The Rocking Stone

by Jill Rutherford

  I doze in my chair until the doorbell wakes me. It’s my granddaughter, Sarah. She has a key, but always rings the bell to let me know she’s here. Afraid of my poor old heart giving out in fright, I suppose.

  ‘Hello, Nana.’ She’s bright and breezy as usual, but then looks at me closely. She sits on the footstool in front of me. ‘You look tired, Nan, and pale. You sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes, love, I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’ I smile at her but it doesn’t quite come off.

  ‘There is something, isn’t there? I know you, Nan.’ She takes my hand. ‘Oh, you’re cold.’ She jumps up, ‘I’ll go get you your little blanket.’ Before I can stop her she goes into my bedroom. When she comes out, holding the blanket she looks worried as she sits back down on the footstool. ‘You haven’t been to bed, have you?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ I lie, ‘I made my bed early this morning.’

  ‘You never make it early, you know you like it to air. Come on now, tell me. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say too quickly.

  She picks up the newspaper to put the blanket around my legs. As she puts it back on my lap she reads the headline.

  She looks at me for a moment. BODY FOUND IN WELL seems to jump out and mock me.

  ‘I saw that headline yesterday in the shop, but I didn’t buy the paper.’ She hesitates. ‘It . . . it isn’t anything to do with this is it?’ Her voice has risen and she looks worried.

  I don’t say anything. Her probing is unnerving me. I don’t quite know how to react. I don’t want to lie to her. I’ve never lied to her. We trust each other and I don’t want to break that trust.

  She takes my hand and looks at me, full of concern. ‘This is serious. I can see it in your face. It is about that body, isn’t it?’

  She looks down at the article and reads it. As she gets to the end, she raises her head slowly and says, ‘Mallow? Dudley Mallow? Is he a relation of ours? I’ve never heard of him.’

  She’s really worried and I wouldn’t have that for the world. I have to say something, but not all. I don’t have to tell her all.

  ‘I’m sorry, love, you’re right. I didn’t want to worry you, but I have been sitting up all night thinking about the past. And you’re right again, I did know him. He was your grandfather’s brother, although not a real brother as your grandfather was adopted by the parents of Dudley Mallow.’

  ‘Adopted? I didn’t know. Wow! Who were his real parents?’

  ‘I don’t know, they died and that’s why he was adopted as a baby.’

  ‘What sort of a man was this Dudley? Were you worried when he disappeared?’

  Again, I couldn’t lie to her. ‘No. Everyone was glad he disappeared. He was not a nice man. No one liked him.’

  ‘No one? Surely someone liked him? Was he married?’

  ‘No, love, he wasn’t, and he was a bad lot, please believe me. When he went missing everyone thought either someone’s husband had done him in – he was like that you see – or he’d left the area because he’d done something terrible . . . you know, had the law on him or something. To be truthful, I was glad and so were many other people. But no one had any idea he ended up in a well. Dead. Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’

  ‘I see,’ she said, all serious. ‘It’s fascinating, but if you don’t know what happened to him, well, you don’t know and that’s that.’

  ‘The only way I’d know was if I had put him in the well myself and I can assure you on every oath there is that I didn’t. This is just as much a surprise to me as to everyone else.’

  ‘Oh, Nan, I didn’t mean you’d had anything to do with it. Of course I didn’t mean that. That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, then, let’s just leave it there, shall we? I can’t tell you any more than that. I just couldn’t stop the memories coming last night and I forgot to go to bed. That’s all, the time went so fast. It was morning before I knew it.’

  I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She gave me a hug and laughed.

  ‘Well,’ I said, desperate to change the subject, ‘what are you doing today?’

  ‘I’m on my way to your old house to start on the redecorations. The extension is finally finished and the builders have gone. All we have to do is to redecorate and I’m going to start it today, it’s my day off. Mark will join me this evening to give me a hand. We want to get it done before the wedding. I can’t wait to live there. It must be so full of all sorts of lovely memories for you. We had such good times there when I was little.’

