Having observed the social mores, Elfie gazed deeply and seriously into my eyes as she informed me of Brenda’s confession yesterday, returning from the station.
“I would never have believed it of her. I came home from one storm, the weather variety, straight into another. I tell you, Cassie, “disappointed” is not the word; I’m bloody furious with her. She had no right, no right at all.” Elfie carried on for quite a while before her storm eventually blew itself out. We had both survived.
“I know, and I don’t mean to excuse her, Elfie, but I think she just saw it as trying to sort out the mystery of why I’m the only friend who, frankly, has to dash to her own home when she needs the lavatory. I didn’t look at the photos, anyway, if that’s any consolation.”
Elfie managed a slight smile. “She said you hadn’t, adamant she was. Although I understand that your friend, Honeysuckle, gave chapter and verse. Look, Cass, I know I’ve some explaining to do. It isn’t that I don’t want or intend to, I just don’t know where to start. That’s the trouble with family secrets; someone refuses to sort things out at the time and, before you know it, many years have passed and everything seems to be even more muddled.” Spreading her hands on the kitchen table, Elfie sighed deeply. “I don’t know how,” she began. Suddenly, she thumped a fist on the old scrubbed pine. “Yes, actually I do know!”
THIRTEEN
We had lunched across the road from my shop, at “Poppy Green’s”. Now, back in the flat over the shop, Trish made tea while Lucy asked if I had opened the second letter yet, raising her eyebrows exasperatedly when I shook my head. “Don’t ask me why, Lucy, I just seem to have a mental block about it.” As excuses went, that one was pretty feeble, besides, why hadn’t I opened it? It had lain in a kitchen drawer for months now. As Merry had thought, it was probably from Uncle Albert, and I had never had any problem with him; well, not since the truth about Sandra eventually came out. I promised myself that I would read it later, after dinner.
Merry had been right, the second letter was from Uncle Albert, albeit dated five years previously.
“Dear Cassie,
As you can probably guess, I’m not really of a mind for letter-writing, what with Ivy’s funeral so recent. Still, these things must be done and it’ll be one more thing ticked off the list that my darling wife begged me to do, even as she lay on her deathbed. I don’t know how much, if anything, you know. If I ramble on a bit or tell you things you’ve already been told, please forgive me.
Years back, when we were youngsters, I loved Ivy from when I first saw her and there was never anyone else for me. She was so different from her sister, Annie. As gentle and sunny as Ivy was, Annie always seemed so coarse and sour; mind you, she met her match in Roger Payne. God, but he was a brutal so-and-so; still is by all accounts. Even though we (I’m forgetting, it’s just me now) live next door, I make sure I avoid him whenever possible. Well, you saw what he was like at the funeral, shooting his mouth off. He even told the vicar where to go. And Craig’s exactly like him. Still, one day I’m sure they’ll get their comeuppance and well-deserved it will be.
Anyway, since Ivy had her eye on someone else, I left and got a job in the Smoke, a door-to-door salesman, but I saved every penny I could to buy her a diamond ring if she changed her mind. After a few years I came home, and Ivy was so different, almost like a zombie. This chap had got her in the family way. Oh, it was alright for him, mummy and daddy arranged six months away for him, in America. I know it takes two to tango, Cassie, but not doing the honourable thing, well, it’s not cricket, is it?
There was hell to pay, I can tell you. Annie called Ivy every name under the sun; said she lowered the tone of the family. Mind you, their boy Craig was quite a decent sized premature baby, as I recall, and their wedding hastily arranged. You have to remember, Cassie, that I was away when all this was going on, otherwise there would have been a very different outcome. The first I knew of any of it was when I came home. Nobody had said anything in a letter because they wanted me to get over Ivy. Anyway, Roger really started laying into Annie fairly soon after Craig was born, thought the kid was getting too much attention. He threatened to harm the baby if, as he put it, Annie didn’t start behaving more like a wife should. Well, you can imagine what he meant by that.”
Oh yes, I could certainly imagine. I continued reading.
“When Ivy had a daughter, Annie suddenly became all sweetness and light. She used to take the baby off Ivy’s hands for an hour or two quite often. Ivy said Annie always used to push the pram if they went shopping together and didn’t correct anyone who thought the child was hers. Since Annie had a quick, nasty temper on her, Ivy just let it pass; after all, she knew she was the mother. Annie Payne’s a manipulative woman, not to be denied anything she sets her heart on, and she was set on having Ivy’s daughter. That daughter was you, Cassie.
Annie wheedled and pleaded; oh, how she wept because Roger had beaten her so much that she thought she’d never have another child, and she’d always longed for a daughter. This went on for ages, months, before delivering her coup de grace. Ivy was undoubtedly struggling financially, and owed a loan shark quite a bit. Annie offered to pay the debt if Ivy would let her and Roger adopt you.”
At that point, I roughly folded the letter, stuffing it none too gently back in its envelope. My eyes misting with tears, all I could think of was the young Albert knocking on London’s doors, hoping to scrape together enough cash to buy a diamond ring for his one true love. And now he languished in a home, unvisited and unloved. And poor Ivy, what a decision to have had to make. Back then, as a single mother she would have been ostracised from “decent” company as though the perceived stigma of her circumstance would infect others. Even knowing what I had endured throughout childhood, I could not bring myself to judge her. Ivy had done her best for me, led to believe that her own sister would love and nurture me. Now, staring at the envelope on the coffee table, I knew I had to finish reading its contents.
“Ivy believed that growing up with a sibling and married parents would benefit you much more than anything she could offer, Cassie. The ink on the adoption papers was scarcely dry when Annie reverted to type and all her promises went out the window. Ivy wasn’t allowed to visit you, hold you or even rock the pram in the garden. Nothing at all, and after Annie had promised so much. Of course, living next door with her parents was no help, especially since they’d piled on so much pressure to give you up; even threatening to kick her out if she refused.
