The Healing Stream

by Connie Monk

  The calf was dead; the weak and anguished cow standing over it with hardly the strength to lick the still form. This was the second calf she’d lost. If things went right it was just luck; if they went badly it was because she was incapable. And so another day started with the reminder of her inadequacy.

  The wedding was timed for eleven thirty as Julian and Deirdre were starting their long drive home as soon as it was over. The ceremony was brief, the bride wearing her favourite dress, which was on its second summer, and Giles looking elegant and distinguished in a cream-coloured linen suit. There wasn’t a buttonhole in sight. But the agreement was just as binding and the promises the same as would have been made had the day had all the festivity it merited. Then, as soon as it was over and they were outside again saying their goodbyes, Julian opened the double doors of the hybrid and prepared to wheel Deirdre aboard.

  ‘Let me do it, Mr Masters,’ Tessa said. Then including Deirdre she added, ‘We’ve had such good times in this.’

  ‘That’s why I told Daddy that I don’t want another – what was it you were? – a carer-oblique-friend. I can manage most things for myself – much more than I used to before you came. It’s really good that Aunt Naomi is so overworked; it means she will give me more responsibility. I bet I could manage to do the cream if she wrote down exactly how – and cut and weigh up the mushrooms. Eggs and butter, they’re no problem.’

  Julian looked down at her with pride. Then he remembered Geoffrey Huntley’s offer which, surely, Naomi would be a fool not to accept. If she clung on to Chagleigh she would wear herself out. And probably come to hate it into the bargain. But if she sold, there would be a tremendous void in Deirdre’s life – and what of his own? He turned away from the question before it had a chance to take root.

  For Tessa everything was just as she’d dreamed. And the first few weeks held all the wonder of their Shropshire holiday, all that and more. For now there was no end in view, no need to count the days knowing parting was looming ever closer. During his time there alone, Giles had been dictating another book of the people in Burghton, intending to have it typed in its entirety when he returned to London. Instead, Tessa typed it for him, working for hours and loving every minute as she listened to the doings of her friends. It was something else they shared; she felt ever more involved in his life. The smooth running of the house didn’t require help from her. Maria, a middle-aged Spanish woman, arrived early each morning on her bicycle and kept the house immaculate. She ordered the shopping, cooked the meals and didn’t pedal home until after the evening meal was cleared away. So Tessa had no worries on that score and was always ready and willing when Giles suggested they could go out. All that and the joy in knowing that pregnancy did nothing to lessen her sexual appetite – indeed it enhanced it – and in those early months she believed nothing could change the wonder of where life had brought her.

  But time doesn’t stand still and with each month she grew larger and heavier.

  ‘What’s happened to that lithe, petite child I took to the Shropshire hills? You must be exhausted. Why don’t you have an early night?’ He spoke kindly enough, but there was something in his manner that made her feel ashamed of her burg-eoning body. Still, his suggestion of an early night excited her; she must have imagined his increasing aloofness. By daylight they were good companions, but their last two attempts at love-making had been unsuccessful and for more than a month he had drawn away from her touch.

  ‘An early night? That sounds the perfect end to the day. Let’s, shall we?’

  ‘I said “you”, not “we”. I want to go through the final chapter of my book. When you’ve got it typed I was thinking of taking it rather than trusting the post.’ Then, after pausing as if uncertain whether to continue, ‘Don’t you ever feel you must get away from here for a change of scene?’

  ‘Yes, but I can’t go to England now. The baby isn’t due for a month, but supposing it came early and started while we were travelling? Maria was telling me this morning that her second son arrived at eight months. My Spanish is really coming on, you know. We talked for ages and I managed really well. She spoke extra slowly but I understood most of it and could answer – well, it must have been understandable. You’d have been proud.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  She walked to where he sat, then bent to move her cheek against his.

  ‘Let’s creep off to bed, Giles.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, Tessa, I can’t. It’s not right with you like you are. Your body’s not your own and its most certainly not mine.’

