by Rosie Clarke
‘Jon darling!’ I shook my head at him. ‘Don’t say that – don’t think it. You should bear your scars with pride.’
‘Should I, Emma?’ His eyes held an oddly bleak expression. ‘I was trying to blow up a convoy of German soldiers – just men like me, flesh and blood and bone. Instead, I blew myself up. Where is the pride in that?’
‘It was war, Jon. People do what they have to do to survive. Besides, it is over now. You can forget about it, my darling – think about the good things. Think about coming home …’
‘Coming home?’ He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Where is home, Emma? To you it’s where you live now, but I’m not sure I could live there … not anymore.’
I felt a stirring of unease but smothered it. ‘You don’t have to, Jon. We could buy a house in the country if you would rather. I can go up to town whenever I want to. We could choose somewhere near my mother if you like or perhaps somewhere prettier.’
‘I was thinking more of France,’ Jon said, then shook his head. ‘No, I mustn’t be selfish Emma. I know how much you love London, and your friends. We’ll decide together when the time comes.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Now let’s go for our ride.’
Jon was in a cheerful mood as we drove back to the hospital. Our visit to the teashop had gone well, perhaps because the villagers were accustomed to seeing men with terrible scars, but it had been a pleasant outing, and I was pleased that Jon seemed to be beginning to think about a future outside the sterile world he lived in now.
He still had many months of treatment ahead, of course, but the day would come when he would leave here. I was growing more certain of that as the weeks passed.
What would I do if he repeated his wish to live in France? I knew it was the peace of the Abbey he was remembering – a time when he had not needed to face a painful reality – but I supposed there must be a peaceful village where we could find a home.
It would be a wrench for me, but I would go with Jon if it was what he truly needed. After all, I could sell dresses in France as easily as England. Jon spoke the language fluently. He could teach it to me.
I had been willing to go to America with Jack. I would go to France if Jon asked it of me.
I parked the car and stopped to lock it, letting Jon go ahead of me into the hospital. When I heard a woman’s shrieks coming from the main entrance hall, I did not take much notice immediately. But when I followed Jon inside, I stopped in dismay, my heart sinking. Jon’s mother was pulling at his arm and weeping noisily. She appeared to be having hysterics, and was clearly distressed.
As I went up to them, Sister came out of her office and dragged her away. Jon strode off at once. He did not turn his head as I called to him, asking him to wait. I started to go after him, but as I reached Mrs Reece, she grabbed at my arm, her voice rising shrilly.
‘You lied to me,’ she said, her voice wild with accusation. ‘You told me the scars were not so terrible … you let me come here thinking my poor boy looked almost normal … my poor, poor boy … how could you do that to me?’
‘Pull yourself together,’ Sister said sharply and gave her a none-too-gentle shake. ‘Be quiet, you foolish woman. Do you want the whole hospital to hear you? I will not have my patients upset by your foolishness, do you hear me?’
Mrs Reece looked at her, so shocked that someone had dared to speak to her in such a way that she was silenced.
I pulled away from her grasp, not bothering to answer her accusations, and ran after Jon. He was standing by the window in his room, his back to me. I could see the tension in him. He did not turn round, though he knew I was there.
‘Am I such a monster, Emma?’
‘Of course you’re not, Jon.’ I went to him and put my arms about him, laying my head against his back. ‘Your mother was just shocked, Jon, because she loves you.’
‘This is so unfair on you …’ Jon pulled away, then turned to face me. ‘It would have been better for you if I had died in that crash … better if I had never remembered who I was.’
‘No! Don’t you dare say that to me,’ I said. ‘I know you are going through terrible pain, and that it must be awful for you to be so scarred – but it makes no difference to the way I feel about you, Jon. I still love you. As much as I always did.’
‘Do you, Emma?’ He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, of course you must. You have given up so much for me …’
‘What do you mean?’ My heart wrenched with fear. What had Mrs Reece said to him before I got there?
