by Susan Lewis
‘I don’t know, Mum, but it’ll be all right, I promise you. We’ll make it all right. Please stop crying, Mummy.’
Jonathan let up a loud wail as he came in and saw us sitting on the floor wiping tears from each other’s eyes. I held out my arms to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean to do it. Honest, Mum, I didn’t mean it.’
‘Didn’t mean to do what, darling?’
‘Whatever it was that made you cry. I didn’t mean it, Mum. I’m sorry.’
I met Charlotte’s eyes and through our tears we started to laugh. ‘Oh Jonathan,’ I hugged him fiercely, ‘I love you so very much.’ I reached out for Charlotte. ‘I love you both so much.’
We were still sitting on the floor an hour later when the smell of Canary’s jasmine perfume made me look up. She stood there for a moment, looking at me, then turned and walked away. When I reached the landing she was waiting in the hall below, holding the door to the sitting-room. Her face was grim as she watched me descend the stairs.
‘It’s all right,’ I said as I passed her.
‘I’ll be getting back to the children,’ she answered.
I didn’t look up until she had closed the door behind me, and when I did it was as if I was being carried away on the current of my own longing. Alexander was standing there, in my drawing-room, his dark overcoat unbuttoned to reveal the sombre grey suit beneath. He could have been anyone – except for the power that drew my eyes to his face, unleashing the blood that, for a moment, had seemed to stop in my veins. He was thinner, and his handsome face looked drawn and tired. I knew I should be angry with him for coming, but when he smiled and I saw the crooked tooth my heart turned over. It was as if a magnet had suddenly drawn together the fragmented pieces of my life.
‘I had to come, you know that, don’t you?’
I nodded, then suddenly I was in his arms. ‘Oh, Alexander, I’ve needed you so much.’
He held me close, crushing me, telling me he was sorry, that he should never have left me. I looked up into his eyes and touched his lips with my fingers. ‘Why do our lives have to be like this?’
He cupped my face in his hands. Suddenly a door slammed upstairs and someone ran down the stairs.
‘What are we going to do? You can’t stay, Edward will be back soon.’
‘Tell me about Jonathan, Elizabeth. Is he my son?’
Unable to meet his eyes, I turned away and went to sit beside the fire. ‘What do you intend to do?’ I asked, after a while.
He came to stand beside me and reaching out for my hand turned me round to face him. ‘I think that rather depends on you.’
I pulled my hand away, but still his grey eyes held me. ‘Please, Alexander, please go now, before anyone gets hurt.’
‘Elizabeth, you’ve given birth to two children, my children, whom I’ve never even met. Now isn’t it about time it all got sorted out?’
‘It’s too late, Alexander, there’s nothing to be sorted out any more.’
His face paled. ‘What do you mean? Either I am their father or I’m not. Which is it, Elizabeth?’
‘I think I’m in the best position to answer that.’ The door closed, and we spun round to find Edward standing there watching us. He walked towards us. ‘Are you going to make the introductions, Elizabeth?’ he said, never taking his eyes from Alexander.
I mumbled their names and turned away as they shook hands.
‘I think what Elizabeth is trying to tell you is that Charlotte and Jonathan – those are their names, by the way, in case you didn’t know – that Charlotte and Jonathan are no longer . . .’
‘No!’ I screamed. ‘No, Edward. Please!’
Edward turned to me. ‘But he has to know, my dear, otherwise he’ll think he can come here whenever he pleases.’
I saw Alexander bristle and stepped in quickly. ‘Please, Edward, let me deal with it.’
‘Shut up!’ I had never known Edward shout at me before. I must have recoiled – and Alexander took a step forward as if to defend me. Edward visibly shrank away from him, but his resolve remained firm. ‘What I’m trying to tell you, young man, is that the children you so arrogantly assume to be yours are, in fact, mine. Three years ago I adopted both Charlotte and Jonathan.’
‘Edward, stop!’ I ran to Alexander’s side. ‘You’ve gone too far, Edward!’
