by Susan Sallis
Ned pretended to be searching for anything that could be described as glory gates. He shaded his eyes with a hand and turned his head slowly, ninety degrees one way and ninety degrees the other.
Gussie shaded her eyes too and looked up at him. ‘Any spare quoits littering the countryside?’ she said.
‘There might be something down there. A tump of land … some trees … D’you want a turn?’
‘Not really. I remember it from before.’ She was already scrambling over the stile and breasting a thicket of fern before reaching the first of the fields. He followed, caught her up, held her elbow. He manoeuvred her to the north and they came to the fenced-in shaft and peered over into its depths.
He said, ‘Of course, this is why we used to be able to climb up from the sea! Good Lord, Gussie, that cave below Bamaluz Point acts as an adit to this shaft.’
She said nothing and he thought she might find an excuse for turning back; when she ploughed on, skirting the strange menhirs and making for the trees, he knew that she felt as he felt; it was something they must do.
They came to another Cornish hedge: the traditional drystone wall sprouting with growth. There was no stile.
Gussie stood where she was, frowning. ‘This can’t be right. Dad would never have managed the track we’ve come along. And why on earth does it stop here where there’s no way to get through?’
Ned skirted the wall for a few yards and shouted back at her. The gate he had found had actually been a kissing gate; the curved walkway was still obvious. But it was broken and the gate itself opened wide enough for a wheelchair to get through. What was more, running at right angles to their path was another one, cleared and gritted, and obviously used by a tractor on a regular basis.
They went through and followed the tractor-way down the sloping field. Below them a plume of smoke from an invisible chimney brought cooking smells with it. To the right was a footpath, grassed and overgrown but leading upwards to the tump with its crown of trees.
‘Quoit or no quoit, for God’s sake let’s eat our picnic when we get to the top!’ Ned panted, bending double to support the backpack.
‘It’s the smell from that cooking range. But, yes. Let’s.’
They walked through the small plantation of trees. The wind sang in the branches. It was overgrown. Ned worked out that Mark and Kate had not been here for two, maybe three, years. He unloaded their picnic where the sun filtered through the foliage and then went on through the trees, thrashing at the nettles with a stick. Gussie undid the pack and took out the box of toast sandwiches. Ned appeared before her. He said quietly, ‘Come and see this, Sis. It’s the right place and it’s the right quoit. I know it in my bones.’
She scrambled to her feet and followed him. At the edge of the sea-facing wood was a traditional granite quoit. It was facing due west. Nettles choked the empty circle, bindweed bound it like a bandage, alder saplings sprouted all around it. Ned had pulled away a space so that the front of the quoit was clear. They stared. They could imagine it so well. Kate one side, Mark the other. Gussie reached for Ned’s arm and he caught her hand in his and held it tightly.
One of them said, ‘These are the glory gates.’
The other replied, ‘For them and for us.’
It was almost too much. They turned and went back to their picnic and gnawed their way through hard toast and sweating cheese, looking at each other with a kind of awe.
Ned said, ‘We’ll get rid of the growth and we’ll have a look through. Never mind the three fifteen bus from Penzance, we can walk back along the coast path!’
‘This is so wonderful, Ned. I can’t believe it. Jannie was right – this is important. One of those moments. And we’re seizing it!’
Ned stared at her, then nodded.
They packed up the bag and went back to the quoit, both armed with sticks. It took twenty hot sweaty minutes to clear the quoit sufficiently to kneel in front of it and look through. And there, as if framed for a camera shot, was Bamaluz Point.
‘It must be a mile away and it looks just a few yards.’
‘Too far for us to walk now. It’s already two thirty. To go down there and back would mean missing the bus definitely.’
Ned took her hand again. ‘We don’t need the bus. We really can walk home along the coastal path. What is it – three miles? It will take about an hour.’
Her hand held on to his. She said, ‘I’m not that keen, Ned.’
He said immediately, ‘All right.’