‘You give up your time for my sake,’ Jon said, ‘and the chance of a normal life. I can’t take you dancing or do any of the things I know you love. I may not always show it, but I do appreciate all you’re doing, Emma.’
‘Oh, Jon,’ I said, my heart aching as I saw the way his shoulders sagged and felt the hurt and humiliation his mother had inflicted. ‘Please don’t let her hurt you. It was my fault. I’ve become used to the scars. I hardly see them. I should have warned your mother …’
He smiled oddly. ‘You really don’t see them, do you?’
‘No … they don’t bother me. It’s just you, Jon. My kind, generous husband and my friend.’
‘I never was particularly good-looking,’ he said, and I saw the tension begin to ease out of him.
‘You had other qualities.’ I smiled and reached up to touch the unmarked side of his face. ‘We were happy together, Jon. We shall be happy again.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ He frowned, then a shudder ran through him. ‘As long as I never have to go and live with my mother. I would rather stay here for the rest of my life.’
‘I can promise you that,’ I said, giving him a roguish look. ‘I’ll live anywhere you want, Jon – Siberia or the moon if you like – but not with Dorothy.’
‘Thank God for that!’ The tension was finally gone as he laughed at my teasing. ‘Poor Mother. It’s not her fault. She never did have much tact, did she?’
‘She isn’t important, Jon – and nor is anyone else who reacts in the same way. If they haven’t got the wit to see beneath those scars to the man you really are, then they are not worth bothering with.’
‘As long as I have you,’ Jon said. ‘I can bear it. Without you, I think I should just curl up and die.’
‘You foolish man!’ I said, giving him a speaking look. ‘I could shake you. You do have me – and if I ever die on you, there’s Pops and other people who care for you. Plenty of people who couldn’t care less if you do have a few scars, as long as you go on being the lovely, decent man you are.’
Jon smiled. ‘Never stop scolding me, Emma. It’s good for me.’
‘The sooner you are out of here the better,’ I said. ‘It’s frustrating and depressing for you. But we have to be patient, Jon. The operations will help …’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘They might make it possible for my mother to look at me without screaming.’
‘It was just the shock, Jon,’ I said. ‘When she calms down she will be so sorry to have upset you.’
He looked disbelieving, but I knew it was true. Dorothy could not help being the way she was, and I knew she would regret her behaviour today – at least as far as Jon was concerned.
She hated me, of course. I knew it, but there was nothing I could do to change things. She would never forgive me for refusing to live with her – or for what she thought of as betraying my marriage vows.
I just hoped she would not decide to tell Jon about it one day, because if she did, she would destroy him.
As soon as I walked into the house on Sunday afternoon, I was aware that something was wrong. It had an odd, hushed atmosphere that disturbed me.
Mrs Rowan came out into the hall, and her eyes were red from weeping. ‘Oh, Mrs Reece,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you’re back. It happened so suddenly. We none of us knew what to do …’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, the icy feeling at my nape making me shiver. ‘What has happened?’
‘I
t’s the mistress,’ she said and caught her breath on a sob. ‘The morning you left, she came over queer. We sent for the doctor. He was here within a few minutes. He sent her straight to bed. She was very ill, Mrs Reece.’
‘Why did no one telephone for me?’ My heart caught with fear. ‘I would have come back at once.’
‘She wouldn’t have it, Mrs Reece. She said we were not to tell you until you came back …’
‘I’ll go up to her now …’ I started forward, but something in her eyes held me.
‘You don’t understand,’ Mrs Rowan said. ‘It’s too late. She died not twenty minutes ago. The master was with her. He’s sitting with her now. He asked me to tell you.’
‘Margaret died … twenty minutes …’
I was stunned. It was impossible to believe. The pain of loss was so sharp that I gasped. I loved her so much. She had been such a good friend to me, and now she was gone – and I had not been with her at the end.
