As if hit by a wave of freezing, hostile water, Tristan was beset with the wretched hopelessness he’d felt on the night Ursula had bled to death. ‘Polly, you’re right. We do need to talk. I need to explain why I regret your late brother talking me into letting him take my late wife’s child.’
‘Good, that’s something, I suppose. If I fetch Louisa out of the toy shop will you come to my house?’
He thought of Winifred, feeling faint and frail, waiting for him at Ford Farm, but this needed to be dealt with first. He knew where Polly lived, and arrived at her house after allowing her time to dispose of her young ward to the nursery.
He refused a drink, refused to sit down. In her well-lit drawing room, the summer sun streaming in and laying a golden glow on her fine possessions, he stared down at Polly, in an armchair. Her ankles were neatly crossed, her hands in her lap, as if she was interviewing a tradesman.
‘You’re right about my son and I not being close, and I don’t suppose we ever will be, not lovingly close, not on his part. And if, as I fear, that one day, he somehow finds out I lied about his half-sister, that she did not die and is in fact one of his playmates, well, Jonny will hate me and who could blame him? I’m sorry I’ve been cold towards the girl, but she is a constant reminder of my dead wife and the wretched cowardly cad who was her lover, whose resemblance, in some ways, she bears. I loved Ursula so much, but twice she chose Bruce Ashley over me.
‘That child’ – when Polly winced at the way he had said it, he softened his voice – ‘Louisa, her birth, took Ursula away from me. Emilia had only just pointed out to me that very day how harsh I was being towards Ursula over her first betrayal. I’d agreed and I was going to give her my wholehearted support throughout her confinement and during the horrible moment, when as previously agreed, the district nurse was to take the baby away to its adoptive parents. It was a terrific blow to discover Ursula was about to go off with Ashley again and take Jonny with them. As you know, when confronted with my presence Ashley ran out on her and by this time Ursula was in labour. I told Ursula she could keep her child, that I’d set her up somewhere with it, but that I never wanted to see her again. After her death, Polly, I realized I still loved her. I might have come round to her. I believe I would have done. I loved her so much. I haven’t told anyone but you about this last part of the whole sorry business.’
‘So what you’re saying, and let us be clear about this, is that you believe you might have taken Ursula back, her and her child, but now you hate her child because her birth led to Ursula’s death? Have I got it right?’
He raked his hand down over his face, distorting his harrowed features. ‘Put as cold-bloodedly as that it makes me sound like a monster, doesn’t it? But I don’t hate Louisa. I don’t hate anyone, except for Bruce Ashley. I just can’t stand her near me. Oh, God, that does make me a monster, saying something like that about a child. Look, I…’
Polly moved over to him, appealed to him with open hands. ‘Tristan, I’m worried too about Jonny or Louisa discovering the truth of her origins. It’s why I keep her away from Ford Farm when Jonny’s there. But when I think about it rationally, I realize it’s virtually impossible. Perhaps we’ve been worrying unnecessarily, don’t you think? Can’t you forget the past and try to like Louisa, just a little bit? She’s a delightful, bright little girl. Please, for her sake, give her a chance.’
Tristan couldn’t get the pain, the anxiety out of his mind. ‘But surely she’s bound to wonder where she came from, who her mother was. One day she’ll start asking questions. What are you going to tell her?’
‘The truth, but not the whole truth. How her mother fell into temptation, like so many other women did during the war, and that tragically she died giving birth to her. The district nurse travelled here that night with Julian, so I’ll tell her that it was she who brought her here. The nurse refused to utter a word to me, so I shall be able to say truthfully that she refused to divulge anything about the baby she carried into the house.’
‘And her birth certificate?’
‘It’s safely locked away at the solicitor’s. Now does that reassure you?’
‘I suppose so.’
Tristan realized that he had picked up the parcel with the biplane in it from the car seat, was holding it so tightly it was hurting his hands. In some ways he was clinging to his new, happy, uncomplicated life with Winifred. ‘Look, I really must go. I promise I’ll make the effort to be more sociable when I see Louisa again.’
