by Sarah Morgan
Sean stood in front of the canvas that Finn had admired. “This is it?”
“Yes. He likes the ocean.”
“It’s stunning.”
“So is his house. An architect’s dream. You’d love it.”
“We have to find a way to build you a studio in London.”
She tidied away a few paints, more for something to do than because it needed doing. The shell that Finn had given her rested on the narrow windowsill, a reminder of that morning on the beach. Was it wrong to keep it? No. It didn’t make her think of Finn, it made her think of the moment she’d decided to take up painting again.
“We don’t have the space for a studio.”
“Then we’ll make the space.” He stepped closer to the canvas, studying the brush strokes. “You have so much talent.”
Pleasure rushed through her. “Thank you.”
He turned and pulled her close. “So what’s the dream, Liza? If you could design your perfect life, right now, how would it look?”
“Fantasy or reality?”
“Start with the big dream. And we’ll see how we can make it reality.” It had been years since they’d played this game. Big Dreams, Little Dreams.
The big dream. She rested her head against his chest. “I’d like to move out of the city. I’d like to live in a house like this one, full of character, close to the ocean. I’d like to live an outdoor life, filled with good friends, good food and good books. I’d like to paint. I’d like to not worry about the twins all the time. I’d like to know you’re fulfilled and happy too. I don’t want my dream life to come at the expense of someone else’s happiness.”
He stroked her hair. “We always dreamed about living near the beach. It’s my fault we’re in London.”
“It’s no one’s fault.” She glanced up at him. “It was a joint decision. You’ve worked hard to build your client base, and I’m grateful for the security it has given us.”
“But—” He eased away from her. “This life we’re living is not looking the way either of us wanted it to twenty years ago.”
“I doubt anyone’s does. And what you want at twenty isn’t the same as what you want at forty.”
“I’m not sure. I could live here without too much of a struggle.” He stared out across the garden. “Maybe when the twins leave for college.”
Her heart bumped against her ribs because his mind was going in the same direction as hers. “Do you mean that?” She felt a spark of excitement and tried to temper it. “It isn’t practical though, is it? There’s my teaching. And your practice. I can’t see how we could make it work.”
“Maybe we need to try harder. Let’s think about it.” He kissed her. “In the meantime, let’s keep sharing those dreams so at least we both know what we’re aiming for.”
She kept her arms round him and for a moment it felt as if they were alone in the world, as it had all those years before.
She didn’t want fantasy, she realized. She wanted her reality, but an improved version.
“I’m glad you drove here.”
“Are you? When you opened the door last night, I thought I might have made a mistake.” His arms tightened. “Don’t give up on us, Liza. I won’t let you give up on us. We can do so much better.”
She’d missed him. Not the limited part of Sean she’d had access to recently, but the whole Sean. The man she’d fallen in love with.
“I’ll never give up on us.” She rested her head on his chest. “We ought to call the girls. Also, there’s something I need to do before I speak to my mother later.”
“That sounds mysterious.”
“It is, a little.” She took his hand and they walked back through the garden. “I never asked my mother much about her life before she met my father. She has these letters she wants me to read—actually I probably ought to check with her before I tell you everything.”
“I understand. I’m pleased you feel closer to her. I know how much you wanted that. You focus on your mother and I’ll call the girls and put them out of their misery. I was thinking—shall we stay here for a few more days? Call it our anniversary gift to each other.”
She’d been assuming they’d head back to London.
“What would we do?”
“I have a few ideas.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “Go to bed early, get up late, walk on the beach, eat dinner together outside. You can paint and I can watch you. We can read or do nothing. Talk. What do you say?”
She didn’t need to think about it. “I say yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I should probably speak to the girls too.”
“Time for that later. Go and get those letters and call your mother.”
Feeling stronger and steadier than she had in a long time, Liza took the letters through to her mother’s bedroom and untied the ribbon holding them together. She separated the first one and the second one, and put the others carefully on the table next to her mother’s bed.
One at a time.
It was tempting to open them in advance, so that she could find a way to prepare her mother for what was inside, but she knew her mother didn’t want that.
Popeye walked into the bedroom, eyed her with slightly less disdain than usual and then sprang onto her lap.
Liza was so shocked she didn’t move. The cat nudged her hand and she tentatively stroked him. It was the first time Popeye had ever sought attention or affection from her.
“What’s going on with you?” She stroked his fur and heard him purr. Maybe the cat was finally warming up to her. A bit like her mother.
The thought made her laugh.
Popeye was still on her lap when Kathleen called, at exactly the time they’d arranged.
“Do you have the letters?”
“Yes. I’ve made sure they’re in date order and I have the first two right here.” Liza slid off her shoes and lay on the bed, careful not to disturb the cat. “You haven’t changed your mind? I’m worried if it might be difficult or upsetting.” It couldn’t be easy handling the fact that the man you’d loved and planned to marry had conducted an affair with your best friend. No wonder her mother had walked away. No wonder her mother hadn’t been in touch with Ruth, or opened those letters.
