The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘Rape now, is it? And how would you set about proving it?’ he asked her mockingly, his eyes glittering in the way she had come to hate. ‘A case like that in the papers would be really good publicity for Evans Hotels, wouldn’t it? And wouldn’t Dad enjoy it all?’

  She knew he was right and that she didn’t really stand a chance but she stood her ground. ‘Sometimes it’s worth sticking it out,’ she told him quietly. ‘And I can tell you, Ralph, I’ve had enough of this marriage. I want it to end.’

  He stared at her for a moment, then gave a bark of laughter. ‘Marriage. Is that what you call it? Did you really think I actually wanted to make love to you? To you, when I can have my pick. You must be joking!’

  ‘I want a divorce, Ralph.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘Your infidelity. Cruelty — both physical and mental.’

  ‘Proof?’

  ‘You surely can’t imagine that would be difficult. You’ve even taken your women to our own hotels. And heaven knows I’ve had plenty of bruises,’ she added quietly.

  He turned away from her. ‘Try it if you like. You’ll only end up the poorer. All the money is tied up in the hotels. You’ll have no home and no job. Fancy the prospect, do you?’

  ‘I can think of worse.’

  Her determination and stoicism brought a flicker of uncertainty into the flinty eyes. ‘And then there’s Dad,’ he said, playing his trump card. ‘He wouldn’t be able to stay here with no one to look after him. You realise that, of course. You’d have to take him with you. Either that or he’d have to go into a home.’

  In spite of the warmth of the bathroom, Marie shuddered at the memory as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Rows with Ralph always left her feeling limp and drained. It was hardly any wonder that she’d slept badly, tortured by dreams of that other bad time in her life. And she had still to tell him that she was going to London for the day — unless she could get away before he wakened.

  In the bedroom she saw with relief that he was still asleep. She opened the wardrobe as quietly as she could and took out the blue dress she’d decided to wear. Slipping it on she sat down in front of the dressing table to apply her make-up.

  Would Leah be surprised to find her still quite young? She peered critically at herself in the mirror. She was still only thirty-seven though this morning she felt twice that. Her figure and skin were still firm and taut and her hair, which she now wore in a smooth, flicked-back bob, was as thick and naturally blonde as ever. She applied her favourite pink lipstick and clipped on the pearl earrings David had given her last Christmas. Almost ready.

  ‘How nice of you to take so much trouble just for me.’

  Ralph’s mocking voice broke the silence, making her jump. Through the mirror she saw him watching her as he lay in bed, his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes gleaming malevolently. ‘Oh, dear. Did I startle you?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘Have I spoilt the surprise?’ He sat up suddenly and threw back the duvet, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. ‘Or were you hoping to sneak off somewhere, leaving me to wake up and find you gone?’ He crossed to where she sat at the dressing table and dropped large, heavy hands on her shoulders. As they gazed at each other through the mirror Marie saw that his face looked distorted, oddly lopsided. The mirror seemed to accentuate the lines etched by all his baser habits over the years.

  ‘I have to go to London,’ she said quietly, putting down her hairbrush. ‘There was no reason to wake you.’

  ‘Ah — what a considerate wife I’ve got,’ he sneered. ‘Going to London — on a Sunday? What for, I wonder? Or maybe I should ask who for?’

  For a second she panicked. Could he possibly have found out? No, there was no way that he could. ‘I’ve made arrangements with Hannah,’ she said, mouthing the half-truth with a glibness that surprised her. ‘It’s months since I had a day off.’

  He crossed to the table by the bed and picked up the telephone, slamming it down on the dressing table in front of her. ‘Ring her,’ he commanded.

  She stared at him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I say so. Ring and tell her you can’t go. Tell her your husband has come home unexpectedly. She’ll understand. Any normal woman would.’

  Marie’s hand reached out, then she drew it back. ‘Why should I ring her?’ she said. ‘I’m going to London as I’ve arranged. After all, you didn’t let me know you were coming.’ She began to get up but he pushed her down again.

  ‘Do as you’re told, damn you.’ He lifted the receiver and thrust it into her hand. ‘Dial the number. Go on. I don’t care whether you go or not. Confirm the arrangement if you like — anything. I just want to hear you speak to her.’

  Marie dialled the number with trembling fingers. Hannah would understand. She would realise something unexpected had happened and go along with her. But at the other end the telephone rang out repeatedly — unanswered. She hung on in dismay for several minutes, trying to avoid Ralph’s triumphant eyes as they burned into her. At last he said: ‘Why don’t you admit it? She isn’t there. Who are you going to meet, Marie. It’s that doctor, isn’t it? The one you’ve been getting all cosy with these past few months. I hear he’s moved down here too.’ He laughed at her look of surprise. ‘Oh, yes, I get to know more than you think.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Have you been making a monkey out of me with him? Is it because of him you’re so anxious to get a divorce? It’d give his career one hell of a boost to be named as co-respondent, wouldn’t it? Or don’t you give a damn whose life you screw up just as long as you get rid of me?’ He stood over her, his eyes gleaming like hot coals and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Marie knew that his violent temper was barely under control; she could feel the vibrations of it crackling the air between them like static electricity. She also knew that to give in to him now was out of the question. She had reached a point of no return. Slowly she got to her feet and turned to face him.

