Marjorie looked at the empty shed, now eerily silent, and wondered why she had bothered to make it into a studio. It had been far better used as a temporary home for Catherine and Arthur and their children. She began to wish another family would arrive and make the place into a home. She knew now that it would never have been the scene of inspired works of art. Although perhaps she could advertise it as a studio and give someone else’s son a chance to succeed?
‘What d’you think, Freddy?’ she asked as they sat eating their toast and scrambled dried egg supper in the cold dining room.
‘I think we should move. This house is too big for us and it makes sense to find something smaller.’
‘But what if Phillip comes home?’
‘He doesn’t want three bedrooms, does he?’
Reluctantly Marjorie agreed. ‘Not straight away, though, Freddy. I’ll need the winter to sort out what we need to take and what we can throw away.’
‘Then we’ll make a start, shall we? I’ll sort out the garden shed and the garage, and you can deal with the bedrooms.’
‘We’ll leave the studio as it is for a while, shall we?’
‘Someone might be pleased to have a studio as part of the house,’ he said, patting her arm affectionately.
On the principle of worst first, Marjorie began in the room that had been Richard and Phillip’s. Since Richard’s death at the end of the war she had refused to look at his room. All his childhood was represented there: old boxed games, various sports equipment, a recorder, a violin. She felt a momentary shame when she remembered how she had insisted on him taking part in everything the school offered.
Opening the door to a room she had previously entered only to clean was different on that day. The intention to begin to tear it apart made her feel like a murderer: she was going to kill all the memories the place held.
‘Think of it as an exciting Christmas for Davy,’ Freddy said, aware of her agony as well as his own. ‘There are bound to be lots of things he would love, and many more that Hope can put aside for him for later on.’
Early in December, Marjorie began. Hayward’s grocery shop provided boxes and she neatly labelled them Charity, David, Discard and Retain. She spent a long time preparing, unwilling to begin.
Freddy went up there one morning and found her sitting on the bed staring at a book of photographs. He took it gently from her. ‘In the Retain pile I think, don’t you?’
Emptying drawers was easy, and she put the clothes in the Charity box, ready to offer for distribution among the needy. Warm jumpers, an overcoat and shoes would go to the collection for vagrants, although she didn’t really approve of these people who were unable to make the effort to sort out their lives. Then a voice inside reminded her that these men were other women’s sons. Many, having suffered terribly during the war, still wandered the country confused and wounded, having lost touch with their families or learned of their deaths. She added two new jumpers and a good quality overcoat to the pile instead of putting them aside in the futile hope of Phillip returning and needing them.
Many of the toys she asked Freddy to take to Arthur and Catherine, her squatters, in their new home. She showed them to Hope, who happily agreed, delighted at the changes in her difficult mother-in-law.
It was Geoff and his van who delivered the surprising amount of unwanted items, and he added a few things from his own over-large, over-filled property. Connie helped him choose items he didn’t need, and a growing affection between them was strengthened by sharing the simple task.
*
Christmas was going to be a problem for Peter Bevan. He had invited his father and his stepmother to spend it with him, with the willing agreement of his landlady, but the thought didn’t fill him with the joy of the season. And with his landlady’s family as well there wasn’t really enough room. When he mentioned his dilemma to Geoff and Connie, Geoff at once suggested they all come to the room above the shop. He wished he could invite Connie there as his guest, three men and one woman wasn’t ideal, and an extra person would ease the strain for Peter of dealing with his quick-tempered father.
‘I know I can’t ask you to join us. It would be such a cheek, inviting you for the purpose of helping me cope with Peter’s dad,’ he said as they walked home from the pictures one evening, cuddling together for warmth. ‘But you’ll have a happy time with Hope and Davy, and I gather that Marjorie has mellowed towards them too.’
Then Hope and Connie met Stella at her country cottage, and their discussion resulted in Geoff, Peter and his parents being invited to join the rest at Badgers Brook.
