by Ruth Sutton
Jessie found her voice, but she couldn’t move. ‘What are you talking about? What will people say?’
‘That we’re just a couple of middle-aged ladies sharing a house. But it’ll be more than that, it’ll be our secret.’
Jessie stepped back, and Agnes moved towards her again, smiling, her arms outstretched.
‘No,’ Jessie shouted. ‘Stop. I never – that’s not what I want. We’re friends, we’ve always been friends, but that’s all, Agnes. How could you think, after all these years, after all you know about me?’
‘Yes, I know you,’ said Agnes, ‘and I know you’ve never really wanted a man, not to live with, not to love.’
Jessie shook her head with all the force she could muster. ‘You’re wrong! Listen to me, Agnes. You’re my oldest friend and I love you dearly as a friend, but that’s all. Believe me. You’ve had too much to drink, and you’re being silly.’
‘Silly?’ Agnes cried. ‘I love you Jessie. I’ve always loved you, and now it’s time for us to be together.’
Jessie put up her hands to ward off the words, to hear no more. ‘That’s enough. Stop. You’re drunk. Don’t say any more.’ She turned away towards the door and escape. ‘I’m going to go to bed, to sleep, and you should do the same. In the morning, when we’re sober, we can forget this ever happened. I’m going. Don’t follow me.’
Jessie left the room, closing the door sharply behind her. For a moment Agnes stood quite still, until her knees crumpled and she leaned against the sink. Then she covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
CHAPTER 31
JESSIE LAY AWAKE IN HER BED for a long time, upset and confused. How had this happened? Surely she’d given Agnes no sign, no encouragement? She remembered Andrew’s letter about Agnes from months before. She’d always put that down to spite on his part; he and Agnes had never got on well. But had he seen something in Agnes’s behaviour that Jessie had missed? Finally, she slept, and woke with the light. For a moment, before she remembered, she was comfortable. But only for a moment. Then she heard Agnes moving around downstairs and the memory hit her. What would they say to each other? They could pass it all off as the brandy talking, and not mention it at all. But that couldn’t work, not if they were going to share the house. She wished she could remember exactly what had been said. All she could recall with painful clarity was that suffocating embrace, the smell of brandy, the look of triumph on Agnes’s face as she spoke her truth for the first time.
A sound. She caught her breath. Footsteps came softly up the stairs, but her door stayed closed, and it was Agnes’s door she heard, open, close and then the turn of the key in the lock. She breathed again. It was unbearable. She got up, dressed and crept downstairs. Agnes had tidied the kitchen and everything was as it should be – although of course nothing could be the same now.
Early morning mist was clearing when Jessie left the house. As she walked down towards the river, the sun was beginning to warm her, and just a thin veil of white clung to the river banks. She decided to climb, up the hill to the old monument on the highest point where the view of the sea and the mountains spread all around.
A grazing deer by the side of the path looked up, then skittered away into the undergrowth. Jessie walked on, taking off her cardigan to feel the cool air on her arms. She needed to think, away from the confines of the house and the village. When she reached the summit she stood and turned in a full circle, taking in every crease of the landscape and the tops of fells and mountains receding to the north: shades of green, grey and brown, and the pale blue of the sky overhead. A jackdaw croaked nearby. On the road far below, two horses were pulling a wagon between ripening fields of barley.
Poor Agnes, she thought. Kind, hard-working, generous Agnes. What a risk she had taken, and for nothing. Their friendship couldn’t end like this. There had to be words they could say that would mend it. But Jessie knew she could not stay at Applegarth. She had been happy there while Agnes was away in London, and Agnes might be away for longer still, but now it was impossible to accept her hospitality. When you live in someone else’s house, she realised, it’s a compromise and you owe them something, and she could not be beholden to Agnes, not now. She would have to find a place to live on her own, and to do that she would need a job. Not just for the money; she wanted something to do that gave her life structure and purpose, but with less responsibility than she had carried for the past twenty years.
She sat on the flat rock already warmed a little by late summer sunshine and looked out at the sea a mile or so away, flat and glinting at the rim. As it always did, the sea reminded her of Piotr, and his death, and how angry John had been with her. She should have gone to his wedding celebration, she knew that now. I will go and see them, she told herself, in private, just me and them, not the rest of the world looking on. And there are other things I must do too, she resolved, soon, but not yet.
When Jessie got back to Applegarth, there was no sign of Agnes. The car was still in the garage and the front door unlocked as Jessie had left it. She felt the kettle; it was cold. She filled it and put it on the range to heat.
Agnes woke with a start when she heard the tap on her door. Her head ached and her eyes were puffy and sore. She lay still, hoping Jessie would go away. In vain.
‘Agnes,’ said Jessie quietly. ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’
‘Leave it there. I’ll come down.’ When the footsteps had retreated down the stairs Agnes got out of bed, unlocked the door, picked up the tea from the floor and took it back to bed. Unhappiness weighed her down, blocking her mind.
She had been so sure that Jessie felt as she did, but now everything was ruined. She would have to say something. She got up, dressed with care, put her London things into her bag, and opened the door. There was no sound, but she knew that Jessie was there, waiting. She went down the stairs, carrying the bag and the cup. As she reached the foot of the stairs, the bag was lifted from her hand and Jessie walked ahead of her into the kitchen.
