‘And Evie wouldn’t give the idea the time of day.’ Linford shook his head. ‘She’s devoted to Davey. He brought her up as his own and she loves him for it. She’ll be happy to care for him till the day he dies, and that could be a long way off. He’s in his sixties but he’s hale enough. And apart from that, from what I’ve seen, Evie doesn’t care all that much for you, Rob. She’s the only woman I’ve ever known to look at you with, well, something like distaste, I’d say.’
Rob lit another cigarette on the end of the one he was finishing, then he leaned back, his hands behind his head. ‘You’re all talking wet and you know it. Evie’s shy, a bit overawed by me, that’s all. She’d be ideal for me. Doesn’t gossip, doesn’t want a high life.’ He rubbed his taut stomach. ‘Her cooking smells are mouth watering. That’s a big plus, and I’m sure she’d make a good mother.’
‘There he goes,’ Douglas wailed in reverential admiration. ‘He’s at it again. When someone says he can’t have something or isn’t likely to get it, Rob’s all the more determined he damned well will.’
‘And he usually succeeds,’ the twins said, in hero worship. After a stern look from Rob they added, ‘Always succeeds.’
‘Oh well,’ Linford said knowingly ‘Trouble full steam ahead then.’
Nineteen
‘Joe, I’d like to make a suggestion to Mother,’ Beth said, watching him carefully. ‘But before I do I’d like your opinion about it.’
‘Go on,’ Joe replied bluffly, throwing a red rubber ball for Chaplin, or rather hurling it, far away towards the shoreline.
Beth had expected his wariness over the mention of their mother. Joe had accepted Beth’s invitation to go down to the little Owles Beach, but neither of them was entirely comfortable with the other. He did not have to say he would prefer it if Kitty was with them. He would have mentioned fetching bathing suits, and he would have splashed about in the waves with her, leaving Beth holding the towels. Beth, as usual, would have felt sorely left out. This morning though, Kitty had put on her prettiest casual summer dress and sun hat, and just enough make-up to add lively sophistication to her natural beauty, and then she had hastened off down to the cove. To browse in the shops, she had said, but Beth knew Kitty was really hoping to come across Rob Praed. She had tried to bring out her friend’s feelings about the fisherman but for once Kitty was being reticent. Beth was concerned about the whole matter. Kitty and Rob Praed were worlds apart, and he had a fly-by-night reputation in regard to women.
‘Well, you overheard me telling…’ Beth paused, then said, ‘Christina’ – Joe had made it plain he was opposed to her calling Christina her mother; humouring him was more likely to provoke in him a more relaxed attitude – ‘about Miss Oakley’s confusion yesterday.’
Chaplin came charging back with the red ball in his jaws and dropped it eagerly at Joe’s bare feet. To be polite to Beth, Joe made Chaplin wait for the next throw. ‘I did, and Mum felt sorry for her, and suggested you both go to matins tomorrow to try to gauge if the old vicar is disturbing her. If you ask me, they’re both batty. It’s time the Church retired them into some quiet little house somewhere. If my father were here he would have stopped the Reverend Oakley from dragging the village down. My father was a parish councillor and he arranged lots of activities jointly between the cove, the chapel and the church. My father said it made people feel connected and gave them something to look forward to. Now the church might as well not exist.’
‘That’s very sad, and it’s a shame some of your father’s excellent work in Portcowl has been undone.’ Beth wanted to point out that the Oakleys could not really help their respective conditions and that someone should have supported them ages ago, but Joe’s stance with regard to them would not allow that. It saddened Beth how easily she could irk Joe, but it also annoyed and hurt her that he did not seek to establish the same closeness with her that he shared with Kitty. Rather, Joe generally made it evident he was still suspicious of her; otherwise he just about ignored her.
Joe threw the ball and spent several moments watching Chaplin dive after it. Then he looked squarely at Beth, unblinking. ‘What’s this suggestion you have?’
