sUnwanted Truthst

by Unwanted Truths (epub)

  She walked up the stairs to the second floor of the house and into the spare room. It wasn’t used as a bedroom as the ceiling sloped too steeply to the window frames at either end. For the past eighteen months they had rented it to an actor for storage. He rarely put in an appearance, and if it hadn’t been for his quarterly cheques, they would have assumed he’d forgotten about his possessions. To the right of the door was a built-in cupboard. Manoeuvring her way around the cardboard boxes Jenny opened the white painted doors. Stale cigarette smoke and pheromones were released. She was back inside her parents’ flat. She buried her nose in the lapel of her father’s check jacket and inhaled. ‘I haven’t lost you. I just wanted to tell you that I passed my exams,’ she said out loud.

  Jenny moved the coat hanger along, revealing a plain navy blue dress, complete with a marcasite brooch in the shape of a lily. Her mother always wore this when she wanted to look smart. Hanging next to the dress was her father’s best grey suit – a white handkerchief peeped out of the breast pocket – he had worn it at her mother’s funeral. Quickly she moved the suit along. There was her wedding outfit, a straight turquoise skirt and jacket. Folded over a double hanger, hung a pair of casual brown trousers that her mother had always worn around the flat. Jenny had visited the cupboard several times since her parents had died. The last time had been when they returned from Egypt. If they had still been alive, she would have called on them, and excitedly explained every photograph. Instead, when Robert and the children were occupied, she had come to this room and told these shrouds instead. She supposed she would have to get rid of them eventually – but not yet.

  *

  ‘I’ve got some good news.’ Jenny grinned as she greeted Robert in the hallway.

  ‘Let me guess – David and Corinne have called off their wedding.’

  ‘No – well at least if they have, we haven’t been told. I’ve passed my exams.’

  ‘Well done Jen, I knew you would.’ He leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Let’s have a drink to celebrate. I’ll just go and get changed.’

  ‘I’ll get the drinks.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll be leaving Celia?’ he said as he came through the lounge door adjusting a maroon jumper over his cords.

  ‘No, I haven’t even thought about that. It’s too far ahead. I’ve only just received the results.’

  ‘You’re not thinking about working more days are you? I’m not sure that would be a good thing. The children are still young.’

  ‘No Robert – I’ve just said, I’m not thinking about anything like that. I’m quite happy with my three days at the moment.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But, I’ll probably want something more in a year or two; once Nicky starts at secondary school. This widens my options. I could try for a job in Brighton then, one with prospects.’

  ‘We can manage – money wise. There’s no need for you to work more days.’

  ‘It isn’t only about money Robert. Anyway talking about secondary schools I thought we might have heard today about Lorna.’

  ‘I want to go to Varndean. Sarah and Emma are going there and we can’t be separated.’ Lorna came into the room clutching a dark brown plastic horse which she placed on the coffee table. Nicky trailed behind her.

  ‘Go and lay the table, you two. We’ll be in after we’ve had our drinks. Lorna, don’t forget that Emma lives directly opposite the school. We’re on the edge of the catchment area here, so you’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘She’ll get in Jen,’ Robert said picking up the newspaper from the sofa.

  ‘What’s for pudding?’ Nicky looked up.

  ‘Do as you’re told. Go and lay the table or you won’t have any,’ Robert sighed from behind the paper.

  ‘I know what it is,’ said Lorna, ‘I saw Mummy making it – it’s Angel Delight – your favourite, and I’ll eat yours if you’re not having any.’

  ‘Lorna, stop winding him up,’ Jenny shouted as they disappeared.

  ‘It says here that there’s a model exhibition at Horsham this Sunday, shall we go?’ Jenny didn’t answer immediately. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t work up any enthusiasm about different sized gauges and bogies. But they’d agreed on holiday they would both make more of an effort, and Robert was always pleased when she did go with him.

  ‘Well, what do you think then?’ Robert looked directly at Jenny.

