Guarded Passions

by Rosie Harris

  ‘You’ve just got a complex,’ Ruth teased.

  ‘No. When she stepped off the plane, and Hugh introduced us, she looked at me as if she was seeing a ghost. Then her face tightened and she kept staring at me as if I’d got three eyes or something!’

  ‘You’re imagining it!’ Ruth told him, but deep inside her she knew it was true. Her mother didn’t like Gary. She bristled whenever he came near her; even her voice became sharper.

  The situation came to a head the night of the party. They had invited most of the people in Robin Road as well as Gary, and one or two of Hugh’s other unmarried friends. Towards the end of the evening, someone asked Helen if she and Lucy would be on the Army bus next day, or whether Gary was taking them to the airport in his car.

  ‘We’re going on the bus,’ Helen said quickly.

  Ruth and Hugh exchanged looks but before either of them could speak Gary said, ‘No need, I’ll take you.’

  Helen gave him a long, level look, then said coldly, ‘Hugh’s on duty and Ruth isn’t up to the journey.’

  ‘Well, I’ll take you on my own.’ Gary smiled.

  ‘No, thank you!’

  Her frosty reply was like a slap in the face.

  There was a stunned silence, then everyone began talking at once, but the happy atmosphere was gone. Everyone was curious as to why she had refused so adamantly and Gary looked as bemused as the rest of them.

  Ruth could barely keep back her tears. She had noticed all evening that her mother had seemed to be watching Gary intently, her face growing more and more taut, her lips tightening into a thin, hard line, and she felt completely bewildered by her mother’s attitude.

  Gary was the last to leave. Rather hesitantly he held out his hand to Helen. When she completely ignored him he stuffed his hand back into his pocket and Ruth could see him clenching and unclenching it as he struggled to control his feelings.

  ‘I’m sorry you won’t let me give you a lift in the morning, Mrs Woodley. I hope you have a pleasant journey. I expect we’ll meet again.’

  To Ruth’s amazement and embarrassment her mother didn’t answer, or manage even a glimmer of a smile.

  ‘What on earth got into you, tonight, Mum?’ she asked furiously, after he had gone. ‘You didn’t have to make it quite so obvious that you don’t like Gary.’

  Helen stared at Ruth for a long time, then she said wearily, ‘I can’t explain … not now, anyway. And if I did you wouldn’t believe me.’ Without another word she turned on her heel and went upstairs to bed.

  Their leave-taking next morning was rather subdued. Ruth kissed and hugged Lucy and, because it would be her birthday a few days later, gave her a present of a baby doll.

  ‘Now I’ve got a new baby just like you’ll have!’ Lucy exclaimed delightedly. ‘Are you going to have a little girl, Ruth? Then I can give my doll the same name as your baby.’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ Ruth smiled gently at her golden-haired little sister. ‘I hope she’ll be as pretty as you are,’ she said, pulling Lucy close and kissing her again.

  ‘Are you going to call her Lucy?’

  ‘No. I think one Lucy in the family is enough!’ Ruth laughed. ‘No, we’ve decided that if it’s a girl then we shall call her Sally. If it’s a boy …’ she paused and looked straight at her mother, ‘… if it’s a boy then we’re going to call him Gary.’

  ‘Not after that Gary,’ her mother exclaimed in shocked tones.

  ‘No,’ Ruth told her coolly, ‘after Dad’s brother … the one who was killed in the war.’

  Helen looked at her speechlessly.

  ‘Dad once told Mark and me all about him – how much he loved him and how close they’d been as boys. I always felt he would have liked Mark to have been named after him,’ Ruth explained defiantly.

  Helen didn’t answer; her face had gone an ashen grey. She bent down and picked up her suitcase. ‘Come on Lucy,’ she said, refusing to meet Ruth’s eyes. ‘It’s time we were going home.’

  Chapter 22

  Helen found the journey back to England extremely tedious. It took twice as long to reach Belfast airport by bus as it would have done in Gary’s car and, when she and Lucy arrived there, they found there was no plane for almost two hours.

