“Then why are you crying?”
Celestria wiped away a tear. “Because I don’t know what to do. Do I stay here? Do I go home? I haven’t had a marriage proposal.”
“Give him time; you’ve only just met.”
“What if he’s still in love with his dead wife?”
“That won’t get him anywhere.”
“Gaitano says he feels guilty because he was there when she fell off the cliff. He thinks it was his fault. He won’t stop blaming himself.”
“Time will heal, love.”
“He’s had three years! How much longer will it take?”
“He’s only just met you.”
“But I’m here. I’m a living, breathing person, loving him. Natalia can’t love him from where she is.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. There’s nothing to keep me here now. Do I stay, or do I go?”
“You stay, Celestria, and you fight for what you want,” the older woman replied fiercely.
“Perhaps I don’t belong here. I should return to London and marry Aidan and forget that I ever met Hamish.”
“Then you’ll live half a life.”
“No, I’d live half a life here with Hamish. Natalia would have the other half.”
The decision, however, was taken out of her hands by a telegram that arrived as hers was sent to Scotland. It was from her mother. Celestria read it. Then she read it again. She tried to read it a third time, but her eyes had blurred with tears: “YOUR GRANDFATHER PASSED AWAY THIS MORNING STOP COME HOME STOP.”
She sank onto the cushions beneath the cloister, pulling Primo and Maialino onto her lap for comfort. Hamish sat beside her and took the telegram from her trembling fingers. “God,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You loved him like a father, didn’t you?” She nodded but couldn’t speak. They sat there, in the shade, for a long while. Primo and Maialino sensed unhappiness. Finally, she drew away and folded up the telegram.
“I have to go home,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to be here when you come back.”
“Do you want me to?” She looked at him with a frown, longing to be certain of his affection. Wanting to have it all for herself.
“Yes.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips, taking his time. “I want you to come back very, very much.”
Mrs. Waynebridge was brokenhearted for Celestria. “She has lost not only her father, but her grandfather, too, who she loved more than anyone else in the world, even her mother. Which isn’t really surprising, if you know her mother,” she told Federica and Daphne.
“But what about Hamish?” said Daphne, recalling their morning conversation.
“I’m hoping she’ll come back,” replied Federica. “He needs her, and they could be so happy together.”
“She’ll come back,” said Waynie, with a knowing smile. “A woman is never the same after experiencing Italy.”
That night Hamish made love to Celestria beside the old fortress. There were no stars, and the moon was hidden behind thick clouds and mist that hung low over the sea. The air was strangely warm and humid. A storm was brewing. They lay on a rug and loved each other, their hearts heavy with melancholy, unsure of what the future held for them.
In the morning Celestria packed her suitcases and waited in the courtyard for Gaitano, who was going to take her to Spongano. It was raining. Large drops fell onto the paving stones and dripped off the arches of the cloister, where the dogs lay. Mrs. Waynebridge and Daphne had said good-bye to her in the dining room, both too emotional to watch her drive away. Hamish was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly Federica appeared in a flurry, wringing her hands. “Hamish told me to tell you he’s in the cemetery. He wants you to go and see him before you leave.” She looked anxious. “He says it’s important.”
Celestria ran across the road, the rain drenching her dress and shoes and flattening her hair against her face. A couple of black cats had taken shelter in the entrance of the cemetery, huddled together to keep dry. She hurried through the gates, into the city of the dead, where the rain had fallen on the warm earth in the little park and filled the air with the sweet scent of damp pine. Birdsong resounded up and down the little avenues as the birds fluttered about to find shelter, and the heady smell of lilies emanated from the little mausoleums mingled with the smell of candle wax. She reached Natalia’s crypt and climbed the steps. Inside, Hamish stood with his hands on her tomb, staring at the floor. When she entered, he looked up. His face was ashen, his eyes red rimmed. For a moment she thought he was going to shout at her.
“I’m letting her go,” he said. “I want to make a commitment to you. But first I want you to know everything. I should have shown you earlier.”
Without saying another word, he led her outside. The rain had become a light drizzle. He took her down the little path towards the old fortress. He walked with his stick, but his limp was less noticeable. Instead of turning right to the fort, he turned left and led her along the cliff top. Her sodden dress clung to her legs like seaweed, and her canvas shoes squelched with each step. After a few hundred yards, he stopped.
“This is where she died,” he said, dropping his stick and taking her by the shoulders.
Celestria looked down. It was a long way. Natalia hadn’t stood a chance; she would have been broken on the rocks before she had known what had hit her. He looked at her intensely, his eyes full of pain.
“She was having an affair, Celestria. She was in love with another man.” His tone was brittle, like the scrunching of fragmented glass. “I found out and confronted her. She accused me of being moody and self-obsessed and claimed I had driven her to it. We had a fight. She was as volatile as me. We were like two sparks in a fire, maddened with anger and hurt. I told her she had to choose between me and him. But she couldn’t choose. She loved him, even though she knew he would break her heart. Perhaps he had broken it already.” He inhaled as if he needed to find the courage to continue. Then he gripped her shoulders and said: “The other man, Celestria, was your father.”
