The Love of a Lifetime

by Mary Fitzgerald

  Her cheeks became quite pink then and she looked quickly across at Billy to see what he thought but he was busy helping John cut the meat off his portion of goose and wasn’t listening to the conversation at the other end of the table. Marian, who was sitting next to him was though and she gazed at Elizabeth through the wire rimmed spectacles she now wore.

  “You’re looking very well, Elizabeth,” she said but the compliment sounded almost like a condemnation.

  “Thank you.”

  “And you,” she turned to me, “not as yellow as last time. You’ve filled out.”

  “Well I’ve been home for a while,” I said, “the tan has worn off.”

  “We thought you’d get leave as soon as you returned. I’m surprised that you had to wait so long.”

  Mother tutted. “He’s home now, Marian. That’s all that matters.”

  Albert turned the conversation to India and asked me what I thought of the ‘rebels.’

  “They’re a peaceful lot, on the whole,” I said. “I think they have a lot of right on their side.”

  That surprised him and stayed his hand for a moment as he was helping himself to another pile of roast potatoes. “You amaze me, Richard. I’ve been told on very good authority that these men are nothing but terrorists and communists ready to turn India into another Russia.”

  I felt angry, thinking about Dr Rai who was already dead in that dreadful jail in the Andamans. He would have made ten of Albert’s so-called authorities. “Their leaders are respectable, educated men,” I said. “They deserve their freedom and will have it, one day. You’ll see.”

  Now, here was me spoiling the jolly atmosphere and I was sorry when I saw Mother’s face fall. But Albert was a better man than many. He resumed spooning potatoes onto his dish and gave me a smile. “I’m sure you know better, Richard. I won’t argue.” He turned towards the top of the table and winked at John. “Now, I expect this young man wants his gifts. I’d better get a move on.”

  We opened our presents by the Christmas tree in the drawing room. I was touched by the generosity I’d been shown by my family and was glad that I’d made the effort to get them decent gifts. Billy had given me Father’s duelling pistols, which had come to him after Father’s death. I had always admired them. And I had books from Mother and Elizabeth. Gold cuff links with my initials came from Albert and Marian.

  “Thank you, thank you,” I said and sat back to watch them open theirs. Elizabeth gave me a special smile when she opened the packet containing the blue cashmere cardigan. She liked it, I could see and Mother liked her leather writing case and Billy the big book of horse breeding that I had chosen. I was glad that I had chosen well but all I was really interested in was whether John liked what I’d got for him, so when he tore excitedly at the paper covering the box, I think I was biting my tongue.

  “A train set,” said Elizabeth when he finally got it open. “You lucky boy.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Richard,” he said his face red with excitement. “Thank you.” He pulled the engine out and looked at it with solemn pleasure and then slowly and almost reverently touched all the other coaches and accoutrements that came in the set. He was almost squeaking with joy and everyone put down their own presents to watch him. Elizabeth bent down and whispered something in his ear and he gave a little nod. I nearly wept when he came over to me and wrapping his arms around my neck, gave me a big kiss. It was a special moment.

  “That was very generous, our Dick,” said Billy, his hanky at the ready as ever. These sorts of occasions always moved him. He had given the boy a beautifully carved rocking horse, with the name ‘Diamond’ painted on the rockers. He must have paid a fortune for it and it’s still in the nursery rooms on the top floor. John sat on it often, rocking away and shouting that he was the winner in the race, but he always had one of the Hornby coaches in his hand.

  The rest of Christmas passed quickly. I had another week of nights with Elizabeth but it went in a flash. This time I didn’t beg her to leave. It would have been a hopeless task, for she wouldn’t do anything that might make things difficult for John. She didn’t love our Billy, but I don’t think she was afraid of him anymore. They had come to an arrangement.

  “He goes to prostitutes,” she said one night when we lay together after a passionate session of lovemaking. “Every now and then. It keeps him quiet.”