Alexander snatched his arm from me. ‘Tell me this isn’t true, Elizabeth. Tell me he is lying.’
I hung my head but he caught me by the shoulders and wrenched me round to face him. ‘You let this man adopt my children!’ he spat. ‘After all we meant to each other, you let him . . .’
‘Alexander, it wasn’t like that. You don’t understand. I had no choice . . . .’
Edward pulled me away and shoved me behind him. His eyes bored into Alexander’s. ‘You have no right to come here, upsetting my wife. . . .’
‘Your wife? And just what kind of wife is it who runs off and gets herself pregnant by another man? And what kind of man are you who steals another man’s children?’
‘Get out of here!’ Edward snarled.
I tore myself away from Edward and ran to Alexander. ‘Please, listen to me. Please . . .’ But Alexander wrenched himself free. His eyes were like ice as he looked back at me. ‘I’ll never understand how you could have done this, Elizabeth. You, above anyone else, knew . . .’
‘Enough!’ Edward’s voice cut between us.
‘Alexander! No! Don’t go!’ I cried, as he started to turn away. ‘Edward, let me go after him. He mustn’t leave like this.’
‘Stay where you are, Elizabeth. He’s out of your life now.’
‘How can he be? For God’s sake, he’s their father!’
The blow to my cheek stunned me to silence. And then, before I knew what was happening, Alexander had knocked Edward to the floor. I threw myself down beside him, but he flung me away and dragged himself to his feet. He was breathing heavily and reached out for the back of a chair to steady himself. ‘Get out!’ he growled. His face was grey and menacing and I felt a sudden stab of fear.
Alexander reached out for my hand and pulled me to my feet. ‘Take me with you,’ I begged. ‘Please, take me with you.’
‘Go with him now and you’ll never see your children again,’ Edward gasped.
‘She’s not coming with me.’
I spun round and my blood turned cold as Alexander’s pitiless eyes swept over my face.
‘No, Elizabeth. You made your decision the day you let him adopt our children.’ He shook his head slowly, and at last his eyes began to thaw. ‘Jesus Christ, why did you do it?’ His voice was quiet now. ‘They were my children, Elizabeth. My children.’ Then he turned and walked out the door.
I went slowly over to Edward. He was wiping the blood from his nose, his hands shaking badly. For several minutes neither of us moved. He was still holding on to the chair, his body sagging against it. Then suddenly he slumped awkwardly to his knees and his voice slurred from the back of his throat as he tried to say my name. I looked at him in horror as he slowly rolled to the floor.
When we reached the hospital Edward was wheeled away and I was left alone. I paced the corridor, going over and over all that had happened. I detested myself, knowing that I was to blame. If I hadn’t married Edward, I could have saved him all this and he wouldn’t be lying here in hospital, maybe dying.
But even then I was thinking about Alexander and the pain I had caused him too. Everything was my fault. If I hadn’t seen Alexander and Jessica looking so happy together that night as I stood in the dark at the edge of Belgrave Square, I would never have agreed to let Edward adopt the children. And now he was the one who was paying the price for that unforgivable act of revenge.
David and Christine arrived. Christine’s face was white with anxiety and I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes. If she knew what had brought this on she would never forgive me. I was saved from any immediate explanations by the doctor.
‘Mrs Walters?’ He smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried, your husband’s going to be fine.’
My knees buckled with relief. David caught me before I fell and led me to a chair. ‘But . . . what was . . . ? Is he . . . ?’
‘Your husband’s suffered what we call a transient ischaemic attack,’ the doctor explained. ‘In plain language, he’s had a very mild stroke. Ah, no,’ he said, as I tried to speak, ‘it’s nothing to worry about, he’ll be ready to leave in the morning.’
‘In the morning?’ I echoed, hardly daring to believe it.
‘Indeed. I suggest he takes it easy for a while, but there’s no reason whatever why he shouldn’t continue a completely normal life.’
‘But what brought it on?’ Christine asked.
