When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by When the Clouds Go Rolling By (retail) (epub)

  Seb nodded in understanding. ‘I’ll never forget it. No one here knows what it was like. It takes time getting used to that and everything else.’

  ‘It’s been more difficult for you than me,’ said Freddie, hesitating before adding, ‘Have you heard anything from Clara?’

  ‘No. Alice wrote to Ma telling her that Clara had visited and wanted to see her, but we’ve heard no more from my cousin.’

  Freddie frowned. ‘I want to get in touch with her. I’ve visited the house but I don’t have the address. I wondered if you could let me have it.’

  Seb smiled. ‘Sure. She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?’

  Freddie smiled cheerily. ‘I like what I know of her so far.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to ask Alice for her address. You can do that when you pick me up on Friday. Best make it early if the funeral’s at eleven-thirty.’

  They said no more and parted at the gate.

  Chapter Seventeen

  March, 1919

  Gabrielle gazed at her reflection in the cheval mirror and twisted the waist of the calf-length black skirt round so that the kick pleat was in the centre. Then she adjusted the black felt hat with its sweep of ostrich feathers so that it slanted over one eye.

  ‘Not bad for a fifty-plus-year-old,’ she murmured, smiling and shaking her head, so that the ornate gold and diamond earrings old Mrs Waters had left her brushed her neck.

  There was a knock at the bedroom door. ‘There’s an automobile here, missus. It’s your son,’ called Mabel, who had worked at the farm since she was a girl.

  So he’s come, thought Gabrielle, relieved. She had convinced herself that, despite her invitation, he would stay away because she had not visited him. ‘Show him into the drawing room and give him a drink. Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes,’ she called.

  There was the sound of retreating footsteps.

  Gabrielle pulled on black suede gloves and picked up her handbag. A last look in the mirror and then she opened the door and left the bedroom. She descended the stairs with extra care because she was wearing new black patent leather high-heeled button boots. Already she was steeling herself for her first sight of Sebastian’s scarred face and knew she had to come up with a really good reason for not having visited him. She should have defied her husband and made the journey to Chester.

  As she reached the lobby the murmur of voices coming from the drawing room came to her ears. She had expressed a wish for those attending the funeral to go straight to the church and wondered who he was talking to. Could Alice possibly have come with him? The possibility filled her with dismay. Since that fracas in the crescent with Edie Black, she had felt her daughter-in-law could see beyond the posh façade she had adopted to the girl from the Liverpool slums beneath. Well, she was just going to have put on the act of her life. She pulled back her shoulders, tilted her chin and opened the drawing room door.

  Seb turned with glass in hand and stared at his mother. She returned his regard, taking in the silver eye patch before noticing the scars disfiguring the right side of his face. She flinched and put out a hand to steady herself.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to faint, Ma?’ he rasped.

  For a moment she could not speak, but then she regained control of herself. ‘My poor son! What you must have been through. I can’t bear to think about it,’ she said huskily, hurrying over to him with her arms outstretched.

  He put down his glass and warded her off with his left hand. ‘If you don’t mind, Ma, you’ve never been one for hugs and kisses, so there’s no need to start now.’

  Despite the truth of his words she was taken aback.

  ‘Nothing to say?’ rasped Seb, the muscles in his face tightening. ‘How about complimenting me on my eye patch? It was Freddie’s idea.’ He nodded in the young man’s direction. ‘I have one in black, but I thought, as this was a special occasion I’d ring the changes. I’m going to have a gold painted one for celebrations.’

  She cleared her throat and said brightly, ‘That’s a good idea. Quite theatrical.’

  ‘Glad you think so. You’re the expert when it comes to putting on a show. By the way, I hope you don’t mind my bringing Freddie with me. You might not remember that he’s Hanny’s younger brother. He drove me here.’

  She inclined her head, almost regally, in Freddie’s direction, remembering his sister, whom she had considered a sensible girl until she consulted Edie Black.