  I said nothing. I didn’t even ask how she knew. It seemed a strange way to behave, but I supposed that I was as much to blame as anyone else. His wife was in love with someone else and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. What else could he do?

  I wanted to know about something else too.

  “What did happen to your dog? I asked. “Who shot her?”

  “Who d’you think?” she replied sadly and I sat up on my elbow to look at her face. She sighed and moved closer towards me. “That was my punishment for getting pregnant. He wanted a child too much to damage me, but I had to be chastised.”

  All I could do was to hold her. I felt so guilty. What distress we two brothers had visited upon her.

  “Oh God!” I said, smoothing my hand down the soft skin that covered her slim back, “I hope I haven’t left you pregnant again.”

  “So do I,” she said quietly. I hadn’t. She never had another child.

  Fred Darlington came to see me one morning. He was looking older and more serious but greeted me as an old friend. “When are you coming back home?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m a twenty-year man. My life is in the army.”

  He shrugged and looked away up to the hillside. “Pity,” he said, “it would be better if you were here.”

  I was puzzled. “Why?”

  “You could keep an eye on Billy.”

  “What?”

  We were in the yard by the gate leading to the home field. I knew Billy was in the stables with the horses and Elizabeth was busy in the dairy, yet I felt I had to lower my voice.

  “What are you talking about?” I whispered.

  He stared at me for a moment as though considering whether to carry on. “He beat up a prossie on Christmas Eve. Nearly killed her. She’s still in hospital.”

  I could barely believe what I was hearing, but the conversation that I’d heard between the farm hands trickled into my mind.

  Still, he was my brother and I couldn’t have people talking about him like that. “Rubbish,” I protested. “I don’t believe you. If it was true you would have arrested him by now.”

  Fred sighed. “She won’t bring charges, but I know it was him. It isn’t the first time.”

  This was dreadful news and I could barely take it in. I knew Billy had a violent temper, but I couldn’t believe that he would get so out of control that he would beat up a young girl. Elizabeth had said that he went with prostitutes, I wondered if she knew about the beatings as well? Of course she did. He’d beaten her, hadn’t he?

  “Oh God,” I groaned, “this is terrible.”

  Fred nodded. “Yes it is. And you have to do something about it. You’re the only one who can.”

  It wasn’t fair to put that responsibility on me. Billy was my brother, but he was older than me and all my life he had told me what to do. We didn’t have a relationship that would have allowed me to reprove him. I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said, “he wouldn’t listen to me. And anyway, there isn’t any proof.” It was cowardly of me, but then I was never a brave person, especially where the family was concerned.

  “Well,” said Fred, “then he’ll just get worse until someone, somewhere is brave enough to tackle him.”

  We didn’t talk about it again and when I called at his house the next day to say hello to Miranda and the children, the subject wasn’t mentioned. All the talk was about the possibility of war.

  I didn’t tell them that I was pretty sure that it was on the cards. She was frightened for her children and when I looked round their comfortable house and saw how happy they were, I couldn’t bring myself t
o spoil things for them. My life was a mess, really, but I had no need to make anyone else’s as bad.

  “Young John is a fine boy,” said Fred, seeing me to his gate when my visit was over.

  I nodded. “Yes he is.”

  We shook hands then and nothing more was said nor needed to be. Fred knew whose child John was. I dare say all the village did too. The mark of the Cleetons is very strong.

  Chapter 22

  I went back to my company in the first week of January. We had celebrated quietly at home, staying up to welcome in the New Year with glasses of whisky for Billy and me and port wine for Mother and Elizabeth. Billy went outside with a piece of coal and some bread and salt, so that in the first minute of the year he could come in with provisions. It was for luck, because Mother was always concerned with doing things ‘for luck.’ If salt was spilled she threw it over her left shoulder. She would bow to the new moon and turn her money over and sometimes, if she had accidentally caught sight of the moon through glass, the whole palaver of bowing and turning money over and turning round three times had to be exercised.

