A Midwinter Promise

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Where has all this come from?’ Johnnie said, bewildered. ‘I don’t want you to choose between us.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me! I know you do. I know very well.’ She looked furious and outraged. ‘That’s why I’m not going to change my life to suit you, like you seem to think we all have to do. And you can’t make me. I’m taking the boys back home and you can stay here.’

  He stared at her, flummoxed. Why did he always get it so wrong? When he thought she’d be happy, she was cross. A gift of fate in the form of his legacy from his mother via his father was not a wonderful thing that could set them free of the life that was stifling them, but something he was going to inflict on them all. He couldn’t win.

  ‘I thought you might be pleased,’ he said.

  Netta put down her pen and when she spoke, her voice was ominously quiet. ‘Why don’t you ask me what I want? Why don’t you ever say, “Netta, what would make you happy?” You present me with all these outcomes like they’re the answer to my prayers. But you don’t know my prayers, my hopes, my dreams! Because you never ask me!’

  ‘You want what’s best for the children, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes!’ Her eyes flashed as if he was somehow accusing her of the opposite. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Well then?’ He tried to sound reasonable, unselfish. ‘What could be better than a life down here for them? And we might even move into Tawray eventually, if you liked that idea.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Netta said sarcastically. ‘I can just see how I’m going to find it easier to cope in a house like that. Looking after Bertie will be a breeze with forty rooms for him to hide in!’ She stood up. ‘I can see where this is going. You’re pretending that it’s about the children and their best interests, when actually it’s all about you. We’re going home and that’s that.’ She stopped in the doorway and turned to stare at him, her eyes fierce. ‘And don’t think I don’t know what you really intend. Because I do! I’ve known for ages. And I’m not going to let it happen.’

  She stalked out and Johnnie felt a kind of strangulation in his throat but one that came from the inside. The sense of inadequacy came rushing up inside him and felt like it was crushing all his internal organs, pushing his breath out of his body. The sensation of being trapped was overwhelming and he had a sudden urge to beat his head against the wall, and start to tear his skin off. Why couldn’t he manage this situation? Why couldn’t he make her happy? Why couldn’t he tell her things in words that would not set her off and make her angry?

  Had Netta always been like this: sarcastic, cross, distant and hard to reach? He knew it wasn’t so. Once she’d been sweet and loving and caring and cherishing. What had changed? Was it him, or was it her? Whose fault was it?

  Johnnie fought for control of his breathing.

  How can she treat me like this when I’ve just lost my father?

  He picked up his phone and texted Alex, hardly able to make the letters work with his shaking fingers.

  Can I see you Al? I need to talk about Netta.

  The reply came at once.

  Of course. Come now.

  Alex was in the polytunnel looking at the seedlings. For the first time in weeks, she was beginning to feel restored. It was partly being surrounded by growing things, and partly that the girls were back home safe and sound. She had begun to feel better the moment they arrived with Tim just after New Year and they had been ecstatic to be home with her again despite their sadness about their grandfather. Hadji had leapt about, yapping, thrilled to see them.

  ‘We’ve got birthday cards and presents!’ Scarlett had shouted. ‘Hello, sweet Hadji! We’ve missed you.’

  ‘Happy birthday,’ cried Jasmine. ‘Open mine first.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Alex laughed. ‘My birthday.’ She’d practically forgotten it. It was never exactly the main event, as it happened on New Year’s Eve, but this year she’d ignored it completely, though Johnnie and Sally had remembered cards and presents: bath oil from Johnnie and the usual gift voucher from Sally. She opened the girls’ cards and gifts, and kissed them both. When they’d gone rushing off, excited to be home, Tim had stayed with her in the kitchen.

  ‘Did you do anything nice for your birthday?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘Not really. I wasn’t in the mood this year.’

  ‘Of course.’ He looked sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry about your father, Alex. Really.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How are you?’

  She managed a small smile. ‘I’m coping. But I never got to say goodbye – that’s the hardest bit.’

  Tim shook his head sadly. ‘That’s terrible. I’m really sorry. And it was another stroke?’

  ‘No. Heart failure. It just gave out in the night. The doctor said that can happen.’

  ‘How’s Sally?’

  ‘In a bit of a bad way. She’s still in shock.’

  ‘Give her my best, won’t you? I was fond of your dad.’ Tim coughed a little awkwardly. ‘Listen, I wanted to say sorry about that time when the girls were left with a sitter you’d never met, and without checking with you. I shouldn’t have done it. I get that now. I won’t do it in future.’

  ‘Thanks, Tim,’ she said, touched by his frankness. She felt a load lighten. To hear Tim make sure she knew the girls were his priority was like a balm to a troubled soul. She hadn’t realised how very afraid she was that the girls would go through what she had with Sally until that night in the pub. And he could have shut her down, gone on regardless. But he’d listened. On impulse she put her arms around him and gave him a quick hug. ‘That means a lot. You can’t know how much.’

  ‘Eh up,’ he said, laughing awkwardly. ‘Glad to make you happy.’

  They smiled at each other, almost ruefully. I think we’re going to be friends, Alex thought. And we’ll be much better as friends than as husband and wife. We are definitely on the right path.