Beth could tell he was ready to argue with her. She had suddenly endured enough of his surly unfriendliness. Damn it all, his mother was her mother too, they were completely reconciled over past sorrows, and it was time Joe accepted and acknowledged it. ‘Please do not take that tone with me, Joe. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. I’m trying my best to get on a good basis with you. You don’t have to accept me as a sister but I would like us to be friends. If you’re worried that I’d try to take our mother away from you then let me assure you I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m delighted she met your father and knew real love and that she has you in her life. I’m not jealous of your devotion to each other, if that’s what you think.
‘What I was about to suggest to our mother, and bear in mind I’m asking you about it first, is, do you think it would be a good thing if she started to have a bit of a social life? Like having lunch down in the cove or at one of the hotels. To become a little involved in local life. People know all about the family past. There are no more revelations, no nasty surprises at all. Our mother has the right to go where she pleases with her head held high. It would help her to grow in confidence. And before you bring up the question of Evie Vage, I’ve talked at length to our mother about Evie and she has no problem about me meeting my half-sister. Joe, please, I’d like you and I to be friends. What do you say?’
‘You obviously want the truth so here it comes. If Mum wants to go out a little, as long as she is never left alone and is well supported, then yes, it wouldn’t hurt if it were suggested to her. But she must not be persuaded in the slightest against her will. I won’t have her upset or frightened. She goes to church occasionally, and watches school events, but if that’s all she’s happy to do then it will not change. I don’t care about Evie Vage. She’s none of my business. If you’re glad to have met her then I’m glad for you. I’m not worried that you’ll try to come between Mum and me. I don’t believe that’s on your agenda. What I don’t like about you is why you’ve made no attempt to find out why your grandmother – my grandmother too, I know, but I’ve never thought of her as that and never will – ostracized Mum and made her life hell. Why did Marion Frobisher always take your rotten father’s side over her own daughter? It’s fine that you’ve established a good mother-daughter relationship with my mother, but my mother was denied that for herself and she’s suffered all her life because of it. Marion Frobisher and Phil Tresaile wantonly tried to destroy her, and you don’t seem to care!’
Beth’s head was down and her shoulders drooping. At the beginning of Joe’s reply, because of his frostiness, she had braced herself and had been prepared to argue the points, but his hostility at the end was too much for her. Feeling guilty and damned over his accusation, sure he loathed her and they would never be on good terms, she stumbled a few feet away to the rocks at the base of the cliff. Clutching for the sun-heated granite, not a scrap of energy left in her, she slumped down on a low hard rock, and putting her face in her hands she burst into tears of wretchedness.
‘Beth.’
She barely heard Joe say her name. She didn’t know he was standing close to her, puzzled and remorseful. She had no idea that he had lingered uncertainly on the sand, biting his bottom lip for some time before sidling up to her.
Seconds passed.
Beth wept miserably.
Joe hung about not knowing what to do.
Beth felt something weigh down on her knee. She registered that Chaplin had put his head there and she took some small comfort from that. But she went on sobbing. Perhaps she should never have come here. It was selfish of her. It had done some good, made Christina happier, but her presence was hurting Joe. It might hurt Evie if it caused problems with her adoptive father. And Kitty was hankering after an unsuitable man who was likely to break her heart. And now she was faced – and she was
ashamed to have kept brushing it aside – with the fact that her beloved grandmother had been a horrid and cruel woman. If her grandmother had harboured selfishness in her heart then Beth had inherited that baseness. Beth’s selfishness had led her to gladly rush into an affair with a married man without a care for his innocent wife and children, with no concern that she was betraying her best friend. Her wantonness had led her to conceive a child who, if it had lived, would have been forced to live a life under the cloak of shame and secrecy, denied its father.
‘Beth, please stop crying. I don’t know what to do.’
Hearing Joe’s plea, she knew she must put his feelings first. Gulping and sniffing and breathing deeply she brought herself under control. ‘I – I’m sorry, Joe.’ Her voice was wobbly and tear-laden.
‘Got a hankie?’ Joe asked, with obvious relief that she was all cried out.
She nodded and pulled out the scrap of linen from her dress pocket. Wiping her eyes, she took a lengthy steadying breath. ‘I’m sorry for the exhibition, Joe.’
