Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

  Twenty-five

  Jacques – A Shocking Revelation Back in England

  Jacques had a silly excitement nudge the part of him that held all his sadness as he put the telephone down. He was settled in his mind that everything back home was okay and still feeling pleased with the legacies his grandfather had left for Verkona and for Gustov – enough to keep them in comfort for the rest of their days, a fitting tribute to them both, and a kind of compensation for all they had suffered.

  Though he’d had it in his mind to do something by way of a gift if his grandfather hadn’t managed to do it, it felt so much better that it had come directly from him. His grandfather’s wording had been touching, saying how guilty he’d felt at not having tried to find out if anyone he’d known was still living and if they were okay, but he hoped they understood the reasons that had held him back from doing so.

  Verkona had not wanted to take it at first, but he had seen that change when he’d insisted they go on a shopping trip. She’d soon got into shopping, which most of the women he knew took for granted, and had shopped to her heart’s content, buying a whole wardrobe of new clothes for herself and for Gustov. It had been touching to watch her glee as she’d tried different outfits on, just as it had been to see how her manner with Gustov had settled into that of a mother figure. Motherhood was something she had missed out on in life, and Gustov hadn’t had a mother since he was a young man before the war. By the time he’d left, they had settled into the American way of life, and even though both were still unsure what they wanted to do, his solicitor was looking into getting them permanent residence – just in case.

  And now, with all of that leaving him with a warm feeling, his grandmama had just told him she’d opened Tarrington House and wanted him to go there to be with her for this second visit! He couldn’t understand why it made him feel like it did: as if he’d been given the best gift ever. Maybe it was that her asking him there meant he was really accepted, though he had to allow himself a wry smile as he realized his grandmother was still hiding him away in a sense – well, she hadn’t asked him to York, which would put him where her friends would see him. And she hadn’t yet put anything into motion about introducing him to the rest of the family. Still, it would all take time. She’d already done very well.

  As he understood it from her description of Breckton, it was a small mining town. She’d told him that her sister, his great aunt, had owned the mine and most of the town, but they’d had to sell it all on her death to pay death duties and a large legacy she’d made to a local man. Something to do with the scandal she’d touched on of this aunt having an affair.

  They had still run a sizeable farm and had reared race horses – at least his uncle Terence had, at . . . what was the place called? Something Grange? Oh, he couldn’t remember. Anyway, that was gone too, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be people around Breckton who would still know her. Her household staff, for instance. She’d said she’d retained them, and people who’d lived there for a long time. These thoughts warmed him as they showed a willingness on his grandmother’s behalf for some folk to know of him. Yes, it was a definite step in the right direction.

  But what about his mother? He made his mind up that on this visit he would really press for access to her. It was his right. And now, more than ever, he needed to be with her.

  The train journey had taken him through many places. Most of them had blurred into one another, as he’d nodded off every now and again after eating a large breakfast in the buffet car. Travelling on a night flight from America to London and then catching the train to Leeds, without stopping for a rest, had taken it out of him.

  Now he was thankful that he’d arrived in Leeds and was getting into his grandmother’s Rolls-Royce – a beautiful, sleek grey-and-black number that must have been twenty years old but still gave off an air of grandeur. The deep leather seats seemed to hug him, which was just what he needed after the hell of the last leg of his journey. The railway carriage had been full throughout, and the seats hadn’t been the most comfortable. Not being a smoker, he’d not enjoyed breathing in his travelling companions’ second-hand smoke either, but opening the window had prompted an aggravated ‘tut’ from an elderly lady, so he’d closed it pretty quickly.

  What he’d seen of England so far gave him an impression of everything being cramped together, but this changed as they left the outskirts of Leeds. Mile after mile of stunning scenery greeted him. Hills – some rugged, some sloping and some almost mountains as they reached majestic heights – were a backdrop to a patchwork quilt of farmland, broken only by quaint villages with their stone cottages and old churches. This is real England, he thought, and relaxed back to enjoy it.

