The Girl on the Cliff

by Lucinda Riley

  Grania sighed and turned over. Perhaps the years of living with a man who had a Ph.D. in psychology and could psychoanalyze a sausage if he so wished, had affected her more than she’d thought. Or perhaps it was simply that her life had taken an unexpected turn, and Alexander and Aurora were providing the temporary solace she needed.

  Besides, another couple of weeks here, while Alexander attended to whatever business he had that was so pressing, plus settling Aurora into her new school, was hardly making a lifetime’s decision. And Grania knew only too well that even lifetime decisions could go horribly wrong.

  26

  The following two weeks did nothing to help Grania move forward with thoughts of the future. On the morning, three days later, that Grania arrived home from dropping Aurora at the local school, Alexander was waiting for her in the kitchen with a set of keys.

  “For the studio in the barn,” he said as he handed them to her. “Go and take a look and see if you feel it’s suitable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t think Lily ever touched it, so just move whatever you want out of the way and use it as if it’s yours.” Alexander nodded at her and left the kitchen.

  Grania made her way across the courtyard and opened the door to the studio. She gasped as she saw the vista from the floor-to-ceiling window that let in buckets of the natural light an artist needed, and encapsulated a magnificent view of Dunworley Bay. Grania looked around at the immaculate, untouched easel, the tubes of paint and a selection of expensive mink brushes, still sheathed in their covering of protective film.

  The cupboards were stocked with canvases and fresh white pads of artist’s paper, yet there was not a sign of a paint splatter anywhere. Grania stood by the window, staring out at the cliffs, wondering why Lily had never taken advantage of such a wonderful space. Any professional artist would give a couple of their best paintings—or sculptures, for that matter—to have a studio like this. There was even a small anteroom, containing a toilet and a large butler’s sink in which to wash and clean the brushes.

  It was all Grania had ever dreamed of.

  That afternoon, she moved the half-finished sculpture of Aurora into the studio and placed it on the workbench in front of the window. The only downside, thought Grania as she sat down and gazed dreamily out of the window, was that she might spend her days mooning over the view rather than concentrating on her work.

  When she collected Aurora from school, the little girl was full of stories about her new friends, and announced proudly that she seemed to be the best reader in the class. That evening, over supper, Alexander and Grania listened like proud parents as Aurora told her father of her achievements.

  “So you see, Daddy, I wasn’t as badly educated as you thought I was. Actually, I’m quite clever.”

  Alexander ruffled her hair. “I know you’re clever, darling.”

  “Who do you think I take after? You or Mummy?”

  “Oh, Mummy, definitely. I was always a dunce at school.”

  “Was Mummy clever?” questioned Aurora.

  “Very.”

  “Oh.” Aurora continued eating then said, “She seemed to spend an awful lot of time in bed, or away, like you.”

  “Yes, she did, but Mummy was often tired.”

  “Time for your bath, madam.” Grania had seen Alexander’s expression tightening. “We have to be up early again tomorrow to get you to school on time.”

  When Grania arrived back downstairs, Alexander was in the kitchen doing the washing-up. “Leave that,” she said, embarrassed. “It’s my job.”

  “Hardly,” said Alexander. “You’re not here to skivvy, but to look after Aurora.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” said Grania, grabbing a tea towel and standing companionably next to him at the sink as he passed her the wet dishes. “It’s ingrained in me, being the daughter in a household of men.”

  “It’s a good role model for Aurora to see. You really are a natural mother, Grania. Have you ever thought of having children of your own?”

  “I . . .”

  Alexander heard the catch in Grania’s voice. “Sorry, did I say the wrong thing?”

  “No.” Grania could feel the wave of unshed tears threatening to break. “I lost a baby a few weeks ago.”

  “I see.” Alexander continued to rhythmically wash the plates. “I’m terribly sorry. It must have been—must be—difficult for you.”

  “Yes, I . . .” Grania sighed. “It was.”

  “Is that why you left New York?”

  “Yes.” Grania could feel Alexander’s navy blue eyes boring into her. “That and other things. Anyway . . .”

  “There’ll be another, I’m sure.”

  “Yes. I’ll put these away in the dresser, shall I?”

  Alexander watched her silently as she moved away from him, understanding that her reticence to discuss it further came out of pain. He changed the subject.

  “Well, as I said a few minutes ago, you’re a good influence on Aurora. Her mother was not what one would call domestic.”

  “Well, maybe she had talents in other directions.”

  “But so do you.”

  “Thank you.” Grania reddened under his gaze.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but when you were out collecting Aurora from school, I popped into the studio. Your sculpture of her is absolutely exquisite.”

  “It’s nowhere near finished yet. I’m struggling with her nose at present,” Grania added.

  “It’s a Lisle nose, all the women in the family have inherited it. I imagine it is difficult to reproduce in clay.”

  “Your late wife was very beautiful.”

  “Yes, she was, but”—Alexander sighed—“she had a lot of problems.”

  “Did she?”

  “Mental problems,” he added.

  “Oh.” Grania struggled to know how to reply. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s amazing how beauty can mask so many flaws. I’m not saying it was Lily’s fault, of course, but when I first met her, I didn’t think for a moment that a woman who looked like she did could possibly be . . . who she was. Anyway . . .” Alexander stared off into the distance.

