Live the Dream

by Josephine Cox

  Some time later he woke with a start when a cold, soft hand touched his face.

  'Luke?' Inside his head the whisper reverberated in an echo. 'Luke, it's only me.' Her velvet voice thrilled through him.

  When he opened his eyes, she was so close he could feel her warm breath bathing his face. 'Georgina!' Leaping out of the chair he crashed against the fender, which then went backwards into the hearth and sent him off balance. 'What the devil are you doing?' A rush of alarm scrambled his senses

  'Ssh!' Putting her finger to her lips she calmed him. 'You'll wake them up!'

  'But what are you doing here?' Shaking his head he gathered his wits. 'For God's sake, Georgina!' He glanced at the mantel-clock. 'It's nearly midnight!'

  'I couldn't sleep,' she answered. 'I was so worried. I didn't leave here until way past eight o'clock, and you still weren't home. You're overdoing it, Luke. You've got to slow down. You can't turn back the clock and undo what's been done. It's bound to take time. You can't rebuild in weeks what took years to achieve.'

  He began pacing the floor, not thinking straight. 'How did you get in here?'

  She smiled, surprised. 'You gave me a key, remember?'

  'You shouldn't have come out this time of night.'

  She tutted. 'I need to check up on Sylvia whenever I'm worried, whatever time it is.' She looked at him from under her eyelashes, her smile flirtatious. 'In fact, it was very naughty of you to ask Edna to stay, when you could have asked me. After all, I am her sister.'

  Luke turned to study her—always impeccably dressed, with her hair beautifully groomed and that smile, which though he begrudged saying it, always outshone her sister's. There was no denying it: Georgina was an extremely beautiful woman. 'How did you get here?'

  'I walked.'

  Shocked, he took her by the arms and gave her a little shake. 'You walked, at this time of night? That was a foolhardy thing to do. And all that way…whatever were you thinking of?'

  'I was thinking of Sylvia,' Georgina said. 'And you. I was thinking how I'm the only family you've got, and I was thinking that we should look after each other. We don't need Edna. We don't need anyone.

  'Oh, Georgina! I'll never understand you.' Taking a deep breath, he blew it out through his nose. 'I don't understand your way of thinking, but there's no use taking you back now.' Ruffling his hair with his two hands as he did when troubled, he told her, 'You'd best sleep in the spare room.'

  She smiled a slow, satisfied kind of smile, like the cat that got the cream. 'Is it all right if I warm myself by the fire before I go up?' she asked sweetly. 'I got so cold, walking all that way.'

  If Luke had been thinking straight he would have realised that Georgina was not the kind of woman who would walk two steps if there was a taxi in sight.

  'Of course.' Mortified at his own bad manners he offered,I'll put a few more coals on and make you a mug of cocoa. Then I must say good night. I've an early start in the morning.'

  She watched him bring in the coals and stack them neatly into the grate, and she thought how wonderful it would be if Luke was hers and not Sylvia's. In that moment, as many times before, she imagined what it would be like with Sylvia out of the way.

  There would be no one to stop them then…her and Luke. They might even become lovers. And oh, but wasn't that what she had wanted from the first minute she'd set eyes on him?

  Rage flooded her senses. Sylvia had everything; even when they were children, it was always Sylvia, sweet, darling Sylvia, the quiet one, the delicate one. The one who smiled easily and laughed at silly things, just to please people.

  She had always been in the way. She was in the way now, because Luke loved Sylvia. He had always loved her. Even now, when she was nothing but a burden, he took care of her like no one else could.

  'Here we are!' Luke's voice shook her out of her reverie.I'll back the fire up, but don't forget to put the guard in front before you go upstairs,' he advised.

  'Don't worry,' she answered sweetly, 'I won't forget.'