  ‘I’ve been pregnant for months and it didn’t use to stop you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She felt rejected – and worse. When had he ever shown any interest in the coming child? Maria had talked of men’s pride in seeing their wives blossom into pregnancy. But Giles had never been like other men. He’d avoided touching her as her body changed. She hated feeling clumsy and heavy; she longed for them to find each other in loving as they always had. Didn’t he love her any more? In every other respect they were as close as ever they had been. Yet he avoided any physical contact as if she had some unclean disease.

  She spent the next day typing and the following one he left for London, promising to be back before the end of the following week. Tessa wasn’t a bit nervous to be alone in the house but he insisted someone should be there with her and Maria was happy to leave her husband in charge of their family. Afterwards Tessa wondered whether Giles had had a premonition of what was ahead and that was why he had escaped to London. Whether or not that was the case she couldn’t tell, but she was thankful to have Maria with her when in the middle of the following week, after a busy and interesting morning in the almond grove helping Timus Rodriguez spraying the trees, she went into labour. The first violent pain just as she reached the house after climbing the steep driveway to the first cry of the child was less than four hours.

  With five children of her own, Maria made an efficient midwife. Secretly she thought that men were superfluous on such occasions and they could have managed very nicely without the doctor, but Timus had insisted on calling him. Once he had gone and mother and baby had been spruced up, she laid the tiny bundle in Tessa’s arms.

  ‘Have you ever seen a babe more beautiful?’ she cooed in her native tongue.

  Tessa was shaken by an emotion unlike anything she had anticipated. Even to speak in English was difficult; to hunt for the right words in Spanish quite beyond her.

  ‘Little Amelia,’ she whispered. ‘Rejoice.’ She seemed to hear her grandmother’s voice.

  Later, when she looked back at Amelia’s first year it seemed as if her own life ran on two parallel lines. For Amelia, so tiny and dependent, she felt tenderness she had never previously known; but Giles was her reason for living and marriage to him had done nothing to dim her near worship of him. Physically she loved his appearance, his speaking voice, his well-cared-for hands, his slightly dandy way of dressing. All that and physically, too, she melted at his touch just as she had from the start. She held him on a pedestal above everyone; he knew so much about worldly things, about history, politics, art, literature; she supposed it ought to have made her feel inferior, but instead she looked on him with ever-increasing adoration and pride. She must be the luckiest woman living to share her life with his in this paradise on earth.

  So her letters to Naomi – and to Deirdre, too – were a reflection of the perfection of her days. Yet Naomi was less confident. Perhaps her doubts were based on the daily battle of her own life, but was it really necessary for Giles to return to England as frequently as he did? She told Julian something of her unease, relying on him to persuade her she was worrying for nothing.

  All Julian said was, ‘I fear no one will ever change Giles. If Tessa accepts him as he is and still loves him, as she obviously does, then don’t punish yourself worrying about her, my dear.’

  He believed he spoke the truth.

  Eight

  Stubbing out
her cigarette in an ashtray bearing evidence of a stressful evening, Naomi leant back in her chair with her eyes closed. Only she could know the visions she saw behind those closed lids. Richard, she cried silently, last year was bad but this one is worse. Tomorrow I must take the books to the auditor – there’s no way of hiding – after all this time I still make one mistake after another. I’ve sent lambs to the abattoir which I should have kept for breeding – not just once but over and over I’ve misjudged what I should have kept and what I should sell. Another few years like this and there’ll be nothing left. I’ve tried, I’ve worked every hour but what’s the use of work when you don’t do it right? What am I going to do? Help me to have the strength to do what is right. Show me what is right. I don’t know . . . I don’t know anything any more. I wanted to keep everything just as you would have; you know I did. Show me what to do. Sometimes I can’t even find you.

  Without realizing it she had started to speak her thoughts aloud, but the sudden shrill bell of the front door cut her short. Oh, damn! Who the hell could that be? Before she reached the door her silent question was answered. ‘Naomi, it’s me,’ Julian called. ‘Tell me to go away if it’s too late for you.’