Celestria was horrified. She recoiled, catching her breath as if she had been winded. “My father?”
“I should have told you.”
“My father? Having an affair with your wife?” She took a step back. “It’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
She took a moment to digest the awful truth. “That’s why you hated me. Because I was his daughter. It makes perfect sense.”
“But I fell in love with you.” He gazed at her in desperation.
“But you lied.”
“No. I never lied. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
“So why are you telling me now? When I’m on the point of leaving?”
“Because when you come back, I want to start with a clean slate. I want to put it all behind us: Natalia, your father. I want us to begin our life together untarnished by the past. You’re the only person who will know the truth. But there’s more.”
“More?” Celestria’s features were contorted with pain.
“Natalia claimed she was unable to choose between me and Robert because she was carrying a child. She didn’t know whose child it was.” His eyes filled with tears. Celestria felt her own tears gathering, ready to unite with the rain that trickled down her face. “She was carrying a life inside her, Celestria. It could have been mine. How could she not know? I lost my mind. I shouted at her, and she just looked at me, full of defiance, as if relishing the power she had over me. She showed not a grain of remorse. How closely related are love and hate. In that moment I loved her so much I hated her. The next thing I knew was that she slipped and fell. I didn’t push her. I swear to God, I didn’t push her. But I don’t remember clearly. It’s all a blur. Could I have pushed her when she was carrying a child?”
“So you haven�
��t only been mourning Natalia, but the child who might have been yours.”
Hamish nodded. Celestria’s heart buckled.
“Oh, Hamish, I’m so sorry.” She wound her arms around him and held him close. “I don’t doubt you,” she whispered.
Celestria sat on the train in the dry clothes she had changed into before she left. Now she watched the Italian countryside flash past her window. In her bag she carried the diamond stars she would return to her mother. She wouldn’t tell. She would keep it all to herself, a more generous act than her father deserved. Pamela would never know the truth. She would believe he had only ever loved her. Harry would grow up with happy memories of his father building him traps in the woods above Pendrift, constructing sand castles on the beach, and taking him out in his little boat to play pirates. By not telling them the truth she would safeguard their past and protect their future. It was the right thing to do.
She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. She saw her grandfather’s large face and twinkling eyes. She could almost run her fingers over the deep lines in his skin and over his knobbly nose. How she loved him. He had been such a strong presence in her life. Just knowing he was there gave her an immense sense of security. Now he was gone, she felt alone.
She realized now that he had been the only man in her life to love her honestly. While her father had breezed in and out, armed with presents and compliments, her grandfather had taken a deeper interest. She had never penetrated her father, but he, in turn, had never penetrated her. It was her grandfather who had made it his business to know and understand her. He had encouraged her as a little girl, and it was in the small things that he had shown he cared. While her boyfriends had celebrated her beauty, her grandfather had been proud of her spirit, her intelligence, and her wit. After her father’s disappearance, his had been the only arms she had wanted to hold her. How she wished she could have shared with him her experience of Italy. He would have admired her courage in discovering the truth about her father’s fake suicide, and comforted her when her past had unraveled like a ball of pretty ribbon to reveal the ugly truth within. Now he would never know, and she’d never again feel his reassurance.
32
Pamela went to church. It didn’t matter that St. Peter’s wasn’t a Catholic church; as far as she was concerned, God was damn lucky that she was going at all. She sat on one of the chairs at the front and contemplated the most extraordinary happening of her life. It had all begun the night before last. She had gone to bed, having drunk a cup of hot cocoa, feeling miserable. Harry was at school, Celestria doing God knows what in Italy, and she was all alone with just Poochi for company, feeling extremely sorry for herself. Her father was in residence in Scotland. In his vast, overdecorated, gothic castle, surrounded by servants and friends he had acquired over the years. She had spoken to him that day by telephone. He had been stalking with the Earl of Rosebury. He was feeling fit and well and very pleased with himself. Now, after years of estrangement, Pamela felt close to him again.
In the middle of the night she woke. It was dark but for the golden glow of the streetlamp outside the house. She blinked into the darkness as a figure appeared before her eyes. To her astonishment, it was her father. His form was ghostly, not entirely solid, but in color. He looked younger, too. He didn’t speak, but she sensed him communicating and understood him. He was saying good-bye and wrapping her in love.
She felt her eyes well with tears, willing him to stay. He smiled his characteristic broad smile that extended across his whole face. “I’m ready,” he said silently. “I’m done here. But I’ll always be around.” She sat up, determined to hold on to him. But then he was gone. At eight o’clock the telephone rang. Her father had suffered a heart attack in the night and was dead.