  Like a cat with a mouse, she never took her eyes off him. She watched while he kneeled before the fire, shovelling new coals on the old, and revitalising the dying embers to create a warm glow. She studied his profile, that handsome, classic profile that she had studied so often before. She imagined herself kissing those lips, stroking her hands through that thick hair. Now, when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his arms round her. She wanted him more than ever. She needed him, more than she had ever needed any man before, and there had been plenty.

  Then she looked around the room. Like the rest of this beautiful house, it was grand and spacious, with expensive furnishings and a tasteful ambience. Sylvia was mistress of this house. But it should be her, Georgina, who was mistress, with Luke as master. Was it so impossible, she thought. Was it so unattainable?

  Now, as Luke straightened himself up from the fireplace, a feeling of desperation overwhelmed her. In a moment she was behind him, running her hand up the inside of his shirt, her heart leaping and bounding and everything that made her a desirable woman coming into play. 'I love you,' she whispered. 'I've always loved you!'

  When he spun round, a look of shock and astonishment on his face, she grabbed him by the hair and, drawing him down, kissed him full and strong on the mouth.

  He snatched away, the palms of his hands pushing against her breast. 'What the hell d'you think you're doing?'

  She would not let go. 'Hold me, Luke.' She reached down, touching him where a man likes to be touched, and as she did so, her part-opened mouth found his and this time the kiss was softer, more enticing, and for one crazy, wonderful moment, he was tempted.

  He did not pull away. Instead his arms came up to encircle her as he drew her to him, his mouth covering hers and his senses reeling. He was a man who, for too long now, had not enjoyed that intimate warmth and passion that a woman could give. Sylvia was out of his reach, but now Georgina was here—too beautiful, too close; deliciously stirring the manhood within him. His resolve began to melt, and for one mad, wonderful moment, he enjoyed the kiss.

  But this was wrong. Sylvia was upstairs and it was Sylvia he loved…but what about Amy?

  What about Amy?

  But no, he must not think of her—he must not. The dream had become a habit it was hard to break.

  In the moment Luke raised his arms to hold Georgina back, he heard a sound, looked up and was shocked to the core, for Sylvia was lunging herself at them. 'Jesus! Sylvia, NO!'

  Too late! She snatched the poker and raised it high. When it came down it hit him hard on the side of the head, flooring him, and all the time she was screaming wild, primitive screams that had Georgina running for her life.

  The manic screams woke Edna. She grabbed her robe and, pushing her feet into the slippers, she ran down the stairs calling Sylvia's name. As she came down into the hallway, Georgina was already fleeing out the front door/and Sylvia was only steps behind.

  'SYLVIA!' Edna's frantic voice fell on deaf ears.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Luke, his body twisted across the tumbled fender, blood seeping from a wound in his forehead. 'Oh dear God!' Whether to go to him, or to Sylvia? Her instincts sent her towards the door. Sylvia was her baby. She had no choice.

  Georgina was trying desperately to put some distance between her and Sylvia but, driven by what she had seen, and convinced that Georgina was the 'other woman' that Luke had long denied, Sylvia was rapidly narrowing the distance between them. By now they had reached the main road, quiet at that time in the evening. When in her frantic haste, Georgina tripped, it seemed there was no escape.

  She was at Sylvia's mercy.

  When Edna found them, Sylvia was sitting on the ground, rocking backwards and forwards with Georgina in her arms.

  'Sylvia?' Edna ventured forward.

  Sylvia continued rocking, whimpering, her stricken eyes looking up at Edna. 'I saw them,' she sobbed, 'kissing. He lied to me.'

  Edna lowered her gaze, and what
she saw chilled her to the bone. Georgina's bloodied face was almost unrecognisable.

  Suppressing the horror that threatened to engulf her, Edna held out her arms. 'Come with me, Sylvia,' she entreated. 'Come on, child. Get up from there.'

  The whimpering stopped and Sylvia roughly pushed aside her sister's lifeless body. 'He lied to me!'

  Edna nodded. 'We have to go,' she said, choking back the tears. 'We have to tell them.'

