The Kissing Gate

by Susan Sallis

  Robert said, ‘Surely that’s what the process of elimination is all about?’ He grinned. ‘Your words, Ned!’ He swept the skyline with his binoculars again. ‘The words “view” and “point” rule out the idea of stone gateposts. The sort of gate we are looking for might be a small hole in a stone.’

  Jannie found her voice. ‘A quoit. Like Lanyon Quoit. They could still kiss through it. That’s important.’

  ‘Why?’ Robert lowered the binoculars for a second. ‘Does it give us another clue?’

  Jannie shook her head. ‘Tell you later. But it might give us another clue. If Dad was in his chair – and he usually was on these sort of jaunts – then it won’t be buried in stones or grass and nettles. There would be room for them to be one on each side of the stone and still lean forward to kiss through it.’

  He reached for her hand. ‘When we get back we’ll find it. We need to find it.’

  ‘Yes. I know.’

  Gussie cleared her throat. ‘Ned, I think it’s time to get home, don’t you?’

  She expected him to crack a joke or just grin at her. He did neither; just got back into the car and clicked on his belt. She felt suddenly cut off from him. It was a sensation that was becoming familiar.

  The weather forecasts had been much too cautious. At seven o’clock in the morning, the fourteenth sported a mother-of-pearl sky, a lazy sea gradually retreating from the moored boats in the harbour and a kind of promise in the crisp air. Jannie, creeping past the stair chair, thought of a word. Steadfast. And then another. Exciting. She must remember them for Cathy, who had, at the very least, two years to wait for Derek. She was glad she had not met Robert when they were sixteen; as it was, there was an urgency about their courtship. Urgency. That was another word; she would not pass that on to Cathy. Perhaps it was a word that had a personal application only because of what had happened to Kate and Mark.

  She went into the big basement kitchen and plugged in the kettle, and then unplugged it and took it to the sink and filled it from the tap and plugged it in again. ‘Typical, Jannie,’ she murmured aloud. ‘You’re making a cup of tea for your soon-to-be husband and you almost boiled a dry kettle. Well done.’ She smiled slightly as she felt her heartbeat slow down. She remembered her mother finding her crying among her favourite shell collection spilled over the floor and saying calmly, ‘Just tell yourself what you’ve done and what you have to do to put it right. You dropped the shells, now you pick them up.’ She had crouched by the small girl. ‘I don’t know where you get this heavy drama stuff from, but you might as well make use of it. Right now you are an expert shell collector. Probably you would pick up each shell separately and examine it – tell your invisible audience what it looks like and where it came from. Nothing to cry about.’ And Jannie had looked up, face streaked with tears, and said, ‘I’m looking at them and seeing a lot of empty houses, Mummy.’ And Kate had stared for a moment then laughed and gathered her up and hugged her and said, ‘Jannie Briscoe, I love you!’

  Jannie ignored her tears and made the tea, fetched mugs and milk and poured it carefully, then made for the stairs again. At hall level she suddenly paused, then put the mugs next to the phone, picked up the receiver and by squeezing her eyes tightly she saw Sheila Smith’s number in her head, dialled it and waited.

  She counted twelve rings before Sheila picked up at her end and said nervously, ‘Hello, who is it, please?’

  Jannie said, ‘Oh my God. Sheila, I had forgotten it was so early. I’m so sorry. But I had to tell you that I am getting married and this is my wedding day and I – I suppose I hoped it would make it a bit special for you too if you knew about it.’

  She waited and could hear Sheila telling May that it wasn’t an emergency, it was good news. Then she spoke into the receiver.

  ‘It is Jannie, isn’t it? I’m not having one of my dreams? It is? And you are getting married? Today? This morning? Oh, how wonderful! The weather is perfect and you are getting married! Oh, Jannie, I am so pleased … yes, May, we are so pleased. Both of us. Is it in church? Is he nice? What are you wearing? Oh, Jannie, I can’t say it but you know what I am thinking.’

  ‘They’re going to be there – both of them – Mum and Dad.’ She answered their questions, then said she had better go and, still murmuring goodbyes, she put down the phone.

  Robert was sitting up in bed expectantly.

  ‘I knew you’d gone to make tea. You’ve been ages. You’ll probably get better at it as the years roll by.’