‘I’m sorry I upset you so much.’ Joe dropped down on the sand at her feet and sat cross-legged. ‘I’d never really thought about what coming here meant to you. I’m sorry for saying such harsh things about your grandmother and father. It must be upsetting for you to be faced with it. Mum doesn’t seem to care about what they did to her. Meeting Dad enabled her to put it to the back of her mind, I suppose. But it niggles me and makes me so angry. Yet if things had been different she would never have married Dad and had me. Life’s really strange, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’ There was so much she wanted to say but her mind was in a muddle. ‘I don’t really know what to say now. Except that I will try to discover why my grandmother was so cruel to Mother and so positive about my father.’
Joe let out a sigh of the sort a grown-up might give when resigned to something. ‘You don’t have to. Perhaps it’s better not to dredge things up. Things might be learned that would be better left unknown. It shouldn’t matter anyway. You don’t seem horrible.’
‘I’m glad you think that. I hope one day you will trust and like me.’
Joe shrugged his broad shoulders. The conversation was getting too intense for him. ‘You’re OK. Want to go for a paddle? I warn you that Chaplin loves to splash about and you’ll get a thorough soaking.’
‘That would be nice.’ Beth had never been so grateful for an invitation. Joe was warming to her and the soaking she would get would explain her reddened eyes.
* * *
‘Stuart sends you his love.’
‘What do you mean?’ Beth stared open-mouthed at Kitty. Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed by a cold grasping hand, her stomach flipped sickeningly and dizziness swept over her. After her distress with Joe earlier in the day, the blood drained out of her. A little while ago Kitty had returned from the cove downhearted. Whether she had seen Rob Praed she was not saying. She had changed her clothes and washed off her makeup and mentioned she was going to telephone Stuart. Talking to Stuart rarely failed to make Kitty laugh and she would stay cheerful for ages, but it had not worked so well this time. Now Kitty had, to Beth’s fragile mind, set accusing eyes on her. Had Kitty’s remark held an edge of sarcasm? Did she know about Beth and Stuart’s affair? Was Kitty about to go wild with anger and accusation?
‘Good gracious, Beth, are you all right?’ Kitty tore across the sitting room to her friend. She sat on the sofa beside Beth and felt her forehead for unnatural heat. ‘Are you going down with something, do you think? You’ve gone as white as a ghost.’
Relief flooded Beth and the icy anxiety fell away. It was her guilt that had made her fear so. ‘I think I’ve had too much sun and got a little dehydrated, that’s all.’ Beth managed a wan smile in the hope of avoiding a further fuss. But how dare Stuart send his love to her, it was unfeeling and cruel.
‘Kitty’s right, you don’t look well at all, Beth.’ Christina leaned forward from her armchair, where she had been sewing missing buttons on one of Joe’s shirts. ‘I’ll fetch you some aspirin. Then I think you should lie down and have a rest. If you don’t feel well enough to attend matins tomorrow, you must stay at home. Perhaps Kitty would like to drive me to church and accompany me.’
‘I’d be pleased to. I want to hear one of Reverend Oakleys famous, or should I say infamous, rambling sermons, and I want to keep an eye on poor Miss Oakley, whom I’ve yet to meet. I’ve been invited to high tea at Wildflower Cottage. May I pick some flowers from the gardens for Mrs Praed, please?’
‘Pick as many as you like, anytime you like,’ Christina said. ‘And thank you, Kitty.’
Beth swallowed down two aspirin. She had liked Christina saying ‘you must stay at home’. Owles House wasn’t her home, it was Christina and Joe’s. But Beth felt at home here. She allowed Kitty to see her up to the bedroom and dig out her silk pyjamas. I should be happy, Beth told herself. She was on a closer footing with Joe, and Christina had tentatively agreed to take a quiet lunch in the Dunn Head Hotel. But Stuart sending her a loving sentiment had broken and bruised her heart all over again.
Kitty put Beth’s sponge bag on the bed for her. ‘I spoke to Connie too over the phone. She was so excited. The children are going to spend two weeks with her parents because Stuart is about to take her to Greece for a second honeymoon. She says Stuart’s promised not to work such long hours any more and he’s being very attentive towards her. She said it’s like the early days of their marriage. They’re even hoping to start another baby. Stuart used to say two children were enough for any family, but Connie always longed for at least one more. That’s really good news, isn’t it? Wish we could meet someone as wonderful as my brother, eh, Beth?’