‘Sit down, dear,’ said Jessie. ‘Would you like more tea?’
Agnes shook her head.
Jessie leaned across the small kitchen table and took her friend’s hand. Agnes did not respond, looking down, avoiding Jessie’s eyes.
‘Last night,’ said Jessie. Agnes shook her head again. ‘We both drank a little more than we should. I think the best thing would be to forget whatever was said. I can’t remember everything, but I think that would be the best thing to do. Do you agree?’
Agnes nodded wordlessly. Jessie felt the slightest squeeze of her friend’s fingers, and saw a tear fall onto the table.
‘We will be friends, as we have always been, but I cannot live here with you. Not now. It may take me a little while to find somewhere, but by the time you come back from London, I will be gone.’
Agnes didn’t move.
‘Did you hear me Agnes? I will be gone.’
Agnes nodded, pulled her hand away and stood up, turning to look out into the garden. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. ‘Where will you go?’ she whispered.
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘Will you go to Matthew?’
‘Perhaps. I don’t know. He and I need to talk about it.’ She watched Agnes’s narrow back, and the slight movement in her shoulders. ‘Don’t let’s say any more now. Let it be for a while. When you come back from London we’ll do something together, a walk or some shopping, and we can talk then.’
Agnes nodded. She blew her nose. ‘I have to get some more things and telephone for the car. I’m getting the earlier train.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ said Jessie.
‘No,’ said Agnes. ‘Nothing.’
No more was said. The car came, Mr Baines loaded Agnes’s bag into the boot and they drove away. Jessie watched from the sitting room window but Agnes did not look back.
Jessie turned away and sat down at the little desk on the sunny side of the room. ‘My morning room’ Agnes call
ed it as she always wrote her letters there. This morning it was Jessie’s turn to take the creamy writing paper from its holder in the desk and take up her favourite pen. There were two letters she needed to write.
The first was to Andrew; it was short and deliberate. Jessie chose the fewest words she needed to explain that she had loved him once, briefly, and no more. She would not be going to Canada and he should accept that and get on with his life. It should have been said years ago, she said to herself. Then she went upstairs, found the bundle of his letters in the drawer in her bedroom, brought them down to the cold fire grate and set fire to them, one at a time, watching the burning scraps disintegrate.
The second letter needed some careful wording, and an address that Agnes had given her some weeks before.
Dear Mr Bennett,
You will remember that we met some weeks ago at the home of Miss Agnes Plane while you were investigating the new site at Sellafield.
I understand that the new works there have now been started and I am writing to you to ask whether you are still interested in employing local people to help on the organisational side of things.
You will remember that I have been the headmistress of the local school for many years until very recently, and I am now available for other work.
I would be happy to send a full curriculum vitae if that would be appropriate.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours faithfully,
Jessie Whelan (Miss)
The final thing that Jessie had decided to do would have to wait until later in the day. As she swept the kitchen floor, and pottered in the garden, picking the last of the runner beans, Jessie thought about what she would say. At five o’clock, she poured herself a glass of sherry and drank it straight down. Then she stood looking at the telephone in the hall for a while before she picked up the receiver and dialled the familiar number.
CHAPTER 32
FOR A MOMENT, JESSIE DIDN’T RECOGNISE HIM. The autumn day was warm and still, and steam from the train lingered in clouds on the platform at Seascale as she stepped down from the train and looked for him. She caught sight of him at the far end of the platform, and watched him unseen until he turned and waved and walked towards her. He was bare-headed, without the usual wide-brimmed hat, and held his jacket over his shoulder. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up a little and his tie pulled down. He looked like a boy on his way home from school, not a respectable middle-aged doctor meeting his lady friend.
They stood awkwardly for a minute as a group of boy scouts streamed past them, and then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
‘I’ve been worried about you,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘You never seemed to be at home when I telephoned. I thought you must be avoiding me.’
‘I had some thinking to do,’ was all she said. ‘Do you want to walk on the beach? The tide’s out. So much space out there.’
She had said very little on the telephone, except that she thought they should meet and talk. He wanted to drive down to Newton, but she’d suggested Seascale, which they could both reach on the bus or the train, and there was less chance of being noticed. It was quite early on the following Saturday morning, and the weather had changed again. The breeze was slight and from the south-west; far out at the edge of the ebbing tide benign waves creamed over the sand.
‘Has Ann been in touch?’ she asked, as they walked the few yards from the station down towards the beach. Above them the arc of the sky soared uninterrupted, from the low rise of Black Combe in the south out to the shadow of the Isle of Man and then north towards Sellafield. Imposing houses on the seafront hid the higher mountains from view.
‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s very busy in London. I’m on my own again.’
‘Lonely?’ she asked.
‘Not really.’ He looked down at her walking beside him, ‘Are you?’
‘I’m used to living alone,’ she said. ‘Agnes is back in London, for several weeks this time. It feels odd, not starting the school year as I normally do, but the routine of all that is fading actually as time goes by. After I left at Easter I couldn’t understand why certain times of day made me feel alert, or tired. It was all down to the routines of school. Funny what your body gets used to.’
