by Maria Savva
Gloria turned to her, apparently surprised by what she was hearing.
‘I’m not happy I had to leave my home,’ continued Cara, ‘to come here and be treated like an unwelcome guest. I didn’t choose it. I’m hoping I won’t have to stay here much longer. I’ll be gone soon enough; we should try to put aside our differences while we have to live together.’
Gloria walked slowly to the chair and sat down. ‘Oh, Cara,’ she said, raising her eyes sheepishly. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Cara spotted tears welling in Gloria’s eyes. As far as she could recall, she’d never seen her sister become tearful or upset. In the past, Gloria only showed emotion when it was to revel in someone else’s misfortune. Now here she sat with hunched shoulders, her face mournful and apologetic.
‘I know I’ve been very unwelcoming, but it’s not because I don’t want you here.’ Gloria wiped away a tear threatening to fall. ‘You mustn’t think that.’ She sniffed. ‘It just happened so suddenly… no warning. It’s difficult for me; I’m not young anymore.’
‘Well… I…’
‘And the truth is,’ said Gloria, taking a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet, ‘you brought the past back with you.’ She scanned the room, as if trying to find an escape route. Practically cowering, she confessed in a small voice, ‘Beattie’s death has been on my conscience for all these years. It’s not easy.’
A momentary feeling of relief washed over Cara, as though years of anguish had been lifted from her shoulders; finally her sister was admitting her part in Beattie’s tragic end.
‘I was young,’ stated Gloria.
Young? Cara glared at her sister.
‘I regret it… I do.’ Gloria’s voice sounded high-pitched and anxious. She paused.
Gloria may have been waiting for her to say something like ‘it doesn’t matter’, but Cara had no desire to relieve her of any guilt.
‘When you’re young, you do things that—’
‘The fact that you were young is no excuse for what you did,’ huffed Cara, overcome by an urge to tell Gloria how she’d felt all those years ago about her betrayal of confidence. ‘You haven’t said you’re sorry.’ She spoke her thoughts as they raced through her mind. ‘All these years have passed and you’ve never said you’re sorry. You’ve always made out you didn’t do anything wrong. This wasn’t just a folly of youth; you ruined Bea’s life, you killed a sixteen-year-old girl with your spite.’
‘I am sorry, really I am. I’ll never forget what I did. I know Beattie died because of me. It was my fault. My fault.’ Gloria rocked backwards and forwards on the chair as she spoke, in an alarming motion. When she looked up at Cara again, a tear fell down her cheek and onto her skirt. ‘But I had a reason.’
‘A reason?’ blurted Cara.
‘Jealousy.’ Gloria stopped rocking and sat upright.
‘Jealousy? What do you mean?’
‘I loved Robert.’
Cara’s forehead creased. She tried to think back to that summer, long ago, but she could not recall Gloria having been in love with Robert. Her anger subsided slightly, replaced by a sudden interest to hear more.
‘It’s no excuse, I know,’ said Gloria, closing her eyes. ‘My jealousy killed Beattie. I know that. My feelings for Robert were real and nothing else mattered to me at the time. I wanted revenge, but I had no idea everything would escalate to such a scale.’
‘You knew what the people in Huddlesea were like,’ Cara interjected. ‘I remember you telling me about another girl forced to leave town because she got pregnant out of wedlock.’
‘I aimed to split Beattie and Robert up. That’s all. You see, I had a brief relationship with Robert. He left me for Beattie. She was younger than me and more beautiful. Hearing she was pregnant with his child… well, that just threw me. I thought Robert loved me. We’d even talked about marriage. I know it sounds silly, but it was one of those all-consuming love affairs.’ Her cheeks reddened. ‘I… Oh, none of it matters now.’
Cara watched as Gloria changed before her eyes. This woman she’d considered incapable of love had suddenly transformed and revealed a hidden story. Was it part of some fanciful tale her sister had concocted to rid herself of blame? She hardly recognised this fragile woman, eyes wet with tears, full of remorse and regret.
