Her Frozen Heart

by Lulu Taylor

  Whereas all the checks and balances had made her relationship with Patrick work, it would never have been like that with Sara.

  And I loved him. I really did.

  ‘Then why?’ she said out loud. ‘Why, Patrick?’

  But there was no reply, and still Sara was outside, watching.

  When Nicholas arrived thirty minutes later, roaring up in his MG, Sara had gone. At least, she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘I really don’t like this,’ Nicholas said, looking out at the pavement from the sitting room window. ‘All we need is for her to go a bit Fatal Attraction on you. Do you have any pets?’

  ‘Thankfully, no. Not even a hamster.’

  ‘Still, I think you ought to report it.’

  ‘I will. If it gets worse.’

  He went over and hugged her. ‘I want to stop this.’

  ‘You can’t. She’ll love it if you get involved, honestly. I know her.’

  The sound of a loud thumping on the front door startled them. Caitlyn was instantly alert, her eyes turning at once to the window. A loud shouting came from the street outside.

  ‘I know what you’re doing in there! What would Patrick think? You’re betraying him, you whore!’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Nicholas turned towards the door, his expression determined. ‘I’m going to tell her what I think of her.’

  ‘No!’ Caitlyn had gone pale, her heart racing and her palms prickly. ‘I won’t have a fight on my doorstep. You’ll make her much worse. Ignore her.’

  The shouts continued – ‘You’re with Nicholas, I know you are! It’s disgusting!’ – as Caitlyn went to the window and peeped out. Sara was on the doorstep, still thumping on the door. When she looked over at the window, Caitlyn darted back out of sight.

  ‘I can’t stand this,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘What if Max hears her? He’s only next door. I can’t have that. She’s got a bloody nerve!’

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘She’s unbelievable!’

  Caitlyn ran to the front door and opened it in one swift movement. Sara stood there, quietened by the surprise, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering with anger. Before she had time to gather herself, Caitlyn said, ‘I will call the police if you carry on shouting and banging on my door. You have thirty seconds to leave or I phone them. Understand? Leave me alone, Sara. Treating me like this does not lessen your guilt. I have nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘He loved me!’ shouted Sara. ‘That’s the truth and you can’t accept it!’

  ‘Twenty-five seconds,’ Caitlyn said coolly, and shut the door. Then she started to shake, her breath coming in stutters as she tried to keep calm.

  ‘You were magnificent,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘I can’t let Max see this. It’s too awful.’

  The thumping and shouting stopped and when Nicholas looked, Sara had gone. He went back to Caitlyn and took her hands in his.

  ‘Listen, why don’t you move now? Today? Take what you want, and let the movers do the rest later. I don’t usually recommend running away, but in this case, it makes sense for you to get away from her.’

  ‘Go to the house today?’ The thought was like being wrapped in warmth.

  ‘Of course,’ he said simply.

  ‘Yes.’ She knew at once that it was what she wanted more than anything.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  In London, the snow was melting a little, though it was still thick on the rooftops and at roadsides. Nelson, looking chilly on the top of his column, was wearing thick white epaulettes and his hat carried a blanket of snow like a layer of cotton wool padding.

  Tommy looked out of the window as the bus lumbered slowly around Trafalgar Square. The weather was still freezing cold but the worst of it now seemed to have passed, and the south-east was feeling a moderate recovery. There had been enough trains running to get her to Oxford and from there to London. But it was hardly the place she had known before the war, when it had glittered with lights and the enticements of cafes, bars and nightclubs. Now even the great hotels looked shabby and the city and its people seemed tired and battered by everything they had suffered.

  Perhaps if I’d lived through it, I wouldn’t notice the contrast as much. As it is, I can hardly bear it.

  London had retained its glamour in her mind. Even the worst newsreels of destruction and bombs and fire and death had not quite been able to dent her memories of it. Now it was only too plain what the city had suffered, even through the snow and ice.

  It will never be the same again.

