Her Frozen Heart

by Lulu Taylor

  The pigs, though, were perfectly all right, lying in a mountain of hay well mixed with their ordure, kept warm by virtue of the fact that their sty backed onto the kitchen wall where the boiler was situated. They seemed content to lie there all winter, munching on kitchen scraps and slurping warm water from a bucket.

  Barbara came to her afterwards and asked for a quiet word. They walked together away from the rest of the family, into the hall. ‘I’m sorry, we’re going to be such a burden on you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Tommy said assuredly. ‘It will be perfectly fine. We’ll be all right, and I’ll get to the village tomorrow for more milk.’

  ‘Yes, but I know very well that our ration books are useless for a week or two. And our entitlement for these weeks will have run out by then. So you’re stretching all you have for two more mouths.’

  ‘We’re good at stretching. And we have rabbit and pheasant in the game larder, vegetables in storage.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s true, but even so.’ Barbara looked serious. ‘If I can help in any way . . .’

  Tommy sighed and said, ‘Actually, it’s Fred who is my real worry. He isn’t getting better. His fever dies down, then springs up again. My aspirin supplies are nearly depleted, and I’ve nothing to reduce inflammation but the antiseptic.’

  ‘He has an infected wound?’ Barbara looked about, as if worried someone might overhear them. ‘Then perhaps I can help. I have some penicillin tablets.’

  ‘What?’ Tommy was shocked. ‘How? I thought all the supplies were with the army.’

  ‘I have some . . . that a doctor friend gave me when Molly was very ill last year. She had meningitis, it was her only hope. He . . . agreed to help me. He gave me more than I needed. I kept them of course. Just in case. Perhaps they would help Fred.’

  ‘I’m sure they would,’ Tommy said, and looked away soberly. She was certain that Barbara was telling her the drugs had been obtained illegally. How could they not be? It hadn’t been possible to get penicillin whenever it was wanted, not with wounded soldiers taking priority. But does it really matter? Fred is ill and getting worse. And he was a soldier when he got hurt.

  She had looked at the wound that morning, and even before she uncovered it, she could see that the skin all around it was red and angry, the vivid colour creeping over his whole stomach and round his back. He’d been half conscious, hot and drenched in sweat but shivering. She’d known they needed the doctor but when she tried to call, the lines were down. Now here was Barbara offering exactly what was needed. Perhaps even more than the doctor could offer. I can’t hesitate.

  ‘I’ll take them,’ she said quickly. ‘Can you give them to me now? The sooner Fred gets his first dose, the better.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Caitlyn received a letter from Geraldine the next day, a polite, old-fashioned note offering her the opportunity to rent Kings Harcourt for six months and promising complete privacy. The handwriting and the address brought the house right back to life in her mind. She had begun to dismiss it as perhaps not as lovely as she remembered, but now she saw it afresh.

  Oh, I would love to live there, just for a while. Imagine – a Gainsborough in my hall! Patrick would have adored it. And now – well, it’s obvious the old lady is expecting me. I’d feel awful letting her down.

  Nicholas hadn’t been in touch, though, and she still didn’t want to contact him while the memories of their younger selves were so fresh. It felt almost bizarre that they had spent a whole day together without mentioning it, as though nothing had happened.

  How could I have forgotten?

  Ill at ease with the way her mind could play such tricks on her, she went up into the spare room and looked at the mound of Patrick’s boxes she had yet to open. She had been avoiding it, she knew that, but now thoughts of Sara were swirling again through her mind.

  They have been ever since I got here. She’s what drew me to Nicholas. I suppose all along, deep down, I must have wanted to find out the truth from him, about what happened between the two of them. Just like I do about her and Patrick. I feel as though she’s always been there, in all the important relationships of my life.

