A Time to Tell

by Maria Savva

  ‘Everything will be all right, dear, you’ll see. You’ll meet someone special, someone who deserves you.’

  Penelope rolled her eyes and shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A tall grey-haired man stood outside the front door.

  ‘Steve! What are you doing here?’ asked Penelope in surprise.

  ‘Hello, Penny. I was just passing, so I thought I’d stop by to see how you’re doing,’ he said, smiling.

  The last time she’d seen him had been at the women’s refuge. He’d been one of her counsellors. They became friends during her stay, and she had sent him a thank you card the week after she left the refuge. She told him he was like the father she never had.

  ‘I was so thrilled when I heard you’d got back on your feet, and I wanted to see you. I know being at the refuge must have been stressful.’

  ‘Thanks, yes, it was but everything’s great now. Um, come in for a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want to impose.’

  She giggled. ‘Steve, you’re too polite for your own good. I’ve just put the kettle on, actually; I’m having tea with my nan. Remember I told you about her?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It would be nice to meet her.’

  Cara glanced up from her position on the sofa to see a tall, middle-aged man enter the room. He was quite large, but he did not appear overweight, more well-built, his frame similar to Benjamin’s. He wore a grey suit and navy blue tie and was carrying a black briefcase.

  Penelope followed him into the room. ‘Nan,’ she said excitedly. ‘This is Steve. He was one of the counsellors at the refuge. He helped me get back on my feet.’

  Cara smiled at him. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello, Cara. It’s nice to meet you,’ he said warmly, reaching out an arm to shake her hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  Cara noticed his eyes; they were kind-looking eyes, a warm chestnut colour. There was something strangely familiar about him, but she knew she’d never met him. Perhaps he resembled someone else. She racked her brain but could not place anyone in her memory.

  ‘I’ll go and make the tea,’ said Penelope, beaming. ‘I’ll let you two get acquainted.’

  ‘So, you’re a counsellor?’ said Cara, uncomfortable alone with the stranger and feeling the need to start a conversation.

  ‘Yes, I help out at the women’s refuge where Penny was staying, from time to time.’ His voice was soft and deep.

  ‘I don’t envy you. It must be a stressful job.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He laughed. ‘That’s why I’ve got grey hair.’

  Cara laughed along with him.

  ‘But seriously, I do enjoy the work, especially when I see people like Penny benefiting from our help. I was struck by the way she looked so unhappy when she came to the refuge, but I can see she has a sense of independence and self-worth again.’

  ‘Yes, you do a very good job.’

  ‘You must be pleased to have her back.’

  Cara said ‘Yes,’ instinctively but felt embarrassed knowing that Penelope had been talking about her to this man.

  ‘She’s a lovely girl. You should be proud of her,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘And the boys, Andrew and Carl, they were so well-behaved.’

  ‘Yes, they are treasures.’

  Penelope entered the room carrying a tray with three mugs of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits. She placed the tray on the table and handed a mug to Steve. ‘Here you go, just how you like it: one sugar and not too strong.’ She smiled.

  ‘You remembered,’ he said, laughing.

  Penelope sat down next to him. ‘So, Steve, what brings you to this neck of the woods?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘I’m visiting a family not too far from here. The children are being monitored by Social Services, and there’s a real risk they’ll be taken into care. It’s quite a sad case.’

  ‘I was saying to Steven that his job must be stressful,’ said Cara.

  Penelope twisted around to face her. ‘Yes, I’m sure it is, Nan. But, you know, it’s probably satisfying to help people who really need help.’ She turned her attention back to Steve, and Cara noticed she appeared to be staring at him in awe.

  ‘It is,’ he agreed.

  ‘Do you think I could become a counsellor?’ asked Penelope.

  ‘I don’t see why not.’ Steve sipped his tea. ‘I could give you some details about courses, if you’d like.’

  ‘But… I don’t know,’ said Penelope, waving her hand to dismiss the idea. ‘How would I fit it in? I mean, I’ve already got my hands full with the boys.’