  The journey down from Kings Harcourt had been long and arduous but nothing like as difficult as staying at home. After the announcement of Roger’s engagement, the atmosphere inside the house had grown colder than that outside. The following day, Fred had begged Thornton to get the old truck out and help him clear the snow along the lane. It had taken all day and part of the next, but at last they had met up with the clearers approaching from the village, and the way had been cleared for Fred to leave.

  ‘I can’t stay now,’ he’d said to Tommy. ‘But you should. Fight your corner. Don’t let her win.’

  But she felt that life at home was now insupportable. She couldn’t go on, with Roger’s accusatory glances and her mother’s scorn. Worst of all was Barbara’s air of triumph, and the way she began almost immediately to go about the house making changes. The electricity burned whenever she pleased, and things were rearranged to suit her. Ada was both more humble in Barbara’s presence, realising that her future now lay in Barbara’s hands rather than Tommy’s, and also more enraged.

  ‘Do you know what she said to me, miss?’ Ada said in shocked tones. ‘She said she trusted that Thornton and me are eating according to the rations. She said she wouldn’t like it if we were found to be taking more than we’re entitled to from the household. Well, miss! Would you believe it? As if we would.’

  ‘You’re entitled to as much as any of us have, Ada,’ Tommy replied. ‘Don’t listen to her.’

  But Tommy knew that when the thaw came, plenty of black market produce would be making its way to the table. Barbara would see to that.

  Once the road to the village was clear and her little car had been dragged back to the house, probably never to recover, she felt that the crisis was over. The snow was still thick on the ground but the worst blizzards had passed and not come back. The village had begun to receive a little more in the way of supplies. Milk and bread were now available, even if meat was scarcer than ever. A very great amount of livestock had frozen on the hills and in the fields, and no one would know the extent of the losses until spring finally came.

  But will it ever come? Tommy wondered, as her taxi made its way along Piccadilly and up into Mayfair. It’s hard to believe that it will ever be summer again.

  She had told the children she would be back soon, and left them in Gerry’s care. Thornton had driven her in the truck to the station and from there she had telegrammed ahead to her friend Celia to say that she would be coming. Celia had always urged her to drop in at any time she wanted.

  Now, as they made their way to South Audley Street, it occurred to Tommy to wonder if Celia and her flat were still even there. But as they approached it was obvious that there was less bomb damage here and the taxi pulled to a stop outside Celia’s. Once inside, Tommy was blissfully warm. The fire seemed to throw out so much heat in comparison to the feeble efforts of the fires at home.

  ‘How marvellous to have you here!’ Celia cried, throwing her arms around her and kissing her. ‘You’ve been gone for far too long. We have gin. We will make cocktails. Why, you silly thing, you’re crying!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Celia, I’m just thinking of the children. It’s so cold at Kings Harcourt.’

  ‘Cold everywhere, darling,’ Celia said, moving to the drinks tray. ‘But that’s where a little flat beats a country pile hollow. Peanuts to heat this place, my love. You should come back to town.’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’ Tommy took off her coat. Her prized fur
looked a little tatty in Celia’s elegant surroundings. ‘But the oddest thing. I had Barbara Fallon to stay, and now she’s engaged to my brother.’

  ‘Barbara Fallon?’ Celia looked blank as she tipped gin into tall glasses and opened her ice bucket. ‘I don’t think I know her. Is she somebody?’

  ‘No, not really, not the way you mean. I don’t think I am either, come to that. We were at school together. And then . . . oh, she got married. Now she’s Barbara Hastings.’

  Celia added two large measures of Dubonnet to each glass and passed one to Tommy. ‘Now that name I do know. Barbara Hastings . . . I can’t think why it rings a bell but it does. Here you are – drink this and relax.’

