* * *
Going into the cottage, where Julia had prepared coffee and a few home-made biscuits, Roland said at once, ‘That was Matthew. He says Patricia and he are getting back together.’
‘What?’ She clutched her chest, the shock of his almost casual announcement numbing her brain. ‘What did you say?’
‘Julia, are you all right? Here, sit down.’ He put an arm around her shoulders, alarmed at how thin she had become. When did she get to be an old woman, he wondered, bewildered at the realisation. ‘I’m sorry. Did what I said startle you?’
‘I haven’t spent all this time on her for her to throw herself away on that fool!’
‘I’ll pour you a cup of tea.’
‘What did he say?’ she asked, her voice fainter and almost unrecognisable. ‘Tell me what he said.’
‘He babbled on about him and Patricia getting back together, but it’s nonsense, isn’t it? You’d have told me if they were seeing each other, wouldn’t you?’
‘For some reason I cannot fathom, that weak and unpleasant man is attractive to women. Vanessa, and Patricia and then Marion – who I’d have thought knew enough about men to be a better judge.’ The last words spluttered out as if she were talking without taking in a breath and, alarmed, Roland put down the teapot and turned to her.
She was limp, leaning sideways in her chair and her mouth was blue and open as she gasped for air.
‘Julia!’
‘Pills, in my handbag,’ she gasped and he fumbled frantically before placing one on her hand. ‘Now you’d better ring for an ambulance,’ she said, but he was already dialling the number.
He didn’t go with her to the hospital, deciding the best plan was to find Patricia. He rang the ice cream parlour but there was no reply. Damn it, she’d be wandering around the beach and there was no way he’d be able to find her if he went there. There was a faint hope that she was visiting her parents. He ran along the road and knocked at the house in Woodcutter’s Row, told Nelda and Leonard that Julia was seriously ill and in hospital, and asked them where he could find Patricia.
‘We haven’t seen her since last Wednesday when we went over to Castell Newydd,’ Nelda said. ‘Promised to come today she did, but we haven’t seen a hair of her, have we Leonard?’
‘Perhaps she’s with Marion?’ Leonard suggested.
‘We ought to go to the hospital,’ Nelda said. ‘What ever you think about her, she is the girls’ grandmother.’
‘Grandmother is a title you have to earn. Where was she when her own daughter was dying, tell me that?’ Leonard said.
‘Ignorant of what was happening, far away in London!’ Nelda snapped. ‘Come on, for Patricia’s sake, we must go.’
There was no reply when Roland knocked at Marion’s flat, the two sisters having decided to avoid Matthew for a while by going for a walk. He would have to go to Castell Newydd and wait for her there. Wherever she was, she’d be back there sometime. He decided to ring the hospital from his mother’s house before getting a taxi, and, panting with the effort of running and the dread that Julia might die before he found Patricia, he burst in through his front door to the smell of burnt food and his frightened looking mother.
When Roland came in his mother glanced at his face, dreading what she would see there. Black anger against her. Hurt, and disappointment. She expected them all and had prepared to face them. But his first words were that Julia had had a heart attack and was very ill. Her heart sank further. He doesn’t know, she thought. He hasn’t been told and now I will have to break the news.
He phoned the hospital and was told it was too soon for news. His mother started to make a sandwich, not bothering to explain why the meal was ruined and he seemed too oblivious of what was going on around him to care.
‘Have you seen anyone else?’ she asked. ‘Besides Julia Llewellyn?’
‘Matthew called at Rose Cottage with some stupid story about leaving Marion and marrying Patricia. There’s a man who can’t make up his mind, don’t you think?’
‘It might seem ridiculous, but people do divorce. There have been thousands since the war.’
‘She’d never go back to him.’
‘Have you spoken to her?’
‘I’ve looked for her everywhere, and I’ve phoned the ice cream parlour, but there’s no reply. I have to find her and tell her about Julia. After I’ve eaten I’m going to phone the hospital then go to Castell Newydd and wait for her.’