She was silent, gnawing her lower lip, looking past him into the trees. She took a breath and blurted, ‘You don’t want to do it either, do you? It will stir it up again.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘It might – I suppose it might – help to – to – sort of – put it in perspective?’
‘You sound like the bloody educational psychologist I used to see!’
She was surprised, diverted. ‘I didn’t know. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘You were at Cirencester. I got into a fight with a chap. They thought I was going to kill him – dragged me off. Then they tried to tie it in with my father leaving Mum and me. The psycho bloke wanted me to invite Dad over – facing my particular demon, he called it. Needless to say, I didn’t send any invitations. He wouldn’t have responded, I know that now.’ He sighed sharply. ‘Anyway, eventually I took the advice given me all those years ago and faced him – as you know. And he wasn’t a demon at all. Is that what you’ve got in mind? Looking over that cliff edge again and remembering being shoved off it?’
She wanted to ask him more about his fight. She looked at him, held his face in a way that was already familiar. She kissed him.
‘Dear Ned,’ she whispered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when I came home from Cirencester?’ She saw something in his clear eyes. ‘Ah. The boy said something about me?’ He still said nothing and she kissed him again. ‘Thank you, darling.’
She leaned away from him and smiled. ‘I think we’d better jump off the cliff together. Don’t you?’
He looked at her. ‘We’ve seen it, darling. No demons. That will be enough.’
She kept smiling. ‘I’ve got a feeling about today. Your psychologist had something, Ned. Demons. We don’t need them. Let’s be honest, darling. You didn’t have a joyous midnight swim last night, did you? You didn’t sit calmly carving Jannie’s lovely gift. You were fighting demons all the time.’
‘We can’t do it, Gussie. What about the backpack – our clothes—’
‘They stay on the edge, waiting for us.’ She was already pulling him up. ‘Come on, the tide’s just right. You said yourself we can easily walk back.’ She aimed a ‘sisterly’ kiss at his nose. ‘This is our day, Ned, this is our moment! Let’s go for it!’
He went with her because unexpectedly he saw there were no other options.
It was very hot when they emerged from the trees in their underclothes. They both searched the footpath that ran from the Point round to Zennor and Gurnard’s Head. ‘If anyone is in sight, it’s off,’ Ned announced. ‘They’d call out the coastguards and they would alert the rescue helicopter and the whole thing would be a complete fiasco.’
‘OK. If there’s anyone about we’ll cancel.’
He said, ‘I didn’t mean cancel, for Pete’s sake! I meant we’d have to wait a while. Until the place is deserted.’
‘Did you? Did you really? Oh Ned, it could be fun; it could actually be fun!’
He stopped scanning the countryside and looked at her. He grinned.
They ran to the overhang and stood there hand in hand. He turned suddenly and said, ‘Never mind the demons, Gus – they don’t matter. This is for Mum and Dad.’
‘Oh, yes! Yes!’ She lifted her free arm high and shouted into the cove, ‘For Mark and Kate, who made this possible!’
They jumped.
It was three weeks later, and Jannie and Robert had gone back to Hartley. During their visit to his mother and new stepfather, Jannie had felt suddenly
sick and had taken an early pregnancy test. She was physically incapable of keeping their news to themselves, and she phoned home. Gussie was cleaning Bessie’s cottage in her absence and Ned picked up the receiver.
‘Ned – darling – you’re not going to believe this! I have got the most stupendous news. You’ll never guess!’
Ned spoke as laconically as he could. ‘You’re pregnant,’ he said.
She was a hundred miles away but he could see her face go blank with astonishment.
‘How did you flipping well know that? Oh, it’s a joke. Well, sucks to you, Brud, because it’s true. Robert and I are having a baby!’
He grinned wickedly. ‘Bessie told me. Gussie didn’t believe her, said it was a tale put about by an old wife. But Bessie’s never been wrong yet.’ He could hear Jannie practically snorting frustration and laughed. ‘Dearest Jannie, many, many congratulations. You’re going to be marvellous parents. By the way, it’s great that you’re getting on so well with your new mother-in-law, but don’t hang on too long. We want you at the wedding.’
