by Mary Wood
‘That’s good to hear. You say Theresa visits, so where does she live then?’
‘Somewhere in London, we think. By, lass, you’ve a lot of interest in them all.’
‘Nah, not really – just making conversation.’ She hoped they believed her. Jack sounded suspicious, and the last thing she wanted was them thinking she was up to something. ‘I am interested to know how Mildred and Penny went on, though. Have you kept in touch?’
‘Yes, they’re fine. They both went back home. Both are married and have families and seem happy enough. Look, Rita, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not wanting to keep in touch with you. Like Jack has, I will forgive you, but that doesn’t mean we welcome you as a friend. Here, I’ve made you some tea and there’s some cake, but I would appreciate you leaving when you’ve had them.’
‘I get your gist, Dorothy. I couldn’t fail to, with how blunt you put it, and I can’t say as I blame you. It’s enough for me that you’re willing to forgive me. I live and work in London and am doing all right for meself, so I have no need to come up ’ere again. I have what I come for, except . . . Well, I wondered if you’d give something to Iris’s family for me?’ Rummaging in her bag, she found the envelope. ‘It’s a bit to help with her care, or just to make things easier for them. And tell them I’m sorry. I can’t make amends, I know that, but this might help them.’
‘I doubt they will take it, but I’ll try. If they don’t, I’ll give it to charity. Is there anything in particular you’d like it to go to?’
‘Horses. Anything to do with horses. I pay a regular amount to a charity as looks after clapped-out racehorses, and mares as have dropped that many foals they’re knackered. It’s in Sussex, but I bet as there is something around here as does the same thing.’
‘I’ll see to it for you. And, well, I know I’ve been short with you, but I do appreciate you coming. I’ll see you out.’
‘Right-o, Dorothy. Ta-ra then, Jack. I’m glad to see as you’re all right now, and nice to have met you too, Harriet. Remember me to your mam – only tell her about me being sorry first, and I hope she understands.’
Once on the open road again, Rita relaxed. You did well there, girl, coming over all contrite. They bleedin’ well fell for it. Her smile widened. She’d found out quite a lot, most of it useful. She regretted not actually seeing Terence bleedin’ Crompton, but that would come.
When she took her revenge, he had to know it was her, but in such a way as he couldn’t do anything to her, because him knowing would make her revenge all the sweeter. Now, to find Theresa. Her living in London would make it a bit difficult, as anyone could lose themselves there, but she had folk as could find out most things. She didn’t doubt one of them would come up with an answer for her – they had to, because she’d never got over Theresa, and she hoped as Theresa felt the same. Besides, Theresa may hate her brother as much as I do, and might make a useful ally.
43
Terence & Louise
The Past Intrudes on the Present
Terence patted the rump of the magnificent stallion. The animal had sired two sure winners to date, and had just covered a mare that had previously produced a Derby winner. The resulting offspring could make him a lot of money. He already had owners from as far afield as the Middle East interested in bidding for the horse.
A voice he loved interrupted his thoughts. ‘Darling, I have a letter from Theresa. She wants to come and see us. She has things to discuss – sounds ominous, don’t you think?’
Terence turned and saw Louise walking in his direction, waving a letter. She still had the same graceful beauty that had attracted him to her all those years ago. He hadn’t thought it possible then to love someone as deeply as he did her, and that love had sustained him through the years of longing to be with the one person he was born to be with – the person he’d been conceived at the same time as, had shared a womb with, and with whom he should have been able to share his life forever, if only it wasn’t forbidden.
Waving in a gesture that said Give me a moment, he turned from these shameful thoughts. He needed to compose himself. His head trainer stood next to him, holding the mare, and Terence handed him the reins of the stallion. ‘See to them, Gary. They’ve done a good day’s work. Keep them apart, though, as we don’t want Field of Joy getting agitated or worked up at the nearness of his mare. We may have him cover one of the others later, when he’s rested. Perhaps Fancy Lady, as she’s in her oestrous cycle as well.’