  ‘This is a one-off!’ she warned him, then told him about the phone call. She put the mugs on to the tables either side of the bed and clambered in beside him, still talking until he stopped her with a kiss.

  ‘You’re nervous! Bridal nerves! For goodness’ sake, the whole idea has been to make it stress-free. Look at me – cool as a cucumber.’ He raised his cup, then brought it slowly to his mouth and sipped, and immediately his face changed. ‘It’s cold! You must have been ages on the phone!’

  She wasn’t even contrite. She was intent on telling him that she wasn’t in the least bit nervous, but so very conscious of all those people still grieving and lonely, and wishing that they could be happy and relaxed and stress-free for just one day. He stopped her eventually by removing both mugs of tea and holding her tightly to him. And it was then she knew what she could do; not much but it was all she was allowed.

  She put a hand up to Robert’s face and pressed her mouth close to his ear.

  ‘Gussie and I – we saw it from the bus stop. At Easter. I should have known then that there was something special about that view because Gus clammed up like a – a …’

  Robert murmured, ‘Clam?’ and she nodded.

  ‘Just like a clam.’

  Robert waited, then said, ‘So …?’

  ‘So all Ned has to do is follow the footpath from the bus stop and keep an eye out for … something.’

  There was another pause. Robert said, ‘That’s it?’

  ‘No. Not really. But perhaps – just perhaps – if Gussie realizes that that drop – that jump – is the one Mum and Dad took … it might help.’ She leaned back and looked at Robert. ‘It’s all I can do,’ she finished pitifully.

  ‘Darling, this – this – jumping business. It matters to all of you, I can sort of understand. When we get back from seeing Mum and Jonathan, and your aunt, and Geoff and Elizabeth … do you want us to do it?’

  She was startled. ‘I hadn’t thought … it’s quite a jump, though it looks worse than it really is. I don’t know.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Hey, I’m one step ahead for once! Shall we make it our post-wedding project?’

  ‘You – you think it’s wise?’

  It was his turn to be startled. ‘Who are you exactly? I went to bed with Jannie Briscoe. I never heard her say the word “wise” so you can’t be her.’

  She pounced on him. The discussion was fragmented after that.

  Ned and Robert took their suits into Bessie’s and used Old Beck’s front parlour to change. Bessie, resplendent in a navy-blue dress bought from Truro, and sporting an unlikely sailor collar, had been ready for two hours and was impatient to ‘get going’.

  ‘At this rate, Thaddeus Stevens will have opened up and done the necessary and be thinking we ain’t a-coming,’ she complained, retreating down the stairs to her kitchen.

  ‘You haven’t told anyone, have you, Bessie?’ Robert asked, following her closely.

  ‘Course I ’aven’t! I want to be the only one there, don’t I?’

  She slammed the door with unnecessary force and Robert looked apprehensive again. ‘Jannie says everyone will be at work. But your parents were well known, Ned. Surely everyone will want to know about their daughter getting married.’

  Ned made a face. ‘Bessie’s got a guilty conscience. She wants to get into church long before Jannie comes out of the house. But this whole privacy thing is ridiculous – one of Jannie’s dramas. The banns were published the minute you arrived here, so
what’s the big secret?’

  ‘Jannie says nobody goes to church because they’re all chapel.’ It sounded lame. He looked at Ned and grinned. ‘Is it a big con? Not for my sake, surely?’

  Ned shrugged. ‘Who knows? Come on. Let’s get ready. We’ve got our own surprise to spring. Are you up for it, Robert m’lad?’

  Robert hesitated for a moment then nodded once.

  They had arranged between them that Ned would be Robert’s best man, and Gussie would give away her sister. Jannie had wanted her to wear the very short spotted summer dress from Aunt Rosemary’s pile, but when they decided on their roles, Gussie chose a pale green linen suit, and just the night before Ned had made a buttonhole from some gorse blossoms. The girls helped each other to dress, Jannie pale and suddenly intense, easing on the gloves with great care.

  ‘I should have ordered a taxi, Gus. I’m going to feel a stupid show-off walking up to the Island like this. What on earth would we have done if it had been raining?’

  ‘Ordered a taxi, of course. I can do that – d’you want me to do that?’

  ‘No.’ She made a wry face as she pushed the glove over her fingers. ‘I’m a stupid show-off, Gus.’

  ‘No. You wanted a private wedding because of what has happened to us, darling. And you have ensured that, because the chapel on the hill holds twelve people at the most. But you’re happy to walk through the town in your wedding dress – to share the public bits of the wedding. There will be people waiting to see you – you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so. Perhaps I’m ashamed at being happy so soon after last September … I don’t understand myself.’

  Gussie took the other glove and rolled back the cuff.

  ‘Don’t even think of being ashamed, darling. There might be only the four of us in the church, but we have the whole town outside.’ She wriggled successfully and Jannie flexed her fingers. Gussie said, ‘Did you know Thomas Martin is an expert photographer?’

  ‘Thomas who? Is that Father Martin? Since when have you been on first-name terms?’

  ‘Since he asked whether you would mind him taking some photographs. And then displaying them in church.’ Gussie was suddenly grinning from ear to ear. ‘I took it upon myself to agree, of course. I have to have something to show Zannah. She’ll be so frustrated at missing such an occasion!’

  Jannie grabbed a pillow from the bed and aimed it at Gussie’s head and then stopped. She said, ‘Poor Zannah. She and Daddy must have painted the town slightly pink at one time.’

  ‘Yes. I think so. But … she wanted to keep going at that pace and Daddy didn’t – couldn’t. And I wasn’t up to it either.’ She sighed, looked into the mirror and added, ‘She loved him. She still loves him.’

  ‘I thought … got the impression … that Rory and she might – well – be having a bit of a fling.’

  Gussie laughed and replaced the pillow back on the bed.

  She said, ‘I’d be surprised if they weren’t. That would make no difference to Zannah. She is amoral.’ She leaned over the bed and pecked her sister affectionately. ‘Come on. Let’s get going. We mustn’t keep Robert waiting.’

  They walked along the wharf, already cluttered with deck chairs, skirted the head of Smeaton’s Pier and down the steps at Bamaluz. One or two people began to follow them, and by the time they had walked the half-hoop of Porthgwidden beach they had a small following. The hump of the Island, crowned with the tiny church, seemed to be a natural stopping place, and the crowd waited at the base, settling themselves on the seats along the pathway or on the flat-topped rocks among the ferns. Gulls rode the thermals, circling above; where there were people there was food. This time they were wrong.

  Halfway up the last steep incline, Jannie stopped and took some deep breaths. ‘It’s harder in a long skirt,’ she panted. ‘No wonder it was only the men who used to come up here on a Sunday!’ She kept her eyes front. ‘Many people behind us, Gussie?’

  ‘Quite a few. Nothing to do with Bessie. Just visitors who enjoy weddings.’

  ‘I should have opened it up – like we did for Old Beck’s funeral. A big picnic for whoever was passing.’

  ‘I think you’ve done the right thing. We can’t shrug off last year as if it never happened.’

  ‘I do regret not telling Robert’s mother about it. I must explain.’

  ‘She will understand. She sounds so completely understanding. And when she sees how much Robert is improving, she will love you whatever you do or say!’

  ‘Do you really think he’s improving?’

  ‘Yes. I do.’ Gussie started to laugh. She stopped again and looked up. Jannie, hanging on to her arm, perforce did the same. Above them in the doorway of the church, Ned appeared, looked down and waved. Then he stood aside and a man joined him. Tall and straight. He looked down too. Then he lifted both arms in a gesture of both triumph and surrender. The people below cheered.

  Jannie said, ‘Oh my God. It’s Robert.’ An enormous sob caught in her throat and was somehow subdued. She tried to run and almost fell over.

  Gussie said, ‘Steady, the Buffs!’ just as her father had so often said before her. Jannie steadied herself, then lifted both arms to the densely blue sky; the ribbons from her bouquet fluttered slightly in a breath of wind from the south-west and became pennants. The past and the present were here; the future stood in the doorway of St Nicholas’s Chapel. They walked slowly towards it.

  Thaddeus Stevens had a new dog who was not yet trained in church procedure. Thaddeus had brought a small boy with him, who walked Ethel around the church on a lead and could be seen passing the open door at intervals throughout the service. Father Martin, who so rarely smiled, only just managed to suppress a broad grin every time the dog went by. Bessie obviously disapproved of dogs attending weddings, even at a distance, but Thaddeus had been a good friend of Old Beck’s so she too managed a smile in between sightings.

