Ice Cream in Winter

by Ice Cream in Winter (retail) (epub)

‘He’ll come,’ Vanessa said with a slow, beautiful smile that tore at her mother’s heart.

  It was as if her daughter was slipping away from her. She wrote again and again to Roland, asking if he could come home or at least write to his sister. As days passed she became more and more afraid for Vanessa’s life. She seemed determined to lie there and let death come and take her.

  What could she do? ‘I’ll talk to Patricia, tell her she must cancel the wedding until you are feeling stronger.’

  ‘No need, Mam,’ Vanessa smiled.

  Mrs drew did talk to Patricia, causing rows in the flower shop that embarrassed Patricia and Sally but brought her no nearer to getting help for Vanessa. She went to see Matthew late one night when Vanessa was dosing.

  ‘You know she thinks you’ll change your mind, even at this late hour and marry her, don’t you?’ she said. ‘She’s still working on her wedding dress.’

  Matthew realised it was a time for honesty.

  ‘I can’t tell Vanessa this, but I owe it to you to be truthful.’ He took the woman’s trembling hand in his. ‘I’m not proud of myself but – Mrs Drew, I loved Vanessa, I really did. In fact I still do, but I couldn’t face a life spent caring for her. It takes the strength of a saint to give up so much for one person. You’ve been a saint, specially since the air raid that affected her so badly. Protecting her and shielding her from all the problems of life. I’m not strong like you. I’m cowardly, I’ll admit it. Patricia is so full of life and so capable. We’re equal partners, Patricia and I. With Vanessa I’d have been guarding a beautiful treasure. I’m sorry. I knew what I was facing if I married her and when I realised clearly that it wouldn’t be a proper marriage, I couldn’t go through with it. There was no other decision. I had to give her up and marry the one who would make me happy and that’s Patricia.’

  Mrs Drew began to shout at him and he stood, head bowed and said, ‘Go on, ball me out. I know I deserve it.’ Mrs Drew added a few more expletives and left.

  Matthew felt light-headed, freed from the worries he’d had after abandoning the lovely Vanessa, once he had spoken to Mrs Drew. She hadn’t said so but he knew that she understood, and if she did not approve of his action, then at least she sympathized with him. The chains of guilt fell from him and he began to count the hours left to spend at his lodgings before he took up residence with his wife, in his own home. His renewed happiness conveyed itself to Patricia.

  The excitement lacking in the time before the wedding was restored in Patricia and everyone around her. Even Julia stopped being negative, or trying to persuade her to reconsider. Marion had ceased repeating her undisguised opinion that Matthew was weak, and a twerp, and not the husband she hoped her sister would have chosen.

  In the week beginning April the sixth, everyone in the village seemed to have suddenly realised what was happening and a stream of well-wishers trouped in and out of Cottage Flowers and the house on Woodcutter’s Row, bringing gifts and good wishes. Patricia spent every evening at home, holding hands with Matthew, both of them filled with that special pre-wedding joy of feeling special. The love which both had subdued, which they had felt the need to apologize for, was something to celebrate at last.

  Matthew would have to leave in two short weeks and report to the army and begin combat training, and perhaps friends had become aware of how little time the couple would have to settle into their new life. But whatever the reason, even the dreamy Marion and the sober-minded Elizabeth, forgot their disapproval of her choice and involved themselves in their sister’s forthcoming big day.

  Matthew’s kisses were more passionate and his desire for her was undisguised, even in front of her sisters, and they avoided the usual teasing, so delighted were they at the sight of Patricia so obviously happy. Sexual need, plus realisation that the day would be an event for half the village to enjoy, made the last few days an agony of slowness.

  The person least involved was Nelda. Although she tried to appear enthusiastic, Patricia could see her mind was elsewhere when she tried to persuade her to take an interest. Perhaps she’s too wrapped up in plans of her own, Patricia thought. But although she tried, Nelda wasn’t willing to discuss it.

  On their final Thursday, Patricia and Matthew planned to escape the houseful of people who came to see them, and run, hand in hand, to the cottage. There they would sit by the fire and eat their supper and dream of the big double bed with its pristine sheets and blankets and its shiny green cover and eiderdown, and big fluffy pillows.

