Another Life

by Sara MacDonald

  ‘But, Isabella, what surname will he carry, this grandson of mine? Did you make your decision in that single moment and have since forgotten?’

  Isabella did not know.

  ‘I was afraid the baby might die without absolution. I chose the names instinctively. I wanted him to carry his father’s name.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  ‘He does not know I have baptized and named my baby, Mama.’

  Thomas. This was Thomas. Isabella held him up against her cheek, soft and dependent on her as he made his little snuffling noises. Would Tom return? Why did she doubt it? As if it really had been only a dream and was now fading.

  Richard seemed always there and panic made her revert to a childlike state of powerlessness. When she thought of returning to Falmouth with him, a great and terrible languor of mind and spirit seized her at the memory of those endless days of a suspended life.

  Yet, when she saw Richard bend with awe to this child, touch him with such gentleness and joy, she thought her heart might break for the look on his face, for the generosity of spirit which could make him forget her betrayal and welcome both her and her child back into his life as his own. The pain she felt was confusing and rendered her incapable of coherent thought.

  The baby had settled into the crook of her neck like a dormouse. She smiled. Thomas. This is my son, Thomas. For the first time there was a little answering movement deep within her as if he was still attached to her umbilical cord. The connection was made and she gently moved him back into her arms and looked down into his face, whispered with sudden joy, ‘My beloved little Thomas. Your papa will soon be here.’

  When Richard appeared at her door the child was at her breast. He did not leave but stood watching her from the doorway, blocking the light. Lisette was nowhere to be seen and Isabella felt exposed. A slow flicker of anger started inside her. She met his eyes and saw he was aroused by the sight of her feeding her child.

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Please leave, Richard, you are disturbing us.’

  He did not move from the doorway.

  ‘Will you please leave and return later,’ she said coldly.

  ‘I came only to say I have registered the child, it is a legal requirement. Also you have visitors eager to view the boy. We will come back in fifteen minutes.’

  Richard’s eyes were fixed on her breast and the child’s small suckling movements. Isabella felt she was being violated and reached for the bell to call Lisette, but Richard turned as she did so and left the room.

  When Lisette returned with tea she saw two spots of colour on Isabella’s cheeks and an expression she was relieved to recognize: fury.

  ‘What is it, Isabella? What has happened?’

  Isabella took the sleeping child from her breast and handed him to Lisette. She covered herself but was unable to articulate her outrage and embarrassment at her intimacy with her child, her privacy suddenly taken from her. A shock, too, that Richard could be a voyeur in such a blatant and insulting way.

  ‘I understand we have visitors?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yes. Sophie and her mama wait outside.’

  Isabella smiled faintly. It would be good to see Sophie again, but she wondered why she was no longer persona non grata with Sophie’s mama.

  ‘Do I invite them in to see you and the child?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Lisette.’

  As she said this, Isabella realized she should have asked them to wait in the drawing room and joined them there with the child. But she had not the energy to entertain and her bedroom would have to suffice.

  Sophie rushed in first to hug Isabella, but gave a little cry when she saw her.

  ‘Oh, Isabella, how pale and thin you are, you poor darling. Was it quite dreadful? I shall never have children …’

  Isabella laughed. ‘It was not too dreadful. Of course you will have children. It is so good to see you, Sophie.’

  She turned to Mrs Tredinnick and rose to her feet.

  ‘Please, Isabella, do not get up, we do not mean to disturb you. We are here to visit your father and his wife and could not pass by without seeing you and your child.’

  Lisette was still holding the baby and Richard, who had entered the room last, made it very crowded even with the glass doors open. He moved towards Lisette and took the child from her, turning the baby’s small face to the two women proprietorially.

  ‘Meet my son,’ he boomed. ‘Meet Richard Charles Magor. I have this day registered him. Is he not a sturdy child for one born early?’

  Mrs Tredinnick did not see Isabella’s face grow ashen or Lisette’s startled look, for she was admiring the child. But Sophie did. Something was wrong.

