Moments of Time

by Gloria Cook

  * * *

  Alec took his empty mug – Emilia had made fresh tea for him – out to Sara, in the back kitchen, where she was washing up. ‘Sorry, hope you don’t mind a late one.’

  ‘Not at all.’ She took the mug from him. Set it down on the draining board. When he had gone she would lift the mug to her lips, put her mouth where his mouth had been.

  He didn’t go straight away. ‘Jim seems happier today. He was even whistling cheerfully a short while ago. Do you think he could have a new girl?’

  Sara took pleasure in him being confidentially close to her. And pleasure in smiling up at him. ‘Well, he might have. I found him writing something the other night and he went red in the face and quickly covered it up. I joked that it was a love letter. He told me to go away, but he wasn’t angry or anything.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad he’s more cheerful anyway. When you’ve finished here come to the den. I’ve developed the photos I took of you. I’d like you to see them.’

  She smiled again, deeper, making it last longer. ‘I’ll be there in just a minute. Alec.’

  He left on speedy steps. The way she now said his name, in a sentence on its own, somehow intimate, somehow possessive, disturbed him, because he liked it. A lot. So did the way she looked at him. And moved past him, always close. Sometimes a little bit too close, not touching him, but he’d feel the shadow of her warm young body. He had been going to give her some money for a new dress, to compensate for the one torn at the stile, but he had changed his mind. Somehow, doing that would have seemed like an intimate gesture. He felt that, for some silly reason, his intention might be misconstrued by Sara, and others. Yet he felt bad about not keeping to his promise to her. He wanted to promise her a lot of things. He tore himself away.

  Emilia was on her way to the back kitchen, to put on her outdoor shoes before going to the dairy. He swept a strong insistent arm round her waist, carried her along with him. ‘Got a moment, darling angel? There’s something I’m longing for you to see.’

  Sara choked back her disappointment to find her mistress in the den with Alec. Looking over the photographs of her by the stream in Long Meadow. It wasn’t right. Mrs Em had no right. The photographs were hers.

  ‘Oh, Sara, I had no idea Alec had taken these. They’re lovely.’ Emilia held one up to her, of her sitting down. ‘Jim will love this one of you. You look so lovely. We’ll get it framed for you to give to him. Alec’s thinking of entering the others in a competition. They fully deserve a prize, they’re about the best thing he’s ever done.’ Emilia smiled proudly at Alec and stretched up and kissed his face. ‘You’re so clever.’

  Sara looked at each study of herself, taking her time, proud to see the love that she had for the photographer shining out of her whole being. She held up one of those of her lounging on the bank of the stream for ages.

  Emilia thought she knew what was on her mind. ‘Yes, it’s a pity that one is slightly blurred. You must go out with Sara when you’ve got time, Alec, and take something like it again. You can borrow my silk stole, Sara, if you promise to be careful with it. Look, I really must get on with the goat’s cheese. Sara, mind you take your break before supper.’ To Alec, ‘I’ll see you later, darling.’ She didn’t glance at him before leaving, not with Perry’s image once more streaming into her mind, bringing with it the terrible new conflict that Selina’s advice had plunged her into.

  Alec could only smile briefly at Sara. He had never been at a loss about what to say to a woman before. He mustn’t think of Sara as being a woman. She was a girl. Sweet and innocent and vulnerable, but now it seemed she also had beguiling strengths, a combination he was drawn to. He had tried to end the business of these wretched, beautiful, haunting pictures, but now Emilia, of all people, had opened a way for him and Sara to get fully involved with them again, and not secretly this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Selina threw her bicycle down outside the stable at Ford House. She turned the ponies out into the little paddock and leaned on the fence; keeping still and expressionless, she watched them trot away, tossing their proud heads as if they were investigating the washed-through air. Then ripping her wet uniform from the fallen bicycle, she tore it to shreds.

  She entered the house by the kitchen. Mirelle saw the darkness in her, and with it something akin to the look Libby got when hurt or afraid after a bad dream. The old French woman left the bread she was making and invited Selina to come to her by patting her tiny, sloping shoulder. Selina came, and leant forward and pressed her face against the bony ridge. Mirelle felt her trembling, her upset, her rage. Then Selina mouthed slowly, so she could lip read, ‘I’ll tell you later, cherie.’

