Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

  ‘Oh, Ian . . . I – I’ve not always been kind to you, have I? But then the old Ian drove me mad! I think I like this new Ian.’

  ‘Only “like”?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Her smile gave him hope and warmed him through, as had their little talk. It had erased his worries and he now saw that she could get better. He no longer thought, like he had feared, that there was anything wrong with her that couldn’t respond to the proper care and help. His heart swelled as she continued to cling on to his hand.

  Twenty-seven

  Jacques – A Chance Meeting

  Breckton 1963

  What he’d seen so far of Breckton, Jacques liked. Even the row of old miner’s cottages had a charm about them, and he loved the leafy lane that he now walked down that led to Hensal Grange. It all had a feel of what he’d imagined England would be like, and to think of his ancestors walking or riding their horses up and down this lane gave him a sense of nostalgia.

  As he came up to two cottages on the right of the lane, a guy of about his own age came out of one of the gates. He was dressed in riding clothes and he doffed his cap in acknowledgement.

  Jacques smiled to himself at this very British custom. ‘Hello, I’m a visitor here.’ Why had he said that, when it was obvious he was? He felt foolish now, but pressed on. ‘I’m just on my way to look at the house at the bottom of the lane. My ancestors used to own it.’

  ‘Well, you’ll not find anyone in. The folk as own it now don’t live in it. They come now and again to have a sort of holiday. They go shooting and fishing and horse-riding. I work there, like me granddad and me dad before me. I keep the garden done reet and see to the horses, exercise them and that. I could let you have a look round, if you like. Not the house, though you’d do no harm looking through the windows.’

  ‘Great, I’d like that. Thanks. Jacques Rueben.’ He held out his hand as he said this. The guy took it saying, ‘Ardbuckle. Benjamin Ardbuckle. What ancestors did you have live here, then? I reckon as Breckton is a long way from where you’re from.’

  ‘My grandmother and before her my great-aunt Laura, and before her, her husband’s father.’

  ‘You’re talking about the Cromptons and the Harveys, I reckon. How come you being an American are related to them? Not that I knew them much, as they left when me dad worked there after . . . Well, there was an incident.’

  ‘Yes, I know about that. Tragic. I’m . . .’ He was about to say he was a grandson of Lady Daphne’s, but they had reached the church. The building took his breath away, but not as much as the girl did. She was with a woman who he thought might be her mother. The woman was bending over a grave putting flowers in a vase. The girl’s waiflike appearance gave him a sense of looking at someone not from this world. Her hair, fair and long, wisped out from around her face. The flowers she held added to her beauty, enhancing her fragility.

  ‘Is she owt to do with you, as she’s the second stranger round here today, and that don’t happen often. Having one in our midst is a rare thing.’

  ‘No, I don’t know her.’

  ‘I know the woman with her. That’s Sarah Chesterton, as is now. The doctor’s wife. Used to be Armitage before that, and Fellam before that. Not that that tells her story. She’s had a rough time in the past and has a few to visit in the churchyard. The girl’s a pretty thing. Pity about her being in a wheelchair.’

  Somehow he hadn’t registered the wheelchair, but the name Armitage struck a chord.

  ‘Well, man, I can’t stand here watching pretty girls, even if me boss ain’t in residence. I haven’t to be late back from having me breakfast. Them horses need their run out.’

  It felt funny to be called ‘man’ by someone who was the same age. ‘Oh, yes, sorry, I’ll come with you.’ As he said this the girl looked up and smiled. He smiled back. Her expression changed to one of . . . shock or surprise, he couldn’t tell, but he had the feeling that for a moment she thought she recognized him.

  He wanted to go over to her and . . . well, he didn’t know what the ‘and’ was, but he did know something strange was happening to him. He waved and the girl waved back. Benjamin sighed. There was an amusement in his voice as he called out, ‘Mornin’, Mrs Chesterton. It looks like it’s going to be a grand day. You got visitors?’

  At this the woman stood up and looked at the girl and they both laughed. Benjamin just smiled and walked on, not at all offended by what looked to Jacques as if they were laughing at Benjamin.