Trying to talk of run-of-the-mill things didn’t help, as Gary was part of the past. Granted, he wasn’t a main part, but one that served as a reminder: he had worked for Terence’s Aunt Laura when she had a stud farm, and then with Fellam, but there was no stud farm for Gary to return to after the war. He was a good and a nice man, and Terence had felt obliged to take him on. But at moments like this, when he found himself vulnerable to being attacked by his conscience, anything that brought Fellam to mind wasn’t good. When will I be able to live with it all? Thank God Fellam doesn’t know the truth.
As it was, Fellam had been glad of the money Terence had paid him, for the goodwill of the business and the three horses that survived. Christ, it’s all years ago now! Nigh on twenty. It is history – the history of another person, not me. Well, at least not the me I have become.
Making a huge effort, he turned back to Louise. ‘Now, darling, you have all my attention.’ Dealing with the practicalities of the horses had given him a moment’s respite, though not much else. At least he felt able to deal with Louise’s sudden appearance and her comments having caused him to visit the darker side of his mind, where his guilty secrets concerning his sister lay hidden.
‘You seem distracted, darling. I should have waited until you came up for your lunch. Sorry. I just thought it strange, as Theresa only ever visits when she really has to. She doesn’t invite herself, and what can she have to “discuss”?’
Sweat broke out all over his body, and fear lurched in his heart. Does she want to bring up what happened in the past? Dear God, I hope not. Their separation – an open sore in Terence – left him yearning to be with her, but at the same time he was relieved that he didn’t have to bear Theresa’s constant presence, as he knew he would give in to the dangerous urges that engulfed him.
‘Terence?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, darling. I’ve a lot on at the moment – the stables, and everything. You know these summer months are our busiest, with all the mares coming into season at different times. It’s difficult to switch my mind between that and the domestic stuff. Anyway, Theresa, you say? Writing to ask us if she can visit – never thought I would see the day. Well, as long as it is convenient for you, my dear, then it will suit me. I’ll leave it to you to reply. Perhaps she’s found herself a man at last, eh?’
‘Oh, I hope so. She must be lonely. Do you remember how it was when she came back from the war? It was as if she’d suffered a bereavement.’
‘Yes, but then maybe she had. A lot of people had wartime relationships, and I suspect most had to break up when reality hit them, once the war came to an end and they had to go back to their spouses. Anyway, no good speculating; just let her know she can come, and we’ll soon find out what this is all about.’
‘What if we have a dinner party whilst she’s here? Invite a few likely males?’
‘Good God, no! You haven’t forgotten what Theresa’s turned into, have you?’ It broke his heart to admit it. ‘It’s as though she has a mental illness. She does the strangest things, and the way she dresses . . . Oh dear, it’s all very upsetting.’
‘I know, dear. Maybe we should get her to see someone. A psychiatrist?’
‘She wouldn’t agree. But you are right, she does need to. Sometimes it is as if she isn’t with it. God knows what the poor darling went through in that concentration camp . . . Oh, don’t let’s talk about it.’
Louise’s arm came round him. ‘Look, darling, how about an early lunch? It’s a lovely day. I can get Millie to se
t it up in the garden for us. What do you think? You look all in.’
A sudden urge came to Terence to block out all the bad things his memory held – his exploits with the Land Girls, his betrayal of Rita, the destruction and theft of Fellam’s business and, most of all, his incest with and his worries concerning his beloved sister. Louise could help him do that. He could lose himself in all she had to give. He hugged her to him, trying to cement this thought to block out all the others. ‘I have a better idea, darling.’ He kissed the top of her hair. ‘And I’ll take the afternoon off, if you’re free?’
‘Oh? Well, in that case, I’ll have Millie pack a picnic up for us and we’ll ride over to the family field. We haven’t been there for ages. Something in me wants to do that, darling.’
