by Helen Brooks
A new day was dawning, but Melody was anchored to the past, and in spite of her brave thoughts about the future she simply couldn’t see a way forward which included Zeke. Their life had been in the spotlight, and because of who he was and the business he’d built up so painstakingly it would continue to be. And something fundamental had changed in her.
Could they function together as a couple, with Zeke living his life and her living a completely different one? Separate not just in their work but in their social life too? She didn’t think so. It was a recipe for disaster, however you looked at it.
And so she continued to sit under a pearly white sky, a small figure all alone, huddled up on her bench.
CHAPTER TEN
‘NOW, I could be wrong, but something tells me you could do with a nice cup of tea, dear. You look frozen to death.’
For a moment Melody couldn’t focus on the small plump woman who had sat down beside her on the bench, an equally small and plump dog flopping at his owner’s feet. She stared into the rosy face vacantly. ‘I’m sorry?’ she murmured.
‘I walked by this way a little while ago—my Billy still has to have his morning constitutional whether it’s Christmas Day or not—and I saw you then. It’s a mite cold to be sitting for long, isn’t it, dear?’ The bright brown eyes were penetrating, but kind. ‘You all right? You look all done in.’
Melody tried to pull herself together. Now she had come back to the real world she realised she was absolutely frozen to the core. Her reply of, ‘I’m fine, thank you’, was somewhat spoilt by the convulsive shiver which accompanied it.
It seemed to have decided her Good Samaritan. The little woman clucked her tongue before saying, ‘I always have a cup of tea once I get in, and my place is just across there, dear. Why don’t you come in and warm up before you get yourself home?’
‘No—no, thank you.’ Melody forced a smile as she stood up, only to find she was as stiff as a board. ‘You’re very kind but I’m perfectly all right. I—I was just sitting awhile.’
‘You don’t look all right, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Obviously plain speaking was the order of the day. ‘You’re the colour of the snow. Look, my name’s Mabel, and I’m not doing anything until my son comes to collect me and Billy later this morning for Christmas lunch at his place. Lovely house he’s got—all modern and open-plan, I think you call it. Wouldn’t do for me—too much like living in a barn—but it suits him and his wife and the kiddies and that’s all that matters. Anyway, I’ve got an hour or two to kill, and I could do with the company, to tell you the truth. I don’t usually mind being on my own—my Billy’s good company, bless him—but Christmas Day is different, isn’t it? I miss my Arthur then. He died a couple of years ago and I still can’t get used to it. Fifty years we were married, and childhood sweethearts. That still happened in my day. Not like now.’ This was followed by a loud sniff which eloquently depicted Mabel’s opinion of present-day romance.
Melody moistened her lips, ready to refuse the invitation when she caught the fleeting expression in Mabel’s eyes. The loneliness connected with something deep inside her, and instead she found herself saying, ‘If it wouldn’t be any bother I’d love a cup of tea. I didn’t realise how cold I’d got.’
‘That’s right, dear.’ Mabel was aglow, standing up and yanking Billy—who had settled himself down for a nap—to his feet. ‘Nothing like a cup of tea for sorting things out—that’s what I always say. The cup that cheers—that’s what my Arthur said.’
Mabel’s house turned out to be a well-kept terraced property with an air of faded grandeur and photographs of family adorning every surface in the neat little kitchen-diner Melody was shown into. It was as warm as toast, an Aga having pride of place in the old-fashioned fireplace, and two-cushioned rocking chairs complemented the scrubbed kitchen table and four chairs tucked in one corner. There was a serenity to the house, a quietness that spoke of tranquillity rather than emptiness, which was immensely comforting. Melody had a strange sense of coming home.
‘Sit yourself down, lovey.’ Mabel pointed to one of the rocking chairs as she spoke. Billy immediately curled up in his basket in front of the range and shut his eyes, as though to say, duties performed; do not disturb.