  Silence hung over the kitchen. Grania dried the rest of the plates quietly and stowed them in the dresser. When she turned back, she saw Alexander was watching her.

  “Anyway,” he repeated, “it’s a pleasure for both myself and Aurora to have a normal woman living in the house. Aurora was somewhat lacking in a role model. Although Lily did her best of course,” he added hastily.

  “Many would say that I was hardly normal,” Grania grinned. “Ask my parents, or some of my friends in New York. I’m sure they’d be telling you differently.”

  “Grania, to me you seem like everything a woman should be. And a mother, for that matter. I’m truly sorry about your loss.”

  Alexander was still staring at her. “Thank you,” she managed.

  “Now I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry. I’m . . . not myself at present.”

  “Well, I’ll be off upstairs for a bath. And thank you for the use of that beautiful studio. It’s a dream, it really is.” Grania smiled weakly at Alexander and left the kitchen.

  Upstairs in bed later, Grania berated herself for allowing her emotional cracks to open up. Yet something about Alexander’s obvious vulnerability underneath the stoic façade mirrored her own. He touched her because she recognized herself in him.

  For the first time, Grania allowed the tears to fall properly. She wept for the tiny, fragile life that had been lost. And when she lay down to try and sleep a couple of hours later, she felt calmer, as though something had been both broken then mended inside her.

  • • •

  As the days passed, Alexander began to appear downstairs more often. Sometimes he’d wander into her studio and watch her working. He began to join her at lunchtimes, and when she mentioned she liked listening to music while she worked, a smart Bose music system appeared in her studio. And, as time went
on, Alexander opened up more and more about Lily.

  “At first, I used to love the way her mind flitted like quicksilver from one subject to the next. She was enchanting,” Alexander sighed. “She always seemed happy, as though life was simply an exciting adventure, and nothing could bring her down. Anything Lily wanted, she had a way of getting, because she charmed those around her so completely. And I fell under her spell. If there was the odd black mood when the world turned full circle for her, and she’d sit and sob over a dead rabbit she’d found in the garden, or the fact that the moon had waned and it would be another month before it shone full again, I presumed it was simply part of her sensitive nature. It was only when the black moods began to become more protracted, with the moments of happiness becoming less and less visible, that I realized something wasn’t right. A couple of years after we were married, Lily began to spend whole days in bed, saying she felt too exhausted and low to get up. And then suddenly she’d appear, in one of her most beautiful dresses, her hair freshly washed, and insist that we did something exciting. She was almost manic in her need to chase happiness. When she was in one of those phases, it was frenetic, but wonderful. We had quite a few adventures, I can tell you. Lily had no boundaries and her exuberance was infectious.”

  “I bet it was,” Grania answered quietly.

  “And, of course, every time she was like that, I wished and believed and wanted the dark side never to return. But it always did. She swung up and down like a pendulum for the next few years, with me always chasing her coattails, trying to keep up with her abruptly changing moods. And then . . .” Alexander exhaled and shook his head sadly. “She went down and didn’t come back up for months. She point-blank refused to see a doctor. Would go into a mad, hysterical rage if I even suggested it. In the end, after she’d refused to eat or drink for almost a week, I did call a doctor. She was tranquilized and hospitalized. Manic depression was diagnosed.”

  “Alexander, I’m so sorry. It must have been so hard for you.”

  “Well, it wasn’t her fault she was ill,” emphasized Alexander, “but it was made worse by the fact that Lily had a childish quality about her. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening to her. And, of course, when I had to put her for her own protection into an institution that specialized in Lily’s problem, it broke my heart. She screamed and clawed and clung on to me, begging me not to leave her, as she put it, in the madhouse. But she was a danger to herself by that time, and had tried suicide on a number of occasions. She was also violent and came at me a couple of times with kitchen implements. She could have seriously injured me if I hadn’t defended myself.”

  “Oh God, Alexander. How awful. I’m surprised you had Aurora,” said Grania, genuinely shocked by what he was telling her.

  “Aurora was a surprise to both of us. Lily was almost forty when she discovered she was pregnant. But the doctors thought it was possible that having a child to care for might help Lily, as long as she was under constant supervision. And you must remember, Grania,” explained Alexander, “that there were large portions of Lily’s life, while she was taking her medicine, when she was stable. Although I always lived with the fear of deterioration. And I could never trust her to take her medications. She hated taking her “zombie pills,” as she called them. Although they stopped the dark times, she felt they prevented the high times also. Which, of course, they did. The pills calmed her, evened her out, but she said it was like living life from behind a curtain of mist. Nothing seemed as real or joyful or painful as it did when she was off them.”

  “Poor thing,” said Grania. “And did she improve when Aurora came along?”

