Wives & Mothers

by Jeanne Whitmee

  ‘I’m not getting any younger,’ she’d argued. ‘For some years now Morgan has been pressing me to join him in London, retire and enjoy myself. I might just take him up on it while I’m still able to enjoy that kind of life. And besides...’ She looked at the tiny lines of strain and weariness round Elaine’s eyes, the streaks of premature grey in her hair. ‘It’s high time you did something you really want to do again. I know Paul isn’t the easiest of patients and you deserve more out of life than you’re getting.’

  Soon after that Josh Grey had moved in to take up residence in the specially converted flat on the second floor at Langmere Lodge. Josh was a young West Indian State Registered nurse who specialised in paraplegic cases. He’d had special training in the field and had worked at Stoke Manderville until he had decided to take up private nursing. Fortunately Paul took to him on sight and right from the first day Josh seemed to be able to get him to cooperate in a way that Elaine never had. It was like having a great weight removed from her shoulders. At last she was able to go back to work full time in the smart new office block close to the town centre that now housed the HEA complex. As well as an office and board room on the first floor of the building, they had their own showroom and shop window at street level, where Elaine’s gowns and other bridal wear could be displayed. There was also a comfortably furnished room where prospective brides and their mothers could view on video some of the weddings HEA had coordinated in the past. They prided themselves on organising down to the smallest detail, any kind of wedding, from the quietest family affair to the most lavish society occasion.

  Every week without fail, however busy she was, Elaine managed somehow to visit Zoe. She was Elaine’s only link with Patrick — the one and only person who fully understood what Elaine had given up to nurse Paul. From Zoe she learned that Patrick was divorced and lived alone. That he had given up the hated job in advertising to take a teaching post at a London school of art where he was now the Principal. His promotion had come only recently and as Zoe gave her the news over coffee in her studio, she remarked wryly that if her son had been completely happy he would probably not be the successful man he was today.

  ‘It’s strange, the way our emotional state can alter the whole course of our life,’ she said reflectively as they sat over their tea...

  ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s good for us to be completely happy. It makes us lazy and complacent.’ She laughed. ‘Look at Tom, for instance, still stuck in the same school he was in twelve years ago, just because he’s so besotted with his wife and kids.’ She shook her head. ‘You should see him with those girls of his. Who would ever have imagined Tom living happily in a Midland suburb with a houseful of kids and a mortgage round his neck? She laughed.

  Six years ago Tom had fallen in love with and married a pretty young gym mistress who taught at the same school, and together they had plunged headlong into domesticity by producing twin daughters within a year of their wedding.

  Red still had his antique shop. Luckily for him the building had just escaped the redevelopment. Zoe insisted that they would both continue to work till — as she put it — they dropped in their tracks. The carefree parties they loved to give had settled into more sedate affairs and puppet plays in the little barn theatre were now a rarity, neither Patrick nor Tom being on hand to help.

  ‘Everything’s changing,’ Zoe said with a sigh. ‘We’re all getting older. Even Cambridge itself has changed, what with all the redevelopment and the new Grafton shopping centre. I hate to see the character of the place fading. I have this nightmare vision of an England where every town looks alike; all concrete and glass and those horrid bricks, the colour of dried blood.’

  ‘That will never happen,’ Elaine said. ‘Not here at least. The colleges will always be here; the river and the backs and the little streets with their cosmopolitan mix of people. And Parker’s Piece and Midsummer Common will never be allowed to turn into housing estates.’

  ‘I sincerely hope you’re right.’ Zoe looked at Elaine with her sudden disconcertingly direct look. ‘What would have happened, I wonder, if Paul hadn’t had his accident?’

  ‘Patrick and I would have been married,’ Elaine said quietly. ‘Perhaps we would have had a family of our own by now.’

  Zoe laid a hand on her arm. ‘He’ll never stop loving you, make no mistake about that. Patrick had never confided his private feelings to me until the day you sent him away. It completely shattered him, you know. Don’t you think that even now you could...?’