  She said quietly, ‘Mama, the room is small and we are crowding Isabella. Shall we go out side?’

  ‘Of course. Forgive us for dropping in unannounced, Isabella. Your child is beautiful. I congratulate you both. Thank you for inviting us to be the first people to see your son, Richard. Goodbye, Isabella, we shall see you next at Botallick House, no doubt.’

  Richard handed the baby back to Lisette and went outside with Mrs Tredinnick.

  Sophie knelt to Isabella. ‘Dear, what is it? I saw your face. Did Richard name your son without consulting you?’

  Isabella forced herself to speak. ‘Do not concern yourself, Sophie. It is just that I am still weak …’

  ‘May I come again when you are stronger, Isabella?’

  ‘Of course you may.’

  At the door, Sophie turned. ‘Isabella, if you have need of a friend, you will send word to me?’

  ‘I promise …’ Isabella’s voice cracked a little and Sophie rushed back to hug her. It was all Isabella could do not to weep.

  ‘Men can be so thoughtless, darling Isabella … even Richard …’

  Mrs Tredinnick gave a loud call; ‘Sophie, come at once …’

  ‘Lisette, take care of my friend … please.’

  ‘I will, Miss Sophie … now go quickly or you will be in trouble.’

  ‘Goodbye. Goodbye …’

  Lisette turned and placed the sleeping child in his crib then poured tea and made Isabella hold the cup, held her fingers round them and whispered, ‘Do you remember, my bird, what your mama used to say to you when you were frightened or upset?’

  ‘All will be well,’ Isabella whispered. ‘All manner of things will be well … All will be well. All manner of things will be well …’

  Isabella was weeping and Lisette took the cup from her and held her. She thought Isabella would never stop, but this weeping for a thing lost needed to be done. Lisette helped her to bed and bathed her swollen face and cooled her hands. In the corner the baby snuffled and the day faded and became chill, and Lisette went to close the doors. Isabella was very still in the dark. She said quietly, ‘Lisette, please would you see if Sir Richard is still here. If he is would you please say that I wish to see him?’

  ‘Miss Isabella, could it not wait till the morning?’

  ‘No, Lisette, for tomorrow is a new day and I wish to start it right.’

  When Richard came back into the room it was dark save for one small lamp. He could not see Isabella’s face.

  ‘You wish to see me, Isabella? I go soon to dine with …’

  ‘This will not take long. Would you please tell me what registering a baby means?’

  ‘It is a legal document recording time of birth, name, parents, place, and religion.’

  ‘And what did you write on the document, Richard?’

  Something in the calmness of Isabella’s voice unnerved Richard. He coughed.

  ‘I should have consulted with you over names, Isabella. I got a little carried away. I apologize.’

  ‘Did you write your own name down as the father?’

  Silence, then, ‘I did.’

  ‘You did not think to talk to me before you did this? You did not consider I had a right to know you were registering my son?’

  ‘I did not wish to trouble you with legal talk, Isabe
lla.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Isabella, I am afraid I must take my leave, I will be late …’ He heard the rustle of her dress as Isabella sat up.

  ‘On the night my son was born the priest baptized my child. You know that I am a Catholic and believe in absolution. He was baptized with names I chose for him, and they are not the names you put on your legal document, Richard.’

  ‘I did not know he had been baptized in the Catholic faith or given any names.’

  ‘You did not ask and yet I am the mother of this child.’

  Richard was beginning to feel alarmed at the cold voice in the darkness. It went on, very composed, very calm.

  ‘When I saw how you looked at the child with such feeling, I was touched. I wronged you and I have always deeply regretted hurting you. I felt confused for I saw how much you wanted a son and I remembered only your kindness, and for a moment, a moment only, it seemed like small reparation to go forward as if he was your own child.