  Other superstitions existed too, but as a child I never thought them odd. It was simply the way we lived and to a certain extent, I followed Mother’s rules. Even now I can’t put shoes on the table or allow lilac or ivy into the house and I still look anxiously at the little jasper elephants on the mantelpiece in the kitchen to make sure that they’re facing the door. Mother used to say that there would be ructions if they couldn’t find their way out.

  I thought about her superstition of lilac on the day of her funeral. Someone had sent a wreath of white lilac and when I came down the stairs after showing the undertaker where Mother’s body lay, I saw the wreath propped up against a chair in our hall. I think the sight of those white flowers, actually in the house, was almost as upsetting as the fact of Mother’s death. The driver of the hearse, who was sitting patiently behind the wheel, waiting for the coffin, must have thought me mad as he saw me throw open the front door and fling the wreath out of the house. We watched together as those flowers flew into the air, petals loosening and spinning away before the whole thing came down in a messy heap onto the gravel.

  It was me who went and picked it up before Mother’s coffin came down, carefully collecting all the broken flowers and bits of leaf. I was ashamed of my loss of control but I made sure that that horrible wreath didn’t come to the churchyard. I had stuffed the card in my pocket and took it out and read it later that evening when I was putting my good suit away in the wardrobe. The wreath was from the Phoenix family. I might have known.

  When I got back to barracks that early January, I wasn’t as upset as I might have been. Elizabeth and I had come to some sort of an arrangement, so that we could behave like any other married couple who had to be parted. I felt married to her, felt that we had a child together and the fact that we were merely brother and sister-in-law was an obstacle that we had to live with. It was simply that nobody else knew, or said it. So I returned to my soldiering life not as reluctantly as I might have and greeted my friends without wishing I was elsewhere.

  Lewis Wilton had met a girl in the town over the Christmas holidays and this time, he said, it was serious.

  “I’m going to get married,” he told me, when we met up in the sergeants’ mess for our tea.

  “You?” I said, shaking my head. “That’ll be the day.”

  “No. I mean it. Sarah’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He brought out a photograph of a fair, studious looking girl. The picture had been taken outside a large building and when I looked closely, I recognised it as the central library.

  “Where did you meet?” I was curious because as far as knew, Lewis had never set foot in a library. Anyway, this girl didn’t look like his usual type. He liked them noisy and up for anything.

  “In the library.”

  I must have looked amazed because he laughed and punched me on the arm. “I was outside the recruiting office in town, showing off the dress uniform, you know, and trying to drum up some new recruits, when it came on to rain. I sheltered in the doorway of the library and she came out with a cup of tea for me. She works there. After that we got talking and I went back the next day to see her. I borrowed a book.”

  “Good God!” I laughed. “What was it?”

  “A Passage to India”

  “Have you read it?”

  He shook his head, “Not a word, it’s so fucking boring, but she thought I would be interested, seeing as how I’d been there. She said she would love to travel.”

  He chattered on, telling me how wonderful Sarah was and how in only two weeks she had changed his life. He’d even met her parents. “I minded my p’s and q’s that day, I can tell you. Barely spoke a fucking word, too scared of swearing.”

  “Have you asked for her?”

  “Yes and got permission. The wedding is set for Easter Saturday and we’ll move into married quarters here on the base. Sarah will have to give up her job, but my sergeant’s pay will give us enough to live on. And, by the way, I want you to be the Best Man.”

  It was quiet wedding, held in the Methodist chapel in town. The girl’s parents were strict observers of their faith, so we had no alcohol to toast the happy couple, but they were nice people and had welcomed Lewis into their family, as another son. I sat next to the fat bridesmaid at the small reception and later, after Lewis and his new wife had left for their honeymoon in London, I took her out to a pub in the town.

  “I don’t drink much,” she said, but she did and tried to get off with me. I wasn’t having that and took her home as soon as I decently could.