  ‘Their last visit as single people,’ Sally told Mrs Drew. ‘Thursdays is their special day, see, and they’re keeping it right to the end. Thrilled they’ll be then, knowing that only two days separate them from living there proper, as man and wife. You got to be pleased for them,’ she smiled. ‘So excited they are. I hope it works out well for them.’

  Mrs Drew didn’t reply. She went home and reported the conversation to her daughter, hoping that it would make her finally see the futility of her waiting for Matthew to come back. Vanessa only smiled.

  * * *

  Instead of meeting at the shop, Matthew and Patricia had called at Woodcutter’s Row to collect a few more presents to take up to the cottage. As Matthew and Patricia stood to leave, Leonard and Nelda arrived and it was clear something was wrong. Nelda was fighting back tears and Leonard was solemn.

  ‘Er, is this a family matter?’ Matthew asked. ‘Shall I leave?’

  ‘No, Matthew,’ Patricia said holding a hand out to him. ‘Come and sit by me. In two days time it’ll be your family too, so you ought to listen.’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ a tearful Nelda said. She looked at Leonard who was now red with embarrassment. ‘Go on, Leonard. Tell them.’

  With a nervous swallow, Leonard whispered, ‘It’s Nelda, see. We want you to know before the news gets out. She’s – I mean we, are going to have a baby.’

  Elizabeth showed her disgust without preamble. ‘That’s disgraceful! Really Dad, you’ve embarrassed us all! How could you do such a thing? You must have planned this, Nelda. Couldn’t you trap him any other way?’

  ‘Elizabeth! Apologize to Nelda at once!’

  ‘Ignore her, Nelda,’ Marion said. ‘She thinks anyone over thirty should be thinking about armchairs and shawls, not making babies. I’m pleased I’ll be having a little sister or brother, aren’t you, Patricia?’

  ‘Of course I’m pleased.’ But although she managed to smile, Patricia was almost as devastated as Elizabeth. The embarrassment of her father having a child at the same time as she might be having one herself was going to cause a lot of amusement. Imaging pushing a pram with her own child in it, alongside her father pushing his! It wasn’t fair. She had lost much of the excitement of her wedding day because of Nelda and Dad, now she wouldn’t even have the pride of producing Dad’s first grandchild; his own would be more important.

  Breaking into her thoughts, Marion said, ‘Now there’s a thing. If Patricia has a baby he’ll be starting school with his uncle!’

  The discussion was still going on at ten o’clock and they ate supper together as a sort of celebration. Matthew looked regretfully at Patricia. ‘Too late to go to the cottage now.’

  He nuzzled her ear and whispered, ‘Next time we go there I’ll be carrying you over the threshold and up the stairs to my bed.’

  Patricia forced herself to put aside her disappointment at this new intrusion into what should have been her special week. She hugged Nelda and told her she was thrilled for her. At eleven thirty, when Leonard took her home, Nelda was looking much happier.

  * * *

  At the cottage, in the chilly kitchen with its slate floor, Vanessa sat waiting for Matthew and Patricia. A bottle of tablets was at her side, fallen from a limp hand. It had rolled to join several others, stored in readiness for this night. Roland’s portrait of her, given to her and Matthew for their wedding present, looked down from the living room wall, reflecting an occasional glow as the fire shifted as it died. Time passed slow
ly, noted by the mantlepiece clock with the Westminster chimes, a wedding gift from Julia to Patricia. It was midnight, but Vanessa failed to count the chimes. She tried to focus on the clock face to work out how much longer she had to wait, but her eyes were fuzzy and the clock seemed to dance about. He’ll be here soon.

  She reached out to the spread of tablets. Had she taken them yet? No, she didn’t think so. It must be time. She took six more. Matthew would be here soon. She imagined she could hear him walking up the lane. He and Patricia together for the last time. He would know how much she needed him. She was calling him through the ether and he would hear and come. He’d walk through the door, and he would see her and give an anguished cry. He’d lift her up and carry her home. He would realise in a devastating flash how much he loved her and wouldn’t spare another thought for Patricia. He had never really loved Patricia; she had stolen him.

  Time to take the tablets, she decided sleepily. He’ll be here soon. Her hands were weak now and she had difficulty picking up the next six pills – which she thought were her first. Her nose was already looking pinched and blue.