  Caitlyn opened the nearest box and began to look through it. This one had files of old bank statements and insurance policies, and she flicked through them. Patrick had kept that kind of administration away from her, which had added to the stress of selling the house; she’d long forgotten the rigours of forms and small print. One file was an account at his private bank – nothing High Street for Patrick – and scanning through a few months’ worth, she noticed that a large monthly payment went in that was quickly reduced to almost nothing by the end of the month. The names he was paying money to meant nothing to her, though they came up again and again. Campanilo Media was one name. Fortescue House was another. Rose Yard Flowers appeared several times. But the largest payment went out every month to Allegra Communications.

  Have I heard of them? It rings a bell somehow.

  Caitlyn put the file back in the box. She knew that Patrick did a lot of entertaining and gift buying as part of his job. Perhaps this account was for that. In fact, his financial arrangements were vast and complex, and she couldn’t begin to understand them. She had put them all in the hands of Theo Ronson, his long-term accountant, and asked him to sort out whatever was necessary so that she had the funds she needed and had paid whatever had to be paid. Theo had been happy to help and had arranged it so that she had a monthly payment into her account and a large sum invested to provide an income, as well as establishing a trust for Max. She knew that she wasn’t poor. Patrick had done all the right things. His insurance payout and the compensation claim that was in hand would more than provide for them. It was typical of him that he had thought of every eventuality.

  I suppose I ought to wise up and start learning how to manage. I can’t go on relying on Patrick and all his minions any more. But Allegra Communications. Where have I heard that name before?

  She turned back to the boxes but the two she opened were more of the same admin. She read through the papers until the printouts were swimming in front of her eyes, then closed them up. There were still more boxes to go through.

  Somewhere in them is the truth about Patrick. I’m sure of it.

  Caitlyn was in a supermarket the next morning when her phone went, and she fished it out of her pocket and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

  ‘Caitlyn, hi, it’s Nicholas.’

  ‘Oh . . . hi.’

  ‘You gave me your number, remember? Is it okay to call?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was flustered, not sure of how to act with him now that she had recalled their parting all those years ago. ‘Sorry. I’m out shopping.’

  ‘It’s a bad time?’

  ‘Well, no, it’s fine. If you don’t mind me talking while I shop.’

  ‘Are you busy today?’

  ‘I . . . No.’ She was never any good at the direct lie. Evasion I can manage. But not lying.

  ‘Good. Let’s meet up. It’s a beautiful day. Shall we go to the Botanic Gardens?’

  ‘Oh. Yes, all right.’ There was no way to get out of it. She would have to see him.

  ‘Great. See you outside at two. We can talk about Kings Harcourt.’

  Nicholas was waiting for Caitlyn outside the gardens, the tickets already bought. He looked different from when they had last met, less tweedy and donnish, in a thick navy jumper and jeans. It made him look younger, more like the man she remembered. He’d always been attractive, and he still was.

  ‘Hi.’ He greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m glad you could make it. I hope you like rockeries, and glasshouses, and hardy perennials. Actually, this is a wonderful time of year to visit – it reminds you that summer is ahead of us now.’

  ‘I don’t know much about gardens,’ she said apologetically. ‘But I like looking at them.’

  ‘Come on then. Let’s go in.’

  Yes
, he definitely looks younger. And handsome. Those dark eyes of his. I used to want to drown in them.

  Caitlyn pushed that thought out of her mind, but as they wandered around the gardens together, she began to recall more vividly the way he had once made her feel. At first, she’d been rather in awe of him, hardly daring to talk to him. He was evidently brilliant, with a healthy streak of self-confidence and a touch of youthful swagger. She’d wished she could have a bit herself; she was still astonished to find herself at the college, with a much-sought-after place, and still fearful they might tell her it was all a mistake and she must pack her bags and go home. Nicholas hadn’t seemed plagued by such doubts. And, of course, he’d been good-looking too, with that dark Latin colouring and an allure she wasn’t immune to.

  And here we are, all these years later, walking around the Botanic Gardens.