  ‘There are part-time courses, with flexible hours, or you can even study from home,’ he suggested.

  ‘That sounds good. Next time you’re in the neighbourhood could you bring me some details?’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ he said.

  Cara felt pleased her granddaughter was starting to take an interest in herself and in life again.

  Steve looked at his watch. ‘I have to go, I’m afraid, or I’ll be late for my meeting.’ He picked up his briefcase. ‘Thanks for the tea, Penny.’ Turning to Cara he reached out a hand to shake hers. ‘Nice meeting you.’

  ‘Yes, and you, Steven,’ said Cara, shaking his hand.

  ‘Steve, wait,’ said Penelope, standing up and following him. ‘Why don’t you pop over for lunch this Sunday, if you’re not too busy? I’m sure the kids would love to see you again.’

  ‘All right, I don’t have any plans for Sunday.’

  ‘Bring your wife.’

  ‘Um, I’m divorced,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t know—’

  ‘No harm done.’ He smiled.

  ‘No, uh…,’ Penelope reddened slightly. ‘Um… be here about three o’clock,’ she said, walking to the door to show him out.

  Shortly, Penelope returned to the living room. ‘Isn’t he lovely?’ she said, eyes twinkling.

  ‘Yes, dear,’ said Cara, slightly concerned that her granddaughter might have developed some sort of crush or infatuation. ‘I’m sure he’s a good counsellor,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘He is; he helped me so much. I can’t wait until the boys see him again. They got on well.’

  ‘Yes, well, you were at a low point in your life when you met him and he helped you through, but he was only doing his job, you mustn’t read anything else into it,’ said Cara.

  Penelope giggled. ‘Nan? You don’t think? Oh, no! I really like Steve, but not in that way. He’s a father figure to me, a proper one, though: not the lousy one I had. He’s such an inspiration.’

  Cara smiled. ‘Sorry, dear, but you did have me worried there for a while. I’d love you to find someone new, but he’s not quite what I had in mind.’

  Penelope giggled again. ‘I’m not looking for another relationship just yet, I’m considering becoming a career woman. I am serious about this counselling thing; I’d be able to understand people with problems because I’ve had my fair share.’

  ‘I’m pleased you’re able to see the bright side, dear.’

  Penelope placed the empty teacups onto the tray. ‘Oh, Nan, I forgot to mention that you and Steve have something in common.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘Yes, you can talk to him about it on Sunday. He told me he used to live in Huddlesea. Is that a coincidence, or what?’ She picked up the tray and left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Hello, Cara,’ said Steve, ‘nice to see you again.’

  Cara, seated at the dining table, looked up at him and smiled warmly. ‘Hello, Steven, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’ Standing behind him was a little girl, maybe five or six years old. Her long blonde hair fell in unruly curls over the shoulders of her turquoise dress.

  ‘Sally, don’t be shy,’ he said, placing a hand on the girl’s head. ‘Say hello to Cara. Cara, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Sally.’

  ‘Hello, Sally,’ she said, smil
ing at the girl. ‘Aren’t you pretty?’

  ‘Yes, she is, isn’t she? Takes after her granddad, of course. Her mum and dad asked me to babysit, so I thought it would be nice for her to come along and meet Andrew and Carl.’

  The girl smiled awkwardly.

  Cara noticed Sally’s dark brown eyes, the colour of chocolate; it struck her as an unusual combination with her yellow-blonde hair.

  ‘The food’s ready,’ said Penelope, popping her head through the living room doorway. ‘Please take a seat and I’ll call the boys.’

  Steve sat opposite Cara, after helping Sally to sit on the chair next to her.

  ‘We had a lovely drive here, didn’t we, Sally?’ he said to the young girl.

  Sally nodded shyly and blushed.

  ‘Do you live locally?’ asked Cara.

  ‘No, I live in Hertfordshire,’ replied Steve. ‘It’s nice and green. I used to live in London but prefer the countryside these days. I spend quite a bit of time in London while I’m working, though. The city is too crowded for my liking, and I always feel an enormous sense of relief when I get back home. It’s a different world. Perhaps I’m getting old!’

