sUnwanted Truthst

by Unwanted Truths (epub)

  ‘Robert Maynard.’

  Then silence until she heard him say, ‘We’ll come up straight away.’

  The receiver clicked back on the handset. Jenny sat frozen at the table staring straight ahead. She heard footsteps in the hall, and turned in her chair. Robert filled the doorway; his face ashen.

  ‘He’s gone Jen, Dad’s dead.’

  *

  They passed a nurse pushing a trolley laden with dirty dinner plates along the corridor. The ward sister was waiting for them.

  ‘We’re so sorry Mrs Maynard, he just slipped away. He was sleeping, so the nurse left his dinner on his table and went back after she’d taken the other meals round. She realised straight away that he’d gone. It must have happened in those few minutes. We’re as shocked as you are. He was due to be discharged tomorrow.’

  ‘He was an old soldier – he never wanted to make a fuss,’ Jenny said, staring at the fully drawn curtains around her father’s bed.

  Eleven days later there was another funeral in the flint church opposite the windmill. The mourners were the same as three weeks earlier – with the exception of the four ladies from the Townswomen’s Guild.

  *

  A week after Charlie’s funeral when Lorna and Nicky were asleep, Jenny went upstairs to the linen cupboard and removed the brown envelope from between the tea towels. She went into her bedroom and shut the door. Taking a pair of scissors from her dressing table, she slit the envelope open, shook the contents onto the bed and peered inside the envelope; there were no documents. She started to divide the money into piles of twenty, ten and five pound notes.

  ‘Jen, are you alright in there?’ Robert’s voice came from behind the closed door.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m just resting. I’ll be down in a minute.’ She resumed counting. ‘Two thousand nine hundred and eight pounds – nearly three thousand pounds,’ she lay back on the bed and wondered how many years her parents must have been saving. Five minutes later she sat up, and pushing the notes back inside the envelope, took it downstairs into the lounge.

  ‘Robert, I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Be careful,’ he said from behind his newspaper.

  ‘Look, Mum gave me this money a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Did she?’ he put the paper down.

  ‘Yes, before she went into hospital. I think she knew how ill she was. Anyway, I think we ought to use some of it for a holiday. It would do us both good, and it would be a thank you from me, for all your support. I couldn’t have managed without you.’ She bent over and kissed him, remembering how he had helped her to arrange the funerals, making numerous phone calls, and finally, supervised the flat clearance, so she didn’t have to be there.

  ‘You don’t need to thank me Jen.’

  ‘I know I don’t; but I want to. It would be in memory of Mum and Dad too.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure?’

  ‘I am,’ Jenny went over to the bookcase, pulled out an atlas and lay it on the coffee table. ‘We can have a look where we might go.’ She turned the pages until Europe and the Middle East were spread out in front of them.

  ‘What about Cyprus? Your aunt lives there. She did invite us.’

  Jenny remembered Doris’s words after her father’s funeral, ‘Jenny, I’d really like it, if you, and Robert and the children of course, could come over and stay sometime soon. I didn’t want to ask before, not while Alice – your mum – was alive. We didn’t always see eye to eye, and I didn’t want to cause any trouble. George and I would pay the airfares. You only need bring some spending money.’

  ‘Yes she did. The thing is, I’ve got my exams soon, and you’ll have to get time off. So we probably won’t be able to go until after Christmas. It will be too cold in Cyprus then. We can always go there later on. She won’t be expecting us to go this soon anyway.’

  ‘Well that cuts out a lot of places Jen. We can’t afford the Caribbean, or anywhere in the southern hemisphere. What about the Canary Islands?’

  ‘No, too boring. I don’t want it to be just a holiday. I want it to be an experience; something we can remember and talk about for years to come.’

  Robert ran his finger eastwards from the Canaries along the line of latitude – ‘Morocco; Tunisia; Egypt; Israel.’

  ‘Cairo, Robert, let’s go to Cairo. It will be warmer than Europe and there’ll be plenty to do if it’s chilly,’ Jenny said excitedly.