‘Thank you.’ Melody sat, somewhat gingerly, and wondered how on earth she had ended up in a total stranger’s house on Christmas Day morning, when Zeke was fast asleep in their suite at the hotel. At least she hoped he was asleep. Yes, he would be, she reassured herself quickly. And even if he wasn’t it was too late to worry about it. She was here now.
Mabel bustled about making the tea, and when the little woman warmed the teapot and then added two teaspoonfuls of tea from a caddy before pouring hot water into the pot Melody wasn’t surprised. Teabags, somehow, weren’t Mabel’s style.
‘Here you are, dear.’ Mabel passed her a cup of tea with a thick slice of homemade shortbread in the saucer. ‘Now, why, if you don’t mind me asking, was a bonny-looking girl like you sitting all by herself on Christmas morning, looking as though she’d lost a pound and found a penny?’
Melody had to smile. No one could accuse Mabel of beating about the bush. She took a sip of the scalding hot tea and then set the cup in its bone china saucer. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said simply. ‘Or which way to turn.’
Mabel deposited her dumpy little body in the other rocking chair and smiled placidly. ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved—that’s what I always say. So why don’t you tell me all about it?’ She took a bite of her own shortbread and indicated for Melody to try hers. ‘Get yourself on the other side of that, lovey, and tell me what’s wrong.’
‘It’s a long story,’ Melody said hesitantly.
‘Then all the more reason to get on with it straight away.’
The logic was irrefutable.
An hour and several cups of tea later, Melody was wondering how on earth she could have given her life story to a virtual stranger. Not only that, but she was feeling more relaxed and at home in Mabel’s house than she’d felt in years.
Mabel hadn’t interrupted her as she’d told her about her childhood, her teenage years, meeting Zeke and all the trauma following the accident. She had simply listened. Billy had twitched in his basket as he’d chased imaginary rabbits, making little growling noises in his sleep now and again as his paws had moved convulsively, but otherwise the kitchen had been quiet and still with no distractions.
‘So…’ They had sat in silence for a good ten minutes or more, and Melody was half asleep when Mabel broke the peace. ‘What are you going to say when you go back to the hotel?’
Melody stared at her new friend. ‘I don’t know. What should I do?’ Even to herself her voice sounded beseeching.
‘I can’t tell you, dear, but then you know that. This has to be your decision and yours alone. Only you know how you feel.’
Disappointed, Melody straightened in her chair. ‘I can’t stay with Zeke,’ she said tonelessly, pain tearing through her.
‘Can’t or won’t?’ Mabel asked calmly. ‘There’s a difference. My Arthur and me lost five babies before we had our son. After the fifth, I said I couldn’t go through it again. Arthur didn’t argue with me, bless him, not even when I decided I couldn’t stay here, in this house, with all the memories it held. I wanted to make a fresh start somewhere far away, I told him. Australia, perhaps. I had a brother who’d emigrated and he was doing all right. Or New Zealand, maybe. Anywhere but here, with the little room upstairs decorated as a nursery and the empty cot that had been waiting for a baby for umpteen years.’
Melody was wide awake now, hanging on to Mabel’s every word.
‘And so I made my plans. Arthur was an engineer, very well qualified and the top of the tree in his own particular field, so we could have gone anywhere and he’d have been sure of work. My brother sent me information on some lovely houses close to where he lived, and a colleague of Arthur’s had always said if we ever thought of moving he wanted fi
rst option on buying our house, so we didn’t even have to worry about selling it. We said our price and he didn’t quibble. Arthur gave notice at work, and everything was set for emigrating at the end of May. I remember May twenty-eighth was the day we were going to set sail. Funny how some things stay in your mind, isn’t it?’
Melody nodded, transfixed by the drama of the long-ago happenings of the little woman in front of her.
‘It was a lovely spring that year—soft and warm and days of endless sunshine all through April. Girls were wearing summer dresses and everyone was happy. Everyone but me. All our plans had gone smoothly, and Arthur had a good job lined up in Australia, but I knew it wasn’t right. I wanted to go, I needed to go, but it didn’t feel right deep inside—here.’ Mabel touched her heart. ‘You know? I was running way. I knew it but I wouldn’t admit it. And I had good reason for wanting a fresh start—heaven knows I did. I felt I couldn’t bear the future if I stayed. The same cycle of hope and then crushing disappointment when my body let me down again.’