  She relaxed as they strolled together, Nicholas talking without any awkwardness, and when they sat down on a bench to look out over a sea of purple Alpine flowers pouring over rocks, she had almost forgotten that she had been dreading seeing him.

  Nicholas said, ‘Did Aunt G get in touch with you?’

  ‘Yes, yes. She wrote a very nice letter. It seems like a done deal as far as she’s concerned.’

  ‘She did seem very keen on the idea. And not just because she wants the rent. She liked you when you met.’

  ‘I’m flattered. I liked her too.’

  ‘Good. So. What do you think? Would you like the house?’

  Caitlyn thought for a moment. She’d been looking at places for rent online, and none of them had appealed. Certainly none were as nice as her little Jericho cottage, and all of them carried the same risk that in six months, they’d be turned out. This way she could have the summer to look for a place to buy, where they could really begin to settle. And to live in that house, to enjoy the garden, in the ripe green months of summer . . .

  Patrick would have said go for it. He would have liked the idea of Max roaming free in such a magnificent place. And if I don’t find anywhere to buy, we’re still close to the school.

  ‘Yes,’ she said decisively. ‘I think we’ll take it.’

  Nicholas smiled. ‘Good. Then I’ll set to sorting out all the boring stuff, and send you a contract.’ He paused and then said, ‘So Caitlyn, why have you been so elusive? I’ve got the feeling you’ve been avoiding me.’

  She felt a flush climb over her face. ‘I haven’t . . .’

  ‘Yes you have. You changed in an instant when we got back from the house that day. One moment you were laughing and chatting, the next you froze up and dashed away. Then you never got in touch. I’m not daft. What’s behind it all? Have I offended you?’

  She bit her lip, embarrassed. ‘No.’

  ‘I must have done something,’ he said gently.

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘So, come on. What was the problem? I always thought you and I got on well.’

  ‘We did.’

  There was a pause and then he said, ‘We got on very well, didn’t we? Towards the end. And then . . .’

  She said nothing, lost in awkward confusion. So he hadn’t forgotten at all. He remembered it too. She felt a dash of indignation that he’d brought it up at all, considering how he’d treated her.

  Nicholas said, ‘And then . . . you bailed out, without a word. Just when we were on the brink.’ He stared at her, waiting for her to say something, and when she remained silent, he said softly, ‘I was in love with you.’

  She almost trembled, feeling crosser even while she was afraid of what he might say next. ‘I don’t think you should say that.’

  ‘Well, it’s true. I thought you felt the same. And that we had a future.’

  She shook her head in an involuntary, quick motion. ‘I wish you wouldn’t say this!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know in lots of ways it’s not right to talk about it, considering what you’re going through. But we can’t just ignore what happened. And that’s how it was.’

  Caitlyn felt something snap and flicker inside. It was anger and resentment, sparking back into life after decades buried beneath the ash of forgetfulness. ‘It isn’t true, and it wasn’t true. I don’t know why you pretended then. You don’t need to pretend now!’

  Nicholas held up a hand, his expression wounded. ‘Whoa. Wait a moment. What do you mean, pretend?’

  She looked over at him, staring into his brown eyes. ‘It was all fake.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he said, looking bewildered. ‘Have you forgotten about the finals dinner? About what happened then?’

  ‘No. I remember it,’ she said. She turned to watch the little Alpine flowers nodding in rippling waves of purple.

  ‘You never came back,’ he said. ‘Even though you promised you would. I waited for you. I went to your room and knocked. You weren’t there.’

  ‘I went to a party with Sara.’

  There was a long pause, and he said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Look, Caitlyn, I know this was all a very long time ago. I know that the activities of a bunch of silly drunk kids doesn’t really matter any more. But I still want to understand why you didn’t return. I thought that we connected that night. I’d hoped we could make something of it. I’ve always wondered what might have happened.’

  She shrugged and pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her. ‘Sara told me the truth about you. She said that you’d been desperately chasing her for months. You only wanted me for a bit of amusement, because you couldn’t have her.’

