that make you?” demanded Jack, with as much venom as his aching body could muster.
“It makes me a coward and I’m ashamed. But it doesn’t stop me doing what’s right now. If we’re going to tell Evie the truth – and we are, I promise you – let’s tell Emma the truth too. Let her know that you’re her father. Do what’s right, Jack, before you die. You were brave in them war years. Prove y
ou’re brave now. Prove you haven’t lost it.”
There were tears beginning to trickle down Jack’s cheeks now. He looked his age. His body was thin and bent. He coughed mucus from his congested chest and struggled for breath.
“Jed, I’m begging you,” he gasped. “Do you really hate me that much? Is this your final revenge? Is this what you’ve been planning all these years – to let me go to my grave alone, with everyone against me. I’m begging you, Jed, don’t do it. No good’ll come of it.”
Evie was glad she’d taken a little trouble to dress up. She thought Peter had probably intended that they stop at a small pub on the way to Cromer but here they were, mounting the wide sweeping stairs up to the doors of the elegant Hotel de Paris. Peter had booked a table in the restaurant away from the dance band, making conversation less difficult. The restaurant was busy with couples and a few families. There was still a good smattering of uniformed military personnel, with returning English soldiers slowly reasserting their presence in the vacuum left by the departed GIs. Evie and Peter chatted easily over their main course, avoiding subjects that might evoke pain or regret.
“I asked you here for a reason,” Peter announced when their plates had been cleared from the table. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“Peter, it’s alright. You don’t have to …”
“Evie, let me just say this my way. It won’t be stylish but it comes from my heart. I can’t live without you, Evie. I know that now. The way you’ve been with me and listened to me with all my worries about the war years, well, there’s nobody else I could tell all that to – nobody else I would trust. You’ve shown such loyalty and love to me that I want to return it. The trouble is, if you accept my proposal I can’t tell you what sort of man you’re going to marry. I don’t know myself anymore. I know I’m not that man who kissed you under the oak tree before going to Singapore. That man’s gone, Evie. He died in some hell hole in the Malayan jungle. But I don’t know what’s left. Only you can help me find out. Will you take that risk?”
The Guest Who Stayed Page 30