  Her spirits lifted before she even opened the door.

  ‘I think a visitor was just what I needed. I’m in the kitchen.’ She led the way. ‘I’ve been getting the accounts ready for the auditor.’

  ‘I say!’ He sniffed as they reached the doorway of the room where she had got through the evening sustained only by cigarettes. ‘You’ve had a rough evening if my nose isn’t mistaken.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve been going over all the figures. They make for depressing reading.’

  ‘But you’ve done it; it’s a hurdle behind you.’ How utterly worn out she looked, he thought. His instinct was to reach his hand out to her, to lay it on her shoulder and force some of his own strength and energy into her. But he didn’t. Instead he put a bottle of wine on the table. ‘You’ve had a difficult evening and so, my dear, have I. So let us cheer ourselves up with the fruit of the vine. Glasses?’

  ‘In the dining room, in the sideboard cupboard. I’ll get—’ But as she turned towards the door he put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘You sit down, I’ll be waiter.’

  ‘We could go in the sitting room.’

  ‘Let’s stay here.’ He didn’t enlarge on why he preferred that they should stay where she had spent the evening, but the truth was that to go into the more comfortable sitting room would distance him from her ordinary day-to-day life. ‘Corkscrew?’

  ‘Right-hand drawer of the dresser. Are you hungry? There’s a new crusty loaf; we could have some bread and cheese?’ she offered.

  So, five minutes later, they were facing each other across the table, each with a doorstep of bread thickly spread with butter Deirdre had churned, a slab of cheese and a glass of red wine.

  ‘I happened across Geoff Huntley in the village. He said he’d been to see you again.’

  Immediately she was suspicious. ‘Is that why you’re here?’

  ‘No.’ But she wasn’t satisfied. She knew there was something on his mind and was on her guard. ‘No. I’m here because I wanted your company. These days I feel there is no purpose in my life. I came down to Devon thinking it would be a new start for Deirdre and for me. Like a fool I believed that in different surroundings I would be content with days of golf, fishing, useless time-wasters. Everyone needs a purpose – ambition, a shared life, a professional goal whether in art or industry. Had it not been for Deirdre’s accident I should have worked all my days. And when it comes to the point I’m no company for the child.’

  ‘She’s not a child; she’s older than Tessa was when she fell in love with Giles.’

  ‘How can she become an adult when she has no life, no experience, no company? I’ve failed her and ended up with . . . with . . .’

  She reached across the table and took his well-cared-for hand in her work-hardened one.

  ‘How can you say you’ve failed her? She idolizes you. But, Julian, we must do better for her than letting her come here day after day to work all alone in the dairy. She ought to meet people her own age.’

  ‘What would they want with a girl who couldn’t join in their sort of fun? But, Naomi, my dear friend, you realize what you said? “We” must do better for her.’ His fingers gripped hers. ‘This evening I felt lower than I’ve ever known. I thought of you, of your courage, your never-changing love for Richard and I . . . I turned to you knowing we have a real and meaningful friendship. We have, haven’t we?’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t know how I’d have got through without you.’

  ‘You would have got through. I’ve been no practical help at all.’

  ‘You’ve been there for me in my bad moments just as much as in my good ones. So, if you felt low this evening I’m glad you came here.’ She took a cigarette then pushed the packet across the table to him.

  ‘I had a letter from Tessa this morning,’ she said. ‘Apparently Giles is off to London again. Is it really necessary? You read of plenty of writers who live abroad; do they spend their lives hopping back to England?’

  ‘I suspect that for Giles it is necessary. Where they live is pretty isolated and Giles likes to hear the heartbeat of life.’

  ‘She deserves better.’

  ‘My guess is that in her sight there could be no better. He is pretty perfect just the way he is. Perhaps later on when Millie is bigger she’ll travel with him. You mustn’t worry about them. I don’t doubt his feelings for her, you know. Over the years he’s had plenty of women ready to dance to his tune, but with Tessa he is quite different.’