Mabel leaned forward, taking one of Melody’s hands between her own. ‘I felt such a failure, you see. Every time it happened I felt I’d let Arthur down and it was affecting our marriage. I wasn’t the girl he’d married, we both knew that, and although he said he loved me just the same, and that as long as he had me it didn’t matter if the children didn’t come along, I didn’t see it that way. I’d even thought about leaving him. He had three brothers and they all had big families, and Arthur was so good with the children—their favourite uncle. I thought if I left him he could have children with someone else.’
Mabel shook her grey head, making her permed curls bob. ‘I was very mixed up. Confused and hurting and trying to be strong.’
‘Like me,’ Melody whispered, and Mabel squeezed her hand. ‘What happened? Did you get as far as trying out Australia?’
‘Arthur’s mother came round to see me one morning. It was at the end of April and the sun was shining. I opened the door to her and burst into tears. She stayed the whole day and we talked and talked. I’d lost my own mum years before, and I wasn’t one for sharing my troubles with anyone—especially anything private-like. She said something very wise to me that day, and it was a turning point, bless her.’
‘What was it?’ Melody was holding her breath.
‘That the only thing to fear is fear itself. I fought the idea at first, telling myself I wasn’t afraid, that it wasn’t as simple as that. It’s amazing how many reasons you can find to justify yourself when you try. But of course she was right. I was frightened of the future, of trying again, of failing, of losing Arthur’s love—a whole host of things. And fear has a way of undermining every foundation in your life, of clouding every issue, especially love and trust. It blinds you.’
‘And so you stayed,’ Melody said softly. ‘You didn’t leave.’
Mabel nodded. ‘It wasn’t a bed of roses, mind. I had to work at it every day. The worries didn’t go overnight—they were too deeply ingrained, I suppose—but slowly I saw light at the end of the tunnel, and when I became pregnant again a few months later I believed it would be different and it was. Our Jack was a big strapping baby, with a pair of lungs on him to wake the dead and a smile as wide as London Bridge.’
Melody smiled. ‘I’m glad for you, I really am, but your circumstances were different to mine.’
Mabel let go of her hand, but her eyes were tight on the young face in front of her when she said, ‘Different circumstances, lovey, but same cause. From what you’ve told me your Zeke isn’t about to change his mind about you because of a few scars. Not now, not ever. And you’re running just the same as I tried to do, although I was going farther than you—across the other side of the world. But you could go that far and it’d be the same mistake. Because you can’t outrun the fear. You take it with you. When you were talking earlier you called yourself a dancer, but that’s not quite right, dear. Dancing was something you did, but it didn’t sum up who you are. You’re made up of a thousand and one things that make the whole, and by the sound of it that whole is what your husband loves. Same as Arthur loved me.’
Melody gazed into the wrinkled face that was so kind it made her want to cry. ‘Zeke said something along those lines,’ she admitted quietly, ‘but I thought he was just being the dutiful husband and trying to say the right thing to comfort me.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that—a bit of husbandly comfort,’ Mabel said stoutly. ‘But it doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it. I came to realise that what doesn’t break you makes you stronger, as a person and as a couple. That sounds trite, lovey, but I can say it because I’ve proved it. Young folk today have grown up having everything in life as instant as the coffee they drink, and when something happens that needs a bit of backbone to deal with it half of them are befuddled as to how to cope. You’re not like that, and I don’t think your Zeke is either.’
Melody thought back over the past twenty-four hours and the hundreds of little ways Zeke had shown he loved her, and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘But he hasn’t seen what I look like now,’ she whispered. ‘And there’s so many women out there that throw themselves at him.’