  ‘No.’ Elaine drew her arm away. ‘It’s too late. We had our chance. I would have died for Patrick once, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want me then and I married Paul. Now my duty lies with him. I can’t walk out on him and leave him helpless.’ She looked appealingly at Zoe. ‘Well can I?’

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’ Zoe shook her head. ‘Sometimes I think that you’re punishing yourself for something — punishing Patrick too. Don’t you think you’ve both paid enough penance? I’m sure that Paul wouldn’t blame you for keeping in touch with Patrick. Even if you can’t marry you could see each other; at least give each other a little comfort. What’s to stop you?’

  Elaine stood up, her cheeks pink. ‘It’s time I was going,’ she said, pulling on her coat.

  ‘Time you were ducking out, you mean.’

  Elaine looked thoughtfully at Zoe for a moment, then she sat down again. ‘Oh, Zoe. Look, I’ll try to explain how I feel,’ she said. ‘I should never have married Paul. I didn’t make him happy. We never really got along. Now is my chance to make it up to him. Caring for him is the least I can do to pay for the way I deceived him.’

  ‘Deceived him?’ Zoe’s sharp eyes pierced hers.

  ‘Into thinking I loved him,’ Elaine said quietly. ‘Because I never have.’ She got to her feet. Once again she’d almost said too much. Zoe was so perceptive. ‘I must go,’ she said abruptly.

  Zoe reached out to grasp Elaine’s arm. ‘Listen, don’t you feel you owe Patrick something too? After all, he loves you. Paul just despises you. You’ve told me that often enough.’

  Slowly Elaine sank down in her chair again. ‘If you only knew what it cost me to say goodbye to him. When we were together in Switzerland I somehow knew it was all too good to be true. And I was right. I couldn’t offer him anything, Zoe. It wouldn’t be fair. It’s better that he forgets all about me.’

  ‘You know he’ll never forget. A few days together now and again would be better than nothing. Look, you could afford to get a housekeeper for Paul now. He had his resident nurse — everything he needs. Which is more than can be said for Patrick, or for you. Are you going to make him pay for the rest of his life for not knowing what he wanted when you were both scarcely more than kids?’ She paused to peer into Elaine’s eyes. ‘And what about Tricia?’

  Elaine shook her head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What kind of home life does she have? If you’re not careful you’ll lose her, Elaine. Don’t leave it any longer. The world is changing so fast. One day, quite suddenly, it could be too late. You’d never forgive yourself.’ She laid a hand on Elaine’s arm and smiled softly. ‘I want so much to see you both happy before I die.’

  Elaine stood up. She’d never seen Zoe in this mood before and she didn’t know quite how to react. ‘I — I’ll think about it. I promise. Look, I’m sorry, Zoe, but it’s getting late. I really must be going now,’ she said.

  ‘Please remember what I’ve said.’

  ‘I will.’ On a sudden impulse she bent and dropped a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘What on earth for?’ Suddenly the anxiety left Zoe’s face and she laughed. ‘I should have been your mother-in-law if I hadn’t been done out of it. I might as well boss you about a bit.’

  *

  Tricia was beginning to worry. So far the kindly audition pianist who had bought her a burger and let her talk about herself, was the only person she had told about leaving the Guildhall School
of Music. She’d hoped to get a job first and then break the news to her mother. But she’d been applying and auditioning for almost a month now and so far, nothing. Her bank balance was rapidly diminishing. Soon she would have to go home and face the music. She didn’t look forward to that at all. She was poring over the Sits Vac column in the paper the evening that her grandmother rang.

  ‘Hello, darling. How are you?’

  ‘Granny Grace, lovely to hear you. I’m fine. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m coming up to Town for a few days and I wondered if you could put me up?’

  Tricia frowned. ‘Here at the flat?’

  ‘Is it inconvenient?’

  ‘No, I’d love to have you, and as it happens Tracey will be away. But it’s not much like Uncle Morgan’s posh penthouse in Mayfair,’ Tricia said doubtfully. Had it not been for the fact that the tiny mews flat she shared belonged to Tracey’s parents, the girls could never have afforded the rent. As it was they were happy to have the place occupied when they weren’t using it, and only charged a minimal rent.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Grace said. ‘I wouldn’t ask only I particularly want to come tomorrow. Anything will do, darling,’ Grace said into the ensuing pause. ‘A sleeping bag on the floor — anything.’