‘I didn’t know she would die. When you’re young you don’t even consider things like that.’
‘Why haven’t you ever told me any of this before?’
‘We’ve hardly ever been on speaking terms, have we?’ Gloria took another tissue and wiped her eyes. ‘I preferred to keep my distance from you because I blamed myself for Beattie’s death, and you remind me of everything. I changed after she died, became a different person. I locked the pain inside. I didn’t want to admit my part in her death, so I chose to forget.’
‘How convenient.’
Gloria sighed. ‘I don’t mean I forgot; of course I can never forget. I mean I couldn’t deal with it, so unconsciously I made a decision to put it all to the back of my mind. Blank it out.’
‘So you could just carry on living as if nothing had happened, even though Beattie died?’ Cara scowled.
Gloria took a deep breath. ‘About twenty years ago, I used to drink heavily,’ she said, staring across the bed and out of the window. ‘I would drink late at night and I’d wake up the next day craving alcohol. I don’t know how I survived. I was in a relationship at the time with a nice man, Walter. He convinced me to get some counselling, and slowly I got back on my feet. The psychologist told me my guilt over Beattie’s death made me unhappy and led to me drinking too much.’
‘But Beattie died over fifty years ago. If you only became an alcoholic twenty years ago, there must have been other factors in your life that made you start drinking,’ said Cara.
‘Yes, there were, but I… my therapist said they all stemmed from my guilt.’
‘You carried on living your life after Beattie died for a good thirty years before your drink problem and I remember you showed little remorse for what you’d done.’
‘Why do you think I never had children?’
‘I imagined you didn’t want any.’
‘I wanted to have children. I used to dream about getting married and starting a family. I envied your life, Cara. But I couldn’t have a proper relationship, I would always end up doing something to make them leave me. I didn’t feel I deserved to be loved. My psychologist said I deliberately eliminated from my life any chance of having children or being happy because I felt I’d denied Beattie that chance.’
‘But what about Walter, the man you mentioned who helped you with your drink problem?’
‘Walter was a good man, he really cared about me. He loved me no matter what I did. I was difficult to live with, but he didn’t care. I told him about Beattie. I was in love with him, trusted him completely. When I told him about what I’d done, it might have been a vain attempt to try to come to terms with it, but reliving everything sent me off the edge. I became depressed, so I started drinking to numb the pain. If Walter wasn’t around I’m sure I would have killed myself.’
Cara shivered. ‘Er… Do you still keep in touch with Walter?’
Gloria looked down. ‘He died.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Cara.
Gloria smiled through her tears. ‘You know, I often told him that if we’d met when we were younger, we would have married and had children. I’m sure of it. Believe me, Cara, I haven’t had an easy life; every day is a struggle.’
Suddenly, Cara was seeing her sister in a different light. Gloria’s thin veil had cracked, revealing a deep well of pain that had etched itself into the lines on her face. The signs on Gloria’s face were not quite hidden by the make-up she wore: wrinkles that had the effect of pulling her mouth perpetually downwards, and dark hollows around her eyes. Cara had been oblivious of this other side of her sister’s personality during the years she’d held on to the blame from the past.
‘Cara, I want you to k
now before it’s too late, I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
Her voice roused Cara from her musing. She noticed Gloria’s tone of voice sounded melancholy.
‘I was too proud to admit I’d done anything wrong. I’ll carry that to my grave.’ She opened her mouth to speak again but only shook her head, as if overcome by despondency. She stood up and walked away, then turned to Cara, her face still locked in gloom. ‘Goodnight,’ she said.
Cara nodded at her sister as she walked out of the bedroom door. What had happened with Beattie seemed so distant. They had been not much more than children, now they were old. Gloria would have to be a pretty good actress to convey the emotion she’d shown this evening if she didn’t actually feel it. She had lived with the consequences of her actions for over half a century. Perhaps the time had come to forgive and forget.