  Libby had been taking a geography lesson with her father. A relaxed affair, with her sitting on his lap on the settee while looking through a book on the British Empire, and he had told her how India had become Queen Victoria’s ‘jewel in the crown’. Libby had thought the queen, large and imposing in her wide black clothes, ugly, awesome and fascinating, putting her on par with Florence Nightingale, Grace Darling and Lady Astor, the first woman member of parliament to take her seat in the House of Commons, whom her Aunt Selina had told her about. ‘They were women who strove for higher things, who got things done, who were an example to the rest of us,’ Aunt Selina had said, and they were great and sensational in Libby’s young mind, these hard-working adventuresses, whom her aunt thoroughly approved of, and her aunt approved of few women.

  Perry closed the book. ‘That’s enough for one day, darling. The sun’s come out to play. Why not put your old shoes on and take Casper out to run about the garden?’

  Automatically they hugged, then Libby slipped down to the floor. ‘If I have a daughter when I grow up, Daddy, I’ll call her Victoria.’

  ‘Not Florence? Not Grace? Not Nancy?’ he laughed.

  Libby thought for a moment. ‘I might choose Emilia. Aunt Selina likes her a lot. She’s nice, isn’t she, Daddy?’

  ‘I think she’s very nice, Libby,’ Perry smiled. When alone he’d indulge in his memories of Emilia, his Em, every memory pleasant, wonderful, unique, precious.

  But Selina crept in and sat down close to him, and curled her bare feet up in under her, and roped her arms round his body and leaned her head against his neck. He knew her every mood; all being in the extreme. This time, however, something had distressed her on an unprecedented level. He could feel the violent buzz of the wrath barely contained inside her. She could so easily explode into bad temper of terrible proportions, but she also needed his care and reassurance and he gladly gave it to her. Enfolding her in his arms, lending her his strength.

  He let long moments pass. Wondering why she was wearing Emilia’s clothes. He put his nose to the blouse and could smell the sweet, divine essence of Emilia there. Selina must have got soaked to the skin on the way home. But why go to the farm first?

  Mirelle came in silently with a tray of coffee. Perry thanked her soundlessly. The maid caressed Selina’s unruly hair and withdrew. Perry waited another minute, then said, ‘Want some?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Can you tell me what’s happened?’ He employed his voice as softly as when comforting Libby.

  She clung to him a little bit more. ‘They threw me out.’

  ‘Who? Surely not—?’

  ‘Yes, the hospital authorities, blast them!’ It was as if some malevolent spirit was only just being checked inside her. Perry held her tighter, hoping he could forestall an outburst. ‘Someone informed Murray Sadler’s wife of our affair and she turned up at the office and caused a scene! She said she suspected there was something going on between us for some time, but now she’d got the proof. They promised the wretched bitch they would sort things out entirely to her satisfaction. The words were put very carefully to me, of course. They couldn’t risk a scandal. I was offered a sum of money as compensation to resign quietly and immediately. A generous sum, actually. I got the impression most of the money’s coming out of Mu
rray’s pocket. He’s staying on, of course. It’s not fair!’ She clamped Perry’s neck until it hurt, then suddenly she flung her arms high in the air, then she beat on a cushion.

  ‘I’m sorry, but in the circumstances, Selina, well, don’t you think you’ve come out of it pretty well? Sadler’s usually a skinflint. It’ll hurt him where he’ll hate it most, and that wife of his – I know of Mavis Sadler – she’ll make his life a misery.’

  Selina’s eyes were blazing. ‘Don’t you see what this looks like? That without news of the affair getting out it will be thought I was bustled out because of incompetence or something. I saw Murray later in the corridor. He walked past me as if I didn’t exist. And while I was packing up my things, one of those sanctimonious wretches had the nerve to come to my office, and he said he knew there were others on the premises who’d had the pleasure of me. Junior doctors and porters, and another important member of staff. Lying swine! It was exaggeration. He propositioned me, Perry. He said our needs were the same. And he asked me to meet him in some poky lodging room that he keeps just for that purpose. I told him to go to hell! Hypocrite! They’re all bloody hypocrites and I hate them! I hate them to death!’ She hurled the cushion against the mantelpiece. A china ornament of a fairy, bought for Libby’s fourth birthday, fell off and broke into several pieces.