‘She won’t be there, I saw her looking out of Marion’s flat window half an hour ago. She’s probably still there.’
Roland put down the sandwich she had given him and stood up. ‘I’m going to see her now.’
He ran across the road and knocked on Marion’s door. There was no reply. ‘Damnation!’ he shouted, giving the door one more furious drumming before returning to his mother’s house. Perhaps she refuses to answer because she doesn’t want to see me. He stood in the window watching the flat for signs of the sisters, afraid to go to Castell Newydd in case they were still here, and aware of how time was passing. He should be at the hospital. Leaving his mother to continue the vigil at the window, he phoned the hospital again. There was no cheering news. Julia was seriously ill.
* * *
As they walked the hills, Marion and Patricia discussed Marion’s situation and failed to come up with any firm decisions.
‘It’s up to Jacky as much as you,’ Patricia insisted. ‘Will he acknowledge the baby? Will he help you cope?’
‘No, I don’t think he will. Oh, Patricia, I’ve got myself in a real mess now, haven’t I?’
‘There are worse things. A baby will be loved whatever the conditions of his birth, and neither of you will starve or lack love, or anything that we can provide.’
‘I’ll be bringing her up without a father. You’ll support me won’t you, sis?’
‘Of course. Don’t I always? Where’s Matthew I wonder?’
‘Up at the cemetary telling Vanessa about it probably. He spends a lot of time up there.’
‘That’s unhealthy.’
‘Talks to her like he never talks to me, he does.’
‘Shall I go with you to see Jacky? He’ll be home now, his landlady will be a one o’clock dinner time type for sure.’
‘For all the good it’ll do we might as well go and talk to Vanessa, like that weird husband of mine!’ Marion replied. But she changed direction and they walked to the house on Ebenezer Street, where they found Jacky drinking his after-dinner cup of tea.
‘It’s no use you going on at me,’ he said firmly, as soon as they had explained the situation. ‘I can’t face a messy divorce. Think of my business. I depend on the goodwill of the people round here. They’d drop me and find another garage once it’s known I’ve been – you know – misbe’aving with a married woman.’
‘Refusing to help won’t guarantee you’ll avoid gossip,’ Patricia said. ‘Everyone has seen you two together. Who will they believe, you or Marion?’ She crossed her fingers as she spoke, remembering what a flirt Marion had always been. The fact that she had never given herself to anyone but Jacky would hardly seem likely. All argument failed to impress Jacky. He remained adamant, he would not face people and admit the child was his. When they left, after only fifteen minutes, Marion was crying.
‘I thought he really loved me, sis. How could I have been so stupid?’
‘Come on, you aren’t the only one to have been taken in by loving words. We have to accept it, Matthew is your only hope.’
‘He’ll never forgive me for this. Never. And even if he does, I don’t want to live the rest of my life being grateful to him!’
‘I wouldn’t want that for you, Marion, love. Guilt is a poor bedfellow, as I well know.’
* * *
Jacky stared for a long time at the door after they left. He was shaken by Marion’s news. He knew his reaction had been cruel, and the truth was, if she had been alone, the outcome would have been different. Patricia being ther
e made it impossible to think clearly and talk to Marion like the lovers they were. He turned from the door and called towards the kitchen door, ‘You can come out, Mrs Freeman. I know you’ve been listening.’
‘Jacky, love, what a mess,’ Mrs Freeman said, as she came from the kitchen. ‘Sorry to my ’eart I am. What are you going to do?’
Jacky frowned for a moment then the frown cleared and his face opened into a wide smile. ‘Get her away from that idiot Matthew and marry her. What else?’
Roland knocked on the door of the flat only a minute after Patricia and Marion got back. Patricia opened the door and her eyes lit with that special loving glow as she saw him.
‘Roland! Oh, er, I – did you want to see me or my sister?’ she dithered idiotically. ‘Come in. How are you? Julia says your London view was a real success.’
‘Patricia, Julia is ill. She’s at the hospital and I have been searching everywhere for you.’