“I’m sure. Martha and Josh have gone out for breakfast and to explore some of the local sights recommended in the guidebook, so I have this time undisturbed.”
Liza opened the first letter. It was dated September 1960.
“Dearest Kate,
I’m not sure if you’ll read this. I won’t blame you if you don’t, but I’m writing it anyway. There are things I need to say even if you’re not going to hear them. It’s ironic, isn’t it, that the one person I was always able to say anything to (you!) is now no longer here to listen. It is a great loss, and the blame for that loss lies entirely with me. You’ve been the very best friend to me since that very first day at college, and you stayed that way until the end.
This should never have happened of course, and if I had been as good a friend to you as you have always been to me, then I would not find myself in the position of having to write these words. But I am not you, no matter how many times in the past I have wished to be blessed with even a few of your qualities.
I should be wishing this had never happened, and yet how can I? I cannot begin to explain the emotional turmoil and confusion that comes from knowing that my greatest joy came at the expense of your happiness, and our friendship. The knowledge that I hurt you deeply is something I live with every day.
I know that my feelings for Adam vastly eclipse his for me. Perhaps I should care more about that than I do, but unlike you I never had expectations of grand passion or romance. I know he is marrying me because he feels driven by obligation. His feelings for me are a fraction of his feelings for you, and we would not have found ourselves in this position were it not for the
baby...”
Liza stopped. Baby? Baby?
“Liza?” Her mother’s voice came down the phone. “Why have you stopped?”
“Ruth was pregnant?”
“Yes. Please keep reading. I want to hear all of it.”
Pregnant.
No wonder her mother had walked away and not tried to fix it.
Liza forced herself to carry on reading.
“You know that all I ever wanted was a child, and a family of my own. You used to tease me about it. What was the point of a college education if I had no intention of putting it to good use? Where was my ambition? But I was never like you. I know that Adam came to see you after he found out—” Liza heard her mother’s indrawn breath. That part obviously came as a shock. Should she pause? No. Not unless she was asked to. “He told me that he went to you and begged you to take him back. To forgive. And he told me that you refused to listen and that you told him to live up to his responsibilities. He tried to see you again, but you’d left. You walked away to give us a chance. You removed yourself as an option. Even in our parting you were a better friend to me than I was to you.”
Liza broke off, her throat thick with tears. “Mum—”
“Don’t stop, Liza. It’s hard to hear and I’d like to get through it as fast as I can. You have no idea how relieved I am you’re the one reading them.”
Liza swallowed. Her job wasn’t to judge or ask for more detail. Her mother needed her to read the letters.
She wiped tears from her cheeks and focused on the words.
“And now he resents me, and for that I don’t blame him even though he is at least half responsible for this child we made. I have no expectations that he will be faithful, and next time I write to you—and I will write, even if you don’t read these letters—I may well be a single mother.”
Liza cleared her throat. “He wanted you back. You loved him, and you could have had him back.”
“I loved him more than anything, and I was heartbroken, but I knew I would survive without him. I wasn’t so sure about Ruth. She was always vulnerable. From that first day we met in college, I protected her.”
Did her mother want to say more? This type of conversation was new to both of them.
“It must have been a special friendship.” Liza trod carefully, wanting to be sensitive. “What was she like?”
“She’d had a difficult childhood. Lonely. Very strict parents. They were older, I believe, although I never met them. They didn’t visit her.”
Liza put the letters down. “How did you meet Adam?”
“At drama club. I dragged Ruth along with me. Adam was there. He was a medical student and rather full of himself I suppose, but I found him entertaining.” She paused. “I’ve never told this story to anyone before.”
Liza heard the uncertainty in her mother’s voice. “I’m glad you’re sharing it with me.”
There was a pressure in her chest, a swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm.
“So am I. Where were we? Oh yes, Adam. He was one of those annoying people who was good at everything. He seemed to achieve what he wanted with remarkably little effort. I remember we did Much Ado About Nothing the following summer. I was Beatrice and he was Benedict. You know how I love that play. The banter. The energy. It mimicked our real-life relationship. Ruth was forever intervening and begging us to stop arguing. She was a gentle soul.”
Liza lay back on the bed, picturing it. “I didn’t know you loved drama.” She was learning so much about her mother.
“Only at college. After that I never stayed in one place long enough to commit to rehearsals.”
Because of Adam and Ruth. Because her mother had walked away from that part of her life. This had to be a tough conversation for Kathleen. “I bet you were an incredible Beatrice.”
“I believe feisty was a word that came up in more than one of the reviews.”