  ‘I’m going horse-riding with Sarah on Sunday,’ Lorna said coming back into the room.

  ‘Yes, I’ll come.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I like it best when you come with us Mum,’ Nicky followed his sister.

  ‘If we’re going to Horsham, I’d like to stop off at Oreham Common on the way back. The clocks go forward next weekend, so it will be lighter in the evenings. Once I hear the chiff-chaffs, I know that spring’s here.’

  ‘That’s boring,’ said Nicky, going over to the television.

  ‘Well, we can have a game of cricket, while Mum wanders around,’ said Robert.

  ‘For God’s sake Nicky, how many times have I told you not to switch the television on before dinner?’ Jenny snapped.

  ‘Come on son let’s go and eat,’ Robert placed the newspaper on the coffee table. ‘Do you want to come down to the cellar and help me paint the station fence afterwards?’

  *

  Lorna lay on the floor in front of the gas fire reading How to Care for your Pony, the plastic horse at her side. Jenny sat on the sofa and regretted shouting at Nicky. It wasn’t him she was annoyed at. It was Robert. She was irritated that as soon as she had told him about passing her exams, he said that he didn’t like the idea of her working more hours. Of course she had thought about leaving Celia, but the present arrangement suited her. Celia was flexible about the school holidays. If she was to leave, they would be a problem; especially now that Mum and Dad were no longer around. Obviously, Robert didn’t want things to change, and they could manage financially, but she couldn’t work for Celia for ever. She wanted more of a challenge, and to meet different people. She looked down at the coffee table. Her eyes rested on the newspaper headline – “Argentine Flag raised in South Georgia”. Moving the paper to one side, she picked up a booklet. She missed the stimulation of studying, and had been thinking about signing up for a four week course. She turned to the page “Habitats and Wildlife”, “starts Tuesday April 20th”. She would phone the next day and book a place.

  ‘Look Mummy, I’ve plaited his mane.’ Lorna waved the plastic horse in the air.

  Jenny bent down and removed a diary from her bag. She thumbed through the pages and pencilled the course in, adding a question mark. She flicked back a page. Friday April 16th. The date had stayed in her mind since she had read the inscription on Martin’s mother’s gravestone. That’s four days after Easter Monday. There was a chance that Martin would visit the churchyard that afternoon. He had been there in the afternoon before. She remembered a conversation with Gail at half term. They had been sitting in the bow-window of a coffee shop in George Street. After fifteen minutes of listening to Gail’s tales of difficult children, she had said, ‘Oh by the way, do you remember Martin Barretti from the youth club years ago? I met him again in November in West Blatchington churchyard, where Mum and Dad are buried.’

  ‘Did you?’ Gail looked intently at Jenny. ‘That must have been a shock. What was he doing there? I didn’t know he lived around here anymore, he moved away – years ago.’

  ‘He told me his parents came back about ten years ago.’

  ‘I remember you were really keen on him weren’t you?’

  ‘Oh that was ages ago. We were just kids. I just wondered if your parents or cousin had heard anything about them – you know – living near.’

  ‘No, I haven’t heard anything, but Mum might have. I’ll ask her. Oh, I must tell you about the parents of this little boy in my class, you’ll never believe this.’

  Nicky ran into the lounge, jolting Jenny back into
the present. ‘Dad’s just coming up, we’ve finished painting the fence.’