  ‘By, she smacked you where it’s nice to be smacked, didn’t she? Well, I know what that feels like. My girl did that to me the first time I looked at her. We’re going to be wed this year. Eeh, I can’t wait! “Nothing till the wedding night, Benjy,” she says. It’s a long wait, man.’

  ‘Didn’t you mind them laughing at you? I thought it was a bit rude of them.’

  ‘Naw, it’s a standing joke round here, and one Mrs Chesterton must have told the girl. Every stranger seen in these parts becomes the subject of gossip and curiosity. You’ll be one yourself. it’ll be round afore we get to the grange that there’s a new man in town. And with a new girl here as well, they’ll have a field day. Brighten up their lives, it will, all the speculation!’

  This made Jacques feel uncomfortable, but his grandmother must have known that would happen, surely? Maybe she thought it better over with, and that the sooner the people here got used to him being in existence the better. Though that didn’t seem right, seeing as his presence could open up old wounds. Not as many as his sister could, though. God, when she was found it would stir something up! And for that lady they had just met, too – Mrs Chesterton, former Armitage – as she must be the wronged widow. A shudder went through him. He couldn’t have said why.

  By the time he and his new friend had looked around Hensal Grange – a place of beauty but a place whose secrets gave it a sinister air, making him not like it one bit – Benjamin was very behind with his chores. ‘I’d be glad to give you a hand, Benjamin. I’m a dab hand with horses. We don’t keep them at home, but I have a friend who does and spent a lot of my childhood around them and helping with them.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’d be glad of it. There’s them around here that would report me being late with me work soon as look at me if they get the chance, and I don’t want any question over whether I slack when the boss isn’t around, but in them clothes?’

  ‘Oh, these denims are my mucking-around gear. Don’t worry about them.’

  ‘Mucking around? Eeh, I’d love a pair of them for the barn dance, but can’t run to them. You Yanks have alius had more than us lot. In the war we used to say of you, “overpaid and over here”. They still do where you’ve got your military bases here.’

  ‘Ha, yes, I’ve heard that. And I’ve heard as your men didn’t like how our lot took all of your women!’

  They both laughed at this. He liked this fellow. He was a good sort. ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but you and me are about the same size and I have a pair of wranglers that I haven’t worn yet. I’d like to give them to you, as a sort of thank you for the welcome you’ve shown me.’

  ‘Eeh, man. I’d not take that the wrong way! I’d be glad of them. By, I’d strut me stuff at the next dance. Me girl had better watch out for me an’ all. Ha, ta very much.’

  A warm feeling entered Jacques at this. He put his back into helping Benjamin with saddling the horse he was going to ride and reining the other one to it. They talked on during the process. Benjamin’s questions weren’t what you could call digging for information, just general and like-for-like, but he had given Jacques most of his life history by the time they parted, and Jacques knew a lot about his own family history in exchange. None of it he liked.

  It appeared that Benjamin’s grandfather, Gary Ardbuckle, had worked for Jacques’s great-aunt Laura. Gary Ardbuckle hadn’t liked her and had seen the tricks she got up to to ‘snare’ (as Benjamin’s grandfather had put it) the unassuming but very nice Jack Fellam. The
rest of the story was horrific, with the only saving grace being that his great-aunt left a legacy to Jack, and he was now doing very well with his own farm. The stories went on, and some of what he heard was hard to take in. His own mother, who he hadn’t identified to Benjamin, ‘frolicking’ as he put it with a Land Girl, and rumoured . . . God, he couldn’t think of it! He felt physically sick! He managed not to show this, but the information gave him a possible reason for his uncle’s suicide. His uncle must have come to a point where he couldn’t put it behind him any longer, as according to Benjamin he was very much in love with his wife and loved his family, and had settled down to an idyllic family life working hard on his stud farm – the farm he’d procured from the unfortunate Jack Fellam, by all accounts. None of this endeared Jacques to his late uncle. And it was unforgivable what he’d done to his mother if the rumours were true. But it did give a reason behind the mystery. Thank God his grandmother didn’t know of this! And judging by the blow it was to himself, he hoped she never did. No, whatever happened over the coming weeks, he would do his best to protect her from it. For the umpteenth time he asked himself, What kind of a woman IS my mother?