  ‘I’m going to London, Ralph,’ she said as levelly as the pounding of her heart would allow. ‘I’m not meeting Doctor Hodges. There are no grounds for your allegations. The whole idea is absurd.’

  ‘Absurd, is it?’

  ‘Please stand out of my way.’ Marie took a step forward, but his hand lashed out with the speed of a cobra. It caught her across the mouth, making her head snap back with the force of the blow. Gasping at the pain, her hand flew to her lower lip and tears of humiliation sprang to her eyes. But when her fingers came away wet with blood from her split lip, blind anger suddenly exploded within her, blotting out the pain and the tears, letting her see only the years she had squandered in allowing him to use and exploit her. He was advancing on her again, but she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

  ‘Violence! That’s all you know,’ she shouted at him. ‘When insults and accusations won’t work, you resort to fists every time, don’t you? I know all about your past, Ralph — what your brutality did for your army career. It’ll be your downfall again before you’re through.’

  He stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing, ‘Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?’ His face flushed a dull crimson. ‘Anyway, what can you possibly know?’

  ‘I know why you were thrown out of the army. Hannah told me.’ Marie dabbed gingerly at her lip with a handkerchief. Already she could feel it beginning to swell, making speech difficult. ‘I even quarrelled with her over it. Can you believe that? What a joke — quarrelling with my best friend in your defence.’ She pushed past him and made for the door. ‘Well, this time you’re not going to browbeat me into submission.’

  ‘That’s what you think.’ He moved quickly to lock the door, slipping the key into the pocket of his bathrobe. ‘All right, let’s have it. What did that bitch tell you?’

  Her chin lifted and her eyes blazed defiantly into his. ‘That you were court martialled and sent to prison — for ill-treatment of prisoners and for beating up a girl. All people who were weaker than you, who couldn’t
defend themselves — because that’s your way, isn’t it, Ralph?’

  ‘Lies,’ he shouted. ‘All lies.’

  ‘No, it’s true. Someone who served with you in Ireland at the time told Hannah. He was staying here and he recognised you. He thought you were with Hannah and he warned her against you.’

  ‘It’s a pack of bloody lies, I tell you. Just wait till I see that bitch. I’ll …’

  ‘You’ll what? Are you planning to beat the daylights out of her too?’ Marie asked him. ‘You’ll find yourself in trouble if you do. You can’t go through life smashing hell out of everyone who sees through you, Ralph. In the end you have to come to terms with the fact that you’re a loser. A loser through and through.’

  His eyes bulged dangerously and the veins on his neck stood out like knotted rope. ‘A loser, am I? We’ll see about that.’

  Marie’s heart thudded in her breast but she knew she daren’t show weakness to him now. ‘Let me pass now,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a train to catch.’

  He stood against the door, his arms folded. ‘Tell me who it is you’re meeting and I’ll unlock the door.’

  ‘I’ve told you.’

  ‘So why isn’t she answering her telephone?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she spent the night away from her flat. She doesn’t tell me all her movements.’

  ‘Right then. If you’re determined to go, we’ll go together,’ he said. ‘As it happens, I’ve got a few things to say to Hannah Brown myself. She’ll think twice before she blackens my name again.’ He crossed the room, threw off his robe and began to get dressed.

  Marie turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her lower lip was still bleeding and the left side of her mouth and chin had swollen to twice their normal size. She sank wearily on to a chair. He’d won. In spite of her standing up to him, Ralph had won again. There was no way she dare let him know who it was she really meant to meet. And no way she could face her daughter for the first time looking like this.

  *

  Leah had never been on Waterloo Station before and she was impressed by its size and the cheerful music being played over the public address system. It gave the place a celebratory atmosphere that was just right for the occasion. She’d arrived early, having allowed more than enough time to change trains at Tottenham Court Road. Checking the arrival time of the Bournemouth train on the indicator she found that she had half an hour to spare. She wandered round the station, looking at everything of interest from the bookshop to the travel agency. Finally she finished up in the buffet with a cup of coffee and a Danish pastry.

  At eleven o’clock she stood expectantly at the barrier of platform twelve as the train drew in. Adjusting the red carnation she had bought so that it was plainly visible, she scanned the faces and clothes of all the passengers disembarking. They passed her in ones and twos. People of all ages, shapes and sizes, all hurrying purposefully. There were several women wearing black coats, but none of them matched the description Hannah had given her of Marie. One woman even wore a blue Paisley scarf, but she was large and grey-haired. Finally, trailing behind everyone else, came a slim, blonde woman who just might have been Marie Evans. But she wore a dark green suit. Could she have changed her mind about what to wear? Leah stood firmly in her path, but the woman stepped aside with no more than the briefest of glances at her.

  Leah wandered back to the indicator and was heartened to see that there was another train in ten minutes. She waited, walking up and down until the train slid alongside the platform. Once again her eyes eagerly raked the passengers. And once again she was disappointed.