‘Who’s getting married?’
‘Gussie and me, of course.’ He replaced the telephone and scooted next door to tell Gussie he was popping in to the Sloop for an hour and Jannie wanted a word.
Zannah was laid to rest in the cliffside cemetery above the Atlantic. Jannie read aloud the epitaph on the temporary marker. ‘“Wild and wonderful.” I feel I know her from that. Will you miss her, Gus?’
‘Yes, but it’s not like missing Mum and Dad.’
‘No, nothing is quite like that. It’s great that you’re going to have their names on Zannah’s stone. I love “The gates of glory opening wide”.’ Jannie looked sad. ‘It would have been perfect if they’d been here for this baby. Thank goodness he’s got you and Ned. A proper family.’
‘He’ll have the whole of Hartley School as family too. Remember that. And why are we calling him “he”?’
‘Just a feeling.’
The wedding took place three weeks later at Penzance Registry Office. Bessie was there again, so were Rosemary and Rory. Jannie had already acquired a habit of holding a protective hand over her perfectly flat abdomen. Thaddeus was not well but he had offered Ethel, and Gussie had accepted the dog’s presence very happily.
Rory took Ned aside at the lunch in a hotel. ‘Should be saying something, lad. Standing in for one of your fathers. Speech. Or similar. After all, it wouldn’t have happened without me. Though why you hadn’t thought it through for yourself I’ll never know.’
‘Incest, Nunc. It hadn’t worked for you – marrying your aunt’s daughter was a bit of a mistake. We didn’t want the same thing to happen.’
Rory loved that and guffawed with laughter. ‘Cousins, that’s all we are, old chap. And you and August are not related at all.’
Ned pursed his mouth consideringly. ‘You’ve heard of the latest theories – that environment has a great influence on relationships? Gussie and I were brought up as brother and sister—’
‘Codswallop! You’ve always known. You sound like Rosemary. D’you know, that woman refused to have children because we were cousins? Thought they would be damaged in some way.’
‘Take after you? Yes, I see her point.’
Rory frowned, assimilating this, then said, ‘You’re sharper than I thought, boy. Zannah said Gussie wouldn’t fall for anyone who was dim.’
‘Zannah?’ Ned frowned. ‘Gussie spoke about me to Zannah?’
‘Can you see that happening? Neither of you seem to realize that it’s been obvious since you were children that this day would come. Bit late, I agree, but better late than never.’
Ned put on a solemn face and nodded wisely. ‘I see it as a natural progression in our relationship.’
Rory turned away with a doubtful ‘hmm’. Later Ned heard him say to Bessie, ‘Dull as ditch water – she could do better.’
Bessie was holding Ethel, who was eager to explore all possibilities of the hotel. She dumped him unceremoniously on to Rory. ‘Hold him for a bit while I go about my business, there’s a dear. Can’t think why our Gussie wanted ’im here in the first place.’
Rory sat down with a flump and let the dog help himself to the contents of his glass. He looked around for Rosemary and saw her talking to the chap in the wheelchair, Robert … Roger. He probably reminded her of Mark. He felt his eyes mist over. Mark Briscoe and his bloody wheelchair; Zannah Scaife had loved him, Kate Gould had loved him and Rosemary Bridges had loved him, treasured him, blamed herself for him …
Rory started to cry and Rosemary came over, put the dog on the ancient carpet where he proceeded to clear up every crumb that had been dropped, and led Rory on to the balcony, telling him that if he insisted on raking up the past every time he had a drink it might be better if he gave up alcohol completely. He told her about Bessie Beck, who was waiting for Old Beck to drop by and pick her up. She said comfortingly, ‘I expect Zannah will come for you in due course.’
‘I want it to be you, Rosie. You are the one – the one and only.’
‘And you want me to die soon, then? Shall I jump over this rail or will you push me?’
‘More your sort of thing, surely?’ He was suddenly back on form. ‘Do you still wake up every night screaming about it?’