Everywhere these discussions were going on: who to invite and how to get out of an arrangement unwillingly made. Marjorie hoped that Phillip would appear and prepared, as much as rations allowed, for an extra place. She wanted to ask Hope and Connie and David, but, unsure of acceptance, unable to risk a rebuff, she did not. Instead, she waited, wondering whether she and Freddy would be asked to Badgers Brook, but so far, although she and Hope were more relaxed with each other, nothing had been said. Meanwhile she went on slowly and systematically emptying the bedroom.
*
Phillip was in London, working in a shop selling poorly made toys to objectionable children and hating it, staying in a basement flat that smelled of cats and stale cabbage. His days were spent forcing smiles for ghastly children and the life was far from what he had dreamed of, but there didn’t seem anywhere else to go. North Wales, with the caretaker’s job and Connie, was no longer a possibility. Although he did sometimes wonder whether she could be persuaded to change her mind.
He was a little embarrassed at his over-confident attitude in believing he could become rich by painting pictures for those he referred to as ‘idiots who pretended to like art’. Who was the idiot now? It was a sour memory. He was sour.
His only enjoyment was flirting with some of the mothers who brought their brats in to look at what was available for their list to Santa. So when a tall, elegant woman came in near closing time, with a child that was evidently not hers – from the look of boredom on her face, the way she moved away from sticky fingers out of concern for her clothes and the refusal to hold an offered hand – his spirits rose. At least it would be a couple of minutes of amusement.
‘Playing auntie for the day?’ he asked, nodding towards the little boy, who was climbing into a wooden cart, pushing aside the notice asking mothers to stop their children from doing so!
‘Heaven forbid! I have him for one hour only while his mother goes to buy some wonderful surprise for him. Ten minutes and I’m already at the end of my tether. Really, I don’t know how my friend manages all day, every day.’ Her voice was melodious and suggested wealth and education. Her clothes, hair and make-up were immaculate; even the way she walked and looked around her with a slightly disdainful expression told him she was way above his usual expectations, but he knew he had a certain charm and he used it.
‘I can take you to a place I know where we can get a quiet drink if that would help,’ he offered, as he wrapped a box of dominoes for another rather distraught customer.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know you!’
‘I’m Phillip Murton, a failed artist, so now you know me, will you come?’
If he expected her to gasp with amazement and tell him how impressed she was to meet a real artist, he was seriously mistaken.
‘A failed artist. How sad. Another with no talent, persuading himself everyone else was wrong, I suppose.’
Phillip laughed delightedly. ‘Exactly. The worst was trying to persuade my mother I am completely lacking in the stuff.’
‘Oh, mothers. Mine wanted me to become a teacher.’
‘And did she succeed?’
‘Heavens no. I own an exclusive shoe shop. You know the sort of thing, only three shoes in the window and no enthusiasm to show a customer more than two pairs. I do hate seeing people maul my stock.’
‘A drink?’ He was trying not to laugh; she really did pro
mise fun.
She stared at him for a moment then nodded. ‘Why not?’
Two hours later, replete and talking like old friends, she asked Phillip where he would be for Christmas.
‘Parents, duty, I suppose,’ he replied vaguely.
‘Oh, duty, that old thing. Why not come to Norfolk with me?’
‘Cold weather for Norfolk.’
‘Not indoors it isn’t.’ She stared at him, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. ‘Surely you weren’t thinking of rowing boats and mud and rivers and things?’
‘I’m thinking of a few days of utter enjoyment, with you,’ he replied.
*
When Hope came to help sort out the bedroom that had belonged to Ralph’s brother she found some diaries hidden in a sports bag, under some ancient football equipment: exercise books, filled with neat, small writing. Afraid of upsetting Marjorie, Hope waited until she could tell Freddy.
‘Thanks, Hope, you’re a thoughtful young woman. There might be things in here she’d hate to learn.’ When Hope looked curious he smiled. ‘Nothing criminal, but boys like to have their secrets and some might upset Marjorie. Best I glance through them and then dispose of them, eh?’