  Freddie said, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your husband, Mrs Waters.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, before giving her attention to her son once more. ‘I presume you can’t drive yourself because you’ve no sight in that eye?’

  ‘No, Ma,’ he said tersely. ‘The nerves in my right arm were damaged, so I have little strength in it. It’s possible I might have to have it amputated.’

  She felt sick inside. ‘I’d forgotten about your arm. You must have been calling me the most heartless mother on earth for not visiting you, but I had my reasons.’

  ‘They’ll have to be earth-shattering,’ said Seb in an icy tone.

  ‘I’ll tell you but first I need a drink.’ Somehow she managed to totter over to the enormous oak sideboard, which held bottles and glasses. She unscrewed a bottle of Navy rum and poured a small measure into a tumbler.

  Freddie glanced at Seb and said in an undertone, ‘Would you like me to wait outside so you can talk to your mother privately?’

  Seb shook his head. ‘I’d rather you stayed. Alice will want to know all that’s said and I might forget some of it.’

  Freddie nodded, wondering what Clara O’Toole would make of her aunt if she could see her now.

  Gabrielle downed half the rum and then turned to face her son with a bleak expression on her face. ‘I’m not one of those who believe in not speaking ill of the dead, so I’ll tell you the truth. Martin beat me and kept me a virtual prisoner on this farm. Even though he’s been dead for days, I still bear the bruises of the last time he hit me. I’d show you them but they’re in places…’ She did not finish but drank the rest of the rum.

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’ asked Seb, incredulously.

  Gabrielle nodded.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Since old Mrs Waters died.’ A note of bitterness crept into her voice. ‘He believed he should have inherited everything. He was furious that you got the house and a third of her money, so he took his frustrations out on me. I grew to hate it here but I couldn’t escape.’ She went and poured herself another tot of rum. Normally she limited herself to two drinks in the evening but during the past week had found herself topping her glass up a third and fourth time. She despised herself for needing alcohol to steady her nerves but she was haunted by what she had done to hasten her husband’s death. But other ghosts also hovered on the edge of her consciousness; Navy rum had been Seb’s father’s favourite drink and she kept imagining him meeting up with his brother in the spirit world and comparing notes about her.

  ‘I knew he begrudged me my inheritance but he had the farm and no children, so what need did he have of the Chester house? Anyway, Victoria would have inherited it, not him, if she had still been alive, so it naturally came to me after she died as Father had acknowledged me in his will as his son.’

  Seb’s words roused Gabrielle. ‘You don’t have to tell me that. Martin was a greedy, envious man and only wanted me because he wanted anything that had belonged to your father.’

  Her voice cracked and she gazed down into her glass.

  Seb protested. ‘It had to be more than that. You’re an attractive woman, Ma, and an excellent housekeeper. If only I’d known what was going on and how unhappy you were, I would have taken you away from here.’

  ‘From my legal husband? To live with you and Alice?’ Her dark eyes sparkled with anger and unshed tears. ‘He would have come after me. Besides, Alice and I living under the same roof would never work.’ She tossed off the rum and placed the glass on a tray before da
bbing the corners of her mouth with a lace handkerchief. Squaring her shoulders, she added, ‘Confession’s over. He’s dead now, I’ll say no more. You didn’t want to see him, did you? I mean, I’ve had the coffin lid screwed down. He wasn’t a pretty sight after being trampled on by the cattle.’

  Seb ran an unsteady hand through his hair. ‘So that’s how he died? You didn’t say in your letter. You must be relieved he’s dead?’

  Her only reply was a shrug of black-clad shoulders.

  Seb was silent for a moment and then said, ‘This puts a different complexion on things. What’ll you do after the funeral? Will you stay on here for a while?’

  ‘Holy Mary, no!’ Her voice was vehement. ‘A week, two maybe. Then I’m out of here.’

  ‘Will you come back to Chester?’

  ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’ She flashed him a tight smile. ‘I have no plans to be a burden to you and Alice.’

  ‘So where will you live?’

