The Forgotten Letters of Esther Durrant

by Kayte Nunn

  And now, here he was. Standing in her sitting room. She had a sudden memory of him on the beach at Embers, the laughter as she fell over in the sand, the mischievous light in his eyes. She hoped he wouldn’t care too much that she was no longer a beauty, scarcely resembled the image of the woman he no doubt recalled.

  He’d shut the door and it was just the two of them. She didn’t move, held her breath.

  He looked, despite the gray hair and the lines around his eyes, so much like his younger self that her throat almost closed up with the memories that came rushing back. Her concerns about her own appearance vanished like morning mist as she looked into his dear, kind eyes. “Hello, Richard,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

  “Esther.”

  He said her name so gently, as if he had been keeping it wrapped in layers of tissue for safekeeping and was only now bringing it out again. His voice was the sound of a long ago song, a distant melody that was achingly familiar and all the sweeter for not having been heard for so great a time.

  “More beautiful than ever.”

  She pursed her lips as if to debate the statement, but then smiled and beckoned to him to sit next to her. “Time is not kind to any of us.”

  “But it allows us still to breathe, to see, to feel. To be alive,” he replied.

  He sat and took her hand in his and she felt its dry warmth, just as she had on the first day they’d met. She wished hers weren’t so aged, the veins standing out like tributaries under the thin skin, knuckles swollen and twisted.

  “Sometimes that is more of a curse than a blessing.”

  “I failed you, dear Esther. I wish you could know how sorry I am.” He gripped her hands tightly, as if he feared she might float away if he let go.

  “What on earth can you mean?”

  “I’m afraid I failed all of you . . . George, Robbie . . .”

  “How could you think that? You didn’t at all, don’t you see?” she looked at him with a fierce expression in her eyes. “I left Embers a very different woman from the one who arrived, and that was all due to you.”

  Richard smiled weakly. “But poor Robbie . . .”

  “You were never to blame. No one was. It was desperately sad, but in the end I don’t think anyone could have saved him. Anyway, it is I who should apologize. I was unspeakably cruel. To tell you that you meant so little to me, when in fact you were the world. Please believe me that I only did it to save you heartache.”

  His eyes softened as he looked at her. “Do you think I didn’t know that, my darling?”

  She blinked back tears. “Oh.”

  “I can’t quite believe that I’m here,” he said. “That you’re here in front of me.”

  “I know, today, of all days.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, looking confused. “What’s special about today? Apart from seeing you again, which makes it the most wonderful, the most delightful day in the world of course.”

  Esther beamed at him. “It’s sixty-six years to the day since we last saw each other.”

  “Surely not?”

  “I don’t make mistakes about things like that.”

  He let out a long breath. “Fate?”

  She smiled. “Perhaps.”

  They sat for a moment, each drinking in the sight of the other.

  “Have you ever been back?” she asked.

  “To the island? No.” He shook his head. “It’s leased to someone else now in any case.”

  “Yes, the woman who rescued Rachel. Tell me, Richard, what did you do, afterward I mean?”

  “After everyone left?”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “Word inevitably got out. Patients stopped coming; no one wanted to send their loved ones somewhere where a man had been allowed to hang himself. I had a little money saved, so I stayed with my father and wrote a number of papers about my treatment theories. Without exactly intending to, I found I’d become an academic, so I took a job at a university. It never quite made up for helping real patients though.”

  Silence lapsed between them and she felt his hand grip hers more tightly. “I never stopped, you know,” she said.

  “Stopped what?” he asked.

  “Loving you.”

  “I rather hoped you would have done, for your sake.”

  Esther shook her head. “The memories of those few short months sustained me for a lifetime.”

  “As they did me,” he said.

  “I don’t understand; why leave the letters . . . ? Why not keep them with you? Why not send them?”

  “You asked me not to write,” he said sadly. “And I wanted the memories to stay there, on the island. It would have been intolerable had I taken them with me—I never could have let you go, gotten on with my life. To have some kind of future, I had to leave the past behind. As it was, I never loved another, never wanted to. I got on with things as best I could, kept busy, tried to make a contribution, be of use.”

  “Oh, Richard.”

  “I promised John I wouldn’t contact you. After you left the island. He never said as much, but I think he guessed there might have been something more between us.”

  Esther’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. “He never said a word to me.”

  “I read of his passing in the Times, and I almost got in touch then, and after that there was the profile on your climbing achievements. But I told myself that too much water had passed under our particular bridge, that it would cause problems for you and your family. I didn’t want to disrupt your life, mine either if I’m honest. It was only when Rachel contacted me about the letters and convinced me to see you that I changed my mind.”

  “Teddy lives in New Zealand now, though he calls every week, and Hannah, well, Hannah died several years ago I’m afraid. Terrible car accident; great—” She faltered, cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “Shame, for she was a damn fine sailor.” She fixed him with an unblinking gaze and said quietly, “Eve is her daughter.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry, my darling . . . may I still call you that?”