‘That’s the fear talking again.’ Mabel leant forward and patted her hand briskly. ‘Now, I’m going to make us another cup of tea and a nice bacon sandwich before you go. Me and Arthur always used to start the day with a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, but I’ve got out of the habit since he went. And Melody—’ Mabel held her gaze, her voice soft ‘—don’t expect to cross all your bridges in one fell swoop, dear. You’ll have good days and bad days, but you’ll win through—same as I did. It seems to me that your Zeke needs you every bit as much as you need him. Have you considered that? All those women you talk about were throwing themselves at him for years before he met you, and he didn’t fall for any of them, now, did he? Believe in him, lovey. Have faith. Christmas Day is a better day than most to start doing that, don’t you think?’
Melody nodded, only half convinced. She suddenly realised she needed to see Zeke again, to look into his face when he said he loved her, into his soul. She watched Mabel bustle about the kitchen without really focusing on her. But even that wouldn’t be enough. He had to see her as she was now, and it was then she would know. She loved him so much she would be able to read what he felt about having a crippled wife. She would always walk with a limp now, always have a jerky gait, and in the immediate future there were weeks of physiotherapy in store, with possible complications in the way of arthritis and so on as she got older. Their world had been a place of beautiful people—starlets, celebrities, the rich and famous. And botox and plastic surgery when the edges began to fray.
She glanced at her watch and was amazed to see how the time had gone. It was nine o’clock. Zeke might be awake now, wondering where she was. She had to get back to the hotel.
She gulped down her bacon sandwich, anxious to be gone but not wanting to offend Mabel after all her kindness, and then hugged the little woman before she left the house.
It was bitterly cold outside, but the morning was bright, a high mother-of-pearl sky and a pale sun giving brilliance to the snow-covered world beneath. The city was properly awake now, and although it was not as busy as usual on the main roads, Melody passed lots of pedestrians picking their way along the icy pavements, some with children in tow on new bikes or scooters, which their parents were endeavouring to manipulate through the snow, panting and puffing as they urged their offspring along.
Melody was halfway back to the hotel when she caught sight of Zeke in the distance—a tall, hatless figure head and shoulders above most other folk. Even being so far away she could see his face was as black as thunder. He was angry, furious. Her heart buffeted itself against her ribcage and she stopped, watching him get nearer. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she didn’t know whether to wave or not. In that first moment of panic if she could have disappeared through the floor out of sight, she would have. He was clearly beside himself.
/> She had always tried not to upset him in the past. Confrontation of any kind had always crushed her. Not just with Zeke, with anyone, she acknowledged rawly. She had always needed people’s approval, or at the very least their acceptance, and to achieve it she had sometimes stifled her own opinions or desires. Somehow the accident had changed that, and she mustn’t go back to how she had been. She didn’t want to do that. She straightened, her slim shoulders going back as her chin lifted.
Zeke saw her in the next instant, and even from fifty yards away she could see the relief which flooded his taut features. She swallowed, feeling her heart rate skip up another couple of notches, and began walking towards him, wondering how her life had become this constant plunging spiral of emotion. She wanted some kind of normality again. Life would never be humdrum if she stayed with Zeke, she knew that, but their day-to-day existence had been if not ordinary then part of a pattern. The times when they had been alone had not been as many as she would have liked, but there had been the nights locked in his arms when he had been all hers. If only that could happen again.
She didn’t know what to expect when Zeke met her. Certainly not the blank face and the voice empty of all expression when he took her arm, saying, ‘Let’s get back to the hotel.’ He suited his long stride to her shorter one, but that was the only concession he made as they negotiated their way along the snowy pavements which were lethal in places.
Melody looked up at him from under her eyelashes, her gaze registering the lines of strain round his mouth and eyes. She had been right. He was angry, but he had been worried too—as she would have been if their positions were reversed. But she’d had to get away for a while, selfish though it had been, although she couldn’t expect Zeke would understand that.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I went for a walk to think. I—I didn’t mean to be so long.’
‘Some four hours in all, according to the receptionist who saw you leave the hotel,’ Zeke said silkily.