  ‘If you’re tired of London you’re tired of life, isn’t that how the saying goes?’ said Cara.

  Steve chuckled. ‘Yes, something like that. But for me, it’s more to do with growing up in a city and wanting a change.’

  ‘Oh, that’s interesting,’ commented Cara. ‘I wasn’t aware you grew up in London; Penny told me you used to live in Huddlesea.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did,’ he said animatedly. ‘We lived there for a while when I was a child, but it was a brief stay. We moved back to London when I was about ten or so. We weren’t living in Huddlesea, actually, just outside in a little place called Stampsley. My father worked in Huddlesea.’

  ‘Stampsley, oh yes, I know it. It’s by the old bridge,’ said Cara, her mind filling with nostalgic thoughts.

  ‘That’s right: Turner’s Bridge. A place renowned for s-u-i-c-i-d-e attempts, I was told.’ He spelt the word “suicide” aloud to avoid saying it in front of Sally. ‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘funnily enough, there’s another place in Huddlesea itself where people go for that, isn’t there? It was on the news the other week. Some unfortunate soul was found there.’ He shook his head.

  Cara tried to move her mouth, to say something to change the subject, but no words would come out. He seemed blissfully unaware that the “unfortunate soul” found at Stoneleigh Cliffs had been Penelope’s estranged husband.

  Scratching his head, he said, ‘What’s it called? It’s on the tip of my tongue. You must have heard of it.’

  ‘Stoneleigh Cliffs,’ she said almost choking on the words.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, smiling.

  She forced herself to smile back. It was at times such as this that Cara wished she wasn’t reliant on other people for her mobility; if she could have, she’d have made an excuse and walked out of the room. Talking about the cliffs was difficult for her, not only because it was so soon after David’s tragic end but also because of the shadowy reflections from the past that haunted her mind whenever she heard the name “Stoneleigh”.

  ‘It’s funny there are so many people wanting to end it all in such a small part of the country. I’m sure it can’t be all that bad.’ Steve giggled.

  Cara knew he expected her to laugh along with his joke, but she couldn’t. She closed her eyes, as if to shut out painful thoughts. Steve had innocently latched on to this subject, she told herself; he didn’t mean any harm.

  Penelope’s footsteps could be heard approaching the dining room. Lowering her voice, Cara said, ‘Steven, I don’t mean to be rude, but can you try not to talk about these sorts of things when Penny comes in? It’s not long since David, her husband, you know…’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry, you must think I’m so insensitive.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Cara.

  Penelope entered the room followed by Andrew and Carl. They were carrying the roast meal. ‘Put the potatoes over there, Andrew,’ said Penelope.

  ‘I’ll take those,’ said Steve, helping Andrew with the plate.

  ‘Hello, Steve,’ said Andrew, smiling. He sat next to him.

  ‘This is my granddaughter, Sally,’ said Steve. ‘And, this is Carl and Andrew.’ He pointed at the boys.

  Carl sat next to Sally.

  ‘So, what have you two been chatting about while I’ve been in the kitchen?’ asked Penelope.

  Steve’s cheeks reddened.

  ‘We were talking about Huddlesea,’ said Cara with a forgiving smile.

  ‘Your dad used to work there, didn’t he, Steve?’ said Penelope.

  ‘Yes, in the early fifties,’ he said. ‘Cara, when did you live in Huddlesea?’

  ‘I was born there, and I left in the mid-fifties when I was about nineteen.’

  ‘Huddlesea’s quite a small town, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I remember going there once or twice; everyone knew everyone.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cara. ‘It was that sort of place.’ She laughed a bitter laugh soured by her past experiences.

  ‘Hmm… it’s possible you knew my father back then.’

  ‘Yes, it’s possible, I suppose. What’s his name?’

  ‘Fred Johnson.’

  ‘Fred John—’ Cara stopped and stared at Steve. Freddie’s son? The colour washed out of her cheeks.