Beth was shredded in the pits of her being. Kitty’s innocent remark had stamped all over her soul and she couldn’t stand any more. ‘Do stop going on!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Beth. How thoughtless of me, me and my big mouth. You thought you had met someone like Stuart but it all went wrong for you, and then you lost your baby.’
‘Kitty, please! For goodness sake just go and leave me alone.’
‘Oh Beth.’ Kitty dithered, wringing her hands. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m going, I’m going. I’ll pull the curtains over first. You try to have a good sleep. I’ll check on you later. If you want anything just bang on the floor.’
Beth gritted her teeth while Kitty darkened the room and finally left, with a soft click of the door. Then she threw herself on the bed, curled up tightly on her side, clutched a pillow to her face and screamed silently into it. ‘Damn you, Stuart. How could you be so cruel? How dare you send me your love while all the time you’re giving it to your wife? Didn’t you realize how much that would hurt me? You were the other half of our affair so why aren’t you missing me? Why aren’t you feeling guilty? Why must I take on all of it? Now you’re gaily dashing off on a second honeymoon and planning a new baby, of all things. While I’m left without my baby and left like this, a wreck! Damn you. You’ve betrayed me. I hate you. I never want to set eyes on you again.’
She cried a second wave of tears that day but this time it did not turn into a flood. She was surprised at how soon the tears petered out and stopped. She felt humiliated and cast aside but it did not feel like it was the end of the world. She would always mourn her lost baby but she had other, more important people than Stuart in her life now. She had her mother and Joe and Evie, her flesh and blood. She still had Kitty’s faithful friendship and she had Muriel Oakley to befriend properly and to champion. There was no need and no point being up here as limp as a dead fish while her mother was downstairs probably worrying about her. She could freshen up and simply enjoy being with Christina, and with Joe. Richard had gone shore fishing with his older brothers today and Joe was at a loose end. She could challenge him to do something for fun. Kitty was feeling a bit down. She needed Beth, her best friend, to confide in, and Beth would take the time to gently get Kitty to open up about the (no doubt, today) elusive fisherm
an.
She had a headache, but a cup of tea, something to eat and some fresh air would soon make it go. She got up off the bed, flung back the curtains and washed her face and combed her hair. It was time to get on with the present and leave the past behind. First, though, there was one bit of it she must still confront. The subject Joe had brought up on the beach – her grandmother’s lifelong cruel attitude towards Christina – was haunting her now as much as it did Joe.
Twenty
Loud snores were rattling round inside the shambolic living room at the back of Claze Wyn. It was late on Sunday morning, and the lumpy heap of humanity that was Gabby Magor lay solidly prone on her back on her wreck of an antiquated settee. The volume of her regular snorting rivalled the decibels of a steam engine and the puttering that followed each snort puffed out her foul beer-reeking breath to further contaminate the rancid atmosphere. A scientist’s dream of bacteria bred at lightning speed in the dim dank room, and on and in Gabby, but it didn’t harm Gabby, she seemed to thrive on it. Every so often her snoring halted and she would smack her bulging lips together, whereupon her entire hulk would shudder like a dying engine. Then she would cough on the putrid tobacco tar choking her lungs, her spreading bulbous nose would twitch, her top lip would ride up and her exposed grey front teeth would give her the semblance of a dangerous rabbit.
Gabby had woken in the early hours, due to a pressing need deep in her loins. Cursing and grumbling, she had struggled to heave herself off the stinking, lumpy, crumb-infested settee and stagger, while rubbing at her blurry red-rimmed eyes, to pee in the enamel chamber pot set in a makeshift commode. She was still dressed from the day before – she changed her clothes about once a fortnight and never bothered with nightwear to sleep. Eventually she would bundle up her dirty, stained clothes and take them to her cousin’s home for laundering; always an inadequate job as her cousin was equally slovenly.
Leaving Shades Page 18