She had lived most of her life in an atmosphere of opulence surrounded by treasures, but she had been denied the one treasure the poorest woman in the world may have in abundance: grandchildren. A woman like Mrs. Grant, who valued people more than possessions, would feel deprived indeed.
‘I’m a sentimental old fool,’ Mrs. Grant suddenly announced, blowing her nose and straightening her shoulders. ‘I regret that little display. I don’t often indulge myself and I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.’
‘You haven’t. I think I understand.’
‘Do you, my dear?’ The eyes behind the tinted lenses seemed to be looking at her with intense penetration. ‘I very much doubt it.’ Her mouth was firm, her manner so brisk that it was hard to believe that a few moments ago she had been overcome by emotion. ‘Mrs. Palmer has baked all your special favourites, Stephanie, so I want you to tuck in. You too, Jan. I envy you your healthy appetite. I was always a little on the plump side myself and had to resist all the luscious fattening things. Now that it no longer matters whether I diet or not, I find that my appetite has gone. It’s so unfair, don’t you think?’
There was a brittleness behind her laugh and Jan suspected that her thoughts had gone back and she was dwelling on life’s other injustices and deprivations.
Jan had been so engrossed with Mrs. Grant that she hadn’t been watching Stephanie. Unsupervised, Stephanie had eaten the pink icing off four small round cakes, and if Jan didn’t act swiftly a fifth cake, with its top bitten off, would join the other four.
‘Stephanie!’
The smile she gave Jan was seraphic. She bit deeply into the cake in her hand and began to chew virtuously. Jan just had to smile.
But the smile was soon wiped off her face. It was the unexpectedness of it that was her undoing. She had been sitting in apprehension of something happening, but she had envisaged a piece of china getting broken. The plate very nearly was a casualty as Stephanie jumped to her feet. It fell to the floor, but thanks to a miracle, or the density of the carpet, it didn’t break. Jan was down on her knees dealing with the spill of crumbs produced by all those uneaten cakes, when it happened. She heard Stephanie say: ‘There now, we don’t have to go into town for Tatty Bear to get some glasses.’
Jan stared in disbelief, horror and dismay. No! Stephanie couldn’t have! But she had. She’d jumped up and before anybody could possibly know what was hatching in her mind, she’d snatched Mrs. Grant’s spectacles from her nose and put them on Tatty Bear.
‘Goodness!’ Mrs. Grant blinked shortsightedly. ‘Whatever made the child do that?’ she added with such tolerance that it was Jan’s turn to blink.
‘I think I know. It’s the result of a silly conversation Stephanie had with David ages ago. You think children forget, but they don’t. It was all to do with the untidy state of her bedroom. Tatty Bear came into it, as he always does, and David said if Tatty Bear thought it was tidy then he needed glasses, and they’d better take him into town to get him fitted with a pair. Stephanie asked if he could have tinted ones like you wear and . . . oh, I’m so sorry.’
‘That’s all right,’ assured Mrs. Grant, her mouth twitching in amusement. ‘I don’t suppose any harm has been done.’
It was the indignity Jan had been concerned with. She hadn’t thought about anything more serious. ‘I hope not,’ she said earnestly, retrieving the spectacles from Tatty Bear and examining them for damage. ‘They seem to be all right.’
In handing the spectacles back to their owner, and before they could be restored to their rightful place, she scrutinised Mrs. Grant’s face for tell-tale signs of irritation, hardly daring to believe the genuineness of such a sweet and tolerant reaction. It was no fake. But even as she was thinking what an exceptionally nice person Mrs. Grant was, she was riveted by her eyes. They were her best feature. The tinted lenses had concealed not only the tranquil sweetness of expression, but the beauty of their colour. Such an exquisite peridot green. The same shade of green as Stephanie’s.