The thought of a peaceful afternoon in the haven that had always been kept as a special place for family only – a field about a mile from the house, fully enclosed with high hedges and its own summerhouse, and out of bounds to anyone other than those instructed to take food or whatever the family wanted there – really appealed. ‘Me, too. Excellent. I’ll instruct Gary to saddle our mounts whilst we change. Though I think we’d better do that separately or we’ll never make it over to the summerhouse!’
She giggled at this: a pretty sound, and one that clutched at him and made him wish no one had gone before her. She was the only pure thing in his life – well, her and his wonderful son, soon to go to university, and his adorable twin daughters, away at school but due home for the holidays any day now. He couldn’t wait. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to destroy it all.
‘Darling, why don’t we have a party to celebrate Simon finishing school with such brilliant results and securing a place at Oxford? I don’t mean at home – too much organizing, with the limited staff we have – but at that hotel just outside Leeds. We could coincide it with Theresa’s visit.’
Terence had been almost asleep as he sat in his deckchair, relaxing. He looked down at Louise lying on the grass at his feet. ‘A good idea. Yes, I like it. I’m very proud of our son. What about a shooting party the next day, for him and his friends? Give us a chance to look over some prospects for the girls?’
‘Terence! Don’t be so old-fashioned. If you think for one moment the girls will allow you to pick them a husband, then you have another think coming.’
He laughed at this. Louise giggled. A moment in the life of doting parents, he thought. Still, he’d like to have been an old-fashioned parent – one of those who ruled the household and had the last say on who could ask for the hand of his lovely daughters. He sighed. ‘Another glass of wine, dear?’
‘Mmm? No, thanks. You are funny sometimes, Terence. And you know something? I do love you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘You often say it like that, and it always worries me.’
‘Worries you? How? Why?’ Louise eased herself onto her elbow and squinted against the sun as she looked at him.
Terence was sorry now he’d said anything, as he didn’t know how to explain. ‘Well, it sounds as though you didn’t expect to.’
‘Actually, I didn’t. I mean, I did love you from the start, but your actions – well, I had an idea of what you were up to and with whom. I went crying home to my mother once. She sent me back, telling me I was being stupid, and the more wild oats you sowed before you settled down, the better it would fare for me. She said the time for me to put my foot down was when you made a formal proposal. But I never had any need to do that, as she was right. You seemed to have got it all out of your system, and I never suspected anything else from the moment you asked me to marry you.’
‘Good God! You’ve never told me all of this before.’
‘You’ve never questioned me before about how I express my feelings.’
‘No. I’ve always been afraid to.’
‘You’ve not really doubted me, have you, Terence, darling?’ Louise sat up properly now, and frowned at him.
‘A bit. Well, I don’t know. I never felt I deserved love. Not anybody’s. My father—’
‘I know. But he did love you. He just didn’t understand you. You were so different from him in every way.’
‘Yes, I’m sure he loved me, but he never made me feel that I ever matched up to what he expected. You know, if I hadn’t had Theresa’s love . . . I mean, Mother didn’t seem to feel anything for anybody. I sometimes think Theresa filled a gap in me – an emotional gap. Though all that has reversed now. Mater is so different and is a joy to be around. I wish Theresa could experience that; it would be so good to be a family again.’
‘You were very close to Theresa, weren’t you?’
This seemed to be getting onto dangerous ground. The afternoon had been lovely. They’d picnicked, then made love, and now the feeling of relaxation and the aftermath of pleasure were being eroded. He sipped his wine, hoping to avoid giving an answer. He hadn’t expected his innocent question about the depth of Louise’s love to lead any further.
‘Terence?’
‘Oh, well, yes, we were. Twins, you know. Look at our two. Jacqueline and Josephine hate to be without each other, and they always seem to have a secret going on between them. In fact they are worse than we were. Both being girls, they can share everything.’