  ‘If you had asked me if this was possible in the moments you first saw him. If you had been as you once were, I do not think I could have hurt you more. If you had treated me as a woman and not as a child or a possession, if you had not paraded names I knew nothing of in front of the Tredinnicks. If you had not stood in my doorway staring at me, leaving me in no doubt of how things would stand if I returned to Botallick House, all might have been different. But you did all those things without thought, Richard, because you were so sure you had control and I had no power or choice to make in my own or my child’s future. But you are wrong. My son was baptized with names I chose. His mother is Isabella, née Vyvyan. His father is Thomas Well and of the parish of St Piran. This is who we are to him. And this is who we will remain, no matter what you try to do to us. I will never return to Botallick House with you. Never.’

  Isabella took a deep breath. ‘I would like to buy this house from you, in order that I may stay with people who have been kind and good to me. If you will not permit this, I will go to live elsewhere. I would be grateful if you would consider this.’

  ‘With what names did you baptize your son?’ Richard would not let it go.

  ‘His name is Thomas Benjamin.’

  ‘Ha! And with those names you considered returning to me? I think not, Isabella.’

  ‘I do not care any more what you think, Richard. Names can be changed but I see now that your love is not generous but possessive and will not change. It always has been. Now, I am tired and you will be late for your dinner.’

  Richard hesitated then turned to leave. This was an Isabella he did not know and he needed to gather his wits. For she was right, he did not believe his wife had any choice but to return with him to Botallick House.

  As he mounted his horse, he suddenly relaxed. For there was one thing that Isabella had overlooked.

  Chapter 76

  Gabby and Josh sat opposite each other in a small Italian restaurant. Gabby was cleaning a painting in a private house nearby, and it was conveniently near Paddington for Josh to put Marika on the train home for the night before he met Gabby.

  Josh had wanted Marika to come and for Elan to join them so that they could all have supper together, but both had insisted, for different reasons, that he met Gabby on his own.

  ‘Josh, your mother has not seen you for months. We are going on holiday together, let her have you to herself for one evening.’

  ‘Dear boy, do come along afterwards, we can do a little foray into late-night drinking. Why don’t you stay the night?’

  Josh could not get rid of an insidious feeling that something was wrong, and when he saw Gabby he got a shock.

  ‘You look awful, Gabby. Are you ill?’

  ‘Thank you, darling. I love you, too!’

  ‘Sorry.’ He hugged her and felt only the angle of her bones.

  ‘You’re skeletal. God, you can’t be eating.’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  Gabby made a great play of ordering drinks and opening up the huge menu for him. He saw that her hands were trembling and she laid the menu down on the table. When the waiter had left their wine she said brightly, ‘Oh, Josh, it’s so good to see you. You look wonderful.’

  She seemed nervous and distracted and her words somehow struck Josh as false or automatic. Was Gabby ill? Had she got cancer or something and was going to tell him now? Perhaps this was why Elan would not eat with them?

  ‘What is it, Gabby? Something’s wrong. I’ve known it since I got back.’

  To Josh’s horror a tear slid down her cheek and she hastily stemmed it with her finger. She looked down at the tablecloth and up again, and then said quickly, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘I’m sorry, Josh, the timing’s bloody … I’m no longer living at home. Charlie and I have split up.’

  Josh couldn’t take this in for a moment. He had been expecting her to say something quite different, that she was dying or something, and his relief was tempered with incredulity.

  ‘What? What on earth do you mean?’

  Gabby was watching him anxiously.

  ‘Has Charlie got fed up with you working in London and given you an ultimatum or something?’

  ‘No, Josh, nothing like that. I … fell in love with someone else. Charlie has done nothing wrong at all.’

  Josh could feel the blood leaving his face. He did not want to hear this. He really didn’t need this.

  ‘You mean that Canadian figurehead man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are leaving Charlie for him, for God’s sake?’

  ‘He was killed in a plane accident three weeks ago, Josh.’

  Josh stared at his mother. ‘Did Charlie know you were having an affair?’

  ‘No, not until after Mark was killed.’

  ‘Poor Charlie.’ Josh drained his wine glass and poured himself another.

  ‘Elan knows, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. And Nell of course.’

  ‘You’ve just fucked up your life, haven’t you?’