Jan had often wondered whom Stephanie had inherited her unusual eye colouring from. Not from her mother, Annabel’s eyes had been blue. Not from her father, David’s eyes were brown. She had thought perhaps that Stephanie had a green-eyed grandmother, and she was devastated to think she might be right. But to be right about that, she had to be wrong about something else. If Louisa Grant was Stephanie’s true grandmother, then David couldn’t be Stephanie’s true father. Her father had to be . . . and she had even been called for him . . . Louisa Grant’s son, Stephen. But Stephen had died in the car crash, and so by voluntary action, or because it had been forced on him, David had taken the role of father upon himself. But David wasn’t Stephanie’s father.
Jan tried to behave normally, as if she hadn’t just made a most momentous discovery. But it was difficult to pick up the threads of the light-hearted chatter when her mind was reeling. On the other hand, Mrs. Grant had regained her composure and was talking away as happily as if nothing untoward had happened. As a child of her time, and station in life, the social arts and graces must have been part of her time-table, so it could be she was falling back on rigid practice. It also occurred to Jan that she could be at ease because she didn’t know that Jan had suddenly hit upon this startling revelation. Why should she, now, after all this time? There must be those in Willowbridge who suspected, but they were obviously keeping quiet. Jan had never heard a whisper of gossip that might cast a doubt upon Stephanie’s parentage.
Had David gone into the marriage knowing that the child on the way wasn’t his? Jan didn’t think so. Other things were beginning to make sense now. David wouldn’t have deserted Annabel because he couldn’t face life with a crippled wife. But Jan could well believe that he would refuse to live with her if he found out he’d been duped. Annabel’s pregnancy would have come to light when she was admitted to hospital after the car that was taking them to the reception met with an accident. Whatever she’d done, by that time she was David’s wife, and he had honoured his responsibility to her, providing her and her child with a home and maintaining them both.
After all this time was the pain still there? What were David’s thoughts when he looked at his . . . when he looked at Stephanie? It was going to take some getting used to the fact that Stephanie was not his daughter.
Jan let the tangled ends of her thoughts lay where they would, to be picked up and unravelled later, and made the effort to discharge her obligations to her hostess. Luckily, Mrs. Grant was in good form and the conversation flowed even though Jan’s contribution was minimal. She could understand now why Mrs. Grant was tolerant towards Stephanie and why she made so much of her. When she looked at the child the love in her eyes took on a new meaning. When Stephanie trustingly put her hand in Mrs. Grant’s as she walked them to the door when it was time to leave, a lump came into Jan’s throat.
Some compulsion lifted Jan’s chin and she found herself reciprocating Mrs. Grant’s keenly penetrating look.
‘Please bring Stephanie again quite soon.’
‘I will.’
Jan was sure that Mrs. Grant knew she was aware of her relationship with the child, but not a word was said.
Palmer opened the door for them to get in. Goodbye waves were exchanged, and they drove off.
* * *
‘Reckon we’re going to have a drop of our own,’ Palmer said.
‘Yes. I hadn’t noticed, but it does look like rain.’
They could be in for a real downpour. Livid splashes of black rent the blue sky. By the time they arrived home there wasn’t a speck of blue to be seen. The clouds met in floating black masses, squeezing out the last remnant of light, but despite one splash on Jan’s nose, as they hurried from the car to the cottage, the rain held off.
Evening came. The air was hot and oppressive, but still it did not rain.
It was the usual drill for Jan to get Stephanie to bed and then dish up the evening meal, which she and David took together. She slowed down the simmering pans and
returned to the living room with Stephanie’s mug of cocoa.
‘. . . please, Daddy, you’ve got to.’ There was more mutiny than entreaty in Stephanie’s eyes.
Whatever it was about—had David told Stephanie one bedtime story and was she demanding two?—David wasn’t having any.
‘No, young lady. It’s way past your bedtime. Drink your cocoa and then it’s up the wooden hill for you.’
‘Tatty Bear doesn’t like you,’ she said fiercely.
‘I’m sorry about that, because I like Tatty Bear. I love Tatty Bear,’ he amended. And because he was talking in Stephanie-language, he meant ‘I love you.’
He does, thought Jan, and that nuisance lump came to her throat again.