‘Thank you, Tristan. I’m so pleased we’ve had this talk.’
When Polly saw him to the door, he found himself telling her, ‘I’m to become a father again. God willing, Jonny will accept it, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make a better job of raising this next child. I wish you good fortune, Polly.’
‘Tristan, I apologize for what I said about you and Jonny. Please don’t go on blaming yourself, it was the war that came between you and him, just as it did between you and Ursula. I’m sure Jonny will love the new baby.’
She watched him drive away, satisfied with what she had accomplished for Louisa’s sake. Envying him for having so many people in his life, a spouse, hope for the future. Now all she had to do was to get rid of her appalling loneliness. She was well travelled and had already set into motion a cruise around the world for herself and Louisa. It would boost Louisa’s confidence, broaden her outlook and stimulate her mind. She was taking Ivy with them, and she would order her to pack now for Southampton rather than next week.
* * *
Brooke was out riding round the village boundaries. Before going home, she reined in at Ford House. She had argued with herself about whether she should come here or not, but she had to, there was too much at stake for Emilia, and the Harvey family if things went on as they were. The more she thought about the possibility of her sister-in-law growing rather too close to Perry Bosweld, the more she had come to realize that there truly was a distinctive intimate connection between them.
Let in by the maid, she took a seat at the side of Perry’s desk, and he explained he was writing a letter to a former soldier about the benefits of joining the Royal British Legion, when in fact it was a letter aimed at obtaining the education and training Selina desired, and getting her started in it as soon as possible. Once it was settled, she was unlikely to baulk at the arrangement; she was always impatient to experience something new.
Brooke did not speak. She gazed and gazed at him.
Perry had put his pen down. He picked it up and clenched it tightly in his fist. ‘Well, Mrs Harvey? Brooke?’ His voice was firm but his heart was frozen through. He knew why she was here.
‘I’ve not known Emilia long enough to say this to her but I can to you, Perry. You can’t have her. She belongs to Alec, and to her family and the farm more than she realizes. She’s linked to Alec in every way. By the baby they lost. By the children they will have in the future. If you don’t get out of their way they may never reach each other again as closely as they once were. From now on you must keep away from her, you must. If Alec ever found out about your feelings towards Emilia, and that she’s attracted to you, it would bring chaos, heartbreak to everyone. Is that what you want for Libby?
‘You must give notice on this house. Leave as soon as you can. You must see that you’ve no right to Emilia. What she would lose with Alec is far more than what she would gain with you. I believe you’re a fine and noble man, Perry Bosweld. If you really love her and want what’s best for her then I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you, but there it is. I shall expect to hear soon that you, your daughter and your sister are planning to go away. Goodbye, Perry.’
After she had left, her words echoed revoltingly round and round inside his head, for they had given him the strength to do what he must, to protect the woman he loved. He finished the letter to the professor. As soon as Selina’s new position was put into place he would give Alec Harvey a month’s notice on the h
ouse. No other explanation to their landlord would be needed. He would do the right thing, move away with Selina, make a clean break from Emilia, but there would still be some time left to spend with her, his Em. Surely there would be still some precious moments left for them.
* * *
That night in bed Emilia laid herself in Alec’s arms and held on to him very tight.
‘This is nice,’ he said, hugging her, reaching for her hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss. ‘You’ve been distracted all evening. Are you worrying about something, angel?’
The way he cherished her made her want to cry. In a choked whisper, she said, ‘I want you to know that I love you, Alec. More than ever. Perhaps it’s time we thought about having another baby. Alec?’
He was quiet for a while, holding her, caressing her. ‘What’s brought this on, darling? You sound as if you’re in a bit of a panic.’
‘I just think it’s time, that’s all. Don’t you?’
