Memories Of The Storm

by Willett, Marcia

  The detached part of her character had saved her, enabled her to survive the break-ups and betrayals, and watching her friends' relationships had strengthened her growing belief that marriage was not necessarily the answer to loneliness or hurt: often quite the contrary. For herself she'd deemed it wisest to stay unattached, remembering Edward's warning words: 'We don't make very good marriage material.' Reflecting again on Clio, wondering how best to assist her, Hester was suddenly distracted by a child's voice raised in frustration and a scene unfolding beyond the window.

  A young man pushing a double baby-buggy had paused outside the toyshop on the far side of the road. The older child was gesticulating, demanding to be taken into the shop, struggling in his seat whilst his father remonstrated firmly.

  'Not now,' he was saying. 'We're waiting for Mummy. Perhaps later.'

  The child's voice rose even higher in protest. 'Now,' he cried. 'I want to go in.'

  One or two passers-by glanced at the father sympathetically but others shook their heads disapprovingly. He was clearly discomfited and spoke to his son more sharply, putting him back into his seat very firmly. This caused a further uproar, the child wept as if he'd been badly hurt and the baby began to whimper. Hester felt a pang of compassion for the young father, who now crouched down beside the buggy in an attempt to calm his children. Sensing a weakening of resolve, the older boy sobbed harder, begging to be released, and the man reluctantly began to undo the straps, enabling the boy to climb out. At this point the whole episode might have been resolved except that the mother now appeared around the corner and, seeing her, the boy began to cry hysterically and run towards her. As Hester finished her coffee and went to pay, she saw the boy's mother drop rather theatrically to one knee, taking him to her bosom, ostentatiously comforting him.

  'See,' she seemed to be saying. 'I am only away for a few minutes and harmony disintegrates.'

  Hester was interested to see that the young man's face grew dark with various emotions: annoyance that he'd been disobeyed; embarrassment that his failure had been witnessed so publicly; and indignation at the child's defection – after all, he had been neither harsh nor cruel. The mother's face wore a different aspect: a faint air of triumph that the child had run to her; it was she who had comforted and quieted him. The father turned abruptly and began to push the buggy across the road, mother and son following. Their car was parked outside the café and now, as Hester came out on to the pavement, she could hear them arguing, quietly but bitterly, as they folded the buggy and put the children into their seats.

  'You always give in to him.'

  'I do not. You're just too stern with him, that's all. He's not three yet.'

  'I thought we'd agreed that when either of us made a stand we'd support each other. We agreed that discipline is important.'

  'You're just a control freak. He's always OK with me.'

  'Only because you're so scared of losing his affection that you give him what he wants . . .'

  What a pity it was, Hester reflected, that two people who had presumably once been lovers should descend to this level of bickering and fighting over their child. At what point did gentle, kind, loving conversation morph into tiny bitter remarks, deadly verbal battles for control, insults disguised by forced laughter bandied publicly across dinner tables? How soon did the language of lovers become an ongoing slanging match where it seemed that one or other must be defeated, controlled by jibes and cruel asides?

  Saddened by these reflections, she crossed the road, heading for Shakespeare and Hall, the bookshop at the top of the street, where Dawn had several books and some CDs that Hester had ordered.

  Books and music, thought Hester with relief, her spirits rising as she waved cheerfully to Dawn through the window. So much more reliable than people.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It was Lucy who persuaded Jonah to reconsider his decision about Lizzie's film event.

  'You can't let Lizzie down,' she said firmly, when he mentioned it on the telephone one evening. 'You simply can't, Jonah. I had no idea you were contemplating it. It isn't fair to her.'

  At the other end of the telephone Jonah sat slumped on his old sofa, surrounded by sheets of typescript, newspapers and a plate of half-eaten pasta.

  'It's not just a question of the event,' he said half irritably. 'It will be very difficult to be at Michaelgarth without the problem of Hester coming up.'

  'I've been thinking about that,' his mother said. 'I think that you'll have to go and see her.'