‘Tell you what, if you’re nippy about getting into bed, I’ll come up and tell you a story.’
So Stephanie hadn’t been pleading for a story. David never gave in. The promise of a story was used to distract her from whatever it was she’d been pestering him about.
Stephanie went upstairs with Jan, but it was under duress. As she tucked her in, Jan didn’t much like the set of that mutinous little mouth.
David came down from telling that promised story just as Jan was putting the finishing touches to the table.
‘Is she all right?’
‘She will be.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘The ideas that pop into that child’s head.’ He didn’t elaborate on that, but said: ‘What sort of a day have you had?’
‘A nice one, actually.’ She wondered how he’d react when she told him where they’d been. She would have to tell him. If she’d known what the situation was beforehand, she wouldn’t have gone without first asking his permission. ‘Mrs. Grant phoned this morning and invited us to tea.’
If she hadn’t been wised up she wouldn’t have noticed the lift of his eyebrows, it was so slight. She saw because she was searching his face for some such reaction.
‘You went, of course,’ he said ever so casually.
‘Yes. I didn’t see any objection.’
‘What objection could there be? I’m glad you had a nice time. Was Stephanie on her best behaviour?’
‘Well,’ she said wrinkling her nose, ‘let’s say second best behaviour.’
She didn’t mention the incident concerning Tatty Bear and Mrs. Grant’s spectacles, because it sounded too much like tale-bearing, and in any case it was too close for comfort to the revelation.
Although Jan had pointed out an interesting programme on television, when he’d finished his meal David returned to The Retreat. He’d brought some work home with him that he must do.
Having washed the dishes and finished straightening round, Jan went up to check on Stephanie. She popped her head round the door and gulped. There was something about the bed. It was too flat.
She flicked on the light and advanced into the room. She half expected Stephanie to jump out at her from the side of the dressing table or from behind the wardrobe. Nothing happened. Jan looked at the empty bed and went flying down the stairs and across to The Retreat.
She hammered on the door. David opened it to her, looking puzzled no doubt by the urgency of her knock, then concerned by the agitation on her face.
‘Get your breath back. Then tell me slowly what’s happened.’
‘Stephanie’s gone,’ she gasped. ‘I went up to her bedroom to see that she was all right, and she’s not there.’
‘Not there?’ A look of disbelief crossed his face. ‘Oh no! The little idiot.’
‘You look as though you know where she’s gone. Do you?’
‘I’m not positive, but I think she’s gone into the woods.’
‘The woods. What for?’ Jan questioned because her brain wasn’t reasoning properly.
‘To see the deer. She asked me if I’d take her and I said no because it was too late for her to be up.’ So that’s what Stephanie had been pestering David about. ‘She must have decided to go by herself. I’ve no notion of how she got the idea of going on a deer watch.’
‘I’m afraid I have. Palmer was telling her about the two deer he’d seen. She asked him to take her and he told her to ask—’ Barely perceptible pause, because Palmer had said ‘ask your daddy’—‘you.’
‘And I said no, so she’s gone on her own.’
‘Not quite on her own. She’s got her accomplice in crime with her, dear old Tatty Bear.’
David was already pushing his arms into his anorak.
‘Wait for me,’ said Jan. ‘I’ll just put some shoes on.’
‘You’ll need your raincoat, and pick up a waterproof for Stephanie. The rain can’t hold off much longer.’
It didn’t. They weren’t long out of the door and still not in sight of the black dense mass of the woods when the sky opened and the rain came down on them like driving spears. By the time they reached the woods, her toes felt waterlogged even though she was wearing sturdy walking shoes.
The overhanging branches slapped wetly against her face, the undergrowth put out feelers to trip her up. The light from the torch, which David had the foresight to bring, served the useful purpose of penetrating the path, but made everything look so much creepier.
‘Poor little Stephanie. Wherever she is, she must be scared out of her mind.’
‘Not Steph. She’ll think she’s having a huge adventure.’