  Nicholas stared at her, his mouth open. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what happened,’ she said, almost obstinately.

  ‘Wait. Back up. Sara told you this?’

  ‘After I left you that night, I met Sara and she told me how you had been chasing her – coming on to her in the bar. The rugger boys had to fend you off. She was the one you were interested in.’

  He laughed but in disbelief. ‘No. No! That’s not how it was at all.’ He twisted so that he was facing her. ‘I can’t believe she told you that. But then . . . I could hardly believe it when you told me that you’re still friends. It was obvious to everyone what was going on between the two of you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She felt chilled suddenly. ‘What was going on?’

  ‘A weird push me-pull you relationship. You thought she was great. And she was bloody jealous of you!’

  Caitlyn laughed and shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. What did she have to be jealous about?’

  ‘This is crazy. She said I was after her? That’s the exact reverse of the truth.’

  His brown eyes were almost pleading with her.

  Nicholas put his hand on her arm and said intensely, ‘You’ve got to believe me. Sara had been plaguing me, turning up at my room off her head, begging me to sleep with her. It’d been going on for a year or so – me sending her away or walking her back to her room. She’d be all over me, trying her best to seduce me, practically prostrating herself . . . and I did my best to let her down gently. Then, in the bar that night . . . God, I can remember it so well. She came up to me, three sheets to the wind as usual – the poor kid had a problem, anyone could see that – and announced that it was my last chance with her. I told her kindly but firmly that I wasn’t interested. And she started . . . I don’t know . . . she lost it a bit. She started getting angry with me, asking me what I wanted if it wasn’t her. She asked if it was you – and when I didn’t reply, it seemed to push her over the edge. She started to go nuts, shouting and crying and spluttering. Saying you were a little nobody. A nothing. The rugby boys . . . yes, they were there, they saw it all. They took her off me. They steered her to another table and calmed her down, distracted her, and I left. That was the last time I spoke to her. I never wanted to go near her again, in case she began accusing me of stuff I hadn’t done. I knew she was crazy enough for that.’ He shook his head gravely. ‘I didn’t hate her. I was more worried for her than anything. She was eaten up with sadness. A
nd what I really couldn’t understand was why you spent so much time with her, when it seemed to me that the thing she most feared and resented in life was you.’

  Caitlyn remembered how topsy-turvy Sara’s stories so often were. She could see her behaving just as Nicholas described. And yet – she’d seen the evidence of Sara’s irresistibility with her own eyes. She’d had it happen before; the men wanted Sara. That was why it had been so horribly plausible. ‘So you weren’t after Sara?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘No hanging around her, pleading with her, chasing her, telling her that you just intended to toy with me?’

  ‘No!’ He laughed, almost helplessly. ‘It was the other way around – she wouldn’t leave me alone! The more I told her I wasn’t interested, the more persistent she got! And I never talked to her about you. She’d be the last person. I knew she couldn’t be trusted.’

  It was strange how everything could turn around so fast. She believed him. The image, flipped over, looked right, when it had never been entirely convincing the other way. Of course . . . she could see Sara now, in full seduction mode, fired up by the unaccustomed rejection, intent on having what seemed unattainable.

  ‘She wanted to spoil it for us,’ Nicholas said softly. ‘She wanted to make sure that you and I wouldn’t be together.’

  ‘But . . .’ Caitlyn shook her head, frowning. ‘I don’t understand! She could have had anyone! She had so much!’

  ‘It seemed like it.’ Nicholas sat back against the bench. ‘But despite everything, she was one of the coldest, emptiest people I ever met. All she ever wanted was what she couldn’t have.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ She blinked at the little flowers nodding in the breeze.

  ‘Caitlyn, why are you still friends with her?’ Nicholas gazed at her earnestly. ‘You don’t need her. You never did.’

  ‘But she is my friend,’ she said slowly. ‘At least, that’s what I’ve always believed.’