'That'll be great. My turn for lunch, though.'
'Splendid. We'll go to the Royal Oak at Winsford. Your grandfather enjoyed a pint there. Goodnight, Jonah.'
She went away and he sat on for a moment, piecing the story together, seeing visions in the flames. There was a great deal to think about and, though he was conscious of some missing element in Hester's recital, he was too tired and comfortable to worry about it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She knocked on his door next morning, opened it a little way and spoke through the gap. 'The boiler has indigestion. Best put on an extra jersey. Dave can't come until tomorrow.'
His curiosity was sufficiently roused for him to ask sleepily: 'Who's Dave?'
'Dave is the boiler's personal physician. He does clever things to its little insides and then it feels much better. Meanwhile it's rather cold.'
It was whilst they were drinking a third cup of coffee each, and the usual early morning silence was being gradually broken, that Hester told Jonah that she might be leaving Bridge House. During breakfast he'd been brooding on all the things she'd told him, especially the details of Edward's mental condition, and weaving them all into a comprehensive whole that he could see developing quite clearly and satisfactorily in his mind's eye. This news, however, shocked him so much that his thought process was completely broken.
'Leave?' he repeated. 'But why? I mean, sorry, it's none of my business. It's just that . . .'
'Just what?'
'Well, I feel I've just found you after all these years. Not just you, of course, but all of them: Michael, Edward, my mother even. It sounds weird but I do feel that I'm learning at last about my own family. And Bridge House too. It's all been a part of it for so long, you see. "Lucy with Jack and Robbie in the garden at Bridge House." It became a part of the whole mystery of it. And now, just when I've found you all, you say you're going. How can you do this to me, Hester?'
She smiled. 'It's not quite that straightforward. I don't have any particular desire to go but the fact is that I'm not the sole owner of Bridge House. My mother left it equally to Patricia, Edward, and me. Edward left his share to me and when Patricia died she left her share divided between Jack and Robin. We've all used it as a family home for holidays and emergencies until I retired and since then I've lived here most of the time although the family still come for holidays. Now, my nephew Robin is rather in need of ready cash so it looks as if the time has come to sell up.'
'But that's rather tough on you, isn't it? After all, it's your home. Where would you go?'
'That's a very good question,' Hester answered lightly. 'I only wish I had an answer to it. I think that Robbie thinks it would be more sensible for me to be in a smaller place, less to look after and so on, especially now that I've had a hip replacement. To be honest, I feel better than I have for years but that's not the point. The upkeep would be beyond me without the others to share some of the costs. I'm sure you've seen the state of the roof. A new thatch would cost a great deal of money.'
'You couldn't afford to buy them out?'
She laughed. 'On my savings and pension? No, my dear Jonah, I couldn't. I was an academic, not a footballer. Do you know anything about equity release?'
He frowned. 'Not much. Is that where the mortgage company gives you part of the value of the house in return for the property when you die?'
'Something like that. You continue to live in the house using the money they've given you. In this case, a third of the money would go to Robin and Amy.'
'Who's Amy?'
Hester explained the intricacies of the family tree whilst Jonah watched her with an expression of mingled dismay and indignation that amused her.
'It's quite fair, really, you know. They are entitled to their inheritance. It's my own fault for not looking too far ahead. I lived in university accommodation, you see, and when I retired it seemed a natural move to come to Bridge House. Everyone was happy about it and I pay Robin and Amy a proportional rent. It was good to have the old place used full time, and any of the family could come here when they felt like it so I grew complacent. My difficulty about staying here is the prospect of keeping up with the costs. I'm not certain that my share from equity release will support Bridge House and me for the rest of my life.'
'So if you don't take that route where might you go?'
Hester shook her head. 'I really can't decide. Bridge House seemed to be a natural centre when I retired, it was home, but now I feel rather rootless. I have old friends in Lincoln and in Cambridge but I don't particularly feel drawn to moving back to either place. I could buy a smaller place in Dulverton.' She sighed. 'I'd decided to put it on hold until Clio comes back. She's so clear-headed that I hope she might help to see it all more positively. Sometimes we need someone who isn't so involved to show us a path out of our muddles. Don't look so upset, Jonah.'