  ‘Matthew,’ she called, although very little sound was produced. ‘Matthew, I’m calling you. Why are you taking so long? Can’t you hear me calling you?’

  * * *

  It was long past midnight before Patricia went to bed. She was jerked from sleep almost immediately by banging on the door. She opened it sleepily, presuming her father had forgotten his key. It was Mrs Drew.

  ‘Mrs Drew? What on earth–?’

  ‘Have you seen Vanessa?’ Mrs Drew’s voice sounded accusative in her alarm. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I haven’t been out since I finished work. Besides, she isn’t likely to come here. Why ask me where she is?’

  ‘She wanted to talk to you. Tell you to call off the wedding.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When did you last see her? At the cottage was it? What did you say to her you wicked girl?’

  ‘Matthew and I didn’t go to the cottage tonight.’

  ‘But she said in the note she was meeting Matthew there.’

  ‘Matthew was here with me, until after half past eleven.’

  ‘Perhaps she meant Rose Cottage. That woman Llewellyn has spoken to her once or twice.’

  ‘Have you asked at Rose Cottage? Or been to Matthew’s cottage in case she’s there? Although I can’t imagine she’d go there on her own, so late at night.’

  ‘Of course I have! Both places are locked and in darkness.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d better go again.’ Patricia wanted the woman out of the house so she could go to bed. ‘She might still have a key, but why would she go there? We hadn’t arranged to see her.’

  ‘Wake your father. He must go and look. I’ll go back to the house in case she’s returned.’

  ‘Dad can’t help, he’s still with – he’s still out.’

  ‘With that teacher I suppose. Come on then, you’re coming with me.’

  ‘But I can’t. Dad will worry. It’s long past midnight.’

  ‘Then we’ll wait for your father.’ She pushed her way in and stood beside the still warm ashes of the fire.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be home? She’ll be back now for sure.’ Some of the woman’s anxiety had rubbed off on Patricia and her head was filled with horrible imaginings as they stood in the chilly room and waited for Leonard. Mrs Drew refused to sit and she constantly walked to the door and looked out, listening for the sound of Leonard’s footfall.

  Patricia was afraid that if her father was much longer, Mrs Drew would insist they went without him. The prospect of finding Venessa hysterical, made her limbs tremble and she was reminded of the Cardiff air raid. That in turn reminded her of Roland and she wished with a fervour that surprised her, that he was with them.

  It was almost one am when Leonard returned. He tried to persuade Mrs Drew that it was none of Patricia’s concern and she should stay home. Mrs Drew insisted she went.

  ‘If my daughter is in a state, as she well might be, with Matthew getting married on Saturday, Patricia might be able to calm her down.’

  ‘Why don’t we knock up Sally and ask her to come with us? Why Patricia?’

  ‘That should be obvious after what she did to my daughter.’

  An argument ensued until Patricia pleaded for them to stop. ‘It’s so late, the sooner we find her the sooner I can get to bed,’ she said quietly to her father. ‘I’m not afraid. She’s probably home by now anyway. Vanessa isn’t one to miss out on comfort and it’s a chilly night. You will check your house as we go past, won’t you?’ she said to Mrs Drew.

  The torch showed only a thread of light. The glass was three-quarters covered with blackout paper and the battery was weak. They stumbled more than once as they made their way up the dark lanes. Leonard was irritated by the woman insisting on going on what he thought of as a fool’s errand. He knew Vanessa well enough to know she liked making a fuss and have everyone running around after her. He wondered if Mrs Drew had searched properly when she had gone home to check that Vanessa hadn’t returned. She hadn’t spent that long inside.

  ‘She’s probably tucked up warm in bed and there’s Patricia being dragged around the countryside in the middle of the night,’ he muttered.

  It was Patricia who opened the back door and Leonard who first entered the kitchen. He stood in the doorway and shone the torch around the room. As it reached the doorway into the living room he gave a gasp and Patricia leaned on his arm and looked along the beam to where, in the wavering light, Vanessa lay. It only took a brief examination to know she was dead.

  After the first disbelief and the gentle tears, accusations flew in hissing breaths from the devastated mother. Patricia sobbed and only Leonard remained calm. He held his daughter and led her from the room into the dark, grieving night.