  Sylvia stood before her like a frightened child, not rebellious, yet not content to go with her. 'Where are you taking me?'

  Realising that Sylvia had completely lost her mind, Edna smiled encouragingly. 'It'll be all right, child. They'll understand.'

  Sylvia took a step back. 'They'll…kill me!'

  'No, they won't.'

  Sylvia eyed the older woman with a curious, shifty glance. 'They don't know what I did.'

  Edna glanced nervously at the ground, where Georgina lay crumpled and lifeless.I'll tell them if you like, my dear, Edna suggested lovingly.I'll tell them about Georgina…how it was.'

  Sylvia leaned forward, whispering intimately. 'She wanted to take him away from me. The factory took him away too, but I burned it.' She smiled, and slowly the smile curled into a grin and the grin emerged as a high-pitched chuckle that sent shivers through Edna's soul.

  Shocked, but never cowardly and always filled with love for this poor injured creature, Edna continued softly to coax her.I'll tell them everything,' she promised, 'only I need you to be there when I tell them.'

  Sylvia feverishly shook her head. '…Don't believe you…want Edna.'

  'I'm here, child.' She had tried so hard, but now, with Sylvia unable to recognise her, Edna was devastated. She could not stop the tears that now ran down her face.I'll look after you,' she whispered. 'Trust me. I've never lied to you, and I never will.'

  Reaching out, Edna managed to take hold of her, but Sylvia put up a fierce struggle as the night tram rumbled towards them. Realising Sylvia's intention, Edna fought with her. 'No!'

  Sylvia twisted, Edna lost her grip and all she could remember later was the awful sound when Sylvia went under the iron wheels of the tram: a whoosh of brakes, the driver shouting through his window and Sylvia's screams.

  Then the silence.

  That eerie, unforgettable silence that was to haunt Edna for the rest of her days.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two weeks after the tragic event, both sisters were laid to rest in a peaceful churchyard high above Blackburn. There was a respectful presence of police officers, and local folks, who had been deeply moved by the sequence of events that had rocked the community, together with those curious bystanders who chose to peer over the fences and watch the service from a distance.

  When it was over, the mourners dispersed leaving only two people: the tall, tragic figure of Luke Hammond, his shoulders stooped and his face a mask of pain and disbelief; and Edna, that darling little woman whose grief was so crippling that a body would be forgiven for thinking that Sylvia had been her own flesh and blood.

  They made an odd sight when eventually they walked away. The tiny woman's hat and veil covered the top half of her tear-stained face. The tall, dejected man had, until this very morning, lain in a hospital bed, recovering from an injury inflicted by his crazed wife. The doctors had told him that, if the deep jagged cut had been a mere half-inch further down, he would have lost the sight in one eye.

  What happened that night played on Luke's mind over and over again. He was consumed with guilt at the easy manner in which Georgina had tempted him.

  He did not blame Sylvia, nor did he blame Georgina, for the blame was his alone. What had happened was his fault.

  Fate had given him choices and at every turn he'd chosen unwisely. Sylvia—so beautiful but always highly strung—how had he failed her that she needed to turn to a lout like Arnold Stratton for diversion?

  Georgina—so like Sylvia as to be taken for her shadow knowing Sylvia's waywardness, why had he allowed Georgina to come and go in his house? He'd always known she was dangerous/and so she had proved to be. Again, his fault.

  But Amy—dear girl—not wayward or dangerous, but as sweet-natured and kind as it was possible for a woman to be—in Amy he had glimpsed what might have been his if fate had been less cruel. But the timing was all wrong and she could never be his now. His fault again, because he'd already chosen Sylvia.

  Now, as he turned to close the heavy iron churchyard gate behind him, the strain showed deep in his still-handsome features. His eyes were hollow, and his face pinched and grey. Slow-moving, with his head down and his heart heavy, Luke had become an old man before his time.

  He shuffled off to his car alone as Edna was embraced by her husband, who had ready a dry handkerchief and the promise of 'a nice cup of tea at home'.