  I blanch a bit but hide it. ‘Yes, love, full of them. But you must make your own memories. I got very fond of that house and I look forward to seeing it all fresh and modern. It will be a modern house for a modern couple, just as it should be.’

  When she leaves, I realise that I’m going to be asked a lot of questions. I steel myself and decide to tell everyone just what I’ve told Sarah. Hopefully, the fuss will soon die down.

  *

  A few days later, Sarah visits me again. ‘Hello, Nana, how are you? Are you feeling better?’ She’s as bouncy as ever and there is a hint of excitement in her eyes.

  ‘Fine dear, I’ve recovered perfectly. Now, tell me, have you finished your decorating?’

  She sits on my footstool in front of me. ‘Oh, I wish I had, but no, we’ll be at it for another couple of weeks yet. But . . .’ she stops dramatically, her eyes showing that excitement, and she gives me a look I can’t quite fathom. ‘You’ll never guess what I found.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I say, intrigued. ‘You’d better tell me. Should I be worried?’ I say laughing.

  ‘Well,’ she drags the word out, playing with me. I sit patiently waiting for her, raising my eyebrow in question.

  ‘Well,’ she repeats, ‘you know the upside-down roses Grandsha put up?’ She looks at me, raising her own eyebrow.

  ‘Of course. I’m not senile yet you know.’ I laugh again, wondering what on earth she’s getting to.

  ‘Well,’ that long drawn out word again, ‘as I was stripping it everything came off easily except the bit behind the kitchen cabinet. It was really difficult to get off and I thought Grandsha must have used some extra paste there. Anyway, when I finally managed to strip it off, there was something written on the wall in paint.’ Her eyes are sparkling.

  ‘Something written on the wall?’ I repeat stupidly. She’s still looking at me with that excitement. ‘Well?’ I draw out the word as she had done, worried now.

  ‘It said, and I quote, “There is a letter under the loose floorboard beneath our bed. Please read it. It will explain everything. Tom.”’

  My breath shudders and my heart beats faster. This has to be about Dudley. Would I find out at last? My heart feels as if it will give out as I try to calm myself. That would be an irony if I died with the solution to the mystery unopened in my hands.

  Sarah rises up and puts her arm around my shoulders. ‘Are you all right, Nan? Nan, speak to me. Oh, what shall I do?’ I realise she’s really worried about me and that I should do something to reassure her.

  ‘I’m all right, love, don’t worry.’ I hadn’t realised my face had shown so much of my feelings. ‘It’s just a pain.’ I grab my side for emphasis. ‘It’s the price you pay for getting older. I’m fine.’ I hesitate. ‘And . . . did you . . . look under the floorboards?’

  ‘It took me a while because, of course, your bed is no longer there, but I remembered its rough location and I found it. It’s sealed and addressed to you, so I haven’t opened it although I’m agog to know what it says. But I’ll go and make some tea to give you some privacy.’

  She hands me the envelope and a tingle shoots up my arm as if it’s red hot or supernatural. The envelope is yellowing and looks fragile. I’ll have to be careful not to tear the letter. Tom obviously didn’t use very good quality paper for such a dramatic thing as this. I look at the envelope for a long time. I don’t want Sarah here when I read the letter. I need to be alone.

  When she co
mes out of the kitchen she puts the tray on the table. I get up and walk towards the sideboard and open a drawer, ‘If you don’t mind, love, I’d like to be alone when I read this. Another hour or so won’t matter. I’ll put it away ‘till later.’

  ‘Of course, Nan. I can’t say I’m not intrigued because that would be an understatement, but this is between you and Grandsha. If you want to tell me about it later I’ll be very happy, but if not, then I understand. He may have left you a love letter, wouldn’t that be something.’ She laughs, full of innocent joy. She has no idea what this letter is about. And why should she? What do we know of the lives of others and their innermost feelings?