‘Julia ill? Oh no! What happened?’ she asked as she reached for her coat and handbag, preparing to leave. ‘Marion, Julia is ill, we have to go.’
‘Please, sis, don’t go. Don’t leave me to face Matthew alone.’
‘I have to. Why don’t you come with us? She’s your grandmother too,’ Patricia pleaded.
‘She isn’t! Only now when she’s old has she bothered to remember us. Patricia, I’m your sister! I have been for every minute of my life! Don’t leave me now for someone like her!’
‘I phoned the hospital just before I came here and she is sleeping,’ Roland said. ‘They told me to visit this evening.’
‘I have to go now. Even if I can’t see her I have to be there.’ Patricia said. While Patricia put on her coat, Roland tried to sooth Marion. They didn’t hear footsteps running up the stairs. The door opened and Matthew stood at the threshold smiling at them. He nodded amiably towards Roland, who had a hand on Marion’s arm, and was trying to wipe away her tears with his handkerchief. ‘Another of my wife’s boyfriends, are you?’ he asked. ‘Well, who’d have thought it. Plenty of material for the divorce lawyer I’ll have, won’t I Marion?’
‘There won’t be a divorce, Matthew,’ Marion said, choking back tears. ‘You and I will have this child and act like a normal, happily married couple. Right?’
At first Matthew laughed, then, as he realised his wife was determined, his anger grew visibly. Patricia put down her handbag and gestured to Roland. However anxious she was to go to Julia, they couldn’t leave Marion with this angry man.
‘You won’t get me taking responsibility for your – your bastard,’ Matthew stormed. ‘Slut you are, and you deserve to end up in the gutter. Pity they no longer stone fallen women. I’d be the first to pick one up and aim it!’
His anger had the effect of calming Marion. In a quiet voice she asked, ‘Would you rather I tell everyone you can’t perform as a man then? I wouldn’t have to tell many people for the story to get around, about how you aren’t capable of being a husband. Your ex-fiancée killed herself, you jilted Patricia… more gossip in that than a divorce, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Tell them! Tell who you like! See who they believe, with your past behaviour. Soldiers, sailors and airmen!’
Patricia was embarrassed, standing listening to the personal row between the married couple. Roland sensed her discomfort and reached out to hold her hand. She turned her mind away from what was being said and felt the warmth of his hand. She wondered if he felt as nervous as she. Did he still love her? Why hadn’t he been to see her? Why hadn’t he written? Questions tumbled around in her head.
She brought her painful thoughts back to the couple standing arguing, Marion still calm and Matthew still shouting.
‘You’ll have to leave this place,’ Marion was saying, conversationally. ‘Sell your business and start again. And I’d find you. Don’t doubt it. I’ll follow you and start the stories up again.’
Roland bent down and whispered to Patricia, ‘Time we left I think, don’t you?’ Still holding her hand he led her out of the room and down the stairs. ‘We’ll stay here a while to make sure they don’t resort to blows, then go to the hospital.’
Following him but unaware that he had spoken, her thoughts still in the flat with her sister, Patricia said, ‘what shall I do? I don’t think she should stay here with Matthew, I’m afraid he’s unbalanced. She isn’t safe with him. I’d better go back and make sure she’s all right.’
‘No.’ Roland pulled her down to sit on the stairs beside him. ‘We’ll wait here and give them time to sort it out. We’ll hear if there’s any serious trouble.’
She sat unwillingly and he began to talk about his weeks in London. Gradually her thoughts settled, away from fears about Julia and worries about her sister and she listened.
‘There are so many galleries and exhibitions that you could spend every day wandering around and never at a loss for something to do. And so many parties and groups of friends meeting at the local pubs. Every evening could be filled with friends and laughter. You’d never be bored.’
Jealousy stabbed through her. She didn’t want to hear how he was enjoying his new life, so far away and without her. She wanted him to hate it and come back to her.
‘So you won’t come back then?’ she asked.
‘My studio is a good one. I could do great things there.’