  Gabby did not reply. Josh twiddled his wine glass. The waiter brought bread to their table and asked if they were ready to order. They were not.

  ‘Why?’ he asked when the waiter had gone.

  ‘Why did I fall in love with someone else?’

  ‘Yeah, Gabby, why did you need to have an affair?’

  Gabby had never heard Josh so aggressive. She disliked it.

  ‘I did not need to have an affair, Josh. I simply fell in love with another human being.’

  ‘And he was married and had children so there was never going to be any future in it, was there? Just stupid to risk your marriage …’

  ‘It was not a light-hearted fling. Mark flew home to tell his wife. I was going to tell Charlie. We were going to make a life together, Josh.’

  Josh scraped his chair back. ‘And what the hell are you going to do now, Gabby, now you’ve fucked up the life you had? Are you hoping Charlie will have you back?’

  ‘No, I’m not, Josh. I’m going to live and work in London. I’m sorry to jump this on you, I know it’s a shock when you’ve just come home, but you had to know. I’m sorry.’

  Josh thought he might cry. He looked away, swallowed, threw his napkin onto the table, and said suddenly, ‘Maybe Charlie will forgive you. Maybe you can go back, eventually.’

  To crawl. To feel eternally grateful. I don’t think so. Not again, even if I wasn’t pregnant.

  ‘Life is not quite that simple. It never is. We all change, move on, cannot go back to being the people we once were, you know.’

  Josh stood up. ‘I can’t eat anything. It would stick in my gullet. I can’t believe you could cheat on Charlie. He would have trusted you implicitly, he’s that sort …’ Josh looked down on someone he no longer knew. ‘Well, I hope you’re happy. You’ve buggered up my life and Nell’s as well as Charlie’s. I’ve spent months longing to come home, and now … this.’

  He turned and walked out of the restaurant. Gabby sat, stricken. The Italian wa
iter came instantly and gently poured Gabby more wine from the bottle.

  ‘Madame, may I recommend the soup, it is light and nourishing?’

  Gabby nodded, dared not speak at his kindness. She felt sick and light-headed and guilty. She knew Josh would have gone straight to Elan and was glad. Poor Josh.

  ‘Did you know?’

  ‘For the last few months, yes, I did, Josh.’

  ‘So why didn’t you warn Charlie?’

  ‘Because one does not meddle in the lives of one’s friends.’

  ‘So, no loyalty, then?’

  ‘To whom, Josh?’

  ‘To Charlie, of course. Gabby was the one having the fling. You should have given Charlie the chance to put a stop to it.’

  ‘Gabby is also my friend and it was more than a casual fling, Josh.’

  ‘So that makes it all right, then?’

  ‘It makes it more understandable. Will you please sit down and I’ll get you a drink.’

  ‘You can’t answer me, Elan, can you? You knew Gabby was in the wrong, yet …’

  Elan held his hands up and Josh realized he had never seen Elan angry before.

  ‘Stop shouting, Josh, or leave. Now, would you like a drink?’

  ‘Whisky, please,’ Josh said sullenly.

  Elan poured two whiskies and went back into the sitting room. Josh was prowling. Elan said quietly, ‘Now we can have a conversation, Josh, but what I cannot put up with is you bellowing at me like a petulant sergeant-major.’

  Josh threw himself down in a chair and Elan said, ‘I realize it must be a great shock, coming out of the blue at you …’

  ‘You can say that again!’

  ‘All I can say is I have never seen your mother so happy or fulfilled as she was last year.’

  ‘Meaning she wasn’t happy before? That’s crap, Elan. Gabby has always been a happy person and she loves the farm and Cornwall.’

  ‘She did and always will, but she was forging a little life of her own and that makes people change …’

  ‘But not necessarily jump into bed with the first person that asks them?’

  ‘And how the hell do you know that is what happened? Can you not conceive that even mothers have a life, fall in love, and enjoy the company of people they are not married to? Have interests and pursuits that bind them together? In long marriages people take each other for granted, Josh, and stop seeing anything new …’