The Golden Cup

by Marcia Willett

  She stared at him. ‘We’re not brother and sister,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m just taking that in. It’s crazy but I still can’t quite accept it. You aren’t my brother.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s … not believable, is it? I’m not Emma but Lottie. I asked you about Lottie, do you remember?’

  He shrugged helplessly. ‘What could I do? I’d promised Mutt.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not blaming you,’ she said quickly, ‘but she called my name at the end, Bruno. She said it several times. Do you think she was remembering?’

  ‘Probably. Who can say? After all, she remembered the letters that had lain hidden all those years.’

  A short silence.

  ‘If Joss hadn’t read them, would you have ever told me?’

  Bruno was silent for a moment. ‘I would have kept my promise to Mutt,’ he said at last.

  She gave him a little smiling shrug. ‘Well, it’s no longer relevant,’ she said. ‘But if there had been some sort of trouble over the will, say that Ray had tried to force his plan to develop the boatyard, would you still have kept Mutt’s secret?’

  He made an odd snorting noise. ‘I simply don’t know. It would have become very difficult should Pamela and Rafe have been in any danger of losing their home. As it happens the problem doesn’t arise. Mutt has left Paradise to you, just as we thought she would, and The Lookout, The Row and the boatyard are left to me. She clearly hadn’t thought about Inheritance Tax.’

  ‘Ray was worried about Inheritance Tax,’ Emma said. ‘He was hoping to find the will to see how things were left and how it could be paid.’ She frowned, puzzled. ‘I suppose Dan’s arrival reminded her of the letters. Poor fellow. It’s sad, isn’t it, that after all his efforts he didn’t get to see Mutt? So near and yet so far. But why ask Joss to find the letters? Why not you? Surely that was the obvious thing to do?’

  ‘I have a theory about that,’ answered Bruno. ‘I put it to Joss that Mutt knew the time had come for the truth to be told but couldn’t bring herself to face it. I think that, when she told Joss about the letters, subconsciously she was hoping they’d be read.’ He laughed drily, remembering. ‘God, I was angry when Joss told me. All these years of secrecy and all the time the letters had been lying there for anyone to find.’ He paused. ‘Joss has coped remarkably well, I must say.’

  ‘George has helped,’ murmured Emma with a rather wistful smile. ‘I always hoped that Joss would have Paradise. Well, things have changed, haven’t they?’

  ‘I have great hopes that she and George will live at Paradise,’ he told her gently. ‘The way I see it, Emma, you still have rights, because of all that you and Mutt have done for us, and I hope to honour that. Put it this way: if our positions were reversed – if you were Hubert’s child and I were Mutt’s son – would you turn me out of The Lookout now? Would you feel differently about me or expect me, having read the letters, to assume that our shared past counted for nothing? No, I can see you wouldn’t. But, if we’re talking legally, then yes, things have changed.’

  ‘Ray will have a fit.’ She managed a little laugh. ‘Never mind. He’ll probably understand Mutt’s motives. He might well have done the same in her position. So what will happen now?’

  He explained to her how his grandfather’s will could be re-proved so as to prevent paying Inheritance Tax twice and she listened intently whilst he explained his idea of giving Rafe and Mousie their cottages, to save future tax, and his wish to leave the rest of the estate to Joss and George.

  ‘I look upon them as my children,’ he told her. ‘Anyway, I promised Mutt I’d look after Joss and I intend to do it if she’ll let me.’

  Emma looked at him with gratitude. ‘I don’t mind for myself,’ she told him. ‘I never wanted Paradise except for Joss. Bless you, Bruno. She’ll be prickly about it, though, and what about Olivia and Joe? Won’t they think it smacks of favouritism if George takes over Paradise, even with Joss?’ She straightened in her chair, the whole reality of her new situation dawning upon her. ‘They’ll all have to know, I suppose?’

  ‘I think so, Em.’ He watched her compassionately. ‘If only for Joss’s sake, I think that the family must know. Pamela and Rafe will be her parents-in-law and you know how she hates subterfuge and lying.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She was remembering her daughter’s face when she’d returned from her walk with George and the donkeys: that expression of joyous freedom after the strain of hiding the secret of her love for him for so long. ‘Yes, you’re quite right. Won’t that make it even more difficult with the other children? After all, Joss has no legal rights at all, now.’