Unfortunately, there were others, and these were found by Marjorie when she emptied a box of playing cards, old jigsaw puzzles missing half their pieces, and other useless games. It was as she tipped these straight into the box marked “Discard” that the books fell out. Three exercise books in Richard’s easily recognized writing. She sat on the stripped metal bedstead with its rolled-up mattress and began to read.
*
Stella was in the allotment shed, watching as Colin picked a bowlful of Brussels sprouts. He was breathing out clouds of mist in the cold air, and as she watched she realized he was singing. She smiled and turned up the flame under the paraffin heater to persuade the kettle to boil a bit faster. A happy man, my Colin, she thought as he began grabbing the dead remnants of weeds and throwing them on to the compost heap.
There had been a layer of white frost that morning, almost like snow. Wonderful if there was snow in time for the children to wake and find the treasures left by Father Christmas, she mused. She had bought a new shirt for Colin and a pair of slippers to replace the ones he had worn almost into oblivion. Nothing exciting, but, then, we aren’t exciting people. Just happy ones, she thought. ‘Colin, love, tea’s about to be poured.’ He waved and threw the last withered sow thistle into the waste from which goodness would come again in the spring.
He sat in the chair next to hers, and, unwilling to close the door against the scene of orderliness that was their plot, they sat wrapped in blankets, and sipped in silence.
Hearing someone approach, Stella made a face. ‘Now who is it? Three lots of visitors I’ve had this afternoon, in this weather, too. Lucky I brought extra milk.’
Marjorie knocked on the door and pulled it open, ‘Stella, I have to talk to someone or I’ll burst.’
‘Whatever is it, Marj? You look awful.’
Marjorie was so distressed she didn’t notice the objectionable abbreviation of her name. Stella gave an apologetic look at Colin, who stood and excused himself on the grounds of having to finish clearing before dark; and went outside.
Without preamble Marjorie handed Stella one of the exercise books, her thumb marking a place from where she should begin reading. It was a long piece, written by Richard and describing how he and someone called Barbara had celebrated their engagement with a party given by Barbara’s family and many of their friends.
‘Does this mean he was engaged to be married and couldn’t tell me? It can’t be true, can it, Stella?’
‘Never! Fantasy, that’s all this is, Marjorie. A story made up to amuse himself. What are you worrying about?’
‘I'm worried because I believe it’s true. I know how close he and Barbara Griffiths were, and how I forbade him to see her. Engaged, and without telling me or his father. That’s what I drove them to, Stella.’
Stella stared; she didn’t know what to say. She knew it was true. She and Colin had been among the friends invited to the celebration. Richard and Barbara had planned to tell his parents on his next leave, when they intended to book a register office wedding, but Richard had never returned. She had seen Barbara since and had tried to persuade her to go and talk to Richard’s family but she had refused.
‘Drink this tea, Marjorie, Colin didn’t touch it. Sugar in it, too. Good for shock that is.’
Ten
It was a few days before Hope heard the news of the tragically aborted wedding plans of Ralph’s brother Richard. Marjorie had shown the diary to Freddy and it was he who explained to Hope about the surprising revelation.
They sat in the kitchen of Badgers Brook and drank tea while Davy concentrated on drawing something he insisted was Uncle Peter’s horse, Jason, but which appeared to have five legs, all in a row. One, he explained with patience, was his tail. Hope didn’t know what to say to Freddy so she said nothing, just watched her son’s chubby hands gripping the crayons and scrubbing colour over the paper.
‘So there it is,’ Freddy said. ‘Confirmation that Richard, our first-born, couldn’t even tell us something as important as his marriage plans. We failed him, Hope, both Marjorie and me.’
She tried to offer comforting words then, but Freddy shook his head. ‘If Marjorie hadn’t found the diaries we’d never have known.’
‘And Barbara? She hasn’t been to see you?’
‘Not since the funeral. She came then with her parents and some of his friends, but there was nothing to suggest he was anything more than a member of the group. Not a word.’