  ‘Right. I’ll be off. Bye.’ He patted his pockets for his car keys. ‘And happy birthday for the other day.’

  ‘Thanks again, Tim. Take care.’

  Alex brushed her hand over the soft velvet surface of a tiny green leaf, and looked up. Through the polyurethane wall she could see a figure muffled in a scarf and overcoat approaching, and she came out of the fuggy warmth of the tunnel.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, as Johnnie got closer to her.

  ‘Hey there.’

  ‘You look pretty miserable.’

  Johnnie nodded, his mouth turned down, his eyes dark with misery. ‘It’s not good. It’s really not. Netta and I are making each other sad, Alex. I don’t know why.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s walk.’

  They went out of the back garden gate and across the fields towards Tawray, skirting the edge of the park and going along the woods until they came to the clifftop. Beyond, the sea crashed stormily onto the beach. As they went, Alex listened as Johnnie poured out all the difficulties of the last few months.

  ‘So it hasn’t got any better?’ she ventured, her hands tucked into her pockets even despite her woollen gloves. ‘Have you been trying to communicate?’

  Johnnie nodded. ‘Maybe I haven’t been doing it right, I don’t know. Whenever I talk to her, she gets angry and sarcastic, and acts like I’m trying to railroad her into things – like thinking about living down here. She gives the impression that I’m pushing her into it. And I’m not! I’m just pointing out the advantages.’

  ‘Okay,’ Alex said gently. She couldn’t help thinking of the way she and Tim had communicated. So often they replayed the same discussion, exactly the same way, even when it was about different topics. And time and again, they grew frustrated with the way the other handled it. ‘So here’s what I think, for what it’s worth. You need to ask Netta more questions. Rather than tell her, ask her. So ask her how she would feel about making a permanent move, rather than trying to sell it to her. And if she expresses worries or doubts, don’t dismiss them by trying to give her the solution straight away. What she’ll hear is, “
Your problems are easily solved! I’ve just done it, so now you should be happy and excited like me!”’

  Johnnie nodded, obviously listening hard.

  ‘So you need to acknowledge her: “I hear you. I can understand why you’re worried. That’s a real problem – do you think we can find a solution to it?” It’s diplomacy. Make her feel like the two of you are solving her very real problems and issues together. But she has to know you’ve heard and understood. And that her problems are also your problems. If she’s worried about her work, you should be too. And if she’s nervous that there won’t be a school for Bertie, you should show her that’s your concern as well. Otherwise, she’ll think you’re just foisting all the work on her to deal with on her own.’

  ‘That’s exactly it!’ exclaimed Johnnie. ‘That’s what she thinks. But that’s not what I’m saying!’

  ‘You might not be, but my guess is that in her experience, you leave all the spade work to her. Am I right?’

  Johnnie pushed his face down into his scarf against the buffeting wind. The gales blew unhindered across the Channel here, and took the cliffs at speed. There was something crazy about being pummelled by this invisible force, but also fun, pushing their bodies against its strength.

  Alex took his silence for acquiescence. ‘My biggest piece of advice is this: never assume you know what she’s thinking. You probably don’t. And never assume she knows what you’re thinking. Because she doesn’t know that either.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Johnnie mumbled into his scarf. ‘I see that.’

  ‘Good. Just try it. I think you’re right – life down here could be perfect for all of you, and I’d love it. But why not do some research into schools for Bertie? Why not ask what she thinks of them, instead of presenting them as the perfect solution? Why not show her that you’re prepared to do the work, and that the trade-off of this new life is that you’ll share more in looking after Bertie?’

  Johnnie smiled at her. ‘You’re good at this. I should have come to you sooner.’

  ‘But, Johnnie, can I say something? My feeling is that the real problem here is Bertie. I think – and I might be wrong – that Netta is afraid for his future.’

  ‘Really?’ Johnnie frowned.

  ‘You said yourself that you’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen to him eventually, and that you need to talk about it with Netta. Have you done that?’

  Johnnie shook his head. ‘I’ve been avoiding it.’

  ‘Does she have any clue what you might have been thinking – that he might not be able to live at home in the future?’

  Johnnie thought, and then, quite suddenly, his expression changed, as realisation swept over it. He turned and looked out to sea, shaking his head slowly. ‘Oh my God,’ he said quietly under his breath. ‘Of course.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Around the time of the court case with the council we were discussing what we needed to ask for, and Netta said something about when Bertie turned nineteen, and I said, “If he’s still living with us,” or words to that effect, and she went a bit quiet. I didn’t think about it again. But she’s been cold and distant ever since. I hadn’t made the connection. That’s where it started to go wrong.’

  Alex watched him processing it, then said quietly, ‘She’s afraid you’re not committed to him. If you can show her that you are, I think you’ll find that will make things a lot easier.’ She turned her face to the wind, feeling its invisible punches to her face. ‘Are you, Johnnie? Are you committed to him?’