  It was very otherworldly to be away from Kings Harcourt after so long. She felt in one way quite lost and in another delighted to be free of all the pressure it had imposed upon her for such a long time. As she sat on Celia’s sofa, drinking while she listened to all the silly gossip she had missed, she thought almost recklessly, If Barbara wants the house and all that goes with it so very badly – so badly she’d marry Roger – then let her have it. She can deal with the leaking roof and the failing heating and the moaning tenants and all the rest. I’ve got my little income from Father. I can manage if Roger pays for the children’s education. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

  ‘Bianca Montgomery is having a party tonight, if you want to go along. I said I might bring you and she was quite excited.’ Celia exhaled a plume of smoke from her cigarette. ‘Do come if you’re not too tired.’

  Tommy smiled at her. ‘I’d love to,’ she said.

  After a week at Celia’s, Tommy was quite exhausted. She’d forgotten what it was like to run on such late hours, and to spend so much time talking and drinking and going from one place to the next in order to do more talking and drinking. The weather hadn’t stopped everything as brutally as it had in the countryside and now, with a break from the snowstorms, the streets were relatively clear, if bordered with nasty black slush. The Thames was still frozen, though, and there were stories of people cycling the length of the Boat Race on its glassy surface; and it was still bitterly cold. But life was resuming some of its normal pace.

  Celia certainly lived at a hectic speed and Tommy found that the daily round didn’t leave much time for introspection. There were regular lunch engagements, and appointments to keep Celia well dressed and polished for her never-ending social diary. Tommy had quite forgotten what it was like to have one’s hair done by someone else, or to think of putting polish on her nails. She had little to wear by Celia’s standards, but Celia generously opened her wardrobe and shared what she had left from the heady days before clothing was only purchasable with points.

  ‘Unless,’ Celia said knowingly, ‘you have a dear little lady who will kindly run you something up from the rather gorgeous French print that washed up on a beach somewhere.’

  It was fun, Tommy couldn’t deny, and it felt so louche to spend money in restaurants and on frivolities, when they could be found, instead of eking out bread by candlelight. But she missed the children, even knowing that Gerry was there to look after them, and was wracked by a longing for Fred. They had parted with little more than a clandestine touch of their hands as he climbed into the truck beside Thornton to make the journey to the station. Tommy had been far too aware of Barbara’s pale stare and Roger’s grim expression to want to show them how much she cared that he was leaving. Mrs Whitfield did not come out to say goodbye.

  ‘I’ll write to you,’ he murmured, ‘when I know where I’m staying.’

  But she had left before anything arrived from Fred.

  I should start looking for somewhere for me and the children to live. Not here in Mayfair, obviously. I should look somewhere cheaper. Islington perhaps, or Clapham.

  She never did go out to find out about a reasonable lease, though. The more she tried to imagine it, the less she could see their lives here in London. She wanted to be at home, and that was that. London was fun but it was not home.

  But Barbara was there, sitting cosily in Tommy’s place like a spider in the centre of her web.

  A letter came for Tommy, brought to her breakfast plate by Celia’s maid Simpson. She recognised Gerry’s round hand on the address and opened it to find a letter from her sister, notes and drawings from the children and an envelope addressed to her in a thin, elegant hand with a London postmark.

  She read Gerry’s letter first.

  Dearest Tommy,

  You’re very well out of this dreadful place. You can’t think what a swank Barbara has become since you went away. She’s swanning around like Lady Muck, and what’s more, she’s started wearing more of Mother’s jewellery. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Mumsie is beginning to regret sending you away and keeping Barbara, and is wishing it was the other way around. Barbara can be very strict and bossy when she feels like it and she’s not being as sweet as she used to be by any means. I suppose she thinks it’s all settled as far as it can be and she can stop being the ministering angel.

  By the way, some steak was served here for dinner the other night. Steak! You can’t imagine! Babs looked so pleased with herself but when I tasted it, I said I was certain it was horse. Well, her face, you would have hooted. I wish you could have seen it. I could read all over it that she thought she’d been had by some spiv. I don’t know if it was horse, but I hope now it was.