  Jonah was silent. The prospect of seeing Hester filled him with fearfulness. He'd imagined the scene already – after all, he was a scriptwriter – and had heard her say lightly, 'Well, yes, I suppose Michael did kill Edward but it was unintentional and it was all such a long time ago.'

  He was appalled by the possibility of having to witness a detached indifference to his grandfather's crimes: adultery, murder, cowardice. His mother's outburst that evening had horrified him, especially when reviewed in the light of Hester's description of the fight, and he'd been unable to see any way forward. He felt that Hester had let him down, that she wasn't the person he'd grown so fond of, and the fact that Lucy seemed to be managing better than he was only made him more wretched. He had brought this upon her, forced her to open the terrible wounds and revisit the past, and now he was ashamed that she was more able to come to terms with it than he was.

  'Jonah?' His mother's voice in his ear was warm and understanding. 'The point is that we can't just leave it here. I know how you're feeling but it wasn't your fault that we started this. I felt the time was right somehow; the past was forcing itself back into my consciousness. Oh, I know that I was very upset that evening when you came here straight from Hester but some of that was to do with Jerry being ill and going into hospital. Now that he's back home and we're coping again I see things slightly differently.'

  'How?' he asked bleakly.

  'Well, at the very least we can't pretend that it hasn't happened. You've been to Bridge House and met Hester and she's told you stories about your grandfather and her family. The big stumbling block is Hester herself. We both feel the same about her, don't we? We loved her and trusted her, she got right under our skins, and now we feel that she betrayed us. Well, OK. Perhaps it's time she knew how we both feel. I couldn't do much about it sixty years ago but we can now. I really thought that I couldn't bear it when you arrived that night and we talked. And then Jerry being so ill has put doing anything about it right out of court.' A little pause. 'I know it sounds odd, Jonah, but that original feeling has come back a bit. The conviction that if I could only sort out how I feel about the past then I might have a chance to deal with what Jerry and I have to face in the future. Poor old Jerry. He's got excruciating joint and muscle pains and he's suffering withdrawal symptoms from the extra steroid treatment but he's being so brave about it. God, I hate this bloody disease.'

  'I'm sorry, Mum. It's hell, isn't it? OK. I'll phone Lizzie and tell her that I'll do the event. She's got one of her get-togethers coming up soon; you know the sort of thing I went to before? All the tutors are going to Michaelgarth to discuss the shape of the film event and what they'd like to contribute. I'll go down and take it from there.'

  'Don't think I'm avoiding my own responsibility here, Jonah.' Lucy's voice was firm. 'The odd thing was that while Jerry was in such a bad way I was seized with a terrible anger, a kind of absolute determination not to give in – or let him give in either. And, when he was getting better, that anger remained but it was deflected back towards the past and I decided then that as soon as Jerry can be left I shall go down and see Hester.'

  Jonah was taken aback. 'Well, if you think you can handle it . . .'

  'I think I have to. If I don't it will haunt me for ever. Worse than that, it's had such a crippling effect in certain areas of my life that I'm tired of it. I can't afford it any more. That anger I felt, watching Jerry suffering so much, seemed to burn away all my fear and helplessness. I just want
to deal with it. I can't leave him yet and he's got follow-up appointments for a few weeks but I don't believe I shall feel differently when the time comes.'

  'And if I should see Hester while I'm at Michaelgarth?'

  'Then you must tell her the truth. It won't deflect me from what I have to do. Put it this way, Jonah: I feel strongly that this will work out as it should. I told you I just have some kind of premonition that it'll be OK. I lost my confidence in it for a while when things were very black but now I believe that it's the right thing to do. I know that sounds fey and weird but I hope you can accept it.'

  Jonah was silent, remembering his arrival at Bridge House and the vision of his grandfather rushing out into the wild night.

  'Yes,' he said, 'yes, I can go with that.'