  It didn’t seem long before the wheels of the car crunched on the pebbles of the drive up to the house, and as they emerged from the trees lining the drive and Tarrington House came into view, he didn’t agree with his grandmother’s description of it not being big! Even by American standards it was big, and back home in his own area there were some large colonial houses, their own included.

  As soon as they pulled up in front of the steps leading up to the solid-looking oak door, it opened and the man who had been in attendance on his grandmother in the Ritz hotel came out and hurried down to open the car door for him. ‘Nice to see you again, sir.’

  ‘And you, Mr Davidson.’ He wondered if the old chap knew who he really was, or if any of the staff did. He hoped so, as it could be awkward for both him and them. These speculations left him when shown into the lovely room off the grand hall and his grandmother opened her arms to him. ‘Darling, it is good to see you!’ Her face lit up and, he thought, looked younger, which brought home to him what a strain he must have put her under when he’d first turned up with his shocking claims. Her silver hair, styled in a softer sweep into a bun in the nape of her neck, suited her, and her frailty had gone. Now she appeared a strong, relaxed lady, and this gladdened him. As he came out of her hug, he saw her look of concern for him and braced himself for her condolences.

  ‘Sit down, darling. I’m so sorry about your grandfather. He sounded a lovely man and I had visions of one day meeting him.’

  ‘You would have loved him, Grandmama, and he you. Oh, excuse me, sorry.’ He’d thought he had himself together, but the tears that had threatened at the sight of her spilled over.

  ‘Don’t be, darling. I understand. And it is measure of how you look on me, as you should, as your grandmother, someone you can turn to. It is amazing how close to you I feel after such a short time. Look, this will cheer you up. I have some real coffee for you!’ Her joy at this and how she thought it would cure all made him laugh.

  ‘Is that what you think of us Americans? That coffee is the most important thing to us and will lift us, no matter what? Well, you obviously haven’t heard, then, that most of the young prefer Coke!’

  ‘Coke?’

  Her look of astonishment had him laughing out loud. ‘Not the stuff you have to sniff, Grandmama, the drink! Coca-Cola. Ice-cold and refreshing, though I think it does have some real cocaine in it.’

  ‘Oh, well, we haven’t got any. Sorry, darling.’

  ‘I’m only kidding. Coffee is very welcome, and especially this. It’s delicious.’ He felt sorry he’d made the joke now, as she’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble for him.

  ‘One of my maids is from South America, and she told me you make your coffee from real coffee beans. I had some delivered from Selfridges of London. I have even tried it myself and enjoyed it, though I didn’t have it as strong as you have it.’

  After a few minutes of this chit-chat, she began to relax, and he felt able to ask her a few questions. ‘Grandmama, have you made progress with my mother? I want to see her before I go to France. It seems important that I do, and especially now. Besides, I want her to know that I am going. She may need me to do something for her, but . . . well, mostly I just can’t wait any longer to meet her, to tell the truth.’

  ‘Yes
, I have, dear, and I am glad that you are continuing with your plans. They will help you to cope. And yes, it is good news where your mother is concerned. You can go to visit her . . .’

  Listening to how his mother had been moved to a convalescent home and the progress she had made warmed him and soothed some of the hurt inside him. ‘Gee, that’s great. I wish I’d known. I would have spent a couple of days in London and gone to see her then.’

  ‘I didn’t want that, Jacques. I wanted us to go together.’

  ‘Have things progressed that far? Tell me what’s been happening! This is wonderful news!’

  He listened to her telling him how the psychiatrist had been working with his mother and how his mother had opened up to the point where she was talking through her life. She was beginning to accept reality.