  Tricia laughed. ‘I think I can manage better than that. With Tracey away we’ll have the place to ourselves.’

  ‘That sounds lovely. I’m coming up on the two o’clock train, so I’ll see you about half-past.’

  ‘I’m playing at the club tomorrow evening, but you can come with me if you like,’ Tricia said mischievously.

  ‘We-ell...’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m only kidding. See you tomorrow.’ Tricia laughed as she replaced the receiver. The thought of Granny Grace in one of her immaculate designer outfits, sitting there in the smoke-filled atmosphere of the Lizard Club, among the wild hairdo’s and way-out clothes, drinking and listening to jazz, was an image to savour. Not that Gran wouldn’t go there if she took it into her head that it might be useful to her. She might be in her fifties but she was still game for any new experience, especially where business was concerned.

  On the following afternoon Tricia was at King’s Cross to meet the two o’clock train. She stood at the barrier waiting as her grandmother walked up the platform. Grace wore a black coat with a wide fur collar high-heeled shoes and sheer black stockings, and Tricia reflected that her Gran still had the sexiest pair of legs she’d ever seen.

  When she saw Tricia waiting, Grace’s eyes lit up. ‘Darling, how sweet of you to meet me. But shouldn’t you be at college?’

  ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.’ Tricia linked her arm through her grandmother’s. ‘We’re going to have such fun this weekend, catching up with all the gossip, but first shall we go and have tea and lashings of squishy cream cakes?’

  They took the Underground to Oxford Circus and had tea at John Lewis’s. Over it Grace reminded her: ‘You were going to tell me something about college.’

  Tricia met her grandmother’s eyes across the tabic. ‘As a matter of fact, Gran, I’ve left the Guildhall.’

  Grace’s face fell. ‘Oh, Tricia. Have you told your mother?'

  ‘No. I was sort of hoping you might help me out with that.’

  ‘I thought you were so happy there.’

  ‘Not really. Look, Gran, I’ve been at a school of some sort or other since before I was eight. That’s eleven years. I've had rules and regulations up to here. I want to be my own woman now live my own life.’

  ‘Yes, but without qualifying...’ Grace looked at her granddaughter. It seemed no time at all since she was starting her first music lessons. Since the child first went away to school, and especially since Paul’s accident, she had tried to do what she could for her. The poor child had had hardly any real home life at all. It was hardly surprising that she wanted to strike out on her own.

  ‘I wish you’d have stopped to talk it over before taking a step like that. You know you can always talk to me if there’s anything worrying you, don’t you darling?’

  ‘Of course I do, Gran. But this was something I felt I had to do for myself. To tell the truth, I thought I’d get a job fairly easily. Then I could have stayed on up here with Tracey in the flat and told Mum when I was settled.’

  ‘But the jobs aren’t as easy to come by as you thought?’

  ‘No. And what I earn at the club doesn’t pay my way. I did manage to get an audition for the New World Youth Orchestra last week, but everything went wrong that morning. I overslept — then there was a strike on the Underground and I arrived late.’

  ‘Too late?’

  ‘I did get to play. But Max Crichton, the conductor, didn’t seem very impressed. I haven’t heard from him anyway.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is, he must be stone deaf if he didn’t snap you up on the spot.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be prejudiced by any chance?’ Tricia laughed. ‘Oh, Gran, it is good to see you.’ Her smile faded. ‘I’ve decided to give it one more week. After that my money will have run out. I can’t afford to stay in London on what I get from the DHSS.’

  ‘Well, if I can help...’

  ‘No,’ Tricia said firmly. ‘I’ll make it on my own some way or other, even if I have to get a job in a shop or something. I don’t want to have to come home and admit defeat.’

  ‘No one would blame you.’