With gentle force he unlocked the hands around his neck. They were hurting him. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, Emilia. Is it because Jonny and Vera Rose are soon to go home? Are you frightened of the house suddenly seeming too empty?’
How could she tell him she was frightened, had never been more frightened in all her life of losing him and everything that was involved in their life together. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’ She was crying softly. Crying over every terrible and wonderful event that had happened since Jenna’s birth. Crying because she was safe, here in Alec’s strength and gentleness. ‘Sorry if I alarmed you.’
He wrapped her up close. ‘There’s no need to say sorry. Darling, I hate to see you so unhappy. We’ll get through this, I promise. She’ll always be a part of us, our little Jenna. We’ll have another baby, but not now. Not until the time is right. I love you so much, Emilia. More than anything. More than anyone.’
They lay quietly. It wasn’t until he was asleep, his arms around her, protecting her, that she allowed herself to think again about the precious someone she was about to let loose from her life.
She had to let Perry go. But not abruptly. She couldn’t do that. She needed more time with him. To see him again, alone. Whatever the risk.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The terrible moments of ending her association with Perry were looming in front of her. Emilia wouldn’t think about that now. It was enough to be seeing glimpses of him. To be with him when the children played together.
Two days ago he had invited her and Alec to Ford House to demonstrate the use of the archery gear. Perry had hit the inner gold zone several times and they, and Selina and Libby, had applauded his skill. Alec, who had a deadly aim with the shotgun, was a good shot and Emilia had cheered him on enthusiastically. No one thought it odd or inappropriate when Perry, leaning forward from behind, had physically helped her to position her hands on the longbow and sight the arrow. By terrific luck she had nearly hit the outer gold zone. Recoiling from the force of the shot, she had tumbled back against Perry’s chest. ‘I love you,’ he had whispered, touching her momentarily with his gentle, steadying hands.
Selina had invited Alec to take a turn round the front garden with her and Libby, leaving Emilia to help Perry gather up the equipment and stow it back in the garden shed.
He had caressed her hair. She had pressed down on his hand. ‘Selina knows about us, darling Em. We must talk.’
‘I know, but not yet.’ Perry was to tell her the same dreadful news, that they couldn’t go on with their secret love, and somehow she knew he would say something even worse. That he was going away, for ever. Perry was too honourable, too sensitive to stay on here, so agonizingly close to her, where without the slightest doubt they would keep on with their love affair.
It was enough to know for today that he was to come to where she now was, in Higher Cross field, to set up his archery gear for the sports day.
‘I love you so much,’ she told the image of him she had fashioned in her mind. Soon, images and beautiful memories would be all she had left of him.
‘Don’t cry, Em. Someone might see,’ Selina’s voice whispered in her ear and her arm came to rest heavily round her shoulders.
‘What? Sorry, we’ll never finish setting up these archery lanes, will we?’ Emilia gazed at the rope hanging limply in her hands. She shrugged Selina’s arm off her, ill at ease in her company after her so-called friendly advice about her and Perry. Emilia saw Selina as a habitual liar, a complicated misfit, and if not for her close connection to Perry, as someone she could talk to about him, hear about him, even the little mundane things like what he ate for supper last night, so she could feel she had been with him, she would allow Selina very little time.
‘Life’s not fair sometimes, is it?’ Selina took the rope and measured out a short lane of fifty-six yards for the men, then placed another rope down for a shorter one of thirty-four and a half yards for the women.
In a state of numbness, at an aloof distance, Emilia watched her making the swift, efficient movements.
Selina, an imposing figure in a shirt and trousers and walking boots, rejoined her. ‘I can’t see what difference the size of the lanes are really for in something like this but Perry wants everything just right. Come on, try to smile. You know what we need, don’t you?’
‘What’s that?’
‘A drink. Ruby Brokenshaw’s offering a bottle of ale to the chaps working here. Can’t see why we should miss out. The crate’s sitting over there in the shade behind the platform, where Daphne Dowling’s unlikely to see it. Come on, we’re due for a break; let’s shock the honourable Daphne by leaning against the hedge and swigging straight out of a bottle like a man. Not scared, are you?’