She could easily picture her mother in the role. “That must be where Caitlin gets her love of drama.” She diffused some of the emotion by steering the conversation away from the personal for a few minutes. Her mother wasn’t the only one who needed a breather. Liza did too. She was struggling to hold it together, but she knew it was important that she didn’t overreact or make her mother uncomfortable by revealing her own feelings. And hers were complicated, of course. For her it wasn’t only about what she was hearing, it was about how it finally felt to have her mother’s trust. “We can blame DNA for all those stage-worthy moments.”
“Perhaps. Although she seems to give her best performances away from the stage.”
They both laughed, and Liza pulled the phone a little closer. She was laughing with her mother. Laughing! And it felt good. “She does indeed. Tell me more about you and Adam.”
“We were a cliché, really. Our romance onstage spilled offstage. But Ruth and I were inseparable. I wasn’t going to be one of those people who ditched their friends when they fell in love, so invariably we ended up doing things together, the three of us. Ruth had gone to buy a picnic the day Adam proposed to me on the riverbank. Our exams had ended that day. I’d had a glass or two of champagne and was feeling excessively cheerful and optimistic about life. He produced a ring.”
Liza heard the wistful note in her voice. “The one in the drawer.”
“Yes. I believe it’s valuable, although I don’t know for sure. You’re probably wondering why I still have it.” Kathleen paused, as if she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. “He refused to take it back, and I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. I don’t quite know why. Maybe I thought it might act as a caution.”
At some point Liza would urge her to store it in a safer place, but that wasn’t the priority. Right now her thoughts were only for her mother. “You accepted his proposal. So where did Ruth come into the story? How did that happen?”
Her mother didn’t immediately answer. “I was naive. I believed Ruth to be impervious to his charms. She was the one person he didn’t seem able to impress. And Adam, being Adam, would have felt compelled to convert her into an admirer. I’m sure he would have done the hard work, because Ruth would never have proactively gone after him. Not that I’m absolving her of blame. But I see how it might have happened. Adam was godlike, and she would have been flattered. But it turned out her feelings ran far deeper for him than I’d thought.”
Liza’s chest ached as she thought about how her mother must have felt. Her fiancé and her best friend. The betrayal had upended her life in every possible way.
“Had it been going on for a long time?”
“No. It was after the Summer Ball. I was due to go with Adam. Ruth hadn’t planned to go at all. She didn’t enjoy that kind of thing, but then I ate something that disagreed with me—it won’t surprise you to know that I lacked caution in my eating even back then—and went down with a vicious bout of food poisoning. So Adam took Ruth instead.” There was a pause, and the sound of her mother taking a breath. “And that was it. They didn’t tell me right away, although I suspected something because they both behaved differently around me. And then a few weeks later Ruth discovered she was pregnant. And in those days being a single mother was greeted with horror and judgment of course.”
“Oh you poor thing.” Liza found it hard to imagine. “How did you cope?”
“It was hard. I’d lost my lover and my best friend. Ruth was distraught. She was worried about telling her parents. Worried about how she would survive. Guilty at having hurt me. Adam came to see me and begged forgiveness. Until you read the letter, I didn’t know he’d told Ruth. He said it was a silly mistake.” There was a hint of irritation in Kathleen’s voice. “But that ‘silly mistake’, even if that’s what it was, couldn’t be easily undone. Ruth was pregnant. She needed support. Her parents wouldn’t give it. I could hardly give it. That left Adam. I told him he had to do the responsible thing. Then I packed up all my thing
s and left. I didn’t believe their relationship would sustain, or even that Adam would be there for her, but I knew there was more chance of that happening if I wasn’t in the picture.”
Liza closed her eyes. As a child she’d seen her mother as being apart—almost detached—as she pursued her own life, with her family an adjunct to that life. To her great shame she’d often considered Kathleen to be bordering selfish in her decision making, and yet here was an example of the most selfless behavior Liza could have imagined. Would she have been as strong willed in the same circumstances? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she now had a very different view of her mother. “Did Dad know all this?”
“Yes. I avoided close relationships after that, as you might imagine. Both male and female. I was fortunate to fall into a job that I found exciting, and then came The Summer Seekers. I had a life that didn’t allow me time for more than the most superficial of friendships, and that also absolved me of all need to reflect on my life. Had your father not been the steady, persistent man he was, I doubt I would have married at all.”
“I’m glad you told me. I’m glad we’re reading these letters together.”
“I should have done it before, but I preferred to keep the past in the past. I’ve given you the impression that it was easy, and it wasn’t. It really was the most terrible mess. Of course in those days we didn’t have mobile phones or email, so communication wasn’t as instant and continuous as it is now. That made it easier. Martha has Steven’s name popping up on her phone all the time. I didn’t have to handle that. No wonder the poor girl needed to escape.”
Martha had been escaping from a bad relationship?
Liza had suspected there was something. She also knew that her mother probably shouldn’t have told her something so personal, so she didn’t pursue it. Everyone had their own story, didn’t they? Things were rarely as they appeared on the surface.
Her mother was obviously enjoying Martha’s company, and Martha had made this trip possible. For that, Liza was grateful.