  ‘Dad would. He’s always disapproved of me.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘Oh, yes, it is. Look, Gran...’ Tricia looked up. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I suppose I couldn’t come and stay with you?’ Grace bit her lip. ‘Oh, darling. Normally of course you’d have been welcome. But the truth is, I’ve decided to retire and move up here. Uncle Morgan has always wanted me to come and share his flat and now I’ve made up my mind to accept his offer.’ She smiled. ‘I haven’t said so to your mother, but I want to get out from under her feet — hand over the reins. I don’t think she’ll ever feel free to make her own decisions while I’m around. That’s why I’m here this weekend. I’m going to surprise Morgan.’

  Tricia frowned. ‘You’re opting out of HEA?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I shall keep my seat on the board.

  But I can always travel up for meetings. I shall be putting the house up for sale next week.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Tricia tried hard to keep her smile from slipping. ‘Well, not to worry. I might get the next job I apply for. You never know what’s round the corner, do you?’

  *

  The long black Alison Moyet-style dress that Tricia wore to play with the jazz group at the Lizard caused Grace’s jaw to drop in dismay.

  ‘Why do all the young people one meets nowadays have to make themselves look so dreary?’ she wailed. ‘I see it wherever I look. If it isn’t scruffy denim with holes in the knees, it’s bedraggled weeds one would hesitate to wear to a funeral.’

  Tricia laughed as she pulled on her coat. ‘I thought I looked rather good,’ she said. ‘What do you think I should wear, Gran?’ She held up her hand, her eyes dancing. ‘Don’t tell me — pale pink net with sequins. And if I gave you half a chance you’d have my hair in ringlets too.’

  Grace bridled. ‘Rubbish! I hope I have better taste than that. A black skirt — yes, fine. But with a pretty Laura Ashley blouse or something. You’re only young once, Tricia. Do try to make the most of it.’

  Tricia kissed her grandmother indulgently. ‘Okay, I’ll bear it in mind. But now I’ll have to go or I’ll be late.’

  ‘There’s no hurry, I’ll drop you off,’ Grace said decisively, picking up her own coat. ‘I’ve just rung for a minicab to take me to Morgan’s. I hate the idea of you travelling on the Underground at night, and Soho isn’t too far out of the way.’ She opened her bag. ‘Now, if I give you the fare, will you promise to take a cab home later?’

  ‘Oh, all right, Gran, but I don’t know what you think I do when you’re no
t here.’

  ‘Well, tonight I am here.’

  ‘And I bet you’ll be waiting up for me with cocoa when I get home.’

  Grace laughed. ‘Naturally I will. Isn’t that what grandmothers are for?’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tricia had seen the party arrive at about half-past eleven. There were six of them, three couples. They looked a little out of place in the shabby gloom of the Lizard in their dinner jackets and elegant evening dress, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves for all that. When she had a few bars rest she peered through the smoke-laden atmosphere at them as they sat there at their corner table. Max Crichton looked slightly out of character in a dinner jacket. Apart from when he was conducting at formal concerts, his usual mode of dress was casual to the point of scruffiness. His companion was very attractive, slightly gipsyish-looking woman. Her glossy black hair was caught back with a diamante clip and she wore a garnet-red dress that left her shoulders bare and showed off her flawless olive complexion. Was she his wife, Tricia speculated, or just the latest girlfriend? They certainly looked very close.

  She edged her chair in a bit, hoping Max hadn’t seen her. Then she asked herself if it was really necessary, he probably wouldn’t recognise or even remember her. By the look of relaxed enjoyment on his face, she doubted whether he’d bother to acknowledge her even if he did.

  Ever since she first saw a photograph of Max Crichton in a magazine three years ago, she had wanted to meet him. Since then she had eagerly devoured every article ever written about him; never missed one of his concerts, either live or on TV and avidly watched his every appearance on chat shows and art magazine programmes. Tracey teased her and called her a ‘classical groupie’. But Tricia refused to let her friend’s teasing put her off. To her, Max epitomised music as she herself had always perceived it: exciting and open to a million different interpretations. He had original and innovative ideas that struck a deep chord within her, and he put the individual stamp of his own personality on everything he touched. Max Crichton brought a breath of fresh air to music many young people had previously seen as stuffy and boring. He had even had two of his albums in the charts — something no other classical conductor had achieved.