Why wasn’t I here?
It was a question I would ask myself over and over again.
I left Mrs Rowan in the hall and walked slowly upstairs. Outside Margaret’s room, I paused, then knocked and went in. Sol was sitting by the bed, his head in his hands. He looked up as I entered, the expression in his eyes one of utter devastation.
‘She’s gone,’ he said, sounding bewildered and lost. ‘She’s gone, Emma.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ I said and went to his side. ‘I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I know how much you loved her.’
‘I didn’t show it enough,’ he said. ‘Not recently. I’ve been too frustrated, wrapped up in other things …’
‘But she knew. She always knew.’
‘Did she, Emma?’ His eyes implored me for comfort. ‘Did she know how precious she was to me?’
‘Of course – and she loved you, Sol. She always loved you.’
‘And you. She spoke of you just before …’ He choked on his grief. ‘She wanted you to have her things …’
I shook my head as the tears I had been holding back spilled over. ‘Please, don’t … not now. I can’t bear it.’
I gazed down at the face of the woman I had loved almost as a mother. She was peaceful and looked young, much younger than when I had last seen her. I bent to kiss her forehead.
‘You will miss her,’ Sol said. ‘We shall both miss her.’
‘Yes.’ I stood beside him, my hand on his shoulder. ‘We shall both miss her very much.’
His large hand closed over mine, holding on as the tremors shook him.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Emma. I don’t think I could have gone on alone.’
‘I’ll always be your friend, Sol.’
He glanced up at me. ‘We wanted children, Margaret and me. She couldn’t have them. I tried to make up for it, but I never could. You gave her so much happiness. You brought your son to this house, and you gave her a reason to live. She was so much brighter these past few years. She might have died years ago, but she struggled on because she had you and the boy.’
‘It wasn’t just me, Sol. She had you, too.’
‘I let her down,’ he said. ‘She would have been so ashamed if I’d gone to prison. As I might have done if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘I did very little …’
‘You did what was needed. No one can do more.’
‘You and Margaret … you both mean a lot to me.’
‘We’ll go on together,’ Sol said. ‘I’ll never let you down, Emma. I give you my word. I’ll be straight with you. You won’t have to worry about any little tricks. That’s all over. I promise.’
‘Sol …’ I paused, knowing I couldn’t tell him that I might have to go and live in France. Not now, not at this moment. Besides, it was not certain yet. I would face that when I came to it. ‘I’ll leave you with her for a while. We’ll talk later.’
Alone in my room, I found I could not cry. Tears would not have helped at that moment.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the top drawer of the little cabinet beside me, taking out the bundle of letters I had tied with blue ribbon. Jack’s letters. For a moment I cradled them in my hands as if they were made of delicate porcelain; then I replaced them in the drawer and closed it.
From somewhere came the memory of my beloved Gran. It was almost as if she were very close to me. I could hear her voice in my ear, scolding me as she was wont to do, very gently.
‘There’s no use in weeping over things as can’t be changed, lass.’
I raised my head, almost expecting to see her face.
‘Why must I always lose those I love most?’ I cried aloud. ‘What have I done that was so wicked? Why must I be punished?’
‘You’ll have a long, hard road to travel, Emma. But you’ll make what you will of your life.’
‘It hurts, Gran,’ I said. ‘It hurts so much.’
‘Keep your chin up, lass. You’ve a way to travel yet.’
Of course I was only remembering the things she had so often said to me in the past. Gran hadn’t really come to me, and yet somehow I was comforted. I knew that what she had told me all those years before was still as true now as it had been then.
Life was never easy for anyone. It certainly hadn’t been for her, but she had never given in. I’d never heard her complain about her troubles, and she’d certainly had her share. She hadn’t buckled under, she had simply got on with life, taking the knocks and making her own happiness.
I raised my head as a new determination hardened in me. I wasn’t going to waste the rest of my life in regret for what I had lost.