'I am upset,' he declared. 'Especially if you don't want to go. There must be other ways out of this.'
'I'm glad you arrived when you did,' she told him. 'Let's just be grateful for that. And if you can persuade Lucy to come for a short visit I should be very happy.'
'I shall certainly try. When you say Clio is coming back do you mean for the weekend?'
'No,' she answered. 'That's another story.'
This opened a new direction of discussion that lasted them through the drive to the Royal Oak at Winsford where Hester introduced Jonah to Graeme, who pulled him a pint of Butcombe. At the bar, several locals were discussing a shoot and, having made a fuss of two black Labradors, who waited patiently with noses on paws, Jonah and Hester took the menu and their drinks to the table in the bay window. After they'd eaten they sat long over their coffee, enjoying the warmth of the fire, and presently went out into the winter afternoon. Already the sun was low but the sky was still clear and the air had a frosty chill to it.
Jonah settled himself happily in his seat, preparing himself to be receptive to the glory of the scenes that Hester would show him. She drove slowly, stopping at certain points, occasionally telling him a little story that involved Michael and Edward or some other member of the family and, just as before, he was aware of the impact of light and air and water.
The quality of the light, particularly, was extraordinary: the winter sun, shining obliquely across hill and water, touched the countryside with vivid, rosy radiance. Even the dying bracken and dry brittle cages of heather took on a new and glowing life. Puddles lay like bloodstains beside the road and the bright bare twigs of the graceful, ghostly silver birch burned crimson.
On a steep hillside sheep stood toe-to-toe with their slab-sided shadows, grazing peacefully whilst a flock of starlings swirled over the field and settled in a chattering crowd on a wind-twisted thorn. In the west a low bank of cloud lay massed across the land behind which the sun was slowly sinking, its power gradually evaporating as if it were being extinguished by the watery vapour. Across the Channel tiny lights began to prick into the growing twilight: an insubstantial, flickering necklace strung out along the coast.
Jonah, utterly absorbed by the mysterious beauty, was surprised when Hester began to turn the car.
'If we're quick,' she said, 'we'll see the rest of it up on Dunkery. It should be pretty impressive.'
The road, descending from the hills, passed between beech hedges and dry-stone walls, plunging downwards into the little town of Porlock where friendly lamps twinkled and shopkeepers were bustling out to bring in their wares from the pavements. The unusually truncated church tower showed black against the brilliant sky and Jonah twisted in his seat to stare back at it as the town was left behind and they raced on through deep lanes and between woodland that crowded thick on every side. So dark was it in these combes that when the car burst out again upon the high moorland road Jonah gasped in surprise. Up here the light was still radiant and the rocky cairn on Dunkery Beacon showed starkly outlined against a duck-egg-green sky that was streaked with cloudy banners of flame and scarlet and gold.
&
nbsp; Hester parked the car and they both climbed out. Jonah stared at the spectacle in silence. Each moment the sunset colours changed and glowed with a greater intensity and, as he watched, a grey plume of thunderous cloud funnelled up and drifted like smoke across the blazing sky. The brilliance began to fade; already in the north the mist lay soft and white, though hard-edged, with an indigo scrawl on the horizon where the land rose as if out of a distant milky sea.
He glanced at Hester who smiled at him, tipping her head as if to draw his attention to some new wonder, and he turned quickly. In the east the moon was rising, all shredded about with wisps of cloud, luminous and magical above the darkening land. Jonah found that he was swallowing hard, moved beyond anything he had ever known, and then Hester was beside him, touching him lightly on the shoulder.
'Come,' she said gently. 'We have a train to catch.'
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was as the train was approaching Reading that he received a message from Lucy: Jerry was in hospital following a severe cold that had set off a flare-up of symptoms including fever, shortness of breath and a rash. He'd been admitted for blood tests, she told him. If all went well he might be home in ten days. She sounded distressed and very tired, and Jonah said that he would come straight to Chichester, getting down as soon as he could. His train was on time, he told her, and, with luck, he should be able to catch the nine-seventeen from Victoria.