  I realise I’m scowling so I think of something nice. Of my mother and the scant memories I have of her. Of the love that shone out of her eyes all those years ago when she lay dying. No one will ever know of that look of love. It was between us and I wonder how many other looks of love have gone unrecorded in the world. Acts of violence or horror always get remembered, but the one thing that the world is built on, that it cannot live without – love – is the thing that is most often lost.

  Finally, Sarah goes home.

  Now the time is here I’m reluctant: afraid. I go over to the sideboard and take out the letter. My hand is shaking. I can’t stop thinking that after all these years, the answer is here, in my hand and that makes me shake even more.

  I sit down in my armchair and adjust my glasses trying to keep control of myself. My heart is beating so hard I feel ill as I look at Tom’s untidy scribble on the envelope. To be opened only after my death and only by my wife, Katherine Anne Mallow. The ink is so faded that I can only just make out the writing. Wouldn’t it be cruel if the ink inside has faded too, so much so that I can’t read anything? Pull yourself together, woman. Stop this and open the damned thing.

  I pick up my letter opener and carefully slit the envelope open and with my hands shaking even more, take a deep breath and gently pull out the letter. There are several sheets and the paper is pale blue, thin but in good condition and the ink is fine. It hasn’t faded. Thank goodness. Tom’s writing was never good and was always hard to read, but I can see the writing here is quite clear. He obviously took a lot of trouble. His spelling was always atrocious, so I make a mental note to ignore all his mistakes as I start to read.

  Dear Kate

  This is a hard letter for me to write. Well – you know me I never was one for writing. But I need to tell you things I think you need to know. Maybe I’m a coward telling you like this and I wouldn’t blame you if you thought so. I tried to tell you many times but it just would not come out. Every time I tried it just went all wrong. But how could anyone tell someone this?

  And if you are reading this letter I will be dead – like I said I’m a coward.

  There are two things I have to tell you. One is nice (I hope) and the other is awful. The first is that I love you. Yes I do mean love and not loved. I have not said this to you since the early days of our marriage. I love you Kate. I loved you when we got married and that love did not change. It just got lost somewhere. I tried to tell you many times but I got a lump in my throat each time and it would not come out. Then I was afraid to tell you in case you laughed at me suddenly saying it after all that time. We seemed to be enemies for so long. It was simpler to ignore it. And once I did I could not go back. I tried to prove it to you in other ways but it always went wrong. I do not know why. I am sorry.

  You were a good wife to me Kate and I thank you for that. I know you were disappointed in me but I did my best really I did. I know I was never good enough for you and you deserved better than I could ever be. I did my best as a husband and I hope you can forgive me if I did not live up to your expectations. I was at a loss of what else to do. You were always far above me. I never forgot that.

  And now for the awful thing I have to tell you.

  I promised my mother that I would never tell you or anybody else and I have not. You know I could never go against her even for you. I am sorry and I feel so guilty. You deserve to know the truth. But how could I tell you???

  For years after she died I tried to tell you but it just would not come out. I always felt her watching me, even after her death. Then I realised she said nothing about writing it down. I could tell you and not betray my mother. You see, I am a coward. I’ve twisted things in my mind so that I don’t feel guilty about betraying her.

  I had the idea of changing the wallpaper and putting it on upside-down and the message on the wall and the letter and everything. I knew you would be angry when you saw the wallpaper and would want to take it down but I knew I could persuade you to keep it. I also knew you would take it off after I died and find my message and the letter. See I do know you better than you think. (And I know I will die first – I want to die first – you see how much of a coward I am.)

  This is what my mother told me.

  It happened that awful night you told me Dudley had raped you. She had gone to her church meeting but had come home early. When she opened the front door she could hear us rowing and she listened. She heard it all. She was so angry with Dudley she went to find him. But she could not find him and was making her way home when she saw him at the bottom of his street lying on a piece of waste ground – dead drunk and singing. He swore at her and staggered up the street. She followed him not sure what to do as she didn’t want to cause a row in the street but when he got to his lodgings he was so drunk he walked straight on and up onto the mountain. She followed him and laid into him then. Told him she knew about the rape and that he was never to see or speak to her or anyone in our family again. She told him to leave Ponty forever. That he was evil.