Anyhow, when I eventually came home, she was a shadow of her former self. People make mistakes, Cassie. I would still have wed her, even carrying another’s child. Not out of compassion but because I adored her, even knowing I would always be second best.
As you obviously know, we eventually married and had Sandra, your half-sister. We doted on her, gradually becoming the close, loving little family we had both always wanted. To her dying day, though, Ivy remained wracked with guilt and sorrow over you. You see, while Sandra had love and the best we could provide, we knew that you didn’t. Finances were improving and we even offered Annie money to adopt you back, but she refused. It gave her some warped satisfaction to see Ivy looking from the bedroom window at you in their garden and she’d slap your legs on purpose so’s you’d cry.”
I remembered sometimes being slapped for no discernible reason, and Annie’s sly smirk as she returned indoors.
“I must admit, Cassie, that when we came home and saw Sandra’s lifeless little body at the foot of the stairs that day, and you at the top, I did blame you at first. You see, we’d just returned from the surgery, having found that Ivy was expecting again. We were over the moon. The shock brought on a miscarriage that very night. I’d wanted to throttle you, but Ivy wouldn’t have it that you’d done anything, she knew you wouldn’t hurt Sandra. To be fair, even Roger believed your story that Craig sneaked in and pushed Sandra down the stairs. Mind you, he’d seen his son leaving our house and wondered what he’d been up to. Beca
use, though, nothing could be proved either way, nothing was ever done about it. I’m deeply sorry you’ve had to carry that burden of blame from some quarters, all these years.”
I still carried it, as far as some were concerned. Mainly friends of Annie Payne, not that she’d had many, who simply could not believe that her precious son was capable of such a thing. By the time they had told their families and other friends, embroidering the story as they went, as many in Heatherbridge judged me, a child myself, as guilty as not. The phone rang and I ignored it.
“Cassie, do you recall the times we took you to the beach? We had to take all three of you otherwise Annie wouldn’t let you come. We weren’t allowed to take you that often but, oh, you should have seen Ivy’s face light up when she knew she’d have you for the day! And how she used to dawdle back to the car at home time, snuggling you in and kissing your head. I tell you, it’s a wonder you grew up with any hair! I have some photographs somewhere, you’ll have to visit and I’ll show you. I know you and the other two thought what a grumpy old so-and-so I was, but all the grumbling about sand in the car was only to hide Ivy’s gentle little sobs at the thought of handing you back. To be honest, it stopped me from blubbing, too.
I’m sorry this has been such a long letter, Cass, but it needed writing. I hope it’s set a few things straight for you, and I hope to see you as soon as you feel able. I know how much you loved your real mother.”
Uncle Albert had signed it “Much love from us both.”
I packed a suitcase straightaway.
FOURTEEN
Borrowing an old bicycle from The Lion, I made my way across Heatherbridge to Shangri-La, the nursing home where Uncle Albert had resided these past three years.
“Your uncle’s not feeling too bright today, Mrs. Harrington. If I may be frank, I don’t think he’ll be with us much longer. You’re the first visitor he’s had in a very long time.” The nurse led me along various corridors before tapping lightly on my uncle’s door prior to entering the large, spotlessly clean room. “He’s going to be so pleased to…” But I was too late. Uncle Albert, sitting in his armchair, newspaper pages strewn by his feet, stared with sightless eyes out of the window, a small semblance of a smile on his lips. Whilst shocked, I was not really surprised. I fancied that his beloved Ivy had come to collect him.
~~~
Walking towards my car from the church hall for the second time in a year, it surprised me how keenly, for a man I had not known very well, I felt Albert’s loss. How I wished my adoptive mother, Annie Payne, had passed on his letter to me. He must have thought I could not have been bothered to reply or visit. Still it was all over now and I had organised the best send-off I could for him, making sure there were masses of flowers because Albert and Ivy had loved gardening. This time, I stopped at little Sandra’s grave to place a bunch of flowers.
That evening, strolling around The Lion’s garden and looking back as the light from The Orangery cast soft shadows into the dusk, I was struck by the simple beauty of the scene. The scent of wood smoke, from the remains of a nearby garden bonfire, tickled my nostrils. Autumn had come a-calling while my attention was elsewhere. I smiled, recalling last Autumn’s blackberry-picking with Honeysuckle. Our hands were purple for days, but The Lion’s patrons were not to know that as they tucked contentedly into crumble and custard for pudding.
“Fancy doing it again?”
I turned to see Honeysuckle Ellis chuckling in the kitchen doorway.
“Ah, you read minds as well as knocking out brilliant grub! Only if there’s a long mac and wellies going spare. Oh, and thick gloves.”
“Naturally. Or we could just try to get spacesuits.” Wrapping her arms around herself against the light evening chill, Honeysuckle grinned, turning to go in. I followed.
In the warmth of the now empty, cleaned-down hotel kitchen, we sat at the chef’s table, chatting away like two detectives pooling resources. We covered just about everything; Elfie, and her reaction to Honeysuckle, various letters, photographs, family secrets, the lot. Having sifted through every snippet of information, my friend declared that she sensed “mysterious goings-on”, although unable to express what or, indeed, why. I had to concur. Honeysuckle stood up and stretched.
“Come on, Mrs. Harrington, it’s been crazy in here today so you’re cooking. I’ll set the table, it’ll be lovely to have a meal cooked for me for a change, even at this time of day. What’s on the menu this evening?”
“Let me see, my dish du jour is still eggs and chips, even after all these years, but just for you I’ll upgrade it with some ham. Oh, and a tomato if you’re lucky.”
Later, the kitchen tidied once more, we took a bottle of wine through to the lