by Susan Sallis
Ned walked with Jannie and recounted past adventures along this route for Robert’s benefit. ‘Mind you, I doubt whether anyone has done this walk in a bridal outfit before. You’ll have to watch out, old man. Now that she’s tipped you off the slipway, she’ll want to tip you over the edge at Bamaluz Point. That’ll be the next project.’
Jannie held her breath but Gussie was ahead of them, harvesting a particularly good crop high on the bank. Jannie looked round at Ned. He must know. It could not be a coincidence.
But Ned and Robert were laughing and Robert was capping that story with another from Jannie’s now famous production of The Tempest. It was good to see them together. Robert needed a brother. And so did Ned.
She joined in. ‘Listen, Ned, I think I know how to find the Briscoe kissing gate. I worked it out. A bus as far as Cripplesease. Stand on the milestone immediately opposite the bus stop. Look out to sea. That’s the view. All you have to do is climb over that stile and follow the path until you get to the view-finder. It will be a quoit – we’re pretty sure of that. And it should still be fairly clear of nettles and stuff. But it won’t be immediately obvious otherwise other people would know about it. I can’t help more than that, Ned. But – stop being silly, please – this is serious – when you see what is framed in the circle of stone, you will begin to understand.’
Ned intoned, ‘Jannie has spoken.’
Robert twisted himself like a corkscrew to look up at his wife. ‘Is this what it was all about this morning?’ he asked.
‘I can’t remember this morning.’ She forced lightness into her voice. Gussie was clambering down the bank waving a polythene bag full of blackberries. ‘Too much has happened in between!’
‘Poor old thing.’ Couldn’t Ned ever be serious? Jannie kicked sideways and found his ankle.
They gathered at the stile far above the Atlantic. Father Martin took some more formal shots. Ned flung his arms wide and quoted, ‘“O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea” … how does it go, Gus? The Hardy poem. You taught it to me when I was a baby and we had to act it out with me on a rock and you galloping in the shallows.’
She smiled. ‘It was you who wanted to act it out. You were eighteen – your romantic period!’
He linked his arm into the crook of her elbow, suddenly the brother she had always loved. ‘Listen, Gus, Jan’s just been giving me instructions about the glory gates project. Apparently we need to solve it before she and Robert return to the fold. Let’s do it tomorrow. We need not even get the car out – bus to Cripplesease, stand on the milestone and follow the path down the cliff. What say you?’
Gussie glanced at Jannie, who was shading her eyes and staring out at a lone boat below them.
‘Why not?’ She bent down to fiddle with her shoe and rid herself of his arm. ‘We’ll probably feel a bit flat when they’ve gone.’
He looked down at her, suddenly uncertain. ‘Not if you’ve had enough of looking.’
‘Let’s see how we feel.’ She straightened again. ‘Meanwhile, shall we have a cup of tea before going back?’
Jannie said gladly, ‘I thought you’d never suggest it! Come on, Robert, back to the pub! Pronto!’
Twenty-two
IT WAS A strange time. People called as they had called the previous autumn, but this time it was quite different. They all ‘understood’ why the wedding had been exclusive. One of the artists summed it up very concisely. ‘If you couldn’t have Mark and Kate there, you didn’t want many others’. Then spoiled it completely by adding, ‘But we had to turn up to throw some rice … see the four of you. It’s great that you’ve got another wheelchair in the cottage, isn’t it?’
Ned said heartily, ‘Oh, just great!’ and avoided glancing at Gussie. And Gussie, in one of her sentient moments, saw her father’s face, his smile, his total acceptance of his disability and behind it all something protective. What was behind it … another secret? Thank God for Robert’s openness. He was even now introducing Jannie to his mother and stepfather. It was sad that he was the reason for ‘another wheelchair in the cottage’ but it was not the end of the world.
Ned took to working all hours. Gussie spent time with Bessie and went to the beach on her own most afternoons. There was plenty of clearing up to do in the cottage and she found herself annoyed with Ned for disappearing so often. She missed his strong arm when it came to moving furniture; she missed Jannie’s energy.
Later, during that post-wedding week, Ned came upon her in the parlour. She was sitting in her father’s chair opposite the window that looked down on the cobbled courtyard; her elbows were on the table and her head in her hands.
The old Ned would have flipped her plait against her neck; held her close, perhaps, if it was something serious. The new Ned said brusquely, ‘What on earth’s the matter now?’
‘Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘You’ve been on the beach all afternoon.’
It sounded like an accusation and she snapped at him from beneath her hands, ‘How do you know? You’ve been in the attic all day. Didn’t even come downstairs for lunch!’
‘Saw you go along the wharf with the beach bag.’
‘If you’d looked out again an hour ago you would have seen me come back, and since then I’ve shoved out that bloody heavy sideboard and removed a ton of woodlice and two enormous spiders.’
‘That’s a lie. I would have heard you screaming.’
She heard the humour but was quite unable to respond to it.
‘I learned not to scream when you were in America and Jannie was working at Hartley School!’
He squatted on his haunches so that he could look up into her face. His voice was unbearably tender. ‘Dearest Gus. We have – all of us – been alone quite a lot this past year, but we always come back to base. The three of us. Same boat. Remember?’ He tried a small laugh. ‘Therein lies our strength.’
She looked down into the dear familiar face; she saw again the five-year-old boy. Honest, straight, wanting to be with her always. He had put her on a pedestal then and she had been on it ever since. She imagined, just for a split second, what would happen if he found out about her dead baby.
She said, ‘Sorry. Obviously I am more tired than I realized. It was the thought of Christmas.’ She sat up with an enormous sigh and looked at the window. ‘I’ll have to start on the angels soon. And somehow it just doesn’t seem worth it any more.’
He hoisted himself into a chair and started to laugh. ‘Gus. It’s August – your birthday month, remember?’
‘Yes. But in September Jannie and Robert will be gone and the nights will come early and you’ll go to Sweden to see your Sven—’
‘Come with me. I expect it’ll be all snow and troikas.’
‘That’s Russia, and anyway, I don’t know anything about anything.’
‘As far as I’m concerned you know everything about everything.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s a business trip. Your business trip.’
‘Like Mum and Dad going to New York together? Is that what you mean?’
She did not look at him; she felt a tear track down the side of her nose. Unexpectedly it all rose up and threatened to engulf her and she said, ‘I don’t think I can bear it.’
He was still, appalled by her words and the way she said them. The silence stretched. And then, like a fire alarm, the telephone rang. He leaped to his feet, stood for another moment looking at her downbent head, then turned towards the hall.
‘I – I’d better see to that … don’t go away. Please.’
She nodded. Her limbs felt weak. She should go down to the kitchen and start their evening meal. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and neither had she. In an effort to be ‘normal’ she had bought an ice cream from the kiosk and had to throw it away because it made her feel sick. She doubted whether she could get downstairs. Or upstairs. Tears were dropping on her clasped hands. If it was Jannie on the phone she would have to go to speak to her. She
squeezed her eyes as if she was wringing out a mop, cleared her face with the heels of both hands and sat up very straight. On the other side of the door, Ned was dealing with the call in his most monosyllabic way. Nevertheless, it was going on and on. It wasn’t Jannie; Gussie would have recognized her high-pitched cadences. Supposing it was Aunt Rosemary … reporting an accident?
‘Of course … of course.’ A very long pause. ‘Yes. We’re fine. Go ahead.’ There was another pause during which Ned walked the length of the telephone cable towards the open front door. And then there was nothing. Gussie strained her ears. The silence was suddenly overwhelmed by yells from outside as two children chased a runaway football down the court and the steps on to the wharf. When they had gone, it was still there. Heavy. Pregnant.
Then, at last, Ned’s voice said sharply, ‘Of course I’m here and of course I’ve got the message. Is that it?’ Gussie breathed in and out three times. He said, ‘Right. Well, thank you. I’ll see to it this end and be in touch again.’ His voice was coming back down the hall. She breathed normally; he wouldn’t be sounding businesslike if anything had happened to Jannie or Robert. He replaced the receiver without even saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end, and came back into the parlour.
He made a face. ‘You gathered it was not good news? It never is when Rory rings, is it?’
‘Oh.’ She puffed a sigh of sheer relief. ‘He wants to come here, does he?’
‘Oh, Gus … oh, dear Gus … no, it isn’t that. He was ringing from France. He’s been with Zannah all summer. Darling … there’s no easy way to tell you. Zannah died just half an hour ago. I’m so sorry, Gus.’
He kneeled down by her chair and put his arms around her waist, his head into her shoulder. She held him to her with one arm and with the other hand she stroked his hair. She felt a little surprised at his grief and then realized it was for her, and she held him closer still. He responded with a grip of iron.
She said soothingly, ‘It’s all right, Ned. I’ve known – ever since I left her – that time was running out. We spoke. Often. Much to my surprise she loved having Rory there. Honestly. They were two of a kind in a way. I haven’t worried about her. She told me he was a wonderful nurse.’ She felt Ned’s arms tighten still more and smiled wryly above his head. ‘I know. The mind boggles, doesn’t it?’ She patted his shoulder. ‘The important thing is that we had that time together. Just the two of us. She still loved Dad. In her strange way. Perhaps she left us because she knew she was no good for us … perhaps not. She will always be an enigma. But she was my mother and I am glad that finally I could be proud of her … We danced, you know. It turned me right off at the time because I knew she was pretending I was Dad. But now … I think it’s one of the treasures that brings comfort.’
He sobbed then, a single body-racking sob. She tried to look into his face but his forehead was butted into her waist. She made more soothing sounds. Gradually he relaxed and she sensed him controlling his breathing.
She ruffled his hair. ‘Let’s go down and have an early supper. We’re both in need of sustenance, and there’s mackerel in vinegar and a bag full of baby tomatoes and a new loaf. How does that sound?’
He got up with difficulty, his voice was strangulated. ‘This is crazy. I was standing out there listening to that old reprobate going on and on, and wondering how I was going to comfort you, and here you are – comforting me!’
She stood up and led the way downstairs to the wonderful familiarity of the kitchen; her limbs were no longer weak. She thought of Zannah and smiled.
‘She was wild and wonderful,’ she said.
‘Sounds like a good epitaph.’ Ned went to the fridge and took out a bowl of tomatoes. ‘Rory wants me to organize the funeral. I’ll go and see Salem and Sons tomorrow. She wants to be buried above the beach and her stone is to include the names of Mark and Kate.’ He fetched butter and bread, and began to hack slices indiscriminately. ‘We hadn’t thought of a memorial stone for them, had we? How do you feel about including them on Zannah’s stone?’
Gussie placed plates and cutlery, and put the pickled mackerel in the middle of the table. She stared down at it, thinking.
‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘We’ll work something out. We’ll have to mention the – the – circumstances.’
‘Yes. Dates and names. But for the epitaph we can’t do better than our two reverend gentlemen. How about, “Let the gates of glory open wide”?’
‘Oh, Ned. Oh, that’s marvellous. Jannie will love that.’ She smiled at him; her old loving smile that held nothing back.
They ate slowly, appreciatively. She said, ‘Would you like banana and ice cream for pudding, like I used to do for you years ago?’
‘I’d like it more than anything in the world.’ He looked at her and she saw the tears in his eyes.
‘Ned, this sounds incredibly sentimental,’ she said, ‘but Zannah has left me something very special. I am at peace. I know I have been difficult since you came back from America. I’m sorry. But now, I am totally at peace.’
He nodded. She thought he was reassured. He said, ‘I’ll get the ice cream.’
‘Right, we’ll probably have to chisel it out. I turned the freezer right up when this hot spell got under way.’ She reached for the fruit bowl and picked out two bananas. He watched her. Her plait lay over her shoulder. She raised her brows at him. She was beautiful.
He said hoarsely, ‘Gussie. Just now, before that phone call, you said you couldn’t go on—’
‘That was why I told you about Zannah’s legacy to me – this peace.’
‘Not total peace – not yet. Is it? Is it, Gussie?’
She was suddenly wide-eyed, staring at him across the table.
He said, ‘There is this thing between us, Gussie. And I am like you. I cannot go on. I cannot go on like this.’ He watched all that carefully nurtured ‘normality’ drain from her. He hated what he was doing. He said, ‘I know. I know. Rory told me on the phone. In detail. Explicitly. Zannah told him just before she died.’
She dropped the bananas and put her hands to her throat.
‘Zannah. Oh my God, she promised – she promised me.’
‘If I’d known – if you’d told me … I had him, there in the Scaife studio – he was after all the art work he could get on the cheap. He’d already arranged with Rory to auction Trewyn House – I could have killed him then and there.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t tell you.’
‘I thought you trusted me in the same way I trusted you.’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell you.’ Her voice went up the scale, her hands went from her throat to cover her face. ‘I was so ashamed. It was so awful. And I brought it on myself.’ She lowered her head to her knees and her voice went with it. ‘Nothing will be the same now. You will never trust me again!’
Somehow he was on his knees in front of her, trying to lift her head to his shoulder. She pulled away frantically, twisting herself in the chair, arms now on the table. ‘I can’t look at you, Ned! I can’t! I wanted to feel easy with him, like I did with you, so I made him cut my hair … he said I was a tease and that I had seduced him. I thought the baby would make it all right – I thought he’d be pleased – that’s something I didn’t tell Zannah.’
She started to wail through her fingers and he gathered her up somehow and rocked her. ‘Don’t say any more. You are not a tease, not in the sense he meant. He had you under his control, didn’t he – the typical bully – you should have told Kate. You should have reported him to the police. Why didn’t you report him? For God’s sake, he had tried to murder you.’
‘Because you would have known about it. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me too.’
‘Gussie. I couldn’t be ashamed of you, my dearest love. You are my mainstay. My reason for being on this earth. This – this swine – Bellamy or whatever his name is – don’t you see, he was deliberately taking away your confidence? Even
then he must have been after some of Gerald Scaife’s work, and in the end you might have given him something … free, gratis and for nothing! My God, what a slime-ball!’
Gussie became very still. She seemed to be holding her breath. Then she whispered, ‘I think I knew this when, in the jewellery boutique in Nice, I saw him hugging Zannah. I stopped being frightened of him then. Because when he realized that it was me standing there, he was so frightened – really frightened. He thought I might tell someone. If he’d known I’d already told Zannah and she was – well – Zannah, he might have guessed that the damage was already done.’ She shifted slightly on his shoulder. ‘I thought it was over then. But … it wasn’t. The shame was still there. The horror was still there.’
‘If only she’d left him in that bloody ravine!’
Gussie puffed a sound into his T-shirt. ‘Ah, Ned. Had you known her … She never could have done that. Everything is a game with her. And, underneath it all, she is kind.’ She gave a dry sob and lifted her head. ‘Was. She was kind.’
‘He’s not fit to live!’
‘Ned. Don’t. This is another reason for not telling you. Hatred is not a good emotion.’
‘Yes it is. It’s better than being so bloody unhappy all the time because I’m your brother and you’re my sister and you’ll never see it any other way. Maybe if it hadn’t been for Bellamy you would eventually have seen me in a different way. You could have understood that it is possible for us to fall in love and marry and have a family and live here, in this cottage, just as Mark and Kate did. But he came along and took you over – took you away—’
He stopped speaking because she straightened enough to put her hand, very gently, over his mouth. She said quietly, ‘I never stopped loving you, Ned. Not for a moment. But you were out of bounds, and I had to get on with it.’ Her hand slid to his ear; she tugged it with a kind of heartbreaking familiarity.