  After they had had something to eat and drink, Helen found a quiet corner and made Lucy as comfortable as possible, rolling her anorak up as a cushion under her head, so that she could sleep. Then Helen tried to read, but her thoughts kept going back to Ruth and her friends, and to Gary Collins in particular.

  She knew she had behaved badly, but she had felt powerless to change her attitude towards Gary. She had never felt so overwhelmingly hostile towards another person in her life. From the moment when she had first seen him with Hugh she had felt threatened.

  There had been something about his face, with its strong square jawline, vivid blue eyes under straight, dark brows, his wide mouth and finely-chiselled lips, that had stirred deep memories. Her breath caught in her throat as in a flash she realised that it was his uncanny likeness to Adam!

  The only thing that was different was the colour of his hair. She had never known anyone with hair that bright, rich coppery shade before … except in a photograph. A faded, much-handled photograph that Adam had always carried in his wallet. It had been a picture of his younger brother who had been killed before she had ever had a chance to meet him … and his name had been Gary.

  The revelation stunned her. Her emotions in chaos, she tried to recall every detail Adam had ever told her about his brother. She was almost certain that Gary had never married, never even had a serious girlfriend. He had only been twenty when he had been killed. Still, it had been wartime and he could have fathered a child. If he had then surely Adam would have known about it, since they were so close.

  She went over in her mind what she knew about Gary Collins. He was about six months younger than Hugh, which meant he must have been born around September 1944. Adam’s brother had been killed just a few days before Christmas 1943. It was possible!

  She held her breath as she counted up the months, then remembered he had been in France for quite some time before he’d been killed.

  Her relief at knowing that Adam’s brother couldn’t possibly be Gary Collins’ father was short-lived, as she began having crazy thoughts. She tried to put them from her mind, as a cold sweat sent trickles of perspiration down her body. She wondered whether it was her imagination playing tricks, or if she was going mad. Being on her own so much, with only Mark and Lucy for company, was making her fanciful. Yet, as she went over the facts again and again, the same answer faced her.

  She recalled the events in her own life around that time. Her miscarriage just a few days before Christmas, that had prevented her meeting Adam in London. And it was while he’d been there that he had heard his young brother Gary had been killed. And that was around the time Gary Collins was conceived! Try as she might to put the idea aside, she felt an overpowering conviction that it wasn’t just coincidence that they bore such a striking resemblance to each other.

  While she had been lying in hospital after her miscarriage, not even aware that his brother had been killed, had Adam found comfort in someone else’s arms to try to ease the pain that must have been burning inside him?

  The thought sent chill shivers through her, but the more she thought about it the more possible it seemed to be. The dates fitted so perfectly. Adam had been in London at that time … and on his own. When he had come to see her in hospital he had stayed only a very short time, and she had been too sedated to talk rationally. It was the last time they had seen each other before he had gone overseas.

  After the war was over, Adam had never talked about Gary. It was one of the reasons she had been so surprised to hear he had told Ruth and Mark about him. And Ruth’s remark that she thought he would have liked Mark to be named for his dead brother, had been like a knife turning. She had never even thought of it. Had Adam suggested it, she would gladly have
consented.

  Again, disturbing thoughts filled her mind. Had he not mentioned it to her because there was already a child named Gary, a love-child that she knew nothing about?

  The thought tormented her so much that she was unable to sit still. Gently releasing Lucy’s hand she stood up and began pacing restlessly up and down, feverishly going over every aspect of the facts as she knew them.

  When she sat down again she was clear in her own mind that the pieces fitted as smoothly as any jigsaw. She saw it all now. The night Adam had stayed over in London he had found solace in Dora’s arms. It all fitted: the dates, the place, Gary’s intensely blue eyes, the shape of his mouth, the way he laughed, even his mannerisms. She couldn’t possibly be mistaken. Every detail was there. Meeting him was like seeing Adam reincarnated. She was surprised she hadn’t realised it before and that Ruth hadn’t been aware of it.