  Her dark brows snapped together. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been looking out for myself since I left home at thirteen.’

  The silence that followed those words did not last long.

  Seb said, ‘About your leaving home, did you get my letter? It would be in Alice’s handwriting.’

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly, and then her brow cleared. ‘I remember two letters arriving the morning Martin died. One was in Alice’s handwriting and the other I’d never seen before. I didn’t have a chance to read either of them so put them away somewhere. I can’t remember where. What did yours say?’

  Seb glanced at the clock. ‘Have we time to talk about this now?’

  ‘Mabel will tell us when the hearse comes,’ said his mother.

  ‘We had a visitor a few weeks ago,’ said Seb. ‘Her name was Clara O’Toole. She’s my cousin. If I’d been in any doubt about that, then seeing her proved to me my mistake. She’s the spitting image of what I reckon you must have looked like when you were young. She even has a look of me.’

  Gabrielle blinked at him in surprise. ‘How did she find you?’

  ‘Never mind that right now. I bet the other letter is from Clara, telling you that your mother’s health is bad and she wants to make her peace with you.’

  ‘Mam’s still alive!’ Gabrielle reached blindly for the bottle of rum again. ‘I thought the old bitch would be dead by now. That’s it. I’ve made up my mind. I’m definitely going now. I don’t want to ever see her again.’

  ‘Go where?’ asked Seb.

  But before Gabrielle could either answer or pour herself another drink, the door opened and Mabel popped her head inside and said, ‘The hearse is here, missus. Let’s hope to God you have a good turn out at the church. I bet that carriage and them black horses cost you a pretty penny.’

  ‘Mind your nose,’ snapped Gabrielle, banging down the bottle. Holy Mary, why had Sebastian had to tell her about her mam right now? Her emotions were in turmoil and she felt light-headed, yet somehow she had to get through this funeral and play the role of grieving widow to the hilt.

  She turned and stared at her son. ‘Come on if you’re coming. I’ve more on my mind right now than my bloody mother. Did you bring a wreath? If you have, give it to the undertaker.’

  ‘It’s outside in the porch.’

  ‘Good.’ She pointed a finger at Freddie. ‘He can deal with it. Now give me your arm.’

  Seb forced down his irritation and offered her his left arm. She slid her hand through it and then glanced up at the undamaged side of his face. ‘Right,’ she said on a sob. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  They walked out, followed by Freddie, who picked up the wreath. Seb climbed into the carriage with his mother while Freddie slid behind the steering wheel of the motor and followed after them at a snail’s pace.

  Seb had to admire his mother’s control and the manner in which she carried off the whole affair – in the church, at the graveside and afterwards at the farmhouse. From the way she spoke about Martin, it was difficult to believe that she had not loved him. Seb remembered what a relief it had been to him when his mother had married his father’s brother. He had not had to worry about her anymore and enjoyed years of freedom from her histrionics, for which he was grateful. Even so, he was shocked that the marriage had been such a sham and wondered why his mother seemed to specialise in relationships that went wrong. First, the one with the musician, Robbie Bennett, then the highly irregular affair with his natural father, Thomas Waters. Seb would never get over the revelation that he was his employer’s illegitimate son. He had walked out of the house after a row with his mother and within the week he and Alice were married and on a ship to Egypt. Thomas Waters had died whilst they were away and his mother disappeared. He wondered who she might have her eye on next.

  He watched her talking to an austere-faced priest in black robes. Well, she certainly could not marry him. Seb decided he’d had enough and, when Freddie approached and asked if they could leave soon as the narrow country lanes would be even more difficult to negotiate in the dark, Seb agreed.

  ‘I’m going to have to go, Ma,’ he said, strolling over to her.

  She looked up at him and he wondered if it was relief or regret he saw in her brown eyes. ‘If you must, son.’

  ‘You’ll visit us in Chester? There’s matters we need to discuss.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep in touch,’ said Gabrielle, holding up her face for him to kiss.