He arrived at Litten Terrace just before eleven o'clock. Lucy was waiting for him. He gave her a hug and she held on to him tightly for a moment whilst Tess struggled out of sleep and left her basket to come wagging to greet him.
'Bless you for coming,' Lucy said. 'It's been a rather terrible day but he's fairly comfortable now. On top of everything else, he's had the most excruciating joint and muscle pains and no appetite at all. They've had to put him on a three-day course of intravenous steroid and even after that the daily oral dose of prednisolone will be raised for a while. Then there will be the withdrawal symptoms as he struggles to decrease it to a safer long-term level. God, I hate this vile disease.'
She made him some supper and they sat together at the table whilst he ate it.
'So how was Hester?' she asked suddenly, rousing herself from her unhappy thoughts and looking for a diversion. 'Did you ask her about the Midsummer Cushion?'
'Yes, I did.' He was glad to be able to distract her. 'She described it to me and said how much you'd loved it.'
'Yes, I did. It was very beautiful.' She paused. 'So did she say anything else about it?'
'Well, yes. I wondered whether to tell you, actually. It's rather sad. The string holding it up frayed through and it fell off the wall and smashed. She said she was glad that you didn't know about it.'
She was staring at him. 'Didn't know about it?'
'It happened after you'd gone, she said. After you and Michael went back to London.'
'Is that what she told you?'
Jonah looked puzzled. 'Isn't it true?'
'No.' Lucy was too tired to prevaricate: too tired and too angry. Seeing Jerry in such terrible pain, combined with her fear for him and of their future, had all fused with her own exhaustion and, with an almost luxurious violence, freed her from the restraint and silence that the past had imposed upon her. 'No, it isn't true. I broke the Midsummer Cushion. I climbed up on the little stool and touched it and it fell down. Of course it might be true that the string was frayed and I simply hastened the process. My God, how ironical!' She struck her fist lightly on the table. 'All these years I've felt as if I committed a terrible crime and that what followed was a punishment and, after all, Hester calmly says that she thought that the string had frayed.'
'What d'you mean, "What followed"?'
'The fight. Did Hester tell you about the fight?'
'Yes, she did. She explained about Michael and Eleanor, and how Edward found them together and they fought. That was why it was decided that Michael should take you away. Of course, she knows that you never knew why you had to leave so suddenly. You had to be woken up and taken away. It must have been very frightening.'
Lucy laughed – an unexpectedly explosive sound that contained no mirth. Jonah stretched out a hand to her and held her wrist.
'What's wrong, Mum? Should we be talking about this now, what with Dad and everything . . . ?'
'Yes,' she said angrily. 'Yes, we should. You've always wanted to know the truth and now I want to tell it. We didn't leave Bridge House because there was a fight. Oh, there was a fight. Hester's telling the truth about that. Daddy and Eleanor were together in the drawing-room and Edward came in off the terrace and found them. He was quite distraught. He ran at Daddy and grappled him.' She broke off to stare at Jonah with a kind of horror. 'There's something so terrible about men fighting,' she said. 'All that intense struggling and their expressions of hatred.'
She fell silent, remembering; too distressed to proceed.
'But how did you know about it?' Jonah asked at last. 'Hester said you were in bed asleep.'
Lucy folded her arms on the table and breathed deeply, composing herself.
'She would have assumed that. The truth is that I couldn't sleep that night; the wind and the river were making so much noise. So I got up hoping I might persuade Hester to read me a story. Her bedroom light was on but the room was empty and I went in to look at the Midsummer Cushion. I climbed on a stool and overbalanced and that's when I broke it. It made such a mess and so I went downstairs wondering if I should tell Hester or whether I could clear it up. Something like that, anyway. I was very frightened because I believed I'd done something very bad. I heard voices in the drawing-room and I went in. That's when it all happened. I hid behind the sofa and saw it all. They struggled and Eleanor rushed at Edward and he let go of Daddy and took her by the throat. By this time they were near the French doors and my father pulled Eleanor away and punched Edward in the face. He reeled backwards across the terrace and fell over the low wall into the river.' She glanced at Jonah. 'Hester didn't tell you that?'