  ‘I don’t know Jen. It sounds very foreign. We might pick up something. I’ve heard everyone gets ill who goes there – gyppy tummy.’

  ‘Well, at least we’ll remember it, won’t we?’ Jenny laughed. ‘Think of the Pyramids, and the Sphinx.’ Jenny poured over the atlas. ‘Look, there’s a train line marked to Luxor. We could go there if we don’t like Cairo; or it’s too cold.’

  ‘Let’s see.’ Robert moved his finger down the page. ‘I suppose we could. But what about Lorna and Nicky? I wouldn’t be happy taking them to a place like Cairo.’

  *

  The wipers slapped furiously as rain streamed down the windscreen.

  ‘I hope they’ll agree to look after them. As you say, they can’t really come with us, and it will be term time. Anyway, we’re the ones who need a break.’ Jenny turned to Robert who was leaning forward trying to see through the glass.

  ‘I’ll ask Mum. Don’t you say anything, let me do the talking.’

  ‘I don’t want to stay with Nanny and Grandpa Reggie,’ Nicky shouted from the back seat.

  ‘Stop being a wimp.’ Lorna pinched her brother.

  ‘Ow.’

  ‘He elbowed me.’

  ‘Stop it you two. Nicky it’s really important that Dad and I have a holiday on our own, so we can come home happy, and remember Granny and Granddad.’

  ‘I want to come; so I can remember them too.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid; didn’t you hear what they said? Anyway we can’t miss school,’ Lorna stuck her tongue out.

  ‘Yes we can, I don’t care.’

  *

  Jenny bit her lower lip as she placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table. She could hear Lorna and Nicky squabbling in the room above. Robert took a deep breath and looked up at Maggie. ‘Mum, Jen… I… was wondering if you could do us an enormous favour and look after the children for two weeks in the New Year?’

  ‘What… why?’ Maggie pursed her lips and frowned.

  ‘After everything we’ve had to deal with lately, we… we… were hoping to get away for a break,’ Robert stuttered.

  ‘I know it’s been hard for you both lately, especially for you Jen. But we’ve helped out when we could; having them for the odd day, here and there. But for two whole weeks, that’s a long time. I never had a break when I was bringing you up Rob, on my own as well. I didn’t know what a holiday was.’

  ‘I know Mum, I know, but Jen really feels that she needs to get away.’

  ‘I have just lost both my parents Maggie. If that’s not a good enough reason I don’t know what is?’ she could feel a tear forming.

  ‘Well I think it’s a good idea,’ Reggie added.

  ‘Suppose it snows? It often does in January. How will I get them to school?’

  ‘I could take them Maggie. You don’t need to worry about that,’ Reggie puffed on his pipe.

  ‘I might get one of my migraines? They last for days. I’m fit for nothing – certainly not looking after two lively children.’

  Jenny noticed the look of surprise on Reggie’s face. Maggie was never ill. She only thought anyone else was when they were on their death-bed.

  Robert stood up as if to leave. ‘Mum, if you’re not willing to help us out just this once, I’m not going to come to David’s wedding.’ Jenny looked at him in astonishment.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to be there,’ Reggie said. ‘Mind you, they haven’t set a date yet, knowing him they’ll never get round to it.’ David had recently broken the news that he was going to marry Corinne, a new age traveller with Rastafarian dreadlocks.

>   ‘Reggie how can you say that? Corinne’s a lovely girl. I know I was disappointed at first, but she has qualities.’

  ‘What qualities? The only thing I’ve noticed is her ability to avoid working, so they make a good pair,’ Reggie puffed on his pipe again.

  Maggie sighed, ‘Well, I suppose they could stay here.’

  10

  November 1981

  Those clouds look ominous. It’s going to rain later,’ Robert said peering out of the kitchen window. He grabbed his anorak from the back of the chair and gave Jenny a peck on her cheek.

  ‘I’ve got to go to the churchyard later. It’s Mum’s birthday – she would have been seventy-four.’