Now she sat in church, knowing that her vision had been nothing less than the soul of her father saying good-bye as he made his final journey to heaven. She no longer had any doubt. There was life after death, and there was a God. He had heard her and given her this gift. She couldn’t wait to tell Father Dalgliesh. She would telephone the presbytery as soon as the service was over.
It was strange. She had lost her husband and her father in less than two months, and yet she no longer felt alone. She knew they were with her in spirit, and that certainty gave her great comfort. After years of not believing, she now understood why people went to church. There was so much more to life than the glamour of the material world. There was a spirit world, an existence beyond death, and that gave her life a whole new meaning. Besides, if she was going to be judged, she’d better start making up for her bad behavior.
Celestria returned to London. The excitement of being back home was spoiled by the sadness of her grandfather’s death. She stared out of the taxi window, feeling nothing but a terrible emptiness. She felt sorry for herself, having lost two men in the short space of a few weeks. However, once she was home, lying on her mother’s bed, hearing about Lotty’s flight with the piano teacher and how Penelope was so incensed she could barely speak about it, she felt better.
“Dear Lotty has made a terrible mistake,” said Pamela. “What sort of life will she have with a simple piano teacher? Where will they live? I can’t imagine her being very happy living in Maida Vale.” Celestria admired her cousin’s courage. It was no easy feat to defy Aunt Penelope.
“Why do you all think one has to be rich to be happy?”
“Because money buys freedom.”
“Not freedom from her mother!” said Celestria with a chuckle.
“I’m trying to be good, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Why are you trying to be good? Isn’t it a terrible effort?”
Pamela sniffed and placed her dog on her lap. “I’ve found God,” she said. Celestria snorted in disbelief. “Don’t mock me, darling. I saw a vision the night your grandfather died. He came to me.”
Celestria grew serious. “He did?”
“Absolutely. He was grinning his great big grin, and he told me that he’d still be around. It was very clear. Undeniable. Then I was woken by the telephone saying he’d died in his sleep. So God is up there somewhere, and your grandfather is there, too. I am as surprised as you are. But I’ve made a pledge to be a better person, because when I die I want to join him. No good being in hell with your father when I can be in heaven with Pa.”
“Mama, Papa’s not in hell!”
“Of course he is. Not for long, of course, because we’ll pray for his soul.”
Celestria so wanted to tell her the truth, but she knew her mother couldn’t take it. “When is the funeral?”
“On Saturday. Ma is coming over from New York. She’s miserable that she wasn’t there when he died. Anyway, you have a few days to recover from your trip before we go to Scotland. We’ll stay in the castle. I’ll have to sell it, of course. Ma won’t want it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to live there?”
Pamela shot her a look of mock contempt. “It’s a ghastly pile. I don’t know why he bought it in the first place. He spent so little time there.”
“I had so much to tell him,” said Celestria sadly. Then, with a pang of horror, she remembered the letter she had sent him. He hadn’t lived to read it. What if her mother found it? She swallowed, resolving to find it and destroy it the moment she arrived in Scotland.
“I’m sure you do. He’s around, if you feel like sharing it with him.”
Celestria stared at her in amazement. “You sound like someone else!”
“I am someone else,” she said seriously. “I’ve shed a skin, metamorphosed. How was your trip, darling? Did Waynie survive those Italians she was so frightened of?”
“Mama,” said Celestria carefully, “she’s still there.”
“You came home on your own?”
“I’m not a child, Mama!”
“What’s she doing there, for goodness’ sake?”
“She’s marrying one of those Italians.”
Pamel
a stopped stroking Poochi and placed her hand across her mouth. “You can’t be serious! Waynie?”
“I’m afraid it’s true. Waynie isn’t coming back.”
“What’s gone wrong with the world? I’m losing everyone.” Celestria knew she couldn’t begin to tell her mother about Hamish.
“She’s very happy. You’ve found God; she’s found love. They’re very sweet together, actually. It’s taken years off her.”
“You’re different, too,” said her mother, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “I hope you didn’t fall in love.” Celestria lowered her gaze and ran her fingers over the bobbles on her mother’s crocheted bedspread.
“I had a good rest.”
“Harry’s back at Eton. The best place for him. His housemaster called me to say that he’s fine, surrounded by his friends and all the distractions of school. By the way, Aidan Cooney has been telephoning, wanting to know when you were coming back. Why don’t you give him a call? He’s definitely at the top of the food chain. I must go, darling, I’m having my hair done. Don’t want to be late.”
Celestria knew that she’d have to face Aidan sooner or later. Even if she took Hamish out of the equation, she couldn’t marry Aidan. Daphne was right; why commit to a lifetime with a man who didn’t make the earth move?
Celestria telephoned him, and he suggested they have lunch in Knightsbridge.
“Darling, I’m dreadfully sorry about your grandfather; the old boy had good innings, though!”
“Thank you, Aidan.”
Sea of Lost Love Page 35