  The service was strictly conventional, the hymns too. As their voices floated thinly down the hill, unaccompanied yet confident, the congregation, which by now had overflowed into the car park, identified ‘Love Divine, all loves excelling’, and joined in strongly.

  Afterwards the seven of them stayed inside the tiny space with its narrow windows looking across the Atlantic towards America. It was obvious the walk back down to where a minibus waited to take them to Zennor was going to turn into a procession, and there were some things to be said. Robert propped his back against the massive bench-like table that was the altar and shook Father Martin’s hand repeatedly while Jannie hugged him unrestrainedly. He understood that both of them, their voices inextricably linked, were thanking him.

  Thaddeus called in the small boy and the dog. ‘’E got to get used to it. Might as well start training ’im now. Come on then, Ethel, lie down, there’s a good dog.’

  ‘Why Ethel?’ Ned asked.

  ‘’E were called Ethelred on account of ’im never knowing when or where to cock ’is leg. Ethelred the Unready, see. We’ve sorted that out and ’e do use the garden just like my ole boy used to. Now we got to sort out the church.’

  Ned and Gussie exchanged glances. Gussie realized that they had not done so since Ned returned from America. She felt light with happiness. Ned cleared his throat. ‘You must have a special way of training dogs.’

  Thaddeus looked surprised. ‘I just speaks to ’em. You got to keep going. Over and over again. But they usually gets it. Eventually.’ He rolled the last word around his mouth, looking at Ethel, who was cocking his leg just inside the door. Bessie made a fuss of flattening her sailor collar.

  ‘Never did like dogs,’ she said as Thaddeus took the lead from the boy and led the dog on to the grass. ‘We always ’ad cats in my day. St Ives was full of cats. Before the cars came and mowed ’em down.’

  Gussie hugged her. ‘Dear Bessie, you have such a turn of phrase. Did you enjoy our mini-wedding?’

  ‘I did. I did. I just wish Old Beck’d come for me now. Right now. Sweep me
away, like.’ She looked at them looking at each other and sighed. ‘’Tis ’ard to think of now, but ’e were that romantic when ’e were young. Used to pick me up as if I were a feather and swing me around … ’E didn’t ’ave many words, see. So it ’ad to be action!’

  Ned said, ‘Action. Well, they say it speaks louder than words, don’t they?’ He did not take his eyes off Gussie.

  Jannie launched herself at him. ‘Darling Ned! Robert has been telling me about the physio stuff in the studio – you are a lovely brother – thank you.’ She turned him towards the altar. ‘Robert’s got this thing about carrying me over the threshold and that will have to be the minibus. Yes? So if I settle myself on to his lap, like so …’ She matched action to word and Robert gathered her to him. She beamed up at everyone. ‘Could two of you make sure that we get down the hill without falling by the wayside?’

  Ned nodded. ‘We’ve worked it out. Gussie and me at the helm. Father Martin in front of us. Bessie and Thaddeus bringing up the rear. Will that do?’

  ‘You planned it – of course you did. How marvellous!’

  Father Martin snuffed out the candles. ‘Shall we go? Mr Stevens, you will lock the door.’

  ‘I will indeed, Reverend.’

  The small boy now had the camera. He darted around the rocks snapping as if he had done it all his life. Thaddeus gave Ethel’s lead to Bessie, whose expression turned from soulful to disgusted as she waited for the very modern padlock to be fastened. And then, slowly, they took each step and walked down to the car park.

  People clapped, others cheered, some threw rice. ‘I suppose the gulls will clear it up,’ Father Martin remarked, only too aware of local criticism.

  ‘Swell in their stomachs and likely explode them!’ Bessie said with sudden enjoyment.

  So it was that their dignity left them and they eventually entered the minibus laughing hysterically.

  The meal was excellent; the stroll to the headland afterwards was something they had often done. Jannie insisted on the wheelchair for Robert. Gussie and Bessie picked blackberries, Thaddeus lumbered after Ethel – ‘’E’s enjoying every minute, but ’e’s still very unready’ – Father Martin had taken over the camera work from his senior choirboy back at the Island, and now moved about like someone half his age, walking backwards in front of them, clambering up banks, thoroughly enjoying the whole occasion.