  Patricia’s world collapsed around her. How would Roland cope with this? He’d seen enough mindless death, suffered so many tragic loses. And Matthew. She’d have to tell Matthew. Could they marry only hours after Vanessa had killed herself? Scenes in which she was accused of her friend’s death, whirled like nightmares, but uppermost in her racing thoughts was Roland.

  Roland facing danger, exhausted and with death all around him. How could he survive being told of this? Home was where everything was normal and safe. Where people didn’t get killed, where the horrors couldn’t reach. To have that sanctuary ruined as well would destroy him utterly. Then she pictured the beautiful and talented Vanessa. To have survived that air raid, for this?

  Chapter Seven

  After the discovery of Vanessa’s body, the rest of the night was a kaleidoscope of voices; sobs, questions, accusations and recriminations. For Patricia, the air was filled with fingers pointing at her, blaming her for the death of her beautiful and talented friend. She was not allowed the luxury of grief. She was surrounded by accusers, enemies from whom she would never escape.

  After the first spate of questions, she was bewildered and unable to take in what was being said. She had telephoned the police from Caradoc’s farm, which was the nearest house, having left Mrs Drew sitting beside her daughter, staring down at the unbelievably still face in utter disbelief. Some time after the first of the police had arrived, and the initial examinations had been carried out, Matthew arrived, having been called by the police on Mrs Drew’s insistence.

  ‘Let him come and see what he’s done,’ she wailed pitifully. Sally Drew also came, sensibly bringing thick blankets, and a flask of hot tea. Leonard hugged his terrified daughter and railed at the police for not allowing him to take her home at once. Dawn was quietly breaking as the body was transferred to the anonymity of the mortuary.

  They weren’t allowed near the cottage once the police investigation had begun, yet they couldn’t leave, and they stood, like gouls at a graveside, whispering to each other. Matthew stayed near the Drew’s and didn’t once approach Patricia.

  Patricia shivered in her father’s arms, feeling like a m
urderer, wrapped in the blanket Sally had brought, yet unable to still her shaking limbs. She thought she would never be warm again. Matthew and Mrs Drew didn’t speak to her after the initial outburst of explanations, and she watched them standing together, comforting each other, and felt their silent accusations like knives in her flesh.

  There were policemen everywhere, both uniformed and in plain clothes. At some stage, when the early sun glowed on the stricken faces, Patricia’s father was given permission to take her home. She clung to him for desperately-needed comfort and, holding her close, he led her down the silent lane, his arm around her, his voice soothing, but his ministrations couldn’t block out the accusative voice of Mrs Drew who had told her over and over that her behaviour had caused the death of her beloved child. Matthew was blamed too but his involvement seemed less than hers and through floods of tears and bewildered thoughts she asked her father, ‘Why?’

  She didn’t go to work that day. Sally Drew told her to stay home and rest. She was in a dazed state, waiting, hoping to wake up from one of her worst dreams. She cleared out cupboards and washed shelves, afraid to sit and allow thoughts of what had happened to engulf her in misery. Matthew came at ten o’clock and she said in a painful whisper, ‘We can’t get married tomorrow. Not now. You’d better cancel the arrangements.’

  ‘I already have,’ Matthew told her.

  They sat in the small living room, huddled around a fire which the bright March day hardly justified and found nothing to say to each other. At one o’clock he left, mumbling some excuse about seeing that the cottage was safely locked, and she didn’t see him for three days.

  What was to have been her wedding day passed in a dazed silence. Her sisters tried to chatter, breaking the uneasy hush momentarily, but only emphasizing the unnatural stillness when they stopped and searched their minds for more inane thoughts to share.

  She tried several times to write to Roland. She desperately wanted him to understand how she felt. But each time she tried, the words were unsatisfactory and she threw the paper into the flames. When she did write it was not about Vanessa. He would have heard everything there was to know about that from Mrs Drew and perhaps he wouldn’t want to read what she had to say anyway, not once his mother had told him how she had been responsible for his sister’s death, she thought sadly. Instead, she wrote about her childhood. She told him how she sometimes wished for those years to return. Everything had been so simple then, why did it have to change? Her mind returned to her earliest years when she and Vanessa, and occasionally Roland too, in the role of big brother, had shared fun and adventures.