Jannie appeared. ‘Come on, you two, they’re leaving. And then we’re going too. Room in the van for an extra two.’
Gussie and Ned spent three weeks in Sweden. Gussie loved the islands, and agreed with Ned that Sven had the ideal holiday retreat.
They came home to an empty house. September was nearly over. Jannie had left notes everywhere. ‘Don’t forget we will start the paper angels at half term.’ ‘Bessie has moved in with Thaddeus since his operation’, and what must have been earlier news, ‘Bessie looking after Ethel. Thaddeus still not well.’
Ned had separate notes from Robert. ‘The formula for wrist action same as see here of your diss.’ ‘Walking round furniture OK.’ ‘Practising on stairs.’
Gussie said, ‘I understand those two: Robert is exercising regularly.’
‘We started off in the Scaife studio when he wanted to stand on his legs for his wedding.’
‘But you let Robert read your dissertation?’
‘I know. What has molecular structure got to do with electronic prosthetics? But the methodology can run parallel. Sometimes. And it seems that perhaps – maybe – I must look at page forty-two.’
Gussie found another note from Jannie and went to the freezer to find her little sister had provided a complete meal for this homecoming. And another note in a thick plastic bag sealed with clothes pegs. She took out the covered container and carried it to the kitchen table with the plastic bag on top. She took off the clothes pegs and shook out a note. It said starkly, ‘Just in case.’ She shook the bag again and out fell a pregnancy testing kit.
She could not stop laughing and Ned called down to ask what all the merriment was about.
‘Tell you in a minute.’
She went into the shower room, switched on the light, which meant the fan came on. She sat on the lavatory seat and read the instructions and then carried them out very carefully. She waited the prescribed time, staring at the ceiling, making a little rhythm from the hum of the extractor fan. She looked at the display, washed her hands and left.
She stood by the table, looking around the kitchen. She hoped heaven was like this. She absorbed the fact that she was home. She could hear Ned taking the luggage into the house via the front door, there was a bump and he swore, and then went on to the stair lift. She could smell the familiar scents of the house, the sounds from outside. It was almost a year since she and Ned had returned Jannie to Exeter and come back home as brother and sister. The tourist season was over; the tides were still turning.
She took a deep breath. She could almost feel everything settling into place around her. A surge of pure content went through her body. She had never felt it quite like that before; everything was new, unk
nown, frightening, wonderful.
Ned came into the kitchen, smiling. ‘Good to be home.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll unpack later, yes? There’s no rush.’
It was what her father had so often said as he eased himself around the furniture on his legs.
Gussie stayed very still and he looked at her, brows raised. She indicated the plastic display in front of her. He looked at it, looked at her, looked at it again.
He said, ‘Not really? Oh, Gus – my God …’
She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her husband. He wrapped his arms around his wife. They stayed very still, holding on to each other, eyes closed. They looked for all the world like two Joanie dolls carved from one piece of wood.
Epilogue
Twins were born to Robert and January Hanniford on 12 May 2003 at Hartley School. They were christened Mark and Katherine. One of the godmothers was Cathy Johnson.
Edward Briscoe delivered his daughter on 21 June 2003 on Porthgwidden beach just before midnight. August Briscoe had walked down with him for his midnight swim and within an hour gave birth to Victoria Zannah Rose.
Bessie and Thaddeus made a ‘convenience match’ and were married just before Christmas of 2002. Bessie anticipated the will she and Old Beck had written and gifted her cottage to Edward Briscoe. He changed it very little. Robert and Jannie used it at Easter and brought the twins down for the whole of the summer holidays. After his daughter was born Ned invited his father and Conrad to visit them and they pronounced the cottage to be a ‘home from home’. They arrived in the early summer of 2004 and stayed for three months.
Vicky fell for them both; held up her arms to be picked up by Conrad so that she could look her grandfather in the eye. He said she was the image of Davie.
Rory and Rosemary continued to enjoy occasional sparring matches.