  ‘She has done remarkably well in such a short space of time. The key seemed to be getting through to her that I know about you and am not ashamed of her.’ Throughout her telling him this, his grandmother had held a pretty lace handkerchief, and now she dabbed her eyes with it. He felt his own eyes fill with tears at the sight, and crossed over between the opposite sofas they were sitting on and knelt by her, taking her hand. ‘That must be wonderful for you to hear, Grandmama. I am so pleased. So, when can we go?’

  ‘The psychiatrist wants us to wait a couple more days. Theresa is responding well, and talking in a coherent manner. She . . . she has even spoken of her family – us . . . me, I mean. Well, all of us. Her father, Terence, and . . . you and . . . well, there is something else. In order to help Theresa’s recovery her doctor felt she should tell me about it. It is allowed apparently in those circumstances for a confidence to be broken. In this case the doctor felt that if I heard of it for the first time from Theresa, it might be too much of a shock. One that might make me cause a regression in Theresa if I reacted badly.’

  ‘What is it, Grandmama?’

  Her hand trembled in his. He waited.

  ‘You have a sister.’

  ‘What? Good God! A sister? Grandfather said nothing about another child.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have known. The shock was tremendous to me. It has taken me days to come to terms with it. The deceit . . . Oh, I don’t mean Theresa. Well, not just her, but Terence, and my Charles.’

  ‘You mean they all knew?’

  ‘Yes, it seems it happened just as the war began. She went away. I knew nothing of it. I thought she was doing war work. Oh, dear . . .’

  His concern for this woman who’d come to mean so much to him put his need to know more on hold for a moment. ‘Don’t fret yourself, Grandmama. You’ll be ill. Tell me later. I can wait.’ His words belied the truth. He wanted to know now. A sister? Just how incredible could his family’s life be? A sister!

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. All she’d gained in strength since the first time he’d seen her ebbed away from her. It seemed the knowing of it all hadn’t been as bad as the telling of it as she said, ‘Later or now, none of it is going to be less painful. She . . . it seems she had an affair with a local. A man who . . .’

  As the story unravelled, his own shock deepened. What kind of person is my mother?

  With her frailty back, his grandmother now looked years older than when he’d arrived as she told him, ‘And, darling, if that wasn’t enough, she wrote it all down. In the years since, she has written her memoirs and . . . and they are missing. They were in her bag – the one that was stolen. Oh God! The whole story could end up in one of those awful Sunday papers!’

  It seemed this was more painful for her to take than all the deception and the loss of her grandchild. Sobs shook her body and she asked, ‘What can we do? Dear God, what can we do?’

  ‘Grandmama, don’t. It will be okay. We’ll go to a lawyer. We’ll put an injunction on all the newspapers against the publication of any material to do with my mother.’

  ‘This isn’t America, dear. Whoever has the book may already have sold it to the News of the World. They only have to do a few checks as to its authenticity and they will go to press with it. It is a scandal and involves a family that is in the public eye, or used to be, and a war heroine. It will be considered as right that it is published. But, worse than that, what about the child – well, adult now, as she would be a couple of years older than you. She, like you, has been lost to me. If they had confided in me, I would have made sure she stayed with us. We could have found some story to cover up her true identity, though at that time she could have been passed off as the daughter of Theresa’s ex-husband . . . Oh, you don’t know about that.’

  ‘I do, Grandmama.’ As he told her how he’d researched the family and had read of his mother’s very short marriage, he was relieved to feel his earlier thought of her only caring about the scandal dissipate.

  ‘Oh, that’s good, dear, as like me you have had enough shocks where your mother is concerned.’

  ‘Well, I think we should both prepare ourselves for more. I think she is already showing she had a character you knew nothing about, and you are her own mother! Something bad must have happened to hurt Uncle Terence’s wife, and I don’t think it can be anything that we know already.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been thinking about that. I can’t ask Louise, as it may be too painful for her. Perhaps Theresa knew something about Terence. She may even have the answer to what made him—’

  ‘Don’t think about it now. Yes, you have to accept that something more may be revealed, but none of this is your fault and you don’t deserve this hurt.’