Maybe Gloria wasn’t such a horrible person. Maybe the real Gloria was the woman who had just apologised to her. After all, Cara had never really known her.
That night, Cara dreamt that Beattie came to visit her, dressed all in white and looking beautiful, just as Cara imagined an angel would look. Her appearance was so far removed from the girl she’d last seen lying on the hospital bed. Her eyes were no longer full of hate or bitterness. Beattie smiled at her; a warm smile bringing with it a sense of tranquillity. She led Cara to the old tree house. Cara floated towards the tree house, following her friend. She saw the trunk of the tree and their names carved into the wood. In the dream, their names were as legible as they had been the day they cut into the tree with their penknives as teenagers. Cara felt as if she were actually there, standing beside her best friend. Then Beattie disappeared.
When Cara woke up there was a peaceful atmosphere in the room. A tear fell from her eye as she sensed forgiveness from Beattie’s spirit pervading the air around her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Rosetta arrived the next morning with the breakfast tray, all Cara could think about was Mandy’s uncle.
‘Good morning, Cara,’ said the young girl, cheerily. ‘Did you sleep well?’ Placing the tray on the bedside cabinet, she helped Cara sit up in bed, adjusting the pillow behind her. ‘You’re quiet this morning.’
Cara snapped back to the present, pushing aside thoughts of Benjamin. ‘Sorry, Rosie. I’m not very good in the mornings.’
Rosetta giggled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m the same; I can’t function until I have a cup of tea! Here’s your breakfast.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, watching as the girl placed the breakfast tray in front of her. ‘By the way, I enjoyed our day out yesterday. It was nice to see the old town again. It has changed a bit since I lived here, but there are enough reminders of the past to make me feel quite sentimental.’
‘We can go out today, if you like. It’s bright and sunny. Very hot.’
‘Yes, that would be nice. We might even bump into your friend Mandy,’ Cara said, her words echoing her wishes. She sipped her tea and held her breath in anticipation of the reply.
‘Yes, maybe we will. We went to the cinema last night. It was so great to spend time with her.’ Rosetta sat on the chair next to the bed.
‘How long is Mandy staying in Huddlesea, dear?’
‘I’m not sure. A few days maybe. Her uncle is here on business.’
‘What job does he do?’
‘Um… it’s something to do with buying and selling property, I think.’
Cara raised her eyebrows. Benjamin had been an estate agent.
‘He works for Mandy’s granddad. That’s how he met her mum, Claire,’ added Rosetta. ‘They’ve got a little girl, Amy. She’s eight years old; Mandy’s half-sister. She’s so cute.’
‘Ben’s daughter?’ said Cara.
‘Who’s Ben?’ Rosetta wrinkled her nose.
Cara felt the heat rise in her cheeks. ‘Oh… er… sorry, dear. It’s just when you said Amy. I know someone called Ben who has a daughter called Amy, that’s all.’
Benjamin had a daughter she didn’t know about; a grandchild she’d never met. She ate her breakfast in silence, thinking of her eldest son and everything she wanted to say to him.
Later that day, Rosetta took Cara around town, but much to Cara’s frustration they did not bump into Mandy, or her uncle “Paul”.
That evening Gloria carried a portable television into Cara’s bedroom. Smiling, she placed the television opposite the bed, handing Cara the remote control. ‘This television was in the kitchen, but I can watch the one in the living room,’ she said, sitting on the chair next to the bed.
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s the least I can do, really.’ Gloria was wearing a floral blue and white apron over her dress. She reached into the pocket of the apron and pulled out a necklace. The chain held a silver locket engraved with the initial “C” in swirly script.
Gloria held it up in front of Cara. ‘I found this in our room when I came back to live here,’ she said.
Cara gulped.
‘I should have returned it to you back then,’ said Gloria, ‘but we were so estranged. I put it in a trinket box and it’s been in there for the past forty-odd years.’