I felt myself tense, but the doctor was still smiling. ‘It can be brought on by a number of things – in this case, it appears to have been the spasm of a blood vessel in the brain.’
When we reached Westmoor late the following afternoon, Edward and I went straight upstairs. It was cold in our room, so neither of us took off our coats. Out of habit Edward went to sit on the sofa beside the empty fireplace, and motioned for me to sit beside him. We sat quietly for a long time, both of us understanding that he must be the first to speak.
Finally, long after it had grown dark and I had turned on the lamps on either side of the bed, Edward spoke. His face was still grey, though a tiny spot of colour highlighted his left cheek where he had been resting it on his hand. His hair, normally immaculate, was ruffled, and automatically I ran my fingers through it, smoothing it into place.
‘I was afraid,’ he said, simply. ‘It is the only excuse I have for the way I behaved. No, please, hear me out. The moment I saw him I knew who he was, and I was afraid. I could see I was losing you, that I had probably already lost you. I was thinking only of myself and what my life would be like without you and the children, and the loneliness and emptiness I saw stretching before me robbed me of reason. He was so young and handsome, and there was I . . . I realised then what I had done to your life by marrying you.’ He lifted his hand and wiped the tears from my face, then he sighed and smiled, looking out through the window into the black night. ‘I can’t keep you here any longer, my darling. I know now that I have to let you go to him. I’ve decided to fly to Cairo with Christine on Sunday, so that it will be easier for you when you go. But I want you to know how sorry I am, Elizabeth. Sorry for the years I’ve held yon to me, and sorry for everything that happened yesterday.’
I was crying so hard my voice jerked from my body. ‘Oh, Edward, Edward. What have I done to you?’ He rocked me gently in his arms, stroked my hair and my face as if I were a child. ‘I’m not going to leave you, Edward.’
He squeezed me. ‘But I shall still go to Cairo. If you change your mind while I’m there, or even before . . .’ The breath caught in his throat and he buried his face in my hair.
Edward flew off as planned on Sunday, but Christine didn’t go with him. Instead she came up to London to spend the night with me and the children before catching a flight to Hong Kong the next day. She would be joining Edward in Cairo the following Friday.
Canary was waiting when we arrived at Priory Walk, and ushered the children upstairs to prepare their things for school the next day. Jeffrey carried the luggage up after them, and Christine and I followed Mary into the drawing-room.
‘Now,’ said Christine, as the door closed behind Mary, ‘perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s been happening.’ I looked up from the tea tray. ‘I’m talking about the mild stroke, the pregnant silences, your red eyes, and most of all what Edward said to you in the drive at Westmoor before he left. “If you do want to leave . . .” Isn’t that what he said? So what the hell’s going on?’ The skin was drawn tight across her cheekbones, and her lips were white.
I put the teapot down slowly, then drew myself up to face her. ‘I don’t wish to be rude, Christine,’ I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, ‘and I know how much you care for Edward, but what goes on between us doesn’t concern you.’
The colour flooded up from her neck into her face, turning it an ugly puce. ‘It damned well concerns me when my brother is rushed to hospital with a stroke!’
‘I don’t think we should continue this conversation. As I said before . . .’
‘Don’t patronise me, you bitch! You nearly broke his heart once before, and this time you almost killed him.’ She was advancing across the room towards me, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. ‘You and your two bastards have caused him more pain than any man deserves, but let me tell you this, Elizabeth, you hurt him once more, just once more, and so help me God, I’ll kill you.’ I thought she was going to strike me – but suddenly, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me a moment longer, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
I didn’t see her again that day, and she had already left for the airport by the time I came down the following morning.
I resolved not to tell Edward anything about it. I knew it would upset him, and cause more arguments between him and Christine. When they returned from Cairo two weeks later Christine greeted me with a sisterly kiss as if nothing had happened, and I decided to follow her lead and keep up appearances. But from then on I was wary of her. If only I’d known how wary I needed to be.