‘Will you go and see her, now you know?’
‘I don’t even know where she is. The family moved away soon after the war ended. To live near a relation, an uncle who ran a clothing factory in East London I believe. We’ve lost touch. She might be married and she almost certainly wouldn’t want me turning up after all this time and stirring things up.’
‘Are there more diaries? Richard might have left a few more clues. They must have ended soon after his writing about the engagement party, but they would have stretched back a while: the proposal, choosing and buying the ring. He might have written something about her family, something that will help you to find her.’
Freddy stared at her as though she had given him a shock.
‘What is it? Have you thought of something important?’
‘I have to go. I have to read the diaries, search to make sure Marjorie doesn’t read in the others something that might upset her even more.’
Hope nodded and handed him his coat as he stood to leave. He was agitated and Hope was alarmed; his skin was deathly pale and his face had sort of collapsed, the skin loosened, the jaw slack. He was suddenly older, as though the shock of receiving news from his dead son had added on several years. He hurried from the house and didn’t look back, as he usually did, to wave to Davy from the gate.
Hope was curious but decided it was simply that he didn’t want Marjorie to suffer more misery by reading the build-up to Richard’s falling in love and his plans for their future.
Momentarily she compared the reaction to Richard’s death and the continuing grief Marjorie displayed for both of her lost sons to the way she had treated her and Davy since Ralph’s suicide. Hope hadn’t been allowed the luxury of grieving, Marjorie had wanted it all. Being able to blame her for Ralph choosing to die had helped Marjorie to cope, and she had offered little sympathy to her widowed daughter-in-law during that terrible time, only hostility and rejection. Then Hope felt ashamed of her selfish thoughts and hoped they would find Barbara, and be comforted by sharing her sweet memories of Richard and adding them to their own.
*
Freddy hurried home and went at once to the room that had been Richard’s and Phillip’s. It was almost bare of anything that offered a hint of the lives that had been lived there. Just a couple of beds, with mattresses rolled and tied, and cupboards with do
ors hanging open to reveal bare shelves. The wardrobe door was ajar and he touched it open to see the empty space within. A waft of lavender polish teased his nose and be guessed that Marjorie had been cleaning everything preparatory to the move.
His heart was racing as he lifted the pile of books from the top of the chest of drawers and thumbed through them. No sign of the diaries. Perhaps Marjorie had already found them, and was at this moment reading things he’d prefer she never found out. He pulled the drawers from their slots and looked behind them; diaries were intended to be secret and Richard might have hidden some of them. But where?
Later he dared to ask his wife if she had found any more.
‘No, and I don’t expect to. I think he started writing what was little more than a journal after he and Barbara decided to marry. A romantic gesture, that’s all.’
Freddy hoped she was right. ‘If you do find more, please let me see them first,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you upset any more than necessary.’
‘I can cope. He was my son!’
‘We’d be better coping with them together. Please, Marjorie, promise me you’ll wait until I can look at them.’
‘There won’t be any more. I’ve emptied the room, thrown away his childhood!’ She glared at a corner of the room, her face stiffened with resolve, defying tears to fall. ‘I’d have found them if they were there.’ She hadn’t promised to wait for him to share any revelations. And there was still the spare room to be emptied.
*
Phillip and Fiona shared her small flat in Chelsea, London. He continued to work in the toy store and she went each day to her small exclusive shop in a corner of Mayfair. Once his meagre wages were spent, she gave him money so he could pay, and they went out to dine every evening, often before and sometimes after the theatre. The restaurants where they ate were always very expensive and he frequently saw people from the world of show business seated near them. They also met some of Fiona’s friends and occasionally went out as a foursome with another couple. Phillip had the impression she was testing him, finding out if he could play the role she had given him, of wealthy man-about-town with moneyed background. He fell into the part with ease; his manner with waiters, doormen and other people put there to smooth their way was firm but gentlemanly and he knew she was impressed.
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