  He laughed she said. Just laughed and swore and said how much he hated us all. And then he stumbled. There was just enough moonlight for her to see he had stumbled over the old well. It had been sealed down for years, but for some reason, kids probably, the top had been pulled off and cast aside. Dudley was laid across the well on his back and struggling to get up. God help her Kate – she pushed him in.

  She said she would never forget the thud of his body hitting the bottom. The well was dried up of course had been for years and she told me the devil took hold of her and she put the lid back on so he would not be discovered.

  She told me this some months after it happened. She told me because she could not live with the guilt. There was so much talk of what had happened to him she could not get away from the memory of what she had done. She needed to get some forgiveness but she could not tell the vicar. She could not trust him to keep it to himself. So she told me. She said she knew she could trust me and if she did not get this off her chest she would burst. She was in a terrible state. They will hang me if they find out Tom. For my sake keep this to yourself she said.

  I was so worried someone might find him I went up and looked at the well one dark evening. I could see the cover had originally been secured with a metal bar across it and the ends had been screwed into the walls of the well. The original screws were missing, rusted away I assumed. My mother had replaced the cover and just put the bar back over the top and no one had noticed it was not screwed down anymore.

  I went back the next night with some tools and screwed the damn thing down. I did it to protect her. I could not let her hang. I knew if his body had been discovered she would have confessed, she was on the verge of confessing all anyway. And what would that have done to our family? I had to protect you and the children. It would have destroyed us – and all for that worthless bastard. It was down to me to keep this disaster from affecting our family more than it already had. I had no choice.

  But I felt you should know for your own peace of mind. But she absolutely refused to let me tell you. She did not trust you to keep her secret. I am so sorry. I tried to persuade her but she refused and she swore me to secrecy. What could I do?

  That is it Kate. That is all of it. I hope you can see now why I could never tell you. She got very jealous of you and did not like us being t
ogether – you know – like that. Unfair I know. In some strange way I think she blamed you for the rape. For being too pretty and too innocent about Dudley. Blamed you for making her kill her son. I realise that was nonsense. It was no one’s fault but his. I suppose she could not live with the guilt and needed a scapegoat. Unfortunately, you were it. I am so sorry. So very sorry.

  I gave her my solemn promise not to tell anyone, but I felt I owed you a duty to let you know that it was not me. I know you suspected me but I really did get blind drunk that night and had no memory of it. I had told you the truth.

  I saw a poem recently – yes I know do not die of shock – me reading a poem. But it was in the paper and I liked it. Part of it said

  Let love flow like a high river, not a struggling stream: proud and determined.

  In death I want to be that river. Proud and determined to tell you the feelings I could not tell you in life.

  With all my love forever.

  Tom

  I can’t breathe and clasp my chest. I think I am having a heart attack. The shaking increases and tears come, unstoppable, like my thoughts. I’d spent the best part of my life with Tom and Mrs Mallow and I now realise I’d never known them.

  I can’t take it in.

  And then anger bubbles up inside me and I feel like I’ll explode.

  ‘Nooo,’ I scream at the top of my voice.

  Both knew what had happened to that bastard and they didn’t tell me I had nothing to fear from him anymore. They let me live in terror of him suddenly turning up from behind some grotty corner or other.

  How could they have done that to me?

  So much for Tom’s love.

  I let my tears flow. I don’t want to keep anything inside any more. It needs to come out. I need to grieve for my lost life, for my what ifs.

  Time ceases to exist as I try to process this . . . this, betrayal, this cruelty. Did they think so little of me? The sacrifices I made for them both, and this is how they repaid me. It’s unbelievable.