  Bruno shook his head. ‘I don’t think it will,’ he said. ‘I’ve had an idea about it. Supposing George buys Paradise with whatever sum he raises on his house in Meavy? Nobody need know the figure, need they? It will between me and George, and any shortfall will be my wedding present to them. After all, it’s not as if Joe or Olivia would ever want Paradise; at least, not to live in themselves. What do you think?’

  Her eyes were full of tears. ‘Bless you, Bruno,’ she said. ‘What can I say?’

  Before he could answer they heard someone open the front door and shut it with a slam, as if it had slipped from nervous fingers; a short silence followed and then quick footsteps crossed the hall.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Joss rushed into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with anxiety.

  ‘Mum,’ she said anxiously. ‘Are you OK? Mousie caught me on the way home …’

  Emma was on her feet, her arms wide, and they held each other tightly.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she said, half laughing, half in tears, ‘what a shock it was. We’ve just been talking it over and I’m still all of a tremble. However did you manage so bravely?’

  Joss held her at arm’s length, studying her. ‘You’re really OK?’ She let out a great gasp of relief. ‘Thank God, then. Mousie was right.’

  ‘Mousie?’ Emma looked puzzled.

  ‘I was afraid you’d be really devastated but Mousie said that I was underestimating you and that you’d admire Mutt for her strength and courage and you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘And she was right.’ In her daughter’s presence Emma was quickly regaining her composure. ‘I think that Bruno might be right too in suggesting that subconsciously Mutt was hoping you’d read the letters and there would be no more need for secrecy.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Joss looked almost shocked. ‘I wish I could believe it. And you really don’t mind …?’ She glanced anxiously at Bruno, wondering how much her mother had truly grasped.

  ‘We’ve talked about re-proving the original will,’ he told her, ‘and we’re all agreed on how we can go forward.’

  ‘Dad will make a fight of it,’ warned Joss. ‘Oh, yes he will, Mum.’

  ‘I think he’ll accept it,’ Emma answered quietly. ‘He’s a businessman first and foremost, and it’s from that angle that he’s always looked upon St Meriadoc. He can’t help himself, dear old Ray, he sees everything from the standpoint of its financial potential, but we mustn’t forget that he’s always had our welfare at heart, Joss. Oh, I know his values are different ones, he can’t understand the need for solitude or a desire for spiritual growth, but I think you’ll find he’ll accept the new order quite cheerfully once he knows the truth.’

  She spoke with dignity and neither of them opposed her but remained silent, impressed by her calm defence.

  ‘I hope that’s true,’ said Bruno at last. ‘However, it would help enormously if we could find Goblin Market and the certificates. At least we can look now without upsetting anyone. I wish I knew where to start.’

  ‘Oh.’ Emma’s eyes flew wide with the shock of a sudden realization. ‘I bet it’s in the parcel. Of course. So that’s what’s in it.’

  Before their astonished gaze, she went to the dresser, took out the package and pushed it across the table to Bruno. He untied the string with difficulty, trying to control the trembling of his fingers. The pap
er cover was illustrated with strange Rackhamesque figures, its boards were hardly thicker than card, the pages were cut. He opened it carefully, first removing the envelope attached to the back cover with a strong paper clip.

  ‘It’s a first edition,’ he said, examining it reverently. ‘It cost five shillings. A great deal of money for a little girl to save.’ He passed the book to them, opened at the title page so that they could read the inscription:

  To my sister Madeleine

  On her fifteenth birthday

  With my love

  Vivian

  Emma turned the pages with gentle fingers, Joss watching over her shoulder, whilst Bruno read the letter that accompanied it.

  Paradise

  June 1948

  My darling Bruno,

  This is for you when you grow up because it is only fair that you should have the things inside it in case of some emergency in the future. I should have liked this book to go to Emma but I wouldn’t be able to explain the inscription and so it might cause trouble. Keep it safe for me.

