by Jess Foley
‘Oh, indeed that is grand, Lily.’ Joel lightly slapped the tabletop with his palm. ‘I’m very happy for you.’
‘Thank you. But I couldn’t have got it without the help of Miss Balfour. I owe her so much.’ She paused. ‘Anyway – what about you? Have you finished at Cambridge?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I finished this past summer. I’m working for a firm in Corster now. Not for that long, though. I shall be going to work for my father soon, but he wants me to have a little more experience out in the world first. So I’m working with a law firm that my father has employed for many years. They’re well established.’
‘Are you happy there? Do you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, very much. It’s hard work, but it’s fascinating. There’s never a dull moment.’
‘Good. Good. Your family – are they all well?’
He lowered his glance. ‘My brother, Crispin – he – he died.’ His voice cracked on the last words, and Lily could see that tears were not that far from his eyes.
‘Oh – Joel,’ she breathed, ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry to hear that.’
He sat with lips compressed, as if not trusting himself to speak. Then after a few moments he said, ‘He caught pneumonia. Just last winter. We were amazed. A young man, going like that. My father – it all but destroyed him. And my mother. I don’t think they’ll ever get over it.’
‘Joel . . .’ Lily struggled to find words. ‘I’m so sorry, so very sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ He said nothing more for a few moments, but sat looking down into his cup. A few other patrons came into the room and took seats at nearby tables. Joel drew a deep breath, then raised his head and smiled. ‘We mustn’t dwell on sad things,’ he said. ‘What about your family? How is your brother Tom? Do you hear from him?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘he writes only rarely. He’s in Halls Haven, working on a farm there. He’s only ever happy being outdoors. He’d go mad cooped up in an office.’ She drank again. ‘What is the time? I can’t stay too late.’
Joel took out his watch. ‘It’s quarter-to-five.’
‘I shall have to go soon,’ she said. ‘Miss Balfour will be wondering what’s keeping me.’
‘I’m keeping you,’ he said. He smiled, and then his smile faded and his expression became grave once more. ‘Oh, Lily,’ he said, ‘I’ve thought about you so much.’
His words, out of the blue, took her completely by surprise. ‘Oh – Joel . . .’
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I haven’t changed at all. Not in the way I feel. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.’
For a moment her breath was held. She realised that it was all she wanted to hear – but she must say nothing. So far she had managed to remain on relatively safe ground, but here the going was perilous and she would have to watch her step.
Joel was looking at her with an intense expression, his eyes fixed on her own. ‘No, I don’t want anyone but you.’ He gave a sad little shake of his head. ‘But maybe that’s my tragedy.’
She could not look at him, but kept her eyes lowered to her hands as they lay clenched together on the edge of the table.
‘I think I’ve loved you since the day I first met you,’ he said. ‘When I went into that office and found you with your basket and the book you’d found on the park bench.’ Now he smiled, and she could hear it in his voice. ‘I’d never met any girl like you, Lily, and I never have since.’ Leaning forward, he reached across the table and laid his broad palm upon her upper hand. ‘You must know I love you. I don’t think that could ever change.’
She sat there, feeling the touch of his hand on hers. Her mind was in a whirl, and she was already in over her head.
‘Do you believe me?’ he said.
Her nod was barely there. ‘Yes,’ she murmured.
‘Well, it’s true.’ He gave an ironic smile. ‘I thought I’d learnt quite a bit over those years before we met, you know. Like all young men of my age, I thought I had it all worked out. I thought I knew it all.’ He paused. ‘But I didn’t. I didn’t know anything about love, Lily. Because I didn’t know about you.’
After a few moments he withdrew his hand, and sat back. Gazing steadily at her, he asked, ‘I wonder – how you feel about me, Lily.’
‘Oh . . .’ She hardly trusted herself to speak.
‘You told me just now there’s no one else in your life. That is the truth, is it?’
She gave the shadow of a nod. ‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘Ah, that makes me so happy. And now – being with you here, when I thought I would never see you again . . .’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve been brought together in the strangest way, and now that I’ve found you again – I’d rather not let you go.’
She sat in silence. She could never have dreamt of hearing such sweet words.
He went on: ‘I’m twenty-four now, Lily, and I’m doing well. I’m getting experience in the law business and I’m also spending time at the stores in Corster and Bath. Now that Crispin has gone my father’s going to expect a lot more of me, and it won’t be that long before I leave the law firm and devote all my time to the stores, here and in France, and –’ He broke off, frowning. ‘You told me, Lily, that we’re oceans apart, and that we can have no future, but you must not believe that. You cannot – because you’re wrong.’
She sat in silence.
‘I tell you now,’ he said, ‘I have a good future before me, and it’s you I want to share it with. No one else but you.’ He gave a little shake of his head. ‘Oh, Lily, you can’t imagine the torment I went through today. When I turned in my seat on the train and saw you – saw you in the other train, separated from me by just a couple of windows – well – I didn’t know what to do. Then I got off here at Hanborough and began to wait on the platform – hoping you’d understood my message and would turn up on the next train coming in. But I had no idea how you felt about me. You might not have wanted to see me again. Then – then you were there – and I knew you cared. I knew, even after all you’d said in your letter, that you cared.’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes – I do.’