‘But it didn’t stop you. You and Theresa sometimes behaved more like lovers than—’
‘For heaven’s sake, Louise! What are you saying?’
‘I – I didn’t mean you were.’
Her shocked expression gave him the feeling that something was dawning on her. He’d protested too strongly. He laughed, but the laugh came out sounding nervous and false.
‘I know. It’s a sensitive subject. That awful Rita accused us of that at the trial, and it hurt. It hurt very much, and I think it contributed to Theresa never wanting to come back home. There’s always those who will take the “no smoke without fire” attitude. She couldn’t face it all.’ How silkily the lies slide off my tongue.
‘Oh, I’m sorry – I’d forgotten. Mine was just a silly observation: a way of describing the rapport you had between you, nothing more.’ Louise rose and came and sat on his knee. ‘I’ll share your glass with you.’ As she took it and sipped from it, the sun reflected off the base, sending a rainbow of colours over her soft skin.
He leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck, murmuring, ‘Should one kiss a rainbow?’
‘What rainbow? Oh, never mind – if it is where you are kissing, yes. Yes, please.’
Suddenly they clung together as if to ward off something evil. Terence could feel Louise’s anxiety in her clasp. It matched his own. He suspected she couldn’t put a name to what worried her, just as he couldn’t. It simply seemed there was something in the near future that could hurt them. It was a silly notion, but it lurked like a child’s fear of the dark.
44
Rita & Theresa
A Bittersweet Reunion
The curtain quivered in Theresa’s hand as she eased it back, just enough to see the street. Yes, I’m certain it is her! What does she want? When did she get out of prison? Why does she keep coming and sitting outside? It was like some kind of slow torture.
The interruption to her normal routine was too much to take. She needed Terence. Oh God, she hoped they’d received her letter and would ring. She should have rung them, but fear had stopped her – fear that if Terence answered she’d not be able to cope, and nor would he. This way he’d get Louise to ring her.
Theresa looked over towards her desk. Her book lay open. Her pen, dropped in anguish when she heard the car pull up outside, balanced on the edge of the unfinished page, taunting her with the words she hadn’t yet written – words that tumbled her memories out of her, opening up raw, painful wounds and making her eyes bulge with the swell of tears.
At times she wasn’t sure whether writing it all down was helping, but at other times she felt a compulsion to do so. Oh, Pierre, what happened to you? And where is our son?
A sob caught in her thro
at.
She had to stop this. Nothing could be gained by it. Pierre’s family had taken their child, born secretly two weeks before their capture – where to, she did not know, and she had found it impossible to find out. So many displaced persons. So many documents destroyed, particularly those of anyone with a connection to the Jews. Pierre was of Jewish descent. His sole reason for fighting in the Resistance was to avenge his people.
Oh God, Rita’s getting out of the car! The sound of the knocker sent a tremble through her. Go away!
It rattled again. The letter box lifted, allowing Rita’s voice to penetrate inside the house. ‘I know you’re in there, love. Open the bleedin’ door, won’t yer?’
Unable to move, Theresa’s blood felt icicled by the fear that held her. She waited, praying Rita would go away.
‘I’ve come because I still love you, Theresa. I want us to get together again. You want that, don’t you?’
Do I? Something inside warmed her at Rita’s words. A tiny spot deep down where all had dried in a cold finality, never to be touched, never to be thought of again, flickered a sensation through her.
‘You know you loved me, girl. Me and you were good together. We can be again. No one need know. I want you, Theresa. I want you in me arms, where you should be.’
Without her bidding it to, Theresa’s body moved. The trembling in her limbs weakened her. She wanted to be sick, but something compelled her forward.
In one movement the door opened and she was in the warm, loving arms of Rita. Her frail bones pushed back against the banister that curved into the hall, her face and lips receiving kisses. It felt good. So good.
‘Come on, love. Let’s go up to your room. We can talk after. I’ve gotta have you. Oh, Theresa, me lovely.’