  Please forgive me if I have done you any harm, my dear boy. I have only wished to make you happy but, as you get older, you’ll find that we are all fallible and we damage others quite by mistake.

  Thank you for your love, it means a great deal to me. I hope you know how much I love you in return.

  Mutt

  Deeply moved, Bruno stood up, smiling with some difficulty, folding the letter in with the other documents.

  ‘I’m going to leave you now,’ he said rather abruptly. ‘I’d like to have a look at these documents, and you both need some time together. I’ll come up tomorrow morning. Oh, and the book is for you, Emma. Mutt says so in this letter.’

  He went out quickly whilst they stared after him.

  ‘It’s just as bad for him,’ said Joss after a moment. ‘Poor Bruno. All those memories.’

  Emma turned back to the book, rereading the writing on the title page, and then picked up a photograph from the table. Together they looked at Madeleine and Vivian, smiling happily in the sunny garden, and then at each other.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ said Emma shakily, ‘what a day it’s been.’

  ‘It takes an awful lot of adjusting to,’ said Joss – but she looked happy, freed now from the need to dissemble. ‘I think the worst is over, though, apart from explaining it all to Dad, and the miracle is that we’re both still here, at Paradise.’

  Mousie was sitting at her gate-legged table, watching the sunset. The wind had died to a gentle breeze and the western sky was scorched and stained with a vivid crimson fire that ran in flaming watery tongues along the horizon, dyeing the sea with brilliant colour. Dazzled by the spectacle she sat peacefully, reviewing the last few hours with a kind of contentment. It had taken Dan some time to understand Madeleine’s story and Mousie had needed all her tact and authority to make the account true yet acceptable to him.

  Still shaken by the turn of events, but trying to come to terms with this new light shed upon his great-aunt, he’d gone away with the hope that the result of his search was not the disaster he’d first feared.

  ‘It was time,’ she’d told him. ‘Bruno was right about that. I’m sorry that you didn’t meet Madeleine but that was her decision and I think she was right. You must read the letters, Dan. They’ll tell you far more about her than I can.’

  They’d talked for a while and she’d seen that his quest was no idle whim born out of curiosity but, rather, a sincere desire to find out as much as he could about his great-aunt. As she’d grown older, his grandmother had told him a great deal about Madeleine, describing their shared childhood to him and revealing a hitherto hidden guilt that she had failed her sister when she’d most needed her.

  ‘I meant no harm coming here,’ he’d said remorsefully. ‘Quite the opposite. I hoped I could go home with some positive news about Great-Aunt Madeleine, even though it was too late for Grandma Viv. I had no intention of setting the cat among the pigeons.’

  ‘It was too late for both of them,’ she’d answered, ‘but not too late for us. You haven’t done us harm, Dan, trust me.’

  He’d muttered that Emma must be deeply shocked; it was clear that during their short space of time together he’d already grown fond of Emma and his anxiety for her touched Mousie.

  ‘She’s your cousin,’ she reminded him cheerfully. ‘She and Joss. That’s a good thought, isn’t it? You won’t go back home empty-handed, after all, but with a whole new family. And, if I know Emma, she’ll want to know all about you and Mutt’s relations. What fun it will be.’

  It was to his credit, she thought, that he didn’t outstay his welcome but took his leave when enough had been said on either side and to delay further would have begun to be embarrassing. Evidently he had no desire to be present should any other member of the family arrive to discuss this extraordinary disclosure and Mousie was relieved to see him go, feeling strongly that Bruno might arrive before too long.

  He came at last, knocking on the door and then calling her name as he entered the hall. She continued to sit at the table, waiting for him, and presently he laid the envelope in front of her.

  ‘Emma had this all the time,’ he said. ‘She found it in the drawer where Mutt had put the letters but this was all wrapped up in a parcel and addressed to me. She was waiting until after the funeral in case it contained something that might cause trouble between me and Brer Fox.’

  ‘Was Goblin Market with it?’ Mousie did not touch the envelope.

  ‘Yes, it was just as Mutt said. She’d written me a letter … Well, you can read it for yourself.’