  'Thanks,' she said gratefully. 'And thanks for being around so much for the last few months. You've been such a comfort and a help, and we both truly appreciate it. I'm sorry you've got a lot of work to catch up on but you mustn't abandon Lizzie.'

  'I know. I was just being cowardly, really, suspecting that the whole thing might flare up again and not knowing how to handle it. It's OK now you've told me how you're feeling about it and I think you're right. We need to lay a few ghosts. I'll telephone her now.'

  Despite this new confidence he was glad to hear Piers' voice answering the telephone and saying that Lizzie was in the shower.

  'Could you give her a message? Tell her I'll be able to manage that meeting after all. I'll phone later to confirm travel details.'

  'She'll be very pleased to hear that.'

  Jonah thought he could detect a note of amusement in Piers' voice but, manlike, neither of them found it necessary to prolong the conversation.

  Jonah went to the fridge and opened a can of beer. Relieved that the right decision had been taken, putting aside the prospect of actually seeing Hester again, he settled back on the sofa, pulled the pages of script towards him and began to work.

  'But what did he say?' cried Lizzie. She'd come downstairs from her shower, her hair bundled into a towel, and now stood beside the Aga, holding a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Lying on his back in the old dog basket, all four paws in the air, Lion stirred at the sound of her voice. She stretched out her foot, poking his tummy with her toes, and his tail beat once or twice before he subsided back into a deep sleep.

  'I've told you what he said. That he'd be coming down to your meeting and that he'd phone nearer the time to confirm travel details.'

  Piers, who was cooking a risotto, stirred the contents of the pan and then sat down at the table and picked up his own glass.

  'But you could have asked him,' said Lizzie discontentedly. 'You know, why he's changed his mind and things like that.'

  'I thought that you'd probably question him in due course; give him the third degree. Anyway, I imagine that it was one of your messages that did the trick.'

  'But I'd hardly started, sweetie.' Lizzie sounded almost regretful. 'I'd left a message on his answerphone telling him that I thought he was a miserable bastard for letting me down, something like that. And I'd texted something short but to the point. "Ring me, you rat," I think it was. But the campaign was hardly under way.'

  'Well, he obviously didn't need too much coercion.'

  'Mmm. I'd thought up one or two rather stinging and offensive remarks,' Lizzie said thoughtfully. 'I rehearsed them to Clio but she was a bit shocked, I could tell.'

  'She doesn't work in the theatre,' observed Piers. 'The poor girl simply doesn't have the same gift for invective. She hasn't had your opportunities.'

  Lizzie grinned at him. 'True. I'm thrilled really. I do love Jonah, you know. And now Clio will be able to find out why he's avoiding Hester. I can't tell you how glad I am that I've got hold of Clio. There's more to this film weekend than I'd imagined. She's fantastic! She thinks of every tiny detail.' She gave a little sigh. 'I wonder what she'll do, Piers? D'you think she'll go back to London?'

  Piers hesitated for a moment. 'It's odd you should ask that. I was thinking about her today at the Rotary lunch. Do you remember Mark Allen, the lawyer? He was talking about some clients of his. They're an elderly couple from Norfolk who've won the lottery and bought a big house in the Brendon Hills and they're rather out of their depth. As far as I can gather they're the "if you've got it flaunt it" sort, but haven't quite got the confidence to go about fitting out this rather grand house. What they really need is someone who could organize decorators and curtains and all those things but also generally keep an eye on things until they've sold their bungalow and can move down. Mark said that they want to give a big house-warming party and I remember thinking, They need our Clio. They've asked him if he can recommend someone who isn't too intimidating to help them out and I was wondering if it's an area she ought to explore. After all, there are loads of people out there who don't have time for the things they need to get done: organizing events, sourcing furnishings for hotels, walking dogs, fetching people from trains, buying presents. You'd think that Clio would be run off her feet if she just let it be known that she could provide services like that.'

  'But that's an amazing idea.' Lizzie was gazing at him, her eyes wide with visions. 'Clio could run her own business – she'd be brilliant at it. But how do you start that kind of thing? How does it actually work? You can't just go round asking people in the supermarket if they need help.'