I had no idea where the future would lead me, or what it might hold, but I knew that I was strong enough to face it.
I would open the dress shops I had dreamed of owning – whether here or in France. It hardly mattered. Nothing would stop me.
I had lost Jack, and now Margaret had gone, too, but I had other friends. I had my mother, James and Lizzy. And Jon loved me. Fate had dealt me terrible blows, but I had also been given much that was good.
For most of my life so far I had done as I was told, or given way to the wishes of others. Not in recent years because I was forced, but because I had a strong sense of duty. In the future I would think more carefully before I obeyed my instincts.
The pain of loss was still with me, but I had thrust it into a tiny corner of my heart. It would always be there, but I could cope – as I always had.
From now on I would not look back. I would not allow myself to dwell on the past. I was going to make a success of my life. Somehow, I would win for myself all the things Jack had promised me.
It would not be the same. Nothing could ever be as it was that summer Jack stayed in England for nearly three months. I would never be as happy as I had been when I lay in his arms, but I would reach out and take what I wanted from life.
As my determination grew, I started to feel excitement. This was not the end. This was yet another beginning. And this time, I would do things my way …
Chapter 1
I heard the clatter of noisy feet down the stairs and went out into the hall to investigate just as James and Lizzy arrived, their nurse following close behind. It was a glorious summer day, sunlight filtering through the stained glass of the front door, sending a shower of rainbow colours across the pale carpet.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Reece,’ Sarah Miller apologized, the sparkle of laughter in her eyes. ‘They’re excited because of the school concert. I hope they didn’t disturb you?’
‘I haven’t really started to work yet,’ I said, kissing and hugging both my son and Lizzy with equal warmth. It didn’t matter to me that Lizzy was the daughter of my friend Sheila. During the years she had lived with us, she had become as dear to me as my own child. ‘But I must start in a moment. Sol and I have a lot to get through this morning.’
‘You are coming to the concert this afternoon?’ James demanded, a hint of mutiny in his expressive, dark chocolate eyes as he struggled free of my embrace.
Although charming and very loveable, my son had a forceful personality and was fond of his own way. ‘You promised, Mum. I’ve told everyone you’re definitely coming this time.’
‘I promise faithfully,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there at half-past two.’
‘James is singing all on his own,’ Lizzy said, her large, soulful eyes solemn and awed. James was Lizzy’s hero, and I believed she loved him more than anyone else in the world. ‘Don’t you think he’s ever so brave, Emmie?’
‘Yes, darling. Very brave and very clever.’
I looked at my son with pride. He was eight years old now, a sturdy, healthy boy with the promise of startlingly good looks when he was older. His slightly curling hair was more black than brown, and his cheeks tinged with rose, but there was a stubborn jut to his chin.
I believed he would break hearts one day – and that was hardly surprising, His father had been both charming and handsome when we first met. I had thought him very like one of the film stars I had admired so much in those days. I had been very young and immature then.
James did not look particularly like Paul Greenslade, but sometimes there was an expression or a frown that reminded me of my first lover.
James was an active, energetic child. However, his school had discovered a talent none of us had ever dreamed he possessed. He had the most beautiful, clear soprano voice, the kind of pure sound that brought tears to the eyes. He looked so innocent when he sang in the school choir – like a beautiful angel – which was very misleading!
My son was more devil than angel!
Both he had Lizzy were forever into some kind of mischief, and I wasn’t sure who was the instigator of their naughty escapades. The two were forever whispering into each other’s ears and giggling at their own secrets, which the grown-ups were seldom allowed to share. James appeared to be the leader, but Lizzy was never far behind.
Although in no way related, they looked as though they might be brother and sister, for Lizzy’s colouring was much like my son’s, though her hair had developed rich highlights as she grew older. She was, however, a beautiful child, her smiles full of a naughty but wistful charm that almost always gained her her own way with less effort than my son exerted for the same reason.