Life resumed its normal pattern after that. Edward and I still entertained a great deal, and Westmoor became an art dealer’s Mecca. On the rare occasions when we had no guests, Edward spent his time going over the plans he was still drawing up for a security system in the Cairo museum. His constant complaint was that with such a lack of security there, the Tutankhamun mask was in real danger. I did wonder why it was taking him so long to finalise the museum’s security plans, but it was obviously a complex job, and Edward was nothing if not a perfectionist.
In June David returned from Gstaad with Jenifer Illingworth and gave us all the good news we’d been waiting for; they were to be married.
But as the months passed and the dreadful shock of that day in spring wore off, I found myself thinking more and more about Alexander. I even got as far as picking up the phone, though I never rang him. Much as I wanted him, I couldn’t risk causing Edward a moment’s more pain. In the end it was neither Alexander nor I who made the move towards a reconciliation, but Henry.
He made no mention of why he had chosen to ring when he did, but I gathered that it was something he had been thinking of doing for some time. He spoke briefly and to the point. He didn’t know why I had let Edward adopt the children, but he was sure I had had my reasons, and what he asked of me now was simply that I should explain those reasons to Alexander. He felt – and he was sure I would agree with him – that I owed Alexander at least that.
So, with a complete disregard for all the promises I had made Edward, I waited only as long as it took for Henry to ring off before I called Alexander at chambers and arranged to meet him the following day.
After that we met at least once a month, sometimes more often, on the bridge over the Serpentine. We would walk for hours, talking and laughing, as I told him about his children. He was hungry for every detail, all the little anecdotes I had stored away in my memory over the years, in the hope that one day I could tell them to him. Sometimes he came with me to collect them from school, watching from a distance, until we drove away. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him, but he never asked for more.
I had dreadful feelings of guilt about what I was doing, but although I was terrified of Edward finding out, I couldn’t stop. Edward, though, seemed more preoccupied than ever lately. I sensed a distance creeping between us, and though I couldn’t explain it, I knew it was of his making. On the rare evenings when we were at home together, I felt his mind was elsewhere. But if I asked him what he was thinking he’d only smile and hug me, all the time staring abstractedly into some other world.
Then, through the developing friendship between Jonathan and Henry’s son, Nicholas,
it became possible for Alexander to get to know Jonathan. We spent many hours at Henry’s house in Chelsea, and Caroline became a good friend to me. Occasionally Caroline would bring her children round to Priory Walk; it was her idea to do that – she thought it would appear less suspicious if she were to let Edward meet her children.
Alexander and I, no matter what the weather, continued to meet in Hyde Park. Neither of us ever suggested meeting anywhere else, I think we were afraid of what might happen if we did. In all that time we had been careful never to touch one another, though sometimes his smile was so like a caress that it was all I could do not to throw myself into his arms and beg him to hold me. I can’t explain how it felt to know that each time I left my car and walked towards the bridge over the Serpentine, he would be waiting there for me. And he only had to turn and look at me – the relief in his eyes at seeing me, then the slow, teasing smile of appreciation as he took in my appearance – for the laughter to well up inside me, making me feel like the happiest and most beautiful woman alive.
Then one day, when we were sitting in the little cafeteria on the edge of the Serpentine, sheltering from the rain, he started to talk about his father. ‘He was very upset when I told him about you, so we now have another person riddled with guilt on our hands. He blames himself, as you and I do; he thinks he should have tried to understand us more when we were young. He’d like to make up for it, Elizabeth. What do you say? Will you come to meet him?’
‘What about Jessica?’
‘When she’s not on a march she’s at the studio she and Rosalind have rented in Windsor. She’s designing publicity material for CND, and Rosalind gives free legal advice if anyone falls foul of the police. I imagine they’re quite a force to be reckoned with. Anyway, she hasn’t been home in weeks.’
‘How was she, the last time you saw her?’
‘The same old Jessica. Charming and sweet when she arrived, at my throat by the time she left. But at least she starts off with good intentions. I don’t suppose I help much.’