  “Yes, she did. For the first three years of Aurora’s life, Lily was the perfect mother. Not domestically, like you, Grania.” Alexander smiled. “Lily always commanded a large team of servants to do her bidding, but her focus was solely on her little girl, and I really felt then there might be hope for the future. It didn’t last.” Alexander swept a hand through his hair. “And, unfortunately, Aurora took the brunt of it. Once, I came home here to find Lily asleep in bed, and no sign of Aurora. I woke her up to ask where Aurora was, and Lily looked at me and said she honestly couldn’t remember. I found Aurora, cold and very frightened, wandering out on the cliff by herself. The two of them had gone out for a walk together and Lily had simply forgotten about her daughter.”

  “Oh, Alexander, how dreadful.” Tears sprang unbidden into Grania’s eyes at the thought of Aurora’s abandonment.

  “After that, I realized I could never leave Aurora alone with Lily again for even a few minutes. But I needn’t have worried as Lily deteriorated and was institutionalized again. And really, from then on, Aurora only saw her mother sporadically. We moved back to London so that I could work and be near Lily’s hospital. Aurora had a stream of unsuccessful governesses, as you’ve heard. Then, when Lily was stable again, she insisted on coming back to Dunworley House. I should never have agreed, but she loved it so much here. She said the beauty of the surroundings helped her.”

  “My mother said she took her own life,” Grania said quietly.

  “Yes. Your mother was right.” Alexander put his head in his hands and sighed. “And I’m sure Aurora saw her do it. I heard screaming from Lily’s bedroom and found Aurora standing on the balcony in her nightdress, pointing down at the cliffs below. Two days later, they found her mother’s body washed up on Inchydoney beach. I can never know what effect that has had on Aurora. Let alone having a mother who, through no fault of her own, turned the taps of love for her daughter on and off so abruptly.”

  Grania did her best not to allow her own emotion to show on her face. The thought of Aurora watching her mother jump to her death was horrific to contemplate. She put a comforting hand on Alexander’s. “Well, all I can say is, considering what Aurora’s been through, I think she’s extremely well balanced.”

  “Do you?” Alexander looked at Grania, desperation in his eyes. “The problem was, Aurora’s reaction to her mother’s death has naturally worried the doctors. It’s been suggested that Aurora has inherited her mother’s mental instability. Aurora’s delusions about seeing her mother on the cliffs, hearing her calling to her, her nightmares . . . they could all be taken as the seeds that will grow into Lily’s condition.”

  “Or, as you first said, it could simply be a traumatized little girl trying to deal with what she may have seen and the loss of her mother.”

  “Yes, let’s hope so.” Alexander smiled wanly. “And she certainly seems to have made great progress since she’s been with you. I’m so very grateful, Grania. I can’t tell you what that little girl means to me.”

  “Do you happen to know if Lily suffered any trauma in her early life?” asked Grania. “Sometimes that can trigger all sorts of problems.”

  Alexander raised an eyebrow. “For a sculptor, you seem rather knowledgeable on the subject.”

  “My . . . ex-boyfriend was a professor of psychology. His pet subject was childhood trauma. I probably learned the little I know by osmosis,” Grania confessed.

  “I see.” Alexander nodded. “Well, getting back to your question, I know very little of Lily’s early life. When I met her, she was living in London. She was always reluctant to talk about her past, although I did know she’d been born here in this house and spent a lot of her childhood in it.”

  “I think my mother knows something about Lily’s time here,” Grania said slowly.

  “She does? Would she be able to tell me?”

  “I’m not sure”—Grania shrugged—“she’s very cagey about it. But I’m pretty sure something did happen, because every time I mention Lily’s name, it produces a negative reaction.”

  “Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good. But any information that helps me understand the puzzle of Lily would be gratefully received.”

  “I’ll see what I can extricate,” agreed Grania, “but don’t hold your breath. My mam’s as stubborn as a mule. You could be waiting a long time.”

&nbs
p; “And time is something I just don’t have,” Alexander muttered. “I must leave again in ten days. Have you thought any more of what you’re going to do?”

  “No,” said Grania abruptly, knowing she was swimming against an ever-growing tide.

  “All right. I don’t want to pressure you, but obviously I must sort out some arrangements for Aurora if you don’t wish to stay on.”

  “Do you know how long it’ll be?”

  “Maybe a month, possibly two.”

  “OK.” Grania nodded. “You’ll have your answer by tomorrow.” She stood up and began to clear their lunch things away.

  “Grania.” Alexander was by her side, taking the plates from her hands and setting them back on the table. He placed her hands in his own. “I want to say that whether you stay or leave, it’s been a pleasure knowing you. I think you’re a very special woman.”

  He kissed her very gently on the lips, then turned and walked away into the garden.

  • • •

  In typical female fashion, Grania spent the next few hours analyzing, agonizing and antagonizing herself over the motive for Alexander’s unexpected kiss. It had been over so abruptly, she could hardly believe it had happened. Which probably meant that it meant nothing. It hadn’t seemed as if he’d wanted more. On the other hand, was it not inappropriate to kiss your daughter’s nanny directly on the lips?

  There was no doubt that Alexander, his behavior and feelings, were an enigma. Yet she could feel her emotional walls slowly crumbling as the unfathomable empathy of two people who both understood the pain of loss drew them ever closer.

  All Grania knew was that she was sinking slowly into the quicksand of infatuation. And it had to be halted in its tracks.