Cara gaped at the shiny silver pendant as a multitude of memories were evoked.
Gloria held the necklace towards her, waiting for her to take it.
Did Gloria know it was a gift from Frederick? Was she about to use it as an excuse to make a spiteful remark? But the relaxed expression on Gloria’s face did not appear to bear malice.
Cara reached out hesitantly and took the necklace. The cold metal in her hand still felt familiar. She’d worn it every day that summer and had never taken it off until the night she fell from Stoneleigh Cliffs.
Her father had collected her from the hospital. When he asked her what had happened, she’d made up a story about how she foolishly went for a walk on the cliffs not realising how windy it was.
Whilst getting ready for bed that night, she had noticed the locket when its shine reflected off the mirror. Frustration tore at her from the inside.
Fiddling with the clasp, Cara had practically torn the chain from her neck. Why hadn’t it come off when she’d landed in the sea? Why hadn’t it disappeared into the vast ocean? Like a curse, the locket remained.
She’d put it in a drawer that night intending to get rid of it, and she very nearly did.
Now, fifty years later, she sat marvelling at the necklace in her hand, mystified at how it had survived the fall from the cliff. It represented a link to the past. The urge to open the locket was great, but she resisted, feeling embarrassed that Gloria might see the contents.
Then she realised that Gloria must have already looked inside, and her heart skipped a beat.
‘Well, I’d better get ready for bed,’ said Gloria, standing up.
Cara somehow managed to pull her eyes away from the locket’s spell so she could respond to her sister. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, holding up the shiny silver pendant.
Gloria walked to the door, then she turned around.
Cara braced herself. Would she comment about Frederick’s hair?
‘I can tell that locket means a lot to you.’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘You know, Cara, you and Beattie were lucky to have such a strong friendship. I know it was cut short, but many people don’t get the opportunity to have a good close friend even if they live into old age.’
Cara breathed a silent sigh of relief, glad the topic of conversation had changed but slightly confused as to why Gloria was talking about Beattie.
‘Did she also have a locket with a lock of your hair in it?’ asked Gloria.
Cara’s frown transformed into a smile. ‘I can’t remember,’ she lied.
When Gloria had left the room, Cara opened the locket and saw the strands of hair; unmistakably Frederick’s hair. Jet black. She was surprised that Gloria had believed it was Beattie’s hair, which had been brown. Cara recalled the day Frederick gave her the gift.
Frederic
k produced a piece of jewellery from his navy blue waistcoat pocket. ‘This belonged to my mother,’ he said.
They were seated opposite each other at a table outside a roadside café, some miles from Huddlesea.
‘I’d like you to have it.’
His brown eyes appeared to be darker than ever, even though the late evening sun cast a light across his face.
Cara admired the fine silver chain and pretty oval locket. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. Her mind went back to a conversation they’d had a few days after they first met: he’d told her, with tears in his eyes, that his mother had died the year before and how he missed her so much. He must really love me if he’s giving me her necklace. The idea made her feel light-headed and dizzy. Soon perhaps he would ask her to marry him… She reached out to take the necklace.
He cupped his hands over hers and held tightly for a few moments.
Cara gazed into his eyes.
He loosened his grip and held the necklace up in front of him. Standing up, he said, ‘Let me put it on you.’
Frederick gently placed the chain around her neck as she lifted up her long hair.
He returned to his seat. ‘It really suits you, Cara.’
‘Thank you.’ She lifted the pendant to see it more clearly. ‘What was your mother’s name?’
‘Caroline,’ he said. ‘She would have liked you. I’m sure you two would have got on really well.’
She grinned and then opened the locket. ‘It’s empty. I could put your photograph inside.’
‘You don’t need my photograph. I’m right here.’ He chuckled.
‘I have an idea.’ Cara picked up her handbag from the chair beside her and unzipped it. She took out her nail scissors.
‘What are you doing?’ His forehead lined in confusion.
‘I’m going to give you a haircut!’ she said, standing up.