  Johnnie’s face creased and he buried it into his scarf again. When he pulled it out, he said in a broken voice, ‘I love him. I really do. I’d never ask Netta to send him away. We’ll learn new ways to cope with him as he gets older. I’m committed, Al.’

  ‘It’s not me you need to tell. You need to let Netta know you love Bertie. And you love her.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Johnnie said, his voice heartfelt. He put an arm around her. ‘Thanks. I mean it.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jasper was obviously trying to be considerate when he left it a couple of days before ringing Alex. She took the call on her mobile as she worked in the potting shed, planting out more seeds in plugs of soil set into biodegradable trays.

  ‘How was your meeting the other day?’ he asked. ‘Was it all right?’

  Alex thought back. Was it really only the day before yesterday that they had read Pa’s will? It seemed like a lifetime. One aspect of living with such heightened emotions was how slowly time seemed to pass, as though it was in thrall to the surges of grief and the darkness of despair. ‘Yes, it was fine, thank you. We found that the house – Tawray – isn’t sold after all.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jasper said, his tone surprised. ‘I could have told you that. I acquired a long lease. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘We didn’t, strange though it sounds. From the way you talked, I thought you owned it. You had so many ideas about how to change it.’

  ‘Long leases are like that. As long as you get permission, you can make really big alterations. In fact, sometimes it’s actively encouraged. The Tawray estate office hinted that they were pretty keen for me to overhaul the old place and make it viable.’ He sounded sheepish. ‘I’m sorry if I misled you, I assumed you knew.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. Crossed lines. But what did you want to tell me about?’

  ‘Oh yes. I think you’ll be interested in this.’ His voice brightened, and she remembered how infectious his enthusiasm was. She liked the way his energy buzzed off him, and how he exuded good humour and interest in everything. ‘So we’ve been up exploring the attics. My brother Duncan and my mum came down over Christmas and I gave Duncan the job of sorting through it all. I know it isn’t our stuff and you’ll be claiming it back at some point, but it can’t hurt to have it nicely packed up.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s right.’

  ‘And Duncan found this huge roll wrapped in brown paper and blankets. At first we thought it was carpet, then we thought it was a rug, then we thought it was an enormous square of linoleum.’

  ‘It gets more and more fascinating!’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Give me a chance. Well, you’ll never guess what it was.’

  ‘I never will, so you’d better tell me, hadn’t you?’

  ‘A painting.’

  She frowned as she listened. ‘A painting?’

  ‘A painting the size of a wall. Huge. Life-sized. And there are life-sized people all over it. It’s a trompe l’oeil, and a really good one, from what I can tell, but it would need to be in place to see it properly. I’ve had a look and I think it was supposed to go in the drawing room. The proportions are right and there are definitely signs the room was once cut in half. And my motion is that this painting went there.’

  Alex was astonished, leaning on the potting shed table as if to get support from it. ‘But I’ve never heard of the room being divided. It wasn’t when I was little. My parents never said anything about that. How extraordinary.’

  ‘Do you want to see it?’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Then come round and take a look. Now. Why not?’

  Alex drove to Tawray, thinking about how energising it was to be around someone with so much verve and good humour. She found it irresistible, though she could imagine that some people could find it annoying. I like it, though. It’s like a jolt of caffeine, or a rush of endorphins. It just gives me a boost. And that’s what I need.

  She turned the car into the drive that led up to Tawray, following Jasper. She was intrigued. What could this mysterious painting be? She’d definitely never heard of any such thing.

  Inside, the giant roll was on the floor in the library, where the furniture had been pushed back to make room for it.

  ‘We need to weight it down at one end,’ Jasper said, so they put piles of books on the corners and then carefully unrolled the painting, pulling it across the floor so that it revealed the bright jewel colours beneath. When it was
almost fully extended, with the central part revealed, they piled books on the far edge to keep the whole thing from rolling up again. Then they stood back to study it.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Jasper said, excited. ‘It’s fantastic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Alex stared at it in astonishment. There was a family in front of her eyes, spread out in the room she knew so well, frozen in time but as fresh as if they were all there yesterday. ‘That’s my mother,’ she said, and her voice choked her suddenly.

  Jasper followed where she was pointing, to the figure of the lively-faced girl with thick tawny hair spreading over her shoulders, sitting with her feet crossed at the ankle at the front of the painting. Her tigerish eyes sparkled with life and mischief, and she was surrounded by tokens of her girlhood: books, apples and her dog.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ Jasper said quietly. ‘I don’t mean her face – though she is beautiful – but her spirit. The artist has captured her life force.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alex’s eyes were damp. Seeing Mum like this, young and alive and untouched by the tragedy yet to befall her, was intensely moving. A thought appeared, strong in her mind. She didn’t have to die. It didn’t have to happen.

  All their lives, she and Johnnie had accepted that Mum’s death had been inevitable. She wasn’t well. She had an accident because she wasn’t well. But what no one said was why she wasn’t well. What was wrong with her? How did she end up having that accident?

  The thoughts had occurred to her before, but she’d never been able to get close enough to Pa to talk about it. Sally had never permitted that they spend enough time alone to get close to such a sensitive subject and she had always quickly redirected conversation if it included references to Mum.