  *

  A week later another brown envelope dropped through the letterbox together with a sky blue airmail letter. Jenny opened the brown envelope first and gave a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to deal with Lorna’s tears later. “Lorna’s place at Varndean School for September 1982 has been confirmed”. She took the letters into the kitchen and sitting down at the table opened the letter from Dido. Jenny’s eyes quickly scanned the initial pleasantries until she reached the second paragraph:

  …I’m sorry that I haven’t written for so long but life hasn’t been easy here. We had a third boy last year – we called him Ethan Benjamin after Jed’s grandfather. He wasn’t thriving and tests found he had a large hole in his heart. He’s had several ops, and he’s doing well now. The problem now isn’t Ethan – it’s Jed. He’s left us, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault, at least that’s what I keep telling myself, to stop myself going mad. There’s no other woman or anything like that – he just couldn’t cope and the worry about Ethan was the last straw. Since he returned from Vietnam he’s been a changed man, he explodes at the slightest thing. I’ve had to be so careful what I said around him, and the boys did too. It wasn’t easy, but we got used to his moods. Then he had counselling – they do that for veterans here – and he was doing really well, he was the old Jed again. But when Ethan was born it was too much, even though Ethan’s heart has repaired and he’s better. Jed went back to being angry. I got up one day and he’d gone. In a way it was a relief. I went to see his parents – they live here in Wichita – but he wasn’t there. They said he might have gone to Chicago – his army friend lives there. Then two weeks later they told me they received a letter from him – they didn’t say where he was, perhaps they didn’t know – saying that he wanted them to tell me that he was alive, and that he was really sorry about leaving us, but he couldn’t come back to his old life here, he couldn’t cope and I’d be better off without him – we all would. So, my dear old friend – oh Jenny, it seems a lifetime away now, those days at the ministry, good ol’ Dido is on her own with three young boys to bring up, and no choice but to carry on. Anyway enough about me, I heard that Mike has got divorced and now lives in London…

  ‘Oh no – poor Dido, that’s awful,’ Jenny spoke out loud. She put the letter down and reflected on her own life. What did she have to complain about? Nothing – she had two healthy children and a steady husband. She wished that she could visit Dido – but Kansas – no, it just wasn’t possible.

  13

  April 1982

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you wearing that skirt before,’ said Celia as she attempted to pull a roll of fabric taller than herself from the pile in the corner.

  ‘No it’s new, I thought it was time I bought something new – with summer coming.’ Two days before, on the promise of their favourite ice creams, Jenny had dragged Lorna and Nicky in and out of the clothes stores in Brighton. When she could no longer bear their protestations, she bought a tiered cream skirt and matching cowl-necked jumper.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind Jenny, but I need you to help me with the printing this morning. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday – tail end of a cold – so I couldn’t finish that order for Colefax.’

  Oh no, why does she have to ask today of all days? Jenny thought, as she searched for envelopes behind the sofa cushions. But at least that makes it easier for me. ‘No, that’s alright Celia, but I was wondering if I worked through my lunch break, if I could leave twenty minutes earlier?’

  Celia flashed Jenny a quizzical look. ‘Yes, that’s fine. You’d better be careful not to get any ink on that skirt though. I’ll go and find you some overalls in a minute. I think there’s a pair in the garage.’

  As she disappeared, Jenny thought how stupid she had been, to wear her new clothes today. What was the point? A fresh north-west wind was blowing. No one would go outside without a coat. But she couldn’t have worn her usual work clothes – not today. She looked down at her legs – they would be visible below her coat, she’d have to be careful not to get smears of printing ink on her tights. She glanced up at the studio clock. Five hours to go.

  Cotton wool clouds raced across the sky as she negotiated the potholes on the track that led from Celia’s house. Reaching the tarmac Jenny sped along the Ditchling Road until she reached the lay-by by a dew-pond. She switched off the engine. Her stomach was churning like the tub of her washing machine. She opened the glove compartment, undid the cling-film and forced herself to eat a sausage roll. She looked towards the red tiled roofs of the farm buildings nestling in a hollow of the Downs. Jenny smiled as two lambs pranced on the ridge that surrounded the pond – their undocked tails swinging like tiny pendulums. Opening her handbag, she took out a mirror and said a silent prayer that she had not succumbed to Robert’s heavy cold; that would have been a disaster. At least I look normal this time, and it’s not raining. She examined her make-up and ran a comb through her hair, then taking a deep breath, turned the ignition.