‘If she can think. If she hasn’t fallen and knocked herself unconscious. She’s so little. She could die of exposure.’
‘Do you have a projector in your mind that switches on the horror stuff automatically? Instead of the H for horror, can we have a nice cosy U certificate?’
‘You mean children’s stuff, like Hansel and Gretel? Or what about The Hobbit. Tolkien can be relied upon for lifting a few hairs off the back of your neck.’
‘Listen!’ David commanded, silencing her.
She listened, but only heard the eerie moans and grunts and inhuman screams and screeches of the creatures of the forest. Perhaps it was the song they sang nightly, or perhaps they were objecting to the intrusion of two marauding strangers in their private little world.
‘I was mistaken,’ said David. ‘Come on.’
They seemed to plunge on for ever, endlessly calling Stephanie’s name. The trees banded together to take on weird shapes. Jan’s imagination was working overtime and disembodied images were on the prowl in her mind. She told herself sternly that it was all in the mind, but kept an eye open for the odd spectral horse or headless huntsman.
She tripped and made a grab for David’s hand. Even when she’d steadied her step, he did not deprive her of this comfort, and the warm cling of his fingers chased the ghosts away.
They found Stephanie hovering within the protective range of a large—and now oddly friendly—old tree. She was trembly lipped, but mutinous.
‘I didn’t see the deer. They didn’t come and I waited and waited. And I was frightened that something nasty was going to get me.’
‘In this friendly old wood?’ Jan said, her voice squeaky with relief. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of here. But you must promise never to go off on your own again. If we hadn’t found you, you would have been very cold and wet and hungry by breakfast time.’
It was impossible to chide her seriously when all she wanted to do was hug and comfort her.
David was being very resolute and practical. ‘If you do anything like this ever again, young lady, you can expect to be severely smacked.’ He wrapped her in the waterproof he’d instructed Jan to bring along, but as it was a raincoat Stephanie was growing out of fast, it was hardly sufficient for the job. Without a word he took off his own anorak and snuggled her into it for added warmth, then lifted her into his arms and carried her all the way home.
Jan looked at the clock, expecting it to be hours later. Impossible to believe, but slightly less than three quarters of an hour had elapsed between discovering that Stephanie was missing and now.
‘Give her a warm bath, something hot to drink, and get her st
raight to bed. Do the same for yourself,’ David instructed.
Jan’s chin went up in a nod of agreement, and froze there. Before it had chance to come down again, Stephanie let out a scream that was more unnerving than anything she had heard in the woods, and would have sent a few of the woodland creatures scampering for safety.
The noise was still in her throat as Jan soothed: ‘Everything’s all right now, pet. You’re home and safe, and soon you’ll be snuggled up in bed.’
‘Tatty Bear,’ Stephanie sobbed bitterly. ‘I left him under that tree.’
Two pairs of eyes looked at David, one waterlogged, the other expectant.
‘No!’ he said angrily. ‘I’m drenched to the skin.’ Having given Stephanie his anorak, that was no exaggeration. ‘I will not turn out again to rescue a toy bear.’
Stephanie started sobbing and screaming again, more bitterly than before. Jan wrapped her arms round the heartbroken child, without letting her relentless gaze slip from David’s face.
‘You’re being unreasonable, Jan. It’s inhuman of you to ask it of me. Stop that silly crying, Steph. I’ll go in the morning and look. I’ll buy you another bear, a bigger, nicer one.’
Stephanie kept on howling; Jan kept on looking.
‘Damn the pair of you, no!’
‘Then I’ll go,’ Jan said very quietly.
His eyes flew to the ceiling in exasperation. ‘That blasted bear is the bane of my life. Women!’ Shouting and spluttering he hauled his anorak back on over his wet shirt. He slammed out of the door, almost swinging it off its hinges, and shot off in the direction of the woods.
CHAPTER SIX
Things settled back to normal. Tatty Bear was awarded a medal for being such a brave little bear. He’d come out of his ordeal practically unscathed and only a little tattier than before.
The Tender Flame Page 11