  Piers sat for a moment, thinking about it. 'She could advertise, though in my experience that's not always very successful, and she could put flyers in the local shops – if she intends to stay around here – and she'd probably need a website so that anyone looking for help on the Internet would be directed to it. Anyway, Clio would be much more clued up about it than I am; after all, she's been doing this kind of thing in London, hasn't she? I remember her telling me about a corporate skiing holiday she organized and she planned all the hospitality events for their clients. She's probably got lots of good contacts if she were to think about going for it, and I suppose she could use what she's doing for you as part of her portfolio. Your name recommending her would certainly attract some attention.'

  'Oh, I see what you mean.' Lizzie was getting the idea of it now. 'You mean she could talk our event up a bit? Make it sound quite a big thing?'

  'Exactly. But she'd need to find other things or people to recommend her. Something she's organized in the past. A party? The skiing holiday?'

  He got up to give the risotto another stir while Lizzie sipped her wine thoughtfully.

  'It sounds perfect,' she said. 'How clever of you.'

  Piers shrugged. 'Not particularly. It was talking to Mark that made me think about Clio. It's her thing, isn't it? The difficulty might be supporting herself while she gets it up and running. Anyway, there's no point getting carried away just yet. She might have something else in mind.'

  'I don't think she has. Shall I suggest it to her or will you?'

  'I wouldn't dream of it,' he answered, looking slightly alarmed. 'I told you, it was just talking to Mark that gave me the idea. It's a bit much, telling Clio that I've got her future planned out for her. You can't go about deciding on how other people should run their lives.'

  'I can. It's brilliant. It would be a terrible waste not to mention it to her and it's so right for Clio.' Lizzie put down her glass and went to him, slipping her arms round him. 'I must go and dry my hair. How long until we eat?'

  He kissed her. 'Ten minutes. Can you warn Father? He's sitting by the fire in the study reading the paper. Last time I looked in he was asleep.'

  She went away and Piers poured some more wine. Perhaps he would have another word with Mark, sound him out a bit more about this couple, just in case Clio were to be attracted by the idea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sitting on the sofa, with Tess curled up beside her, Lucy stared into the dying fire and wondered if it had been right to talk Jonah into changing his mind. She'd been too absorbed in looking after Jerry to think much about the on-going effect her re
action had had on Jonah, that night back in early December, and it hadn't occurred to her that it would impinge on his work with Lizzie. Lucy could see the difficulties here but felt very strongly that it would be wrong for him to back out, not only because it was unprofessional, but also because some instinct warned her that both she and Jonah would be damaged if they continued to allow the past to remain unchallenged.

  A tiny picture formed in Lucy's head: Hester, down on one knee, stretching out a hand to the uncertain child who stood clutching her father's hand and a grey plush rabbit. Now, as she sat stroking Tess's silky, high-domed head that lay heavily against her knee, Lucy knew that it was Hester who remained to be challenged. The more she considered it, the more it became clear that only Hester could explain why the four of them – Hester, Edward, Michael and Eleanor – had behaved in such a way. Only she was left to direct some light into that dark corner of the past.

  Lucy remembered that sometimes, when she'd been growing up, she'd had an impulse to say to a friend's parent or a teacher, 'My father killed someone and it was all my fault.' The impulse was often very strong, though she'd never succumbed to it, and she wondered now if it had been a desire to see if the other person's reaction would be as shocked as she'd imagined. She'd seen herself as a fraud, deceiving her friends and teachers, because they didn't know the truth about her; wondering if they'd be so friendly, or if they'd continue to trust her, if she were to speak out. All the while, the memory of Eleanor's whispered words – 'Your father has killed Edward' – and the expression of shame and defeat on her father's face had continued to weigh on her mind and her heart, heavy and dark, along with the terrible guilt that it had been her fault for breaking the Midsummer Cushion.