  Her palms stuck to the steering wheel as she waited for the traffic lights to change. Looking across to the green she saw a Land Rover parked outside the church. There were no other cars. Her heart fell. That can’t be Martin’s – he works in a bank. She couldn’t remember seeing a Land Rover last November, but then she wouldn’t have noticed if an elephant had been standing outside. The lights changed. She parked a few yards down from the Land Rover. Tightening the belt on her coat, she walked purposely across the green, her desire to see Martin again overcoming her nervousness. ‘Please let him be here, please let him be here,’ she whispered.

  She peered over the flint wall. A dark-haired man was bending over a grave at the bottom of the slope. ‘He’s here,’ she said softly, but then thought, I can’t do this. He’s bound to realise I’ve come to see him. But if I don’t, I’ll always regret it. Her heart knocked violently against her ribs. She took a deep breath, lifted the gate latch and walked into the churchyard.

  ‘Hello Martin,’ her voice quivered as she stood behind him.

  ‘Hello Jenny,’ he spoke her name before turning his head.

  Jenny’s breath came in short bursts. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’ she brushed back some strands of hair that had blown across her face.

  ‘Of course not, it’s lovely to see you again.’ He stood up and smiled. ‘It’s my mother’s birthday today, so I’ve brought these tulips over – they were her favourite flowers.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ Jenny said, looking at the headstone. ‘I should have asked you when I saw you before. The flowers are lovely – very colourful.’

  ‘That’s alright. You were upset,’ his brown eyes held hers.

  ‘Yes I was. I’ve got to decide about my parent’s headstone soon. I had some spare time this afternoon, so I thought I’d come over and get some ideas.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she thought how he must see through them.

  Martin bent down again and started clearing up the discarded paper, stems and leaves. ‘My mother told me you’d got married.’

  ‘Did she? How did she know? You weren’t living here then.’

  ‘She probably heard it from Gail Simpson’s cousin. They used to live next door to us, and her mother kept in touch when we moved.’

  So, Gail must have told her cousin. ‘Are you married?’ Jenny felt she had to ask the question, even though she knew the answer.

  ‘Yes, to Marilyn – we’ve got a son, Daniel. He’ll be thirteen next week.’

  Marilyn, that sounds quite glamorous, she thought. An image of a pretty blonde-haired woman flashed before her. She disliked her already.

  ‘I’ve got two children,’ Jenny added, and then realised that she had said I and not we.

  ‘I thought you’d probably have children.’ He stood up and stared at her.

  ‘Everyone I knew was married by twenty-two – it seems so young now.’ She looke
d away from his gaze.

  ‘A couple of my friends are divorced.’

  ‘Oh, are they?’ Jenny reddened and remembered why she had said she was here. ‘I’d better look around, get some ideas.’ She moved a few feet away, stopping by her parent’s grave for a moment, and then walked up a line of earlier graves, looking at each of the headstones in turn, but conscious of Martin’s eyes following her. As she reached the top headstone, he was by her shoulder. Her skin tingled.

  ‘Do you see that clump of celandines under the tree?’ He pointed to the sycamore at the edge of the churchyard. ‘Whenever I see them I know that summer will soon be here.’

  Jenny turned, her body almost touching his. ‘Yes, I love to see them too. They always look so cheerful. It’s strange why so many spring flowers are yellow.’

  ‘It’s probably to do with yellow being the brightest colour in the spectrum, helps to guide the insects for pollination.’

  Jenny searched desperately for something else to say.

  ‘I’m starting a course next week in Lewes – Habitats and Wildlife,’ she blurted out.

  ‘I don’t remember you being interested in the countryside, but we didn’t go out for long did we? And I probably had other things on my mind.’ He grinned and gave Jenny the wry smile that she had always remembered.

  She reached out for the top of the nearest headstone to steady herself. ‘I’d better go soon. I’ve got to pick the children up from a neighbour. She looks after them sometimes, when it’s the school holidays.’