  His lips scarcely brushed her powdered cheek. Despite what she had told him about his Uncle Martin, he was still finding it difficult to believe that she could not have made the effort to visit him. ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ he said.

  She thanked him for coming and he left, wondering when he would see her again. He supposed he should have set a firm date, but told himself that she knew where to find him if she needed him.

  On the journey home Seb was silent, not wishing to distract Freddie from his driving. The surrounding fields and woods were shrouded in mist, and although it was only late afternoon, it felt as if night had already come. Freddie needed all his concentration to get them home safely.

  When they arrived back at the house, Seb invited Freddie inside for a hot drink. ‘Thanks,’ he said, removing his gloves and rubbing his cold hands. ‘I can’t stay long, though, I have to pick up Kenny from the yard. Besides, are you sure you don’t want to be alone with Alice to talk about your mother?’

  Seb smiled and shook his head. ‘I think I’ll need you to back me up in what I say.’

  They found Alice in the drawing room with Tilly and the children. Immediately, Georgie spotted his father and toddled over to him, holding up a wind-up car. Seb was getting adept at managing to lift his son single-handed and did so now. He was aware of James and Flora’s eyes on them and wondered what they were thinking as he blew a raspberry kiss against the back of Georgie’s neck. His son chuckled, he felt such a rush of love for him that it almost bowled him over. He doubted his parents had ever felt like that towards him and the thought hurt.

  ‘How did it go?’ asked Alice, placing the never-ending darning in the basket at the side of her chair.

  ‘Quite an occasion and I’ll tell you about it over a hot drink.’ He looked at Tilly. ‘How about it, love? One for me and Freddie. Perhaps you can take James and Flora with you, as well.’

  ‘Can’t we stay?’ asked James.

  ‘This isn’t for children,’ said Seb.

  The boy’s face hardened and he marched out of the room.

  ‘Why can’t we stay?’ asked Flora in a trembling voice. ‘Georgie’s staying and he’s younger.’

  ‘He’s only a toddler,’ said Seb, looking surprised. ‘He’ll get in the way in the kitchen.’

  ‘But we’d like to hear what the funeral was like and know what Granny said when she saw you.’ Her dainty pretty features were earnest. ‘Did she mention us, Daddy?’

  Seb hesitated. ‘Now her husband’s dead, I’m sure she’
ll come and see you. She was kept busy at the farm. Now you go with Tilly and give her a hand.’

  Tilly glanced at Freddie. ‘You coming to tell me what the funeral was like?’

  Before he could answer, Seb said, ‘I want him here.’

  ‘Oh!’ She looked put out but said no more and left the room with Flora.

  Alice looked up at Seb. ‘I’d best tell you before we go any further – a letter’s come for you from Oxfordshire.’

  He stiffened, guessing it was from the surgeon and his heart began to thud. He was desperate to read what he had to say but wanted to do so in private. ‘I’ll read it later,’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘I just thought you’d like to know. So what was your mother’s excuse for not coming to see you?’

  Seb told her what Gabrielle had said about Martin beating her.

  Alice was flabbergasted. ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

  Seb glanced at Freddie. ‘You were there. Isn’t that what Ma told us?’

  He nodded. ‘I had the impression she was telling the truth.’

  A sharp laugh escaped Alice. ‘She’s a good actress – always has been. We know she doesn’t always tell the truth. I can’t see her putting up with being beaten. It’s not as if she was a slip of a thing like my mother.’

  Seb put Georgie down on the floor and frowned. ‘I agree with Freddie. There was a ring of truth in what Ma said.’

  Alice pursed her lips and after a moment she said, ‘All right. So maybe there was some truth in what she said and Martin beat her. But can you honestly see your mother not fighting back and storming out of the house?’

  Absentmindedly, Seb rubbed his chin. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘But the farm is in the back of beyond, which does make it difficult for her to travel. She’s not intending to come and live here, so you don’t have to worry about that.’

  Alice said, ‘What about the letter I sent her? Has she read it?’