‘Do you miss the schoolhouse?’ he asked. He was still holding her arm as they crossed the road to go down onto the beach, and she was happy for him to do so.
‘I do miss it – more than I expected to. Applegarth is very comfortable, but it’s Agnes’s house and always will be. No matter how hospitable she is I still feel like her guest. Like a lodger, almost.’
‘There is another alternative,’ he said, squeezing her arm a little. ‘My house is quite big enough for two, with plenty of space for each of us.’
Jessie didn’t respond. There was more she needed to say. A wooden seat looked out over the beach. Matthew sat down still holding Jessie’s arm, and she sat down next to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry I was so … formal with you that day, when Ann and I called in. She and her sister had been, well, difficult, and I didn’t want to start her off again. I’d been telling her that you and I are just friends, you see, so I had to make it look … well, you understand.’
Jessie wished she did understand. She hadn’t expected an apology. ‘Shall we walk on the sand, out to the tide?’ she said. ‘We can take our shoes off.’
They did so. Jessie put her shoes into her bag, but left her stockings on. He undid his polished brogues, took them off and tied the laces together so he could hold them in one hand. Then he pulled off his socks. She noticed the hairs on his forearms and his pale feet. She felt suddenly attracted to him; things were not working out the way she had anticipated.
‘It must be difficult for Ann,’ she said. ‘Emily has her family, but Ann only has you.’
‘She’s a grown woman,’ said Matthew. ‘She doesn’t need me, nor I her come to that.’
‘But you must care what she thinks.’
‘Of course, but I’m free to make my own decisions.’
They walked on towards the sea across the wide bank of ridged sand. The breeze had freshened, and she had to listen carefully as his voice was whipped away towards the village.
‘I thought I was clear about … about us,’ he said, ‘but now I don’t know. Have you been avoiding me, Jessie? It’s felt like that. Have I upset you? Has something happened?’
It was time to tell him. She didn’t know how he might react.
‘I was upset, yes,’ she said. ‘It was something you said.’
‘What? Tell me.’
‘You said that you forgive me.’
‘And I do, really,’ he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve been through so much. We can make a fresh start.’
‘But why forgiveness?’ she persisted. ‘Do you think I’ve done things that need forgiving?’
He stood still again, watching her face. ‘But – you told me yourself, about the baby, and giving him away, and then pretending …’ He looked away for a moment, towards the sea. ‘I thought you wanted me to react to all that, to say something.’
‘I did,’ she said. ‘I wanted you to understand.’
He looked at her. ‘But how could I, with everything you’ve been through? My life’s been so easy compared with yours. I married the first girl I fell in love with, we had a comfortable life, two wonderful children. When Joan died, that life fell apart but I’ve never had to struggle, and make such hard choices, not like you.’
Jessie would not soften. ‘I gave John away because I had to,’ she said. ‘Clive and I were going to be married. When he died, what choice did I have? I made a life for myself, through my own efforts, in spite all the pressure to move over and let a man have the job I’d worked so hard for. When John found me, it could all have been lost. He understood that. It was something we agreed between us, that he would be my nephew. And it was alright, until he wanted to be honest with his fiancée, with Maggie. Once she knew
, I knew it would come out.’ She grasped his arm, and tugged at it until he looked at her. ‘So what is it you’re forgiving me for? I never asked for forgiveness.’
He didn’t reply, turning away again.
‘It was Ann’s idea,’ he said. ‘She said that if I was serious about being with you, we would have to put the past behind us, and I would have to forgive you for everything that had gone before. She said that you had gone astray.’
‘Gone astray! How dare she?’ said Jessie. ‘And you agreed with her?’
Matthew squirmed under Jessie’s anger. ‘I didn’t know what to think,’ he said. ‘I just want to be happy again.’
‘Like before,’ she said.
‘Yes. Is that so terrible?’
‘She knew,’ said Jessie. ‘Ann knew how I would react to being forgiven. She knew it would drive us apart.’
‘That’s an awful thing to say,’ he said, angry himself now. ‘She loves me. She just wants the best for me.’
‘And for her that means you have to get away from me, don’t you see? She’s never approved of me, and this was her way of saying so.’
Jessie walked on, leaving Matthew staring miserably after her.
She stopped and walked back towards him. ‘It would never work,’ she said. ‘You want to be married because that’s what you’re used to, what feels natural to you. It’s completely different for me. I’m used to being alone, being in control of my own life. I’ve tried to see myself as a married woman, as the doctor’s wife, but it would feel like a trap, a prison.’
Matthew could feel his hopes slipping away. ‘But where will you live?’ he asked. ‘You’ve no job. If we were married you wouldn’t have to work, and you would have a home. The house in Cockermouth is big enough for us both. I wouldn’t bother you.’
‘Bother me? You mean sex? It’s not the sex I’m afraid of, Matthew, it’s the marriage.’
Jessie stood facing him. Her eyes were bright, her mind suddenly sharp. At last, she was clear what she wanted, and what she didn’t want.