  ‘Are you all right, Nan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Penelope.

  ‘I-I need a glass of water,’ she said, coughing. ‘Some food has gone down the wrong way, I think.’

  ‘Andrew, fetch Nan a glass of water,’ said Penelope.

  Steve frowned at Cara.

  She could not meet his eyes.

  Andrew returned with a glass of water.

  ‘Thank you, Andrew, bless you,’ said Cara.

  They began to discuss other matters, much to Cara’s relief, but she remained on tenterhooks all evening worried Steve might mention his father’s name again. She could not help the curiosity this sparked in her brain, and she kept searching Steve’s face for some resemblance, but he looked nothing like Frederick.

  Before leaving, Steve turned to Cara. ‘Lovely to see you, Cara. I’ll have to ask my father if he remembers you. What’s your surname?’

  ‘Edwards,’ she replied.

  ‘But it was Hughes when you lived in Huddlesea, wasn’t it, Nan?’ said Penelope.

  ‘Er… yes,’ said Cara, sighing. ‘But I don’t recognise your father’s name; I’m sure I never knew him. I left Huddlesea at a very young age.’ She spoke quickly.

  ‘Well, I suppose you can’t really know everyone in a town,’ said Steve.

  ‘No,’ Cara agreed. ‘And as you say, you weren’t living in town, so…’

  ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘Well, no doubt we’ll meet again.’

  When he left, Cara found herself fiddling nervously with the silver locket and praying Steve would not ask his father if he remembered her.

  Cara lay awake that night, unable to relax. At first she found herself pondering whether it could be possible there’d been two Frederick Johnsons working in Huddlesea in the early 1950s. It was quite a common name. However, she knew that in such a small town it would be too coincidental. Besides, she’d known most people in Huddlesea and had always found it easy to spot a stranger.

  Cara’s mind ran through an imagined conversation between Steve and Frederick:

  ‘Hi, Dad.’

  ‘Hello, son, where have you been today?’

  ‘I’ve been to see a friend, Penny. She’s a lovely girl; she used to stay at a women’s refuge, but now she’s back home with her grandmother. Her grandmother used to live in Huddlesea, you know.’

  ‘It’s a small world, isn’t it?’

  ‘You can say that again! Her name’s Cara. Did you know a Cara Hughes?’

  Would Frederick deny all knowledge of her as she had of him? Cara found herself hoping he wouldn’t,
but anxiety tugged at her heart, and she prayed Steve wouldn’t mention their meeting.

  No matter how hard she tried to think of other things, her thoughts went round in circles. Every time she was about to drift off to sleep, she woke up, different scenarios of Steve talking to Frederick playing out in her head.

  She found she was able to remember quite a lot about Frederick—the way he used to raise his eyebrows when he spoke, the intensity of his stare. Steve had inherited those characteristics, which was—she now realised—why she’d thought she recognised him when they’d first met.

  In the end, to stop the repetition in her mind, she deliberately imagined a conversation between Frederick and his son, in which Frederick denied knowing her.

  Cara drifted off to sleep, the silver locket clasped tightly between her fingers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  One afternoon, a few days after Steve’s visit, when Penelope returned from collecting the boys from school she ran straight into the living room. ‘Nan, guess who I just bumped into?’ she said, beaming.

  Cara was engrossed in a daytime soap opera.

  ‘Steve,’ Penelope said, sitting down next to Cara on the sofa.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Cara had hoped they would not be seeing any more of Steve. She looked back at the television.

  ‘And, guess what? His dad remembers you!’

  Cara felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

  ‘Steve thinks it would be nice if we all meet up for a meal, so I’ve invited them next Sunday.’

  Turning to her granddaughter, Cara said, ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea, Penny.’

  Penelope’s smile faded. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t want to see Steven’s father.’

  ‘Wh-why not?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘But, Nan, you said you didn’t know Steve’s dad.’ Penelope’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘As I say, it’s a long story.’

  ‘I want to hear it,’ said Penelope.