  Perry puffed in irritation. ‘Selina, try to calm down.’

  ‘God, I hate this world! It’s a playground for men, where you get to make all the decisions and get off scot-free for your indiscretions. I wish I knew who it was who caused this trouble for me. I’d rip them to pieces.’ Suddenly she went limp and leaned against her brother again. ‘Those wretches.’ She muttered those same two words, with hate and hurt, for some time.

  Perry no longer wanted to give her comfort. Wanted instead to say a great many things to her. That she deserved her ‘roundabout’ dismissal. That he’d be furious if this brought embarrassment to their door. Then he thought of her being at home all the time. It would make it harder for him to see Emilia alone. Selina had latched on to Em, wanting her as a bosom friend. It would be close to impossible to be with Em in the way he ached for.

  ‘Try to think on the bright side, Selina. You’re free to start a new life now you’ve got a good sum of money of your own. Think about what you’d like to do.’ Please God, make it something that would put her at a distance for several hours every day.

  ‘Yes, that’s true, but I know already what I want to do. I’m going to get even in a way that’ll please me most. The medical profession needs more women in it, to break the stranglehold of pompous men, many with antiquated ideas and no ambition for progress in medicine. I’m going to train as a doctor. You’ve got contacts, Perry. With your recommendation, I could easily get into one of the best colleges, couldn’t I?’

  Selina leaving here for good and all the benefits it would bring was a thrilling prospect. ‘I’ll write to one of my old professors tonight. I think I know the very one who would be sympathetic towards your aims, Selina.’

  ‘You do that, you darling.’ Selina’s agitation was decreasing. ‘I’m in no particular hurry to leave here. I want to spend some time relaxing and lots of time with Libby. Pour the coffee, will you, before it gets cold.’

  Perry did so and when he passed a cup to Selina he felt the throbbing emotion still there in her hand. It would take hours, perhaps days, before her upset and anger fully dissipated.

  She drank the coffee down, helped herself to a second cup. Eyed Perry in the direct way that put him on his guard. What now? He realized then just how little his sister could be trusted and what a trouble she was to him, a drain on his peace of mind. ‘This will be the first time in ages I’ve been without a lover. As for you, Perry, I’m glad she provides you with all that you need… Emilia.’

  In one terrible second all the colour drained from his face. From the way Selina had mouthed her last sentences there was no point in him denying he loved Emilia or how far their love had gone.

  Selina stroked his cold, stricken face. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t make it hard for you to meet her. In fact, with me about more to be with Libby it will make it easier for you both. I’ll cover for you. Em can say she’s meeting me when in fact she’ll be meeting you. We’ve both got a fresh start, Perry. Come on, smile. I promise I’ll make things work out for us. I’ll go up now and change, then take Libby and Casper for a long walk. It will be wonderful being a proper family for a while. Won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Selina,’ Perry gave the answer she wanted to hear. There was no hope of them ever being a proper family. She must have confronted Emilia too, it was why she had gone to the farm. He should have denied it, but that would have made Selina angry. In her current state of emotion he must use all his wits to avoid that or Selina might do something rash, or even deliberately cruel, to make both him and Emilia suffer.

  While Selina and Libby went laughingly off with the puppy, he was left alone with his fears and dejection. And despair. It had seemed so simple, loving Emilia, wanting her, winning her. But their affair couldn’t last. He had always known it, of course, but the mind was weaker than the heart, and a marvellous vehicle at not facing up to cold, honest truths. Libby could end up being hurt beyond measure, and Emilia had more to lose than he did. She may have already made up her mind to end it with him. If she had not, because he loved her so much, because he would never do anything to risk her getting hurt, he must disentangle himself from her life. If he could ever find the strength to do it.