  This thought mellowed as Benjamin carried on speaking with what Jacques could only describe as pride about his mother’s war efforts. ‘The town is reet proud to have her as one of us. There’s one of the new streets named after her, on that posh estate on the perimeter of the town. Eeh, man, you don’t look well. I haven’t said owt . . . Eeh, me dad alius says as I let me tongue rule me brain. I’m sorry, man. I forgot these are your relatives.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t make a difference, don’t worry. I wouldn’t like to hear of things going on like that no matter who the people were. I’m a bit of a softie. One of my tutors always said I’d end up being a do-gooder and waste all of my education if I wasn’t careful.’

  Benjamin laughed at this and the moment passed. But even though hearing of the street named after his mother pleased him, he couldn’t get the thought of her and her own brother out of his head! Still, Benjamin had said it was just rumour, so more than likely there was no truth in it. Benjamin broke into his thoughts.

  ‘Look, I’ve enjoyed your company, and I’m glad I haven’t said owt out of turn, but I have to get going now.’ He mounted the saddled horse and looking down from his elevated position said, ‘Why don’t you come at the same time tomorrow? There’s some riding gear here. I’ll contact me boss. He’s a good sort, so I’m sure he won’t mind you riding one of the horse to exercise them, ’specially when I tell him about you being related to them as used to live in the Grange.’

  ‘Gee, that would be great! Thanks, I will, and I’ll look forward to it. See you then. And don’t worry about telling me about my family. It’s fine. I asked the questions. My grandfather had a wise head on him, and he had many sayings. One was, “If you don’t want to hear the truth, don’t ask.” So, going by that, if anything upset me it is my fault for asking, not yours for telling.’

  Benjamin’s laugh rang out as he rode off.

  Back at Tarrington House, he felt disappointed that the girl had gone by the time he walked back down the lane, as he’d made his mind up to talk to her. Now he’d have to find out where she lived and call on her, which would be a little embarrassing, to say the least.

  His grandmother was pleased that he’d been to the Grange, ‘Oh, how lovely, and did you like it? I was very happy there until Charles died. I moved out then, leaving it to Terence and his growing family, and came to live here. I always loved it, right from when Laura first took me there for a garden party with her then-boyfriend Jeremy. He was a really nice man. It was so sad when he was killed in the First World War. Poor Laura, her only child had died at his birth only two years before. She was very lonely after that. It was her loneliness that caused the scandal I told you of.’

  She had said there had been a scandal, but hadn’t told him what. Well, he knew now and he didn’t think being lonely was enough of a reason to seduce another woman’s husband. Nor, when thwarted, to take actions that would cause such devastation to innocent lives. He didn’t say so. He just told her about the street named after his mother, which thrilled her, ‘Oh, We’ll have to drive down Theresa Street. That has a lovely ring to it, doesn’t it? Theresa Street. What a lovely, fitting tribute. I’m so glad that what she did in the war hasn’t gone unmarked. Oh, I know she was awarded a medal, and I’m very proud of that, but to have something here where she always loved being . . . that is very special. I wonder if she knows?’

  ‘Maybe. Wouldn’t they have to get her permission? Anyway, Grandmama, I was wondering if you knew where the Chestertons live?’

  ‘Chestertons? Oh, yes, that was the name of the young doctor who came to live and practice here. He was stepbrother to . . . Megan Armitage – oh, I mean Fellam.’ She paused and looked troubled, no doubt remembering the sorry story he’d just heard, and the connection of his mother to the Armitages. After a couple of seconds she continued in a way that showed her pain at this: ‘It was his marriage to Billy Armitage’s widow that brought him to these parts. I – I told you about her yesterday. I know they did move into Hartington House quite a while before I left here, with their little girl . . . Well, not theirs. Billy Armitage’s child.’ Again she paused, but soon recovered and told him where the house was, finishing with, ‘Oh, dear, such a lot of history and none of it really good. Even Hartington House is tied up with your Great-Aunt Laura’s family.’ She told him of the girl who’d lived there and how she came to marry Laura’s father-in-law.