  She smiled. “I always loved the sound of it when you said it.”

  “Hannah, you said?” he asked, looking at her with confusion.

  “Yes. I named her after your mother.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you?”

  The light of comprehension dawned on his face. “Really? How?”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

  She thought she saw him blush.

  “Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” she asked. “I could have—no, should have—told you but I was a coward. Weak. I didn’t want to hurt John. I fear that making a choice I thought was right meant I had to make so many wrong decisions.”

  “I had a daughter,” he said, sorrow mixed with wonder in his voice. “A daughter. All these years . . .”

  “I’m so, so sorry, Richard. I don’t know how to make this right. I’m not sure I ever can.”

  “Do you . . . do you have any photographs?” he asked hesitantly.

  Esther pointed to a frame on the mantelpiece. “Fetch that one.”

  It was a black-and-white picture of a small boy and a younger girl, the girl with the same unruly hair as Richard and an impish look on her face, her eyes lit up with amusement. “There she is, that’s her,” said Esther. “She was so like you. Always sunny. Tremendous energy. A risk taker. That was probably her downfall, not that I’m one to talk.”

  He smiled. “And John never suspected?”

  “If he did, we never spoke of it. He loved me in his own way, and for that I was always grateful. But I owe you more. More than a mere photograph. I wouldn’t blame you if you curse me to hell and back for what I did, what I kept from you. Know that I wished every day that I could tell you.”

  Richard squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing to forgive, Esther. It was an impossible situation, like so many back then.”

  She had released the tigh
tly bound secret she’d been carrying for so many years. The lump that had been threatening to close her throat since she had read his letters dissolved.

  “We all make decisions that are for the best at the time, decisions that we think will do the least amount of damage,” he continued. “I have no blame to cast.”

  “Do you? Do you really understand? I could never have left Teddy, not again.”

  “I know. I know how much it must have cost you. And I have nothing but admiration.”

  “You do?” She was surprised.

  “You suffered an enormous loss, labored under a burden of blame that was not yours to carry, but in spite of all that you made a triumph of your life. You have lived with boldness, with courage. I wish we could all say the same about ourselves.”

  “I never really thought of it like that,” she said.

  “I’m curious though—why climbing?”

  “It was a way of keeping the demons at bay I suppose. The dreads that hit in the small hours. For some reason they didn’t come looking for me when I was on a mountain, couldn’t reach me. Besides, it was as far from the ocean and islands as I could possibly get.”

  “I see. Of course. How foolish of me.”

  “I carried you with me, Richard. Every step.”

  He was about to reply when the door opened and Eve walked in carrying a vase with the flowers in it. “Dr. Creswell brought these for you, Grams—aren’t they gorgeous? Your favorite.”

  “He has an excellent memory,” said Esther, smiling at him once more. Her heart, so long a dried-up, wizened old thing, had bloomed into tender, trembling newness. Life, like the brightness of the flowers, had dazzling color in it again.

  “I’ll bring the tea in,” said Eve before she left the room.

  “You say that Eve was Hannah’s daughter?” Richard asked.

  Esther nodded.

  “Oh my goodness,” he murmured. “A granddaughter?”

  “Should we tell her?” she asked.

  * * *

  “What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Rachel asked.

  She and Eve and Jonah were sitting in the kitchen around a square pine table, nursing mugs of tea.

  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall,” said Eve. “I didn’t stay in there for long though—they looked as though they wanted a bit of privacy.”

  “They’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” said Jonah.

  “Have you always lived with your grandmother?” Rachel asked.

  Eve explained that she’d been looking after her since Esther’s fall. “And I’m helping her write her autobiography. Though I’m not really a writer—I’ve just finished an undergrad degree: physical geography and environmental science. Not that I’m sure how I’ll ever use that.”

  Rachel thought for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. “I might be able to help if you like. I’m a research scientist. That’s what I’m doing on St. Mary’s. Mapping clam populations. I can put you in touch with a few people. What’s your area of specialty?”

  Eve’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that for me? I’ve not really thought about a specialty, to be honest. I’m open to almost anything,” she said. “Anything that gets me outside would suit me right now. And that would be amazing. Really. Amazing. Thank you.”

  Eve noticed Jonah looking at his watch. Esther and Dr. Creswell had been together for more than an hour. “Do you have to get back tonight?” she asked.

  “Not necessarily, but we’ll need to sort out somewhere to stay. Either here or on the way back,” said Jonah.

  “I’ll go and see what they would like to do,” Eve suggested. She wanted to see the two of them together once more. They had looked so sweet, sitting with their knees almost touching, hands clasped together as if they were afraid of letting go and losing each other again.

  * * *

  “Eve darling.” Esther nodded toward the space on the sofa next to her. “Come and sit down for a minute.”

  Eve did as she was asked, noticing the serious expression on both of their faces as they looked at her.

  “There’s something you probably should know.”

  The feeling Eve had had for a few weeks now, that there was still a missing piece of the puzzle of her grandmother’s life, returned.

  “It’s about Hannah.”