  Elizabeth came to see me sometimes and we would put up for the night at the Northern Hotel and enjoy each other’s company in relative anonymity. These were her ‘shopping trips’ recognised as a necessary outing by Mother and Billy because our local town was a poor place and the shops didn’t carry anything smart. She played the game by taking home new clothes for herself and John and little gifts for Mother. She never bought anything for Billy. “He gets clothes when he goes off to the shows,” she said. “Always buying himself new jackets and overcoats. He likes to look smart when judging.”

  It was true that he liked to look smart. I rarely saw my brother in anything worn or dirty, even when he was mucking about the yard. He wore brown overalls on the farm that Mother boiled up in the copper, so that every other day he had a clean pair to put on. Even his boots were hosed off each evening. He couldn’t abide dirt.

  “Did you hear about that girl on Christmas Eve?” I asked her. I’d been thinking about what Fred told me, on and off, in the months since I’d been back and it troubled me a lot. Half the time I didn’t really believe it but then I remembered the rage that had left Billy shaking, as he slammed out of the house.

  “I heard,” she nodded. “Miranda Darlington told me at the church jumble sale. She said she thought I ought to know because all the village was talking about it.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “Of course.” She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me pityingly. “Don’t you?”

  I said nothing and lay looking at the ceiling of the hotel bedroom. I did believe it, I suppose, but I didn’t want to. It’s hard to admit that a person whom you have known all your life, played with, brought up with and loved, could do things as cruel as he was being accused of.

  As if reading my mind, Elizabeth said quietly, “Think what he did to me, if you want proof.”

  I turned to face her. “I don’t understand it. I don’t know why he does it.”

  She lay back down again and curled her body into mine. “He’s ill,” she sighed, “in his head. Your mother knew it years ago, that’s why she wanted us married. She thought it would calm him down. Didn’t you realise?”

  I held her close and thought of that conversation I’d had all those years ago with Mother. She’d tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. I’d been too wrapped up in my own callow jealousy. And
later, I’d assumed that the organised marriage was to do with the circumstances of my birth. As ever, I’d only been concerned with myself.

  That night in the warm hotel bed, lying next to the only girl I could ever love, I was stupid enough to feel sorry for Mother, having to bear all that knowledge alone. I didn’t think then of the dreadful thing she’d done to Elizabeth. It was only when I heard a little choke and looked to see that she was crying, that I realised she was the one person whose life had been most affected.

  “Leave him,” I begged. “Bring John to me and we can start a new life here.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t let him go,” she sobbed, “besides, the shame of it all would kill your mother.”

  I could say nothing that would persuade her and the only concession I was ever able to get out of her was a promise to leave, with John, if Billy ever got dangerous with her.

  “I will,” she said and added fiercely, “believe me, Richard. If he ever lays one finger on my son, I’ll kill him.”

  He was my son too, so why couldn’t I have said that? I didn’t. It was a circumstance that I simply couldn’t imagine and anyway, the fraternal bonds were so strong that even the thought of harming my brother was something beyond contemplation.

  Rumours of war were rife all the time in those days and we were expecting orders for a general mobilisation at any time. When we did get them, at the beginning of nineteen thirty-nine, I actually felt relief in a way because we’d been waiting for so long. We were being sent to Gibraltar to strengthen the garrison there, a good posting because it is a nice place, good weather and plenty of bars.

  Lewis didn’t want to go. Sarah was expecting their first and as it turned out, their only child, any day and he tried all ways to get out of leaving England. In the end, the Colonel allowed him a month’s compassionate leave and he was able to be at home when his daughter was born and rejoined the company later.

  “Look,” he’d say excitedly to anyone he could grab when he had caught up with us, “look at my daughter.” And he would produce a now dog-eared photograph of a baby girl, held proudly in her mother’s arms. “I’m going to bring them out here in a few months when the baby’s able to travel.”