He shook his head silently.
'Hester rushed out and leaned out over the river,' she continued, 'but Eleanor seized her and held her by the shoulders. Daddy stood quite still, as if dazed, and then he raced out along the terrace and over the bridge. He was shouting for help. Hester went after him. She was calling, "Michael, wait. There's no point." No point, you see,' repeated Lucy rather desperately, 'in trying to save Edward because he was already dead. And she and Daddy came back together, and Eleanor brought him into the house. That's when I ran upstairs and got into bed. I was afraid that they would see me and that it was all my fault because of the Midsummer Cushion.'
Jonah remained silent. He was remembering now the detail missing in Hester's recounting of the fight. She hadn't spoken about Michael running out of the house and over the bridge.
'So then Eleanor appeared by my bed,' Lucy went on. 'She shook me but I was curled up tight in a ball, pretending to be asleep, and she had to shake me quite hard. "We've got to go to London," she said. "Get up, Lucy. Be quick." And I said, "I'm not going," and her face grew quite angry and she said, "Oh yes, you are." But I fought her and began to cry, and suddenly she took me by the shoulders and began to speak very quietly and venomously and I was hypnotized by her and by the pain of her fingers digging into my shoulders. "We're going to London," she whispered, "because your Daddy has killed Edward. Now do you understand? If he stays here he'll be caught and taken to prison. Now get up and get dressed quickly and never say a word of this to anyone. Not anyone, not even your father. Do you understand?" And I was so frightened that I did as she told me and we went downstairs and as soon as I saw Daddy's face I knew it was true. He looked as if someone had broken him. All the way to London I was waiting for a policeman to catch us up. And Daddy tookme to AuntMary in Chichester and a few months later he was killed exploding a bomb. I was almost glad. It took some of the strain away, you see. At least he wouldn't be caught and put in prison. I was almost glad . . . Oh my God!
Can you imagine how horrible that was? To feel like that about someone I loved so much?' She stared at him. 'So Hester didn't tell you that bit?'
'No. Hester didn't put it quite like that.'
'I'm sure she didn't,' said Lucy bitterly. 'They wanted to hush it all up. I suppose, after all this time, Hester simply looks back on it as a kind of tragic aftermath to war, which is why she is prepared to tell you about it. At least, the edited version. That was the other thing that was so terrible to me: that Hester was prepared to go along with it. To collude with it.'
'But it's impossible,' he burst out – yet he suddenly remembered Hester's words: 'I want you to feel familiar with the cast . . . so that you don't misjudge any of us' – and he fell silent.
She watched him. 'I still can't decide, you see,' she said at last, 'which is the worst: to know that my father – who was my idol – was an adulterer or a murderer or a coward. I could forgive him for wanting Eleanor and, to be strictly truthful, it was manslaughter not murder. But when I remember his face that night, with its expression of self-disgust and humiliation, then I believe that running away was the worst act of them all. Eleanor and Hester between them turned him into a coward and he allowed them to do it.'
They sat in silence together.
Presently Lucy stirred. 'I'm going to bed,' she said. She glanced at Jonah and was struck by his bleak expression. 'Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. You see now why I kept silent about it all.'
'It's not your fault,' he said. 'It's just a shock, that's all. I've felt so close to him; to Michael, I mean. From the minute I arrived at Bridge House it was as if he reached out to me and, from then on, Hester made it all come alive for me.'
She watched him compassionately. 'I encouraged you,' she said. 'Oh, yes, I did. I remember when you phoned and said you were going down to Exmoor. I should have kept my silence then. I had a feeling that the time had come to face it all but I see now that I was wrong. Perhaps, after all, it isn't wise to attempt to confront the past. I'm just so sorry that you've got involved. Do you have to contact Hester again?'
Memories Of The Storm Page 13