  The bad thing is Roger. I’ve never seen him so low. As soon as you and Fred left, all the fight just went out of him and he collapsed. He was in bed three days at least. Now he’s up and about and floating around like a sad ghost of a creature, being nagged all the time by Barbara for her engagement ring. He spends more time with the children than he ever did. He seems to be happier with them. The thing is, Tommy, I’m worried for him. I really am. He seems so very hopeless and is trying to drink the cellar dry all on his own.

  The children send best love and some notes from them are enclosed. They are both well.

  This letter came for you – I thought you’d like it as soon as possible.

  Write soon and tell me your news and when you’ll be back.

  Love from

  Gerry x

  Tommy folded the letter carefully and picked up the notes from the children, which she read with pleasure then put neatly to one side as well. She picked up the other envelope, slid her knife under the fold and opened it. She extracted the paper inside and opened that too.

  My darling Tommy,

  I hope you’re well and fighting the good fight. I think about you all the time, and wish I could see you again and hold you in my arms. You are the bravest and best, and I cannot bear being apart from you. I miss you every second and hope you think sometimes of me.

  I am staying with my sister Octavia in her place in Aldgate. You’ve never seen anything like the terrible destruction around here, but plenty still remains. I will set about finding a new place to live and seeing if I can resume my career at the BBC. My wound is almost healed. I haven’t forgotten, my darling, that I owe you my life.

  The thing that pains me most is that I don’t know when I will see you again. Please tell me if you come to London and can spare me an hour. I live to see your sweet face again.

  All my love,

  Fred

  She flushed as she read it, a swoop of pleasure dropping through her body, and then held it tight while she thought of it, and read it again.

  ‘Anything nice?’ Celia said, looking up from the morning newspaper.

  ‘Just some news from home. You know – ordinary things. But lovely anyway.’ Tommy held the letter to her heart, as though the slender slip of paper could warm and support her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  As they left the house in Oxford late in the afternoon, Caitlyn looked around anxiously, worried that Sara was watching, but there was no sign of her. She packed everything into the car and set off, still alert for her watching them.

  Every mile that stretched between her
and Sara lightened the feeling of oppression. Sleeplessness and the constant sense of wariness had strained her nerves and exhausted her. Kings Harcourt lay ahead, a peaceful retreat from all of the recent tumult. Even knowing that Patrick’s past was contained in the boxes in the spare room liberated her. Max had been happy to hear that they were going back there, if surprised at the sudden departure, but he didn’t complain. It felt strange to leave a place, probably for good, with most of her possessions still in it, but the movers would come and collect them during the week. Nicholas had told her that there were plenty of barns to store things in.

  The evening brightened and the sun came out as they neared the house. A good omen, Caitlyn thought.

  ‘The old lady’s asleep, dear,’ Renee said when Caitlyn knocked on the side door. ‘Down, you rascals,’ she scolded the dogs who were yapping and jumping about as usual. ‘But we knew you were coming. She said to take you straight over to the main house. You can use our kitchen till all your bits and bobs arrive.’

  ‘Thanks, Renee, that’s very kind.’

  Renee led them through the sitting room, into the hall and up the stairs to a bedroom papered in faded roses. Along the landing was another smaller room for Max. ‘It’s a touch dusty,’ Renee said, ‘but generally clean. The lady who cleans only does the rooms in rotation when they’re not used. You can have her in more often if you want.’

  ‘It’s perfectly wonderful. When I’ve made the beds, it’ll be very cosy,’ Caitlyn assured her.

  ‘I’ve made a cottage pie for supper, so come to us at seven o’clock.’

  ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’ Caitlyn smiled. ‘I’ll come and get the sheets from you and get started.’

  ‘Max, you can watch the television while your mum gets settled. Come on, young man, this way.’ Renee bustled him out and Caitlyn followed her to get the bedding.

  The house was calm and as she worked, Caitlyn felt a serenity returning. The evening sunshine fell in warm pools on the floor, and birdsong floated through the open window. I feel safe here. I feel as though everything will be all right.