  After the third train had yielded its cargo of strangers she found a call box and dialled Hannah’s number. There was no reply.

  From the indicator she saw that there were no more trains for an hour. She stood gazing up at the revolving place names, chewing her thumb and wondering what to do. Eventually she decided to stay on the station. She would have a snack lunch and then meet one more train. Anything might have happened. And if Hannah was out for the day there would be no way that Marie could send a message through her either.

  By three o’clock she was beginning to feel betrayed and disillusioned. It was always possible to get a message to someone who was waiting at a railway station if you really wanted to. Whilst she’d been here she’d heard several personal messages given out over the public address system. Marie could have made the effort, but it seemed she just hadn’t bothered. She must be regretting the letter she had written. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Why should she put herself out after all these years anyway? After all, she, Leah, was no more than a stranger to her. Angry and bitterly disappointed, she turned on her heel and headed for the Underground.

  When she came out of the station at Notting Hill it was beginning to get dark. The street lights were already alight and a thin drizzle was falling. She turned up her coat collar, tears of anger and self-pity stinging her eyes. Why did people always let her down? What was wrong with her? I must be completely worthless, she told herself as she walked home, head down against the thin, cold rain. They all reject me. Even Terry sees me as a burden. He must have been really glad to get away from me. She swallowed hard at the tight knot of tears in her throat, determined not to give way. She’d missed Terry much more than she’d expected to since he’d left for Lancashire. Bill was kind and nice, but he wasn’t Terry and never could be. They all had their lives to lead. They all had someone of their own who cared about them. Terry still had his father. Even Bill still kept in touch with his ex-wife. He’d told her so. There was even some talk of her coming to London to spend Christmas with him.

  She turned the corner into Melbury Street and found it dim and murky after the brilliance of the main road. As she went down the area steps of number twenty-four she paused to search her handbag for her key, fumbling in the darkness. She was so preoccupied that when a figure stepped out of the shadows in front of her, she started violently.

  ‘Oh! Who is it? Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s all right. I’m sorry if I made you jump. You — wouldn’t know if a Miss Dobson lives here, would you?’

  ‘I’m Leah Dobson.’ Leah peered at the stranger. She wore a skimpy raincoat but her head was bare. Her hair hung about her pale face in dripping strands. She was wet and bedraggled — and very pregnant.

  ‘Have you been waiting long? You look soaked. Please come in and get dry.’ Leah unlocked the door. ‘Come through to the kitchen. It’ll be warm in there.’

  In the basement kitchen the table was laid for two. Leah had seen to it before she left for Waterloo. There was a bottle of red wine uncorked and ‘breathing’ on the dresser and the air was redolent with the aroma of the rich Norfolk casserole waiting in the Aga. The girl took all this in in one glance.

  ‘Oh, look, you’re expecting company. I’d better go.’

  Leah reached out to lay a hand on her arm. ‘No, it’s all right. They — she’s not coming now.’ She smiled. ‘Stay and help me eat it if you like. Somebody’s got to.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I’m obviously supposed to remember you but I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are.’

  Sally stepped forward and searched Leah’s face, looking for some sign — some mirror image of herself. She found none. ‘My name is Sally Payne,’ she said softly. ‘And I think I’m your sister.’

  Stunned, Leah stared at her for a long time. This girl, this pregnant girl with the pale face and limp fair hair, wasn’t at all what she’d imagined her twin sister to be like. What she had envisaged she didn’t quite know, except that it wasn’t this. ‘You’re my sister?’ She said the words slowly, as a blind person explores the features of a stranger.

  ‘You’re — Sarah?’

  ‘Sally. I’ve always been known as Sally. Hannah Brown gave me your address. Maybe I shouldn’t have come like this — without letting you know,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I did try to ring this morning but there was no reply. I just came on the off-chance this afterno
on. I thought …’

  ‘You’re cold and wet,’ Leah interrupted. ‘What am I thinking about? Take your mac off. I’ll get you a towel for your hair.’

  Sally looked better once the warmth had brought the blood back into her cheeks again. Her hair, rubbed vigorously, began to dry and spring back into its natural curls, and Leah began to see that although pinched and peaky-looking she was really quite pretty. Sitting her down in the Windsor chair next to the Aga, she poured her a glass of wine.

  ‘I don’t know if I should really,’ Sally said hesitantly. ‘The baby …’

  Leah shrugged. ‘Surely one glass can’t hurt.’ She busied herself, taking the casserole and a dish of scalloped potatoes out of the oven. There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask — so much she wanted to know. It was agonisingly hard to be patient. But she knew instinctively that she mustn’t rush things.

  Sally tucked in hungrily and complimented Leah on her cooking, ‘It’s delicious. Where did you learn to cook?’

  ‘My grandmother — my adoptive grandmother taught me,’ Leah said, helping Sally to more. ‘It’s come in very handy since I left home. I worked in a pub for a time. Now I’ve got a job in a restaurant run by an Italian family. It’s just round the corner from here and I’ve learned a lot of Italian dishes since I’ve been there.’ She glanced at the other girl. ‘I grew up in Norfolk. Where did you?’