  “Mum? What about Mum?”

  “Your gramps . . . well, your gramps was not her father.”

  Eve looked at both of them, her eyes darting back and forth. For the first time, she noticed the shape of Dr. Creswell’s chin—her mother’s had been exactly the same, strong and square, and so was hers. “So that means . . .”

  “Yes it does, I’m afraid,” said Richard kindly. “Do you mind terribly much? If it’s any consolation, I had no idea myself until just now.”

  “Really? You’re sure?” she asked Esther. “But what about Gramps?”

  Her grandmother took her hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you earlier. I thought it would cause more trouble than it would solve. Gramps never knew. At least I think he didn’t.”

  “But why?” Eve asked. “Why didn’t you ever tell Dr. Creswell, Grams? Tell Mum? Didn’t they deserve to know?” She struggled to make sense of the news.

  “Eve darling, times were different then. It would have ruined too many lives. I made the best of things, tried not to hurt anyone more than I already had. It might not have been the right decision, but it was the only one I knew how to make.”

  Eve took a deep breath and examined Dr. Creswell’s face for more similarities. She should be furious, hurt, duped. It took all her courage to look for the best in the situation. “So that means I’ve gained a grandfather?” she asked finally, smiling at him.

  “If you’ll have me.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  St. Mary’s, Spring 2018

  I suppose I should be pleased,” Rachel said to Janice as they sat in the café one morning a couple of weeks after her return from London. She was filling her in on everything that had happened. “And I am, really. It’s a wonderful happy ending. Richard ended up staying with Esther for almost a week and now she has plans to go and visit him in Cornwall, according to Eve. But now I feel a bit flat.” She’d replayed her conversation with Jonah at the restaurant over and over in her mind. It was true, she might never experience the kind of love that endured no matter what, the kind of love that she’d seen between Eve’s grandmother and Dr. Creswell. It made her feel hollow, as if she’d lost something she never realized she had.

  “Well, it was very exciting and I expect you’re floundering a bit now it’s all over. How’s the wrist, by the way?”

  “Doc says I can’t even begin to think about using it for another month. I’m going a bit stir-crazy. There are only so many research notes I can read up on, so many hikes I can take. I think I know pretty much every inch of this island now.”

  Janice nodded sympathetically. “And what about Jonah?”

  “We had a bit of a misunderstanding. I think I’ve missed the boat there.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that, Rachel,” said Janice, patting her hand.

  Conversation on the long drive back from London had been strained. Jonah had apologized for putting her on the spot. “It wasn’t entirely fair. You’re entitled to live your life as you want to. I hope we can still be friends?” he said.

  She felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. “Sure.”

  Now, Rachel would have said he was avoiding her. She had hardly seen him since their return, though somewhat frustratingly he’d never been far from her thoughts, even haunting her dreams. Mostly shirtless, with a mocking grin on his face. Always just out of reach. She found herself missing him more than she cared to admit. It was a new feeling for her—she couldn’t remember ever really missing someone before, certainly not like this, an almost physical pain, an ache deep inside her.

  “Speaking of boats, did you say you could find me one to rent?” she asked.

  Janice looked suddenly c
oy. “As it happens, I do have news of something that might help cheer you up.” She looked at her watch and then pointed to Rachel’s cup. “Drink up and follow me.”

  They left the café and walked up Hugh Street, coming to the moorings at Porthcressa Beach. In the sky above the water, kite-surfers hung like seeds blown from a dandelion clock but on the beach there was scarcely a soul around until Rachel noticed a small tinny puttering across the water toward them. She strained her eyes but couldn’t make out who it was. Then, as sunlight flashed across the water, she recognized the long auburn hair. Leah.

  “Uh-oh,” she said to Janice. “She’s not my biggest fan actually.”

  “Just wait and see.”

  Steeling herself for another dressing-down, Rachel stood at the water’s edge. As they helped pull the tinny ashore, she looked at the boat. It was rather familiar. The Soleil d’Or? Could it be?

  It was. Smartened up, and with a bright new name painted on the side, entwined with a gorgeous yellow narcissus.

  “It was washed ashore on the north of the island a couple of weeks ago,” said Leah, clambering onto the sand. “Tom at the co-op arranged for someone to come and look over the motor last week. Faulty spark plugs. Simple to fix. And then I thought I should smarten up the old girl for you.”

  Rachel looked bewildered. So Leah wasn’t here to give her another piece of her mind. “Wow. Thanks, that’s amazing. Really. That’s so incredibly generous of you. I love the artwork.”

  “Least I could do. Listen, about last time . . . I’m sorry I took it out on you. You didn’t mean any harm, I realize that now.”

  “No, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have interfered.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did. Max tracked me down—can you believe it? He left his swish London gallery and roughed it with me for a couple of days.”

  Rachel could hardly picture the urbane man in Leah’s ramshackle old house.

  “Convinced me that I hadn’t lost my talent. We’re planning an exhibition in the autumn actually. He loves the seascapes.”