‘Ah . . .’ he breathed, ‘I’ve so wanted to hear you say those words. It’s what I’ve dreamt of.’ He leant forward in his chair. The tea was forgotten, as were the murmuring voices of the other patrons. ‘Oh, Lily,’ he said, ‘I don’t intend to let you go – not now that I’ve found you again.’
She sat silent. These were the words she wanted to hear, but everything was moving so fast.
‘I’m going to do well, Lily,’ he said. ‘It’s early days for me yet, with the business, I know, but I’ve got ambition, and I’m going to do well. My father has great faith in me – in fact he’s put all his hope in me now – and I know – oh, I know – that with you beside me I shall be able to do anything.’ His smile was broad and joyous. ‘Oh, I’m so happy, Lily.’ He sat back in his chair, beaming. ‘I’m so happy. And listen – I shall soon take you to see my parents. My father is a strict, God-fearing man, but he’s fair and good, and once he knows you he’ll love you, I know.’
Lily remained still for long seconds while the thoughts and emotions tumbled through her brain and her heart. ‘Joel,’ she said at last, ‘there’s something you must know . . .’
‘Something I must know . . .?
She nodded. ‘Something I must tell you.’
‘Yes . . .?’ He was smiling. ‘What is that, then?’
She did not smile in response; she could not. She continued to sit there, while words formed in her mind and then fled. She picked up her cup and sipped at the cold tea. As she set it down again, she looked up once more to face him.
‘Something . . . something happened,’ she said.
His smile remained, but was now touched with concern. ‘What do you mean, something happened?’
‘To me.’
He waited. ‘Well – what? What was it?’
As Lily took a breath, the door was suddenly flung open, and with loud, raucous voices
, three young people burst in, at the same time letting in a sharp draught of cold air. Lily’s unuttered words became frozen in her throat. Laughing loudly, the trio settled themselves boisterously at the next table, their voices ringing out in the quiet of the room.
‘Go on,’ Joel said. ‘What were you about to tell me?’
She gave a brief shake of her head. ‘No.’ She could not speak of it; she should have kept silent.
‘What is it?’ Joel said. ‘What is it you have to tell me?’
‘No.’ Lily spoke softly under the loud voices of their neighbours. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Into her mind came the thought, not new, that Joel did not have to know. Why should he? Her son, her boy, was gone out of her life, and would never enter into it again. He was gone.
Leaning closer, Joel said, raising his voice a little, ‘What happened that’s so terrible? Tell me. Which bank did you rob? Whom did you murder?’
She sat for some moments as if stricken, unable to stir. Then she snatched up her gloves and began to pull them on. ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have to get back. Miss Balfour – she’ll wonder where I am.’
Joel’s light expression faded, and he frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I must get to the station.’ She finished pulling on her gloves and picked up her bag and umbrella. Already she was rising from her seat, turning away. Quickly standing up after her, Joel dropped some coins onto the tablecloth, and moved to follow her. A few seconds more and they were passing out of the warm into the chill November afternoon.
The sky above had grown darker, a cold wind had sprung up and came gusting along the street. Carried on the wind were drops of rain. Together, Lily and Joel stepped into the road and, after waiting for the passing of a slow-moving horse and carriage, set off towards the station entrance.
When they reached the platform Joel made enquiries of an attendant and came back to Lily’s side to say that a train was due in fifteen minutes.
She was relieved to hear it. She was desperate to escape from the situation into which she had so carelessly cast herself.
The few drops of rain had ceased, and now only the damp wind blew upon them. Joel moved to the door of the waiting room, looked in and said, turning back to Lily, ‘It’s too full. Let’s go somewhere else.’
Fixed to one of the nearby station offices was an awning, and beneath it, against the wall, a bench. ‘Let’s go and sit over there,’ he said, gesturing. They moved across the platform and sat down side by side. ‘We’ll be out of the wind here,’ Joel said. He put his leather case and newspaper at his side on the wooden seat, and Lily did likewise with her bag and umbrella. Before them on the platform a scattering of leaves scuttled past. Lily watched as they were blown off onto the track. She could think of no words.
‘All right,’ she heard him say, ‘what is it? Now that we can hear ourselves speak.’
She knew she would have to go through with it, but she sat in silence, not trusting herself to speak a word, afraid of what, once begun, must be said.
‘Lily,’ he said, ‘what is it? Is it something you’ve done?’
She did not reply.
‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing on earth you could tell me that could make any difference. Don’t you believe that? Nothing you tell me is going to make you a different girl in any way from the girl I know – the girl I know and love.’
At his words, and seeing the expression on his face, she felt a greater relaxing in her heart and in her mind. Perhaps, after all, everything would be all right.
‘Will you believe that?’ Joel said. ‘Please.’
She gave a slow nod. ‘Yes . . .’ She paused. ‘Do you mean it, Joel? That it doesn’t matter – that there’s nothing I can say that will change anything?’
‘Of course I mean it,’ he said at once. ‘Oh, Lily, how can you ask?’