  She had felt uneasy about the closeness of Ruth’s friendship with Gary. She’d even suspected they might be having a mild flirtation. Now she understood the empathy between them. The bond that existed was closer than any friendship.

  The announcement that their plane was ready to depart distracted Helen’s thoughts. For the next few hours the journey home – the noise and confusion at Heathrow airport, the rush for the train at Waterloo Station, and coping with their luggage – took all her attention.

  When she went to bed that night, however, Helen found that, even though she felt exhausted, sleep eluded her. She lay there in the darkness, going over what she knew and trying to work out what she ought to do.

  After tossing and turning for hours, she finally went downstairs to make herself a drink. Sitting at the kitchen-table, she planned how she would go about getting proof to substantiate her conviction that Gary was Adam’s son. Until then she would keep the knowledge to herself, she decided. Sooner or later, though, she would face Ruth and Mark, as well as Gary, with the truth. It was only right that they should be told. It might sully Adam’s memory, but Gary Collins was entitled to know the identity of his father. And he would learn that the Guardsman he had held in such high esteem all his life had feet of clay after all, she thought savagely.

  Bitterly, she realised that she was out for revenge. She felt deeply hurt, not so much because Adam had cheated on her, but that he had been able to put it so completely out of his mind. Never once when recounting all the things that had happened to him while he was waiting to be sent to Europe, or during his service in the Army of Occupation, had Adam ever hinted that there had been another woman in his life.

  Perhaps Dora Collins was only one of many, she told herself resentfully. While she had been patiently waiting for him to come home again he’d probably been consoling himself with girls in France, Belgium and even in Germany, she thought with annoyance.

  If he’d strayed once and as far as he knew got away with it so successfully, why not twice, a dozen times, hundreds of times even? She even began to wonder whether he had been unfaithful to her after the war was over, when he was away on exercises or overseas.

  Angrily, she pushed her empty cup away. Her life had suddenly turned sour. She had always held Adam in such high esteem, placed him on a pedestal, in fact, and now it had come crashing down. And to think she had refused Donald’s offer of marriage in order to stay true to Adam’s memory, because she believed that it was what he would have done if she had been the one to die first!

  Hate and bitterness overwhelmed her. She wanted to scream, to shout the truth. Tears blinded her. How could she have been so gullible all these years? She recalled Ruth’s plain speaking just before she had gone out to Ireland. Perhaps Ruth had more sense than she did, after all. At the time she had treated her remarks with scorn but now she didn’t feel nearly so sure of herself.

  The shrilling of the telephone brought her to her senses. It was only six o’clock. Who on earth could be phoning so early? she wondered as she went to answer it.

  “Hello Grandma!’

  ‘Who … who is that? Are you sure you have the right number?’

  ‘I hope I have … at this time in the morning. It’s Hugh. I’m ringing to let you know you’re a grandmother. Ruth went into labour last night. The baby was born at four o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Is everything all right? How is Ruth?’

  ‘Absolutely fine. No complications of any kind.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘Quite perfect. A little girl. She weighed in at seven pounds. Looks just like Ruth. Dark hair, same shaped face. She’s gorgeous.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Hugh. I’m so relieved. I do wish it had happened before we left. Do … do you want me to come back?’

  ‘No need. Ruth’s returning to England for a spell, just as soon as she comes out of hospital. It’s not really safe for her and the baby out here. We had a lot of bombing last night. Our social club was hit, several of our friends have been badly injured. It’s upset Ruth …’

  ‘How awful! Of course she must come back to England at once. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come and fetch her? She’s not fit to travel on her own.’

  ‘Give it a few days and she’ll be OK. Don’t worry, she’ll have someone to travel across with when she’s ready. A lot of wives are packing it in over here now that things have started to really hot up. I’ll phone you again when I know when she will be coming.’

  Hugh’s call suddenly changed everything. With a sense of relief, Helen pushed to one side her own problem. There were far more important things to do now than brood about the past. She must get everything ready for when Ruth arrived. The days ahead would be busy ones with a young baby in the house.