  ‘Well! Will I have something to tell my friends at home about! I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of one of those Greek tragedies! I certainly wasn’t born into a boring old, stuffy English family. Gee, I feel quite notorious.’

  This made her laugh and he felt glad of that. She’d no need to carry all that had happened on her shoulders as if it was somehow her fault, but he worried about whether it would be a good idea to call on the girl as he’d planned. But then, he didn’t have much choice in that, as his heart compelled him to do so. He’d go later after lunch, but he wouldn’t tell his grandmother. She hadn’t asked him why he wanted to know – probably too wrapped up in her thoughts and memories to even wonder.

  Lizzie sat in the garden after she and Sarah returned home. The sun was warm and Sarah had left the blanket around her that she’d put over her to take her for a walk. The stories Sarah had told of each of those whose graves she’d put flowers on were very sad. But overriding the thought of these were two emotions that vied for prominence in her.

  One of these pressed heavily on her – the worry she’d had about having any independence whilst she was here. Just that one walk had shown her that this town, that seemed stuck back in another age compared to London, had too many pitfalls for her to even attempt to go out on her own. Many roads were still cobbled rather than tarmacked and the lanes held danger of her not being seen by oncoming traffic. Then there were hardly any dropped pavements, and even the pavements themselves were very narrow and often had a couple of wheels of a parked car on, which made it impossible for her to pass by. Even with Sarah’s help it had been difficult. Her chair was heavy for anyone to push, which had had to happen on more than one occasion.

  Then there were the strange emotions she had over seeing the young man. On the way back, Sarah had teased her about how he’d seemed taken with her. ‘Eeh, lass, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.’ She’d laughed with her, saying she didn’t think anything like that could happen to her, but at the same time hadn’t been able to shake this feeling that he’d somehow taken a part of her. Oh, she couldn’t explain it, but it disturbed her. Mostly in a nice way. And then, there was this other thing she couldn’t get out of her head, that she had seen him somewhere before. Especially when he smiled. He had a rakish kind of smile . . . That was it! His smile and the way his dark hair flopped to one side . . . He was so much like Pierre! The image of him, in fact. But how could he be? It must just be a coincid
ence. Or, she’d just forgotten what the pictures looked like. But no, that wasn’t possible; she’d looked at them so often, especially the one of Pierre! This thought made her blush as it came to her how she’d even fantasized over it, imagining that he was her lover and not Theresa’s. The reddening of her deepened as she thought of the sexual feelings she’d had in these moments.

  ‘Are you hot, dear? Oh, I didn’t mean to make you jump!’

  ‘No, I – I’m fine. Oh, thanks.’ Sarah had brought her tea and biscuits on a tray that had little legs so it sat across her knee. ‘I don’t want to be a trouble to yer, Sarah, I will be able to do more when I’m feeling better.’

  ‘Aye, I knows that, love. You don’t have to keep saying it. But, it’s a pleasure to do things for you till then. And it helps me an’ all. Oh, by the way, I rang Richard. He’s going to try to get you a chair that will be more like what you need to get around the house. So that’d be good. We’ll do our best to get everything reet for you, love. We love that you’re here and know you hate having to be waited on.’

  A lump came to her throat at this. She felt so helpless.

  ‘There’s sommat else, an’ all, love. Richard has had some news. Look. Have a sip of your tea . . .’

  ‘What is it, is it bad?’

  ‘No, not bad, but upsetting for you. They think they’ve found your brother’s body . . .’

  Her breath caught in her lungs at this.

  ‘I’m sorry, love. But in a way it’s best. The police told Richard that they are taking your dad to identify him. They think it will be too much for you. Eeh, lass, you’re shaking. Here, drink some tea. I’ve put a bit more sugar in it to help with the shock.’