  ‘But what about her? She is an intelligent girl, and a hard worker, too. She’s not some dolly bird to be picked up and put down at his convenience.’

  His thoughts moved to something Deirdre had suggested: that it was time they took a holiday and couldn’t they drive down and see Tessa and Giles – and Millie who was fifteen months old and taking her first steps without their ever having seen her. He had agreed to the idea and only in his secret imagination did he see Naomi joining them. But it seemed she was no nearer giving up the battle of Chagleigh.

  As Giles’ car drove down the drive and disappeared from view, Tessa felt more desolate than she was prepared to show. Not that there was anyone to see, for Maria was much too engrossed mopping the already clean marble floor of the huge sitting room to waste time looking out of the window. As she worked she sang, as was her habit. Sometimes Tessa wondered whether she was even aware that she did it, yet it wasn’t a soft hum of contentment; rather she belted forth as if she were in grand opera – although the songs she sang were traditionally Spanish, melodies she had been brought up with and passed on to her children.

  Millie was surrounded by toys in her playpen on the patch of coarse grass. When Giles had picked her up and planted a perfunctory kiss on her forehead, she had struggled to get back to things of more importance. Seeing Tessa coming towards her she beamed with delight and obligingly offered her her favourite rubber doll, a present from Deirdre who always kept her eyes open for small things which might please the child whom she had never seen.

  ‘Let’s take her down to see Timus,’ Tessa said, swooping the little girl into her arms, complete with doll. ‘See, I’ve got the shawl, so up we go.’ She already had a large, brightly coloured shawl around her shoulders and, now, with one deft and experienced movement, she lifted Millie over her head on to her back, where she held her with one hand while with the other she managed to wrap the shawl round them both, gypsy fashion. Then with the child firmly anchored to her back, she tightened the material and tied it securely. ‘Off we go.’ And, knowing it was a game Millie enjoyed, she put a skip in her step and was rewarded by the baby’s chuckles.

  As she started down the sloping drive she looked at the almond grove and saw that Timus was there, just as she had hoped.

  ‘I see that Giles has driven away.’ He greeted her. �
�How long will he not be here?’

  ‘Who can say, Timus,’ she answered, forcing a light note.

  But Timus was a sensitive soul and recognized that was the way she wanted to play it. So, with a wide smile of welcome, he passed her a rake.

  ‘Then I hope I may be looking forward to two helpers?’

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like better, but I can’t vouch for Millie. She soon gets bored when she’s held so tight to my back. And the ground here is too rough to let her free.’

  But Timus had the perfect solution. Since the advent of Tessa at the finca, and especially during Giles’ periods away, he had become a frequent visitor to the house. Never was he an invited guest, but he often carried Millie home and stayed a few minutes playing with her or chatting to Tessa or Maria, so he knew exactly how to fold the playpen to carry it down to the almond grove. Waiting for him Tessa looked around her, letting the atmosphere of the place she had come to love come between her and the image of Giles driving mile after mile northward as he moved from the world they shared to one that was alien to her.

  ‘I come with her things.’ Timus’ voice broke her reverie. ‘One rug so that the ground does not hurt her, one pen, one hat and two toys. Maria stopped her song to choose what I bring.’ He spoke in imperfect English, with the native good humour of his race.

  ‘Now we’re all set. Thanks, Timus.’ Tessa answered in Spanish, although there were times when her vocabulary let her down. So, between the two of them, a natural bond had developed, made all the stronger by the challenge of learning. ‘Giles never talks about this bit of land. You said he had refused to sell it so I suppose he just enjoys knowing it is his. Timus, is it very important to you and your family that you harvest it?’ As she talked she held Millie while he set up the pen in the shade of a tree, then she plonked her down on her bottom and gave her her drum and the rubber doll for company.

  ‘For the amount of nuts, no. It is but a small plot. But it is neighbour of our ground and we would not like to see it neglected.’