  Since Gary had never known who his father was there was nothing to be gained by telling him, or anyone else, about it at the moment. She would give it more thought … when she had less on her mind. It might be better for everyone if it remained her secret.

  Chapter 23

  Helen idolised Sally from the first moment she set eyes on her. As she cradled the tiny bundle in her arms and gazed down at the mass of brown hair that curled over the baby’s tiny ears and forehead, she was filled with a deep tenderness.

  Sally was a happy, contented baby, sleeping right through the night and quickly settling into a routine, so that it seemed to Helen she had always been there.

  It was a wonderful summer and Sally grew plump and golden as she lay outside in her pram, kicking her tiny arms and legs. Helen kept a watchful eye on her from the kitchen window, and Lucy was in constant attendance as soon as she came home from school. Even Mark made frequent detours so that he could stop by the pram.

  Sally thrived on such attention. She smiled readily and her eyes, which were now a soft brown with golden flecks in them, followed every movement around her.

  Ruth, too, seemed to be enjoying her new role. Her only disappointment was the fact that Hugh hadn’t managed to get any leave, so he hadn’t seen the baby since she’d left Ireland. Just after Ruth had come back, fresh disturbances had broken out and in Derry over three hundred people had been injured, so she knew Hugh would be needed there for quite a long time.

  ‘Sally will be walking and talking before he sees her,’ she grumbled, as she put down a letter she had just received from Hugh.

  ‘Well, you know what the Army’s like!’ Helen reminded her.

  ‘I can still grumble, can’t I?’ Ruth grinned. ‘I can remember the way you used to carry on when you thought Dad was coming home and instead he was sent off on a course or an exercise!’

  ‘Yes, it can be infuriating. You make all the preparations, spend hours cooking, and then they don’t turn up,’ Helen said grimly.

  ‘I don’t,’ Ruth laughed. ‘Hugh has to take pot luck. If there’s no food in the house then we go to the pub, or I send him out to get a take-away.’

  Helen was about to voice her disapproval, then held back, remembering all the frustration she had known when she had prepared for Adam’s homecoming, only to be disappointed. At the time she had bla
med the vagaries of the Army. Now she wasn’t so sure that it had always been duty that had detained Adam. Perhaps Ruth had the right attitude after all.

  Briskly she turned her mind to other things. Knowing what she did now, such thoughts only embittered her. Given her life over again, she wouldn’t have been so gullible. Her lips tightened, hard lines forming on either side of her mouth, visibly ageing her.

  Turning stones was dangerous, she decided, and she wished she had never delved into Gary Collins’ background. Everything pointed to him being Adam’s son. If only she could have talked to someone about it, she thought, just to ease the gnawing doubts in her own mind. Resolutely, though, she had made up her mind not to involve the rest of the family and, difficult though it was, she had kept to her decision. She intended to let them keep the image they had of their father as being a good and honourable man.

  Three weeks later, with baby Sally sound asleep, and Lucy also tucked up in bed, Helen was making her way across the meadow, to pen up the hens and geese for the night, when she heard a car draw up outside the house. Since Mark and Ruth were both there she didn’t turn back, but it puzzled her just who the caller could be at that time of the evening.

  The car was still there when she got back and its long black outline seemed vaguely familiar. As she went indoors she could hear voices and laughter coming from the sitting-room and paused to tidy her hair before joining them.

  ‘Is that you, Mum? Come and see who’s here,’ Ruth called excitedly.

  ‘Hugh!’ Delighted for Ruth’s sake that he had managed to get home at last, Helen hugged him enthusiastically.

  Then, as she became aware of someone else, she stiffened. It was like a bad dream. The man who had filled her thoughts ever since her return from Ireland was there, greeting her like an old friend, putting his arm around her and kissing her on the cheek.

  ‘I’m afraid I had to bring Gary. It was the only way I could get a lift,’ Hugh joked.

  ‘Gary’s always welcome,’ Ruth said warmly, smiling up at him. ‘We’re thinking of adopting him. I shall teach Sally to call him “Uncle” just as soon as she can talk.’