The proceedings were to start at four o’clock in the afternoon, eight hours away, with the children’s races, and the field was already bustling with activity. The lorry had arrived with the marquee and a host of brawny arms were erecting it. Mrs Dowling, carefully hatted although the early morning sun was only just finding its wings, and followed by an anxious, cotton-frocked Mrs Frayne, was striding through the scratchy yellow stalks of the cut grass, making sure everything was being accomplished to her perfectionist requirements. She had taken no care to avoid showing her disapproval of Selina’s presence and had actually been curt and rude to her.
Selina had laughed into her impatient, taut face, and said later to Emilia, ‘I suppose Perry and I would have to live here for at least ten years to be considered bona fide residents of Hennaford. Stupid mare. How dare she object to me helping out! I despise her type, narrow-minded and hypocritical.’ Emilia had thought Mrs Dowling had come across as indignant and angry and strangely disquieted.
Emilia cast her eyes up and down the long, broad field, shimmering silver in the sunlight. The marquee bunting was up. Edwin, Jim and Midge Roach had erected the poles for the sheaf-pitching. Alec and Jonny had brought over a cartload of sheaves, then had left to get on with the everyday chores of the farm. Jonny had an important air about him today – Alec had asked him to be a member of his tug-of-war team and the boy had insisted he would, even though Emilia had pointed out he should, as Ben’s nephew too, be impartial.
Other Ford Farm labourers were working on the greasy pole for the pillow fight. The wooden bowling run, the small hard balls and the skittles had been carried up from the pub, as had the rope for the tug of war; the red and yellow and blue flags were already in situation on it. Elena Rawley and her father were supervising the positioning of the trestle tabling brought up from the Wesleyan Hall. All was fitting into place as on every other year, but Emilia had been given no warning that this year her emotions would be in tatters, stretched to their limits.
‘Are we having a drink or not?’ Selina’s eager-to-please tones broke off her latest musings.
Emilia wanted to go off on her own but Selina would only follow her. ‘I’ll take a bottle but I’ll not offend anyone here. We must drink discreetly.’
‘Fine by me. Let’s stroll down the field. To
o bad if virtuous old Daphne doesn’t like it. I was never such a slave driver on the wards.’
Jim was now beside the dancing platform, near old Mr Quick, who had parked his creaking bones down on it, while Ben, Brooke, Eliza Shore and Cyril Trewin were admiring their handiwork. All except Brooke were quaffing ale, and old Mr Quick was telling tales about the days when he was ‘light on his feet’. They were answering his deaf ears with indulgent nods. He saw Emilia and Selina approaching. ‘Now here comes a couple of maidens I could’ve whirled round any dance floor in my day. Should’ve seen me then. I was a good-looking man, I’ll have ’ee know. Had me pick of the local girls, I did.’
‘Hello, Mr Quick.’ Emilia smiled down on his gaily squinting, upturned, antiquated countenance. She chatted a while with the Tremore contingent, noting, while dampening down her reawakened feelings of raw maternal loss, that Brooke’s pregnancy was beginning to show.
Brooke eyed Emilia and Selina, wishing her sister-in-law was not at all friendly with the other woman.
Selina yanked the stoppers off two ale bottles. She met Jim’s steady stare at her with direct, uncompromising aloofness. There wasn’t the usual hateful snarl on his outstanding, lush, fair features. He was watchful, quiet almost, except she saw the naked, raw energy of hate driving through him. Jim would always be overrun by passion of some sort – it was this that had prompted her without hesitation or remorse to seduce him. He wasn’t a man to be trusted, but she reckoned he was no threat to her.
‘How are you, Jim?’ Her question was short, to the point, interested, almost soothing, as it might be to a patient under her care.
Moments of Time Page 23