‘Studio? You have a studio there?’ It sounded dreadfully permanent. ‘A studio and a flat? It seems a lot of space, even for your paraphenalia. Do you share it with someone?’ she asked, dreading the reply. Images such as had haunted her dreams for weeks made her move away from him. Artists models; long, slender, utterly beautiful and without morals, flitted across her mind. She didn’t want to hear any more. His life was in London now and far away from hers with her small ice cream parlour, and Julia. ‘Julia,’ she said interrupting him. ‘I have to go to her.’
‘I don’t have both,’ he explained, holding her still beside him. ‘My studio IS my flat. Two tiny rooms with hardly room to bend an elbow. But it has a huge window and it’s conveniently placed for galleries and the underground station.’ He was describing it with as much enthusiasm as he could, willing her to want to see it, unaware he was having the reverse effect.
‘I’m not far from Victoria,’ he told her. ‘There’s a park nearby, where I often sit for an hour to relax after a long session. You’d love it. I hope you’ll see it one day.’
His arm pressed her closer to him and she forgot to listen for sounds of a quarrel above them as she became more and more aware of how much she wanted him; her body ached with longing, her lips trembled as she imagined his kiss. If only she had been free to go when he had asked her. Why had she listened to the ravings of his mother?
Now it was too late, this closeness was only a momentary comfort. He continued to talk about the friends he had made, a circle closed against her. New friends, all strangers to her, people he had met in his new life, while she had remained in Castell Newydd alone.
She thought of the time she had spent looking after Nelda’s son, and how she was slowly being engulfed in caring for her daughter. Now she would be looking after Marion and her baby too. There was no prospect of a life of her own.
‘It sounds wonderful,’ she said, hiding her unhappiness in choking laughter, adding, ‘I don’t know how you have time to work, with all the parties and concerts and everything.’
‘The trouble is, Patricia, I don’t do much work there. I come home to do my best work, at Rose Cottage.’
And never come to see me, only a short train ride away in Castell Newydd, she thought sadly.
‘I’m lonely, you see. The parties are there but I never go. I always make an excuse. I don’t think parties are much fun unless you’re with the one you love.’
He had found someone else. ‘She isn’t always free to go with you, is she?’ she asked, again dreading the answer. She had a childish urge to cover her ears with her hands.
‘She’s never free,’ he said. ‘She’s always doin
g something other people want her to do. Everyone, that is, apart from me.’
‘I see.’
‘Patricia, you don’t see. I mean—’
At that moment a scream from above startled them and had them running up the stairs two at a time and bursting into the flat.
Matthew was holding a cushion to his head and Marion was chasing him around the furniture brandishing a hearth brush. Roland wrestled with Marion and took away her weapon and Matthew sank into a chair groaning and holding his head. Marion began to laugh.
Roland slowly withdrew, and taking Patricia’s hand firmly, said, ‘Time to go I think.’
‘Wait for me, I’m coming too,’ Marion called. The three of them left the flat and ran along the main road to where they could find a phone box. ‘A taxi,’ Patricia said. She was distressed at the delay in reaching Julia. ‘A taxi will be quickest.’
‘I’m frightened,’ she said, once they were underway. ‘She will be all right, won’t she?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘The hospital only said that every hour she survives gives her a better chance.’
‘I’m so glad you’re with me,’ she said.
* * *
When they were eventually allowed to see Julia she was sitting up and able to talk.
‘Just two minutes and don’t tire her,’ the nurse urged before walking off amid the rustling sound of starched cloth.
‘Look in the davenport drawer,’ Julia told them. ‘When you leave here go straight to Rose Cottage and look for the large brown envelope and bring it here to me, please?’
They stood for a while until she opened her eyes again and repeated her request. Both thought the envelope must contain a will.
‘Tomorrow,’ Patricia said. ‘Don’t worry about anything today. Tomorrow we’ll bring it.’
‘Today. It’s important,’ Julia insisted.
An hour later they were back and given permission to see her again.
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