  Luke started the engine and drove out towards the forest. Since Sylvia's death he had gone to the cabin often. Now that she was laid to rest there was nothing to keep him in Blackburn at all, he realised. Jack Tomlinson was in charge of the day-to-day running of the factory; Luke was hardly needed there.

  The cabin, which had been an occasional retreat, was already, even since Sylvia's death, becoming a home. Here, the perfect isolation brought Luke a measure of contentment, although he felt he would never be truly happy again.

  He had the birdsong and the trees, Velvet for company, the sound of the brook, his paints and, above all, the escape from noise and crowds and the responsibility of work that he had always craved. He even had Amy—in a way. The painting of Amy hung in pride of place on the wall. To gaze at her and think of what might have been, that was all his dreams had come to.

  Coming out of the shadows, Don Carson made his way across the churchyard to where Sylvia Hammond and her sister, Georgina, were laid to her rest.

  For a long, poignant moment he stood, his gaze roving the oval mound in the ground, where the pretty posies and other floral tributes marked a sad ending to two vibrant, young lives.

  Taking the newspaper cutting from his coat pocket, he opened it out to study the familiar picture of this woman he had known as Helen. Then, dropping to his knees, he turned the cutting towards the top of the mound. 'Tsee how your lies will allus find you out?' he whispered. 'Why did you not tell me the truth? Did you think it would have made any difference to me if I'd known you were the sister-in-law of a wealthy man? Did you think I might blackmail you…or him?'

  He gave a gruff laugh. 'What does it matter now, eh? You're gone and I'm still here, and we none of us know why.'

  He said a prayer, made a sign of the cross on himself and, straightening up, put his hand to his mouth and blew a kiss. 'God bless,' he murmured, and, dropping the newspaper cutting between the flowers, he quickly strode away.

  Amy didn't see him, until she had turned the corner and was coming through the gate when he literally bumped into her. 'Don!' She was visibly shocked.

  Don too was taken aback by her sudden appearance. 'Hello, Amy.' He felt a rush of embarrassment. 'Er…how are you?'

  Amy gathered her composure. Involuntarily her hand went to her stomach as if to shield her, as yet, tiny baby from this man who had brought her so much disappointment. 'I'm well, and you?'

  He nodded. 'Look, Amy…' he swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, 'I did wrong to you, and I'm sorry. Sometimes we do things we regret, but once they're done there's no going back.'

  Amy was astonished. She had never thought to hear him apologise. 'I understand.' Now that she had Jack, and was expecting a baby, everything had fallen into place. 'We had something for a time, but it wasn't right,' she explained. 'I can see that now. In the end, it was all for the best.'

  She glanced back to the churchyard. 'This is a strange place to see you,' she mentioned curiously.

  He gave the merest smile. 'I've been to see…' he too glanced back at the churchyard, "…an old friend.' His embarrassment betrayed itself when he now found it difficult to look into her eyes. 'Take care of your
self, Amy.' With that he was swiftly gone, leaving Amy to wonder about the 'friend' he had mentioned.

  Hurrying across the grass, she laid her posy of spring flowers, and as she straightened up she spotted the newspaper cutting. Plucking it out, she saw that it was an article on the two sisters, with a photograph of each. 'That's odd.' She looked about the churchyard but there was no one to be seen.

  Then, as a thought struck her, she turned her attention towards the gate and beyond, to where she could see the familiar figure of Don Carson hurrying away. 'I wonder?' Don had earned a reputation for enjoying the company of women friends; and why should he stop at the ones from his own class?

  Before her thoughts ran away with her, Amy replaced the newspaper cutting where she had found it.

  Jack and the coming baby were her life now, and she thanked God for what He had given her.

  She stood a moment to murmur a prayer, then she went into the church, where she lit three candles, one for each of those young women, and the third for any poor lost soul who had no one else to light a candle for him.

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