  * * *

  Tris had finished his business with Mr Harrison Arscott, an elderly gentleman who lived in a small grey house in Quay Street. Mr Arscott had read his advertisement in the West Briton, and now that he was tragically left with no one to inherit his worldly goods he wanted to part with the few poignant effects of his grandson, sent home after he had fallen at the Somme.

  In a large box, meticulously wrapped in brown paper and knotted with new string, Tristan carried a biplane made out of a 75mm shell case, French in origin, skilfully sculpted from scrap metal, the propellers made from cigar box wood. Mr Arscott had no idea how his grandson had come by it, but he had been happy and satisfied that it was going to a dedicated collector who would carefully catalogue its origins and previous owners. Tristan could hardly wait to show it to Jonny. He would be fascinated by this worthy addition to his inheritance. Which, hopefully, would make him feel special and a much wanted son.

  Now to treat him with something he could play with today. Tristan popped into a toy shop and bought a red kite, aptly and cleverly shaped like an aeroplane. He chose a skipping rope for Vera Rose, a football for Will, and for Tom, a sweet little brown teddy bear. He was coming out of the florists, next door, armed with a wealth of yellow roses for Winifred – they were a particular favourite of hers. The roses in her garden, growing so close to the coast, didn’t always do so well. Now he was anxious to reach Ford Farm to see how she was faring. He never mentioned it to anyone, but after losing one wife in childbirth, he was so afraid Winnie might die during labour, and every day, in spite of longing for the child, he berated himself for not taking precautions.

  He was suddenly pulled up sharp on his feet, making an old war wound in his ankle bite painfully. He gasped, not so much from pain but irritation. A lady, tall, refined and fair, holding the hand of a shy little girl with a noticeable red mark on her face was there in his path.

  Tristan shifted his purchases into one arm and lifted his trilby. ‘Good afternoon, Polly.’

  Sombrely, Polly inclined her head in its velvet cloche with a tiny blue feather. ‘Tristan. It’s not often you’re in this neck of the woods.’

  ‘No, not usually. I’m in rather a hurry. If you’ll excuse me…’

  Polly’s cool demeanour was replaced by flame-fuelled indignation. ‘I’ve no wish to speak to you either, not ever in fact, but no, I’ll not excuse your belligerence towards someone very dear to me. I find your attitude a disgrace.’

  ‘Aunt Poll
y, what’s the matter?’ Louisa hid behind her.

  Polly propelled her towards the adjoining shop. ‘It’s a grown-up thing, darling. Nothing you need be concerned about. You go on into the toy shop. Ask Miss Trewoon if the furniture we ordered for your doll’s house has arrived. Tell her I’ll be along directly.’

  Louisa stared nervously up at the tall, thin man as she edged past him. Jonny Harvey’s father wasn’t nice and full of fun like Jonny himself. ‘Don’t be long, Aunt Polly.’

  ‘I can’t think what we could possibly have to say to each other.’ Tristan chose attack rather than defence.

  ‘Oh, can’t you? People often say you are the most pleasant of the Harvey brothers. I don’t see how. Would you mind explaining why you treat Louisa with such obvious contempt? She’s noticed it, it upsets her, and I won’t go on putting up with it. Do you understand?’

  People were staring. She had been steadily raising her voice, getting more and more angry with him. ‘We can hardly talk about this in the street, Polly.’

  ‘Where then?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it at all.’

  The determined switching off in his dark eyes was reminiscent of Alec’s habit of drifting off, and the stubborn set in his narrow jaw was so like the stubbornness in Ben, and with his anger and distaste evident in the very stamp of him, Polly wanted to smash a hand across his face. ‘How dare you be so offensive! I would make a scene here and now if not for Louisa waiting for me. You’ve never stayed at your homes long enough to know what it’s like to be a parent, Tristan Harvey. I love Louisa as if she was my own flesh and blood. Alec, Emilia and Ben have included her in their lives and if you don’t like it then it’s too bad. If you don’t change your attitude towards her – and it isn’t as if you actually see her often, is it? – I’ll complain to them about your beastliness. Your son will then see he has good reason to prefer Alec to you!’