  He sat down, whilst Mousie took the sheet of paper and felt for her spectacles, resting his elbows on the table and staring seawards. He made no attempt to open the envelope either, but sat quite still whilst she read the letter.

  Presently Mousie took off her spectacles and folded the paper, wondering just how difficult it would be for him to see those official reports of his family’s deaths after so many years of denial. A long silence fell between them. The light was fading now, shadows gathered in the corners of the room, and one brilliant star hung low over the horizon. The sea poured in, the tide rising over the rocks, to break against the harbour wall and the encircling cliffs.

  ‘It was a very terrible thing,’ Mousie began gently, ‘that you should lose your whole family in one savage blow. Yet, even out of such terrible tragedy, good can come. I think your work is such a positive result of it, don’t you? Your childish instinct to blend fact and fiction, which was so necessary to your survival, released in you the gift of story-telling. The way you combine the dry bones of history with the colour and drama of fiction is a wonderful talent that brings delight to many thousands of people. Hubert would have been so proud of you.’ She took the envelope and opened it, leafed through the certificates and put them to one side. ‘It’s right that you should have them, so that your grandfather’s will can be re-proved without any fuss,’ she said, ‘but they have no further use. None of it was your doing; you had no choice. Let them go, Bruno.’

  He looked at her. ‘I think I’ve begun to do that. Up at Paradise in the kitchen, while Emma was reading the letters, I saw the wedding photograph and realized that I could hardly remember them, or my sister, either. I felt as if I’d cut them out of my life deliberately. I tried to will myself to recall as much as I could, as some kind of reparation, and then Emma came in and, whilst comforting her, in some odd way I felt released from the guilt. It was odd because, although I was comforting her, she brought me comfort too, and I was reminded of Mutt appearing in that hotel room and how I felt then. I hope she knew how much I loved her.’

  He took up the certificates, looking at them with a lingering compassion, and then put them back into the envelope, thinking of Mutt’s words to her sister.

  … There’s something wise about Bruno, some grace which is far beyond his years … When he smiles at me, hugs me … I feel as if I have been granted absolution …

>   He didn’t feel particularly wise but he was glad that he’d been able to give her such comfort in return for the stability and love she’d always shown to him whilst attempting to keep her promise to his mother. He remembered too the last sentence before her final farewell to Vivi.

  Perhaps I am already an aunt, and Emma has a cousin she will never know and I shall never see.

  That, at least, could now be remedied. He pushed the envelope aside and smiled at Mousie.

  ‘So tell me what you think of Dan Crosby,’ he said.

  EPILOGUE

  The May sunshine was hot, the drifting breeze scented with hawthorn blossom, and somewhere high above his head a lark was singing. The donkeys stood together in the shade of the tamarisk trees, heads drooped together as though they were sharing a secret, and he leaned his arms on the warm, rough wooden bar of the gate and smiled to himself.

  He’d been to St Endellion, to pay his respects to his great-aunt Madeleine’s grave, and now he was going to have tea at Paradise with Emma and Joss.

  ‘After all,’ Emma had said to him on the telephone, ‘we are cousins. We need to get to know each other properly.’

  He’d been reluctant to impose himself upon them, still guilty at being the agent of such a bombshell, yet the whole family had shown him nothing but kindness when he’d made a brief visit at Easter. Emma had given him his great-aunt’s letters to read, suggesting that he should sit in her parlour at the desk where she’d written them, and he’d found the process a deeply moving one. That weekend he’d stayed at the same hotel at Port Isaac, determined not to take any advantage, but this time he was staying for two nights with Joss and her mother at Paradise. The car was down in the quarry – he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to drive up nonchalantly to the front door – with his bags still in the trunk.

  Dan shook his head at his own caution; it was as if he were waiting for something to help him across the invisible barrier that he imagined still lay between him and these people who had made him so welcome. As he stared across the sunlit grass he heard the arched wrought-iron gate open with a clang and saw a girl pass through, closing the gate carefully behind her. A flowery shirt was tucked into the long denim skirt and she wore a soft-brimmed straw hat that shadowed her eyes. The donkeys twitched their ears and flicked their bell-rope tails and she held out her hands to them so that they could take the carrots she’d brought.