  ‘You don’t have to go today, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  *

  Three more graves had been dug since her last visit. Jenny glanced down at the shiny brass plaques, but didn’t recognise any of the names. She bent down and placed her rose in front of the wooden cross and whispered, ‘Happy birthday, Mum.’ Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the drizzle. She wiped the sleeve of her coat across her cheeks and wondered why she hadn’t thought to bring any tissues. She sniffed hard and stood up. Moving to the end of the mound, she stared at the light brown soil interspersed with chalk. ‘You’ll miss me when I’m gone,’ her mother’s words that she had dismissed with the casualness of youth; now seemed a just retribution. She would have to decide about a memorial stone soon. Someone, she couldn’t remember who, said that you had to wait a year for the ground to settle.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  She jumped and spun round, lifting her umbrella. A man stood in front of her, the tip of his jacket collar touching the lobes of his ears.

  ‘I’m sorry if I startled you, but I think you’ve left your lights on. Is that your Morris Minor outside?’ He frowned and looked down at the cross. ‘My God, it’s Jenny – Jenny Porter, isn’t it? I don’t believe it.’ A broad smile stretched across his sharp features. He held out his hand, but then let it drop by his side.

  Is it him? she thought, her heart banging against her ribs. No, it can’t be. Not here. As the man turned his head slightly, she noticed a mole that interrupted the line of his jaw. ‘Martin.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you.’ He turned to go.

  ‘No, no – it’s alright.’ Her chest tightened. She swallowed. ‘I never expected to see you again. You moved away. You don’t live here any more.’

  ‘Yes, we did, and I don’t. But my parents moved back about ten years ago. They always liked it up this way. That’s their house down there.’ He turned and pointed in the direction of a red tiled roof.

  ‘Yes, it is nice. But not today – I mean with the rain.’ She blinked several times to refresh her eyes, thinking how awkward she must sound.

  ‘You were crying the last time I saw you,’ he said softly.

  So he remembers. It was here by the windmill. But I’m years older now. She flicked her head back and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. ‘I’d better go – my lights. I’m always doing that when it’s dark during the day.’ She didn’t move.

  ‘Yes, it’s easily done.’ He gazed at her. ‘It’s great to see you again, Jenny. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Yes, it’s great to see you too,’ she said. Words that she had always imagined saying had vanished. ‘I must go – my lights.’ She drew her umbrella closer and started walking towards the path. She knew he was watching her, and it took all her strength to place one foot in front of the other.

  ‘I’m sorry about your parents,’ his words carried across the churchyard.

  She turned and nodded. He was still standing at the foot of her parents’ grave. A pied wagtail bobbed out of her way as she met the solidness of the path. She shut the gate and, glancing back to check that she was out of sight, ran across the green towards the faint yellow beams. Balancing the umbrella against her body, she leant on the car and fumbled in her coat pocket for the key, her hand trembling as she tried to force it into the lock. For God’s sake, go in. Why won’t it go in? She removed it and tried again, it turned. Relieved, she threw her umbrella onto the passenger seat and sank behind the wheel. Why is he here? He must have lost someone too, she thought. I should have asked. I must go before he comes out. He can’t see me – not looking like this. She pulled the choke out and turned the ignition. The engine groaned. No, not the lights, please start, come on don’t let me down. She adjusted the choke. On the third attempt the engine fired. She released the handbrake and drove away.

  *

  Jenny thought of nothing else for the rest of that afternoon. She now had a new image of Martin. It would take some getting used to; she had been comfortable with the old one. His words replayed in her mind as she stared at Nicky, who sat twirling a sausage around with his fork in a pool of tomato sauce. She slammed her hand on the table. ‘Stop playing with your food, Nicky.’

  ‘I’m not hungry. Look, it’s a helicopter.’

  ‘You’re not hungry because you’ve been stuffing your face with chocolates,’ said Lorna, leaning over the table towards him.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t tell.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have hit me then, should you?’

  ‘She had some too,’ Nicky turned towards his mother.

  ‘But I’ve eaten all my dinner.’