  ‘Maybe it is my fault. I was very self-centred when they were younger. I left Theresa and Terence to their own devices. They were difficult to do anything else with. They were totally reliant on one another, and I accepted that. Twins are often like that to the exclusion of others, and they certainly were. I was too wrapped up in my grief for my sister and my insecurities where my husband was concerned to do anything about it. Silly, now I look back, but it was the done thing for husbands to have affairs. It was all around me, and I couldn’t believe that Charles wouldn’t do that to me. I became so that he had to give me his whole attention just to keep me happy. Those poor children! Even they had to tend to my every need, as I was considered frail. I deprived them of their father. I couldn’t even share him with them. Oh, Jacques, I’ve been wicked . . . wicked.’

  ‘Grandmama, no! Don’t do this to yourself.’

  Her sobs were once more racking her body. He held her close, his confusion giving him more than he could cope with. He’d put this woman on a pedestal, and now she had fallen off, leaving him unsure of his judgement. But none of it mattered, did it? Surely all that mattered was the future and that they were all going to be united. One thing he did know: he would try to find his sister. That might prove impossible if she was adopted, but he wouldn’t give up trying. And what of her other family? They lived here in this very town, and they probably knew nothing about any of it!

  Gradually, his grandmother became calm. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have told you all of that. You will be sorry you ever found me.’

  ‘Never, Grandmama. My grandfather had a saying: “Take as you find, son, but be prepared for what you think you have found turning out to be different than you thought.” I did come over with this rosy picture of finding my wonderful family, and they would all be perfect and really happy to see me, and all the past would be forgotten, but somehow that would have been all false. Real people have failings and a past that has shaped them, and that’s what you and Mother are: real people. But that doesn’t make me love you less.’

  ‘You have a lot of your grandfather on this side in you, darling. My Charles would have said something just like that in this situation. And at this moment I am very happy you are like him, as it means you won’t run for the door.’

  ‘That won’t happen, I promise you. Now I have found you I am not going to lose you.’

  She smiled at this and straightened her body, and all her dignity came back into her with the acti
on. ‘They say confession is good for the soul. Well, it is, but it gives you a thirst. Be a dear and pour me another cup of tea, darling. I really need one.’

  It was with relief that he went to do the honours. As he picked up the milk, she said, ‘Oh, you Americans! Tea first, dear. Tea first!’

  She was back to her old self. ‘That’s more like it. I love it when you chastise me. Whether you’ll succeed in Britainizing me, though, is another matter. Ha! You have some funny ways, you Brits.’

  ‘Britainizing you! There’s no such word!’ She hit out at him in a playful way and giggled as she did so. It was a girlish sound that surprised him and made him wonder what she had been like when she was younger. A beauty, without doubt, but maybe a little bit of a tease. Definitely a woman who always got her own way with men, as she had him wrapped around her little finger. And even now that he knew she may have contributed to his mother’s downfall with her self-centredness at a time when she should have been giving all her attention to her children, she was wrapped around his heart. If he’d had to pick his grandmother from a thousand women, he’d have chosen her.

  They were both giggling now as he said to her, ‘Here, ma’am, and I hope it’s to your liking. If not, I’ll see you outside and We’ll do the ten-pace shoot-out.’

  This had her putting her head back and laughing just as loudly as he had done. When she drew breath, she dabbed her eyes again, but this time it was in merriment. The time of shocking revelations and painful insights had lifted.

  After taking a sip of her tea, she said, ‘Enough of this fooling now. This is all a very serious matter and we have a lot to face, as has your mother.’

  ‘Well, then, we will face it together. Poor Mother. She seems to have gone through hell. Even if a lot of it was of her own making, it has all brought her to a place where she can’t cope alone. But We’ll make that right, Grandmama. Somehow, We’ll put Mother together again and help her to enjoy life once more.’

  ‘I hope so, dear. And I think you are just the person to do that.’