She gave a little nod, still so uncertain. ‘Well – what I have to tell you . . .’ She heard her voice speaking the words as if she were listening to the words of another. ‘Joel, it – it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t. Believe me.’
‘What are you talking about? What wasn’t your fault?’ He peered intently at her, but at the same time with a half smile of amusement. ‘Tell me.’
She was committed now, and he was waiting, waiting to hear. She dropped her gaze from his and took a deep breath, looking out across the line. ‘There is a child,’ she said at last.
‘A child?’
‘A child, yes. A boy.’
Joel gave a nod, frowning. ‘Yes . . .?’
A long moment. ‘Mine,’ she said, hearing the word escape from her lips.
His frown deepened. ‘Yours? I – I don’t understand. A child? You say he’s yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘But – how can that be . . .?’
She did not answer.
Perplexity was etched into his face. After a moment he said: ‘Are you telling me that – that you have a child?’
‘Yes – I am telling you that.’ She spaced the words. ‘I have a son.’
‘A son.’ The words were spoken with a slight note of wonder in the tone.
‘Yes.’
In the quiet of the November afternoon Joel’s voice broke on a breathless little laugh, a sound full of uncertainty. ‘I – I find this difficult to comprehend,’ he said. ‘You mean it, do you? You’re quite serious in telling me this? You have a child.’ He was repeating the words as if still he could not take them in.
She nodded.
‘You never spoke of this before,’ he said.
‘Before?’ She turned to face him now.
‘Well – when we met over all those weeks in the summer of last year – you made no mention of it.’
‘I didn’t have him then – my boy. He came later.’
He continued to stare at her, his mouth slightly open. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It – it’s too much to take in. I know you’ve never been married – and yet here you are, telling me you’ve had a child.’
She did not speak. A movement on the periphery of her vision drew her head a little to the right, and she observed a man and a woman approaching along the platform. Oh, let them not come close, she prayed, and was relieved to see them come to a halt some yards away, but then she saw that there were others following them: a woman and two young children, then a stout, middle-aged man. The train must be due, would soon be coming in.
Joel, also aware of the appearance of the other travellers, leaned forward on the bench. ‘This is – a shock to me, Lily,’ he said. ‘I can’t take it in. Tell me – when did this – happen?’
‘You mean my – my baby?’ She turned to face him again now.
He nodded.
‘Well, he’s just over six months now. He was born in early May.’
‘So,’ Joel said, peering at her, his brow furrowed, ‘you were with the father – the child’s father – while you were seeing me.’ He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. ‘Dear God,’ he muttered.
At this Lily gave a little cry. ‘Oh, no – don’t say that! That’s not the way it was. You see – ’
‘It must have been,’ he cut in. His pained gaze did not flinch from her face. ‘I think I see now, working out the time. That was the reason you wrote to me as you did, breaking off our – our friendship. Because of your – situation. I guess you couldn’t do anything else.’
‘Well, yes – that is so. But the rest of it – ’
‘Your situation with the – expecting the child – and your relationship with him – the other man . . .’
‘Oh, Joel – no!’ Lily’s voice, though soft, was full of passion. She leant forward, one hand reaching out to him. ‘You have to let me explain. There was no other man, no other lover.’
A voice broke in: ‘Excuse me . . . may I?’
The stranger’s voice came from beyond Lily’s right shoulder. She started slightly, turned, and saw an elderly woman standing beside the bench with a package in her hands.
‘D’you mind if I sit down?’ the woman asked.
‘No. No, of course not.’ Lily shifted along on the seat, and pulled her bag and umbrella nearer, making room. As the woman sat down, Lily noticed that several others were arriving on the platform.
Joel glanced at them. ‘The train’s due any second,’ he said.
Lily shook her head. ‘We – we’ve got to talk. There’s more I have to tell you.’ She tried to keep her voice steady, while at the same time she felt she might burst out weeping. As she finished speaking there came on the wind the distant sound of the train approaching.
Joel and Lily did not move as the train pulled in. They sat in silence as it came to a stop, watching as the waiting travellers advanced, as passengers alighted from the carriages, and others climbed on board. They continued to sit there while the guard blew his whistle and the train pulled out. With Joel at her side, Lily stared ahead of her as the sound of the smoke puffing from the smokestack faded along the track. She and Joel sat isolated and exposed.
Why had she spoken? she asked herself. It had been madness. She should have kept silent, and Joel would have been happy in his ignorance. True, she would have had to bear the knowledge of his ignorance, but it would have been a price worth paying, if they could have been happy. Yes, she should have held her secret, and with it she would have preserved her image. It had been there, that promise of happiness, coming out of the blue on this miraculous day, and she had wantonly thrown it away. She put a hand to her forehead, bent her head and closed her eyes. How ironic it was. So many times she had dreamt of a chance of finding Joel again, and today it had happened. Fate had stepped in and arranged it in the most bizarre fashion, and at last they had come together again. And now, after all the promise inherent in their meeting, they sat in silence, just two feet apart and separated by an unbridgeable gulf.
‘I have to tell myself,’ Joel said at last into the quiet, ‘that you wouldn’t lie to me about such a thing.’