  ‘For God’s sake, stop it you two,’ Jenny said, irritated that her thoughts were being interrupted. She glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘Lorna, finish your pudding, then go and get ready for Brownies. You’ll need your coat, it’s still drizzling. No pudding for you, Nicky. I should be able to trust you not to eat sweets before dinner.’

  ‘Jen, let it go, what’s the matter with you?’ Robert stopped eating and looked up. ‘He’s eight years old. He’s going to eat sweets if they’re around. Did you do anything today?’

  Jenny winced as she spotted a sliver of cabbage stuck between his front teeth. ‘I went to the churchyard. I told you I was going. It’s Mum’s birthday; she would have been seventy-four today.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jen, I should have remembered.’ He reached for the tomato sauce. ‘I thought I’d never get home tonight; the A23 was a bloody nightmare.’

  ‘But, Mummy, why did you go to the churchyard? You said Granny’s gone to heaven.’

  ‘She has Nicky, and so has Granddad. I go there to feel close to them.’

  ‘Is that because they lived near there? Why don’t you go to their flat?’

  ‘Nicky, that’s enough. Just get down,’ said Robert.

  ‘I miss Granddad.’ His lower lip quivered as he slid off his chair.

  ‘I know Nicky, we all do, come here.’ Seeing him hesitate, Jenny pulled him towards her and hugged him.

  ‘You must have been the only person there on a day like this,’ Robert said as he pierced a sausage with his fork.

  ‘Yes, I was,’ she said, thinking that this was the first time she had lied to him.

  *

  Jenny tossed and turned all night, until the hands on her alarm clock told her that it was seven in the morning. She was consumed with thoughts of Martin. So his parents had moved back ten years ago. She was sure he hadn’t been that tall the last time she had seen him, but he had only been sixteen. She remembered reading somewhere that men continue growing until they’re twenty-one.

  She arrived at work early, and instead of searching the room for any post that had arrived since her last visit, she sat at her desk staring through the French windows at the bulk of Firle Beacon in the distance. It was only when Celia came into the room that she realised she had forgotten about the delivery of the printing fabric.

  ‘My God, you’re here already, I’d better go and make the coffee. I’ve got to go out soon Jenny, so, if you wouldn’t mind signing for the rolls.’

  Celia had been commissioned by Colefax and Fowler to print her latest design, and was hoping that it would lead to more work in the future. She had sp
oken of nothing else the week before. Jenny nodded in agreement and continued staring through the French windows.

  Celia returned carrying a tray containing two mugs of steaming coffee. She placed them on the low window-ledge and seated herself on the chaise-longue opposite Jenny’s desk.

  ‘Celia, I was wondering if I could leave a bit earlier today. I’d like to go to the travel agents and book that holiday I mentioned last week.’

  ‘Of course you can. It would do you both good to get away. I was worried that you came back to work too soon. I thought you were starting to look like your old self again, but you look tired today.’

  ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night. But no, it’s been fine. I needed to get back to some normality.’

  ‘Are you going to take the children with you?’

  ‘No, Robert’s mother has agreed to look after them.’

  ‘Good, so it will be a proper break for both of you. Don’t let your coffee get cold, there’s some biscuits on the tray.’ Weak rays from the sun shone through the windows onto Celia’s fine hair, which was held at the back of her head with a large clip. Although she was nearly sixty, the style suited her, accentuating her fine features. She reminded Jenny of Virginia Woolf, who had lived and died not far from here.

  *

  She left her car alongside the windmill and noted that no other cars were parked. He must have come by car yesterday, but she couldn’t remember seeing one. Why couldn’t the weather have been like this yesterday? She might have looked half-decent instead of a drowned rat. She walked over to the churchyard. It was highly unlikely that Martin would be here again – not the next day. She peered slowly over the flint wall – nobody there. She opened the gate and ran down a line of earlier graves. At the head of the final grave stood a large grey headstone. She stared at the black lettering.

  IN LOVING MEMORY

  OF ELLEN MARY BARRETTI

  16th April 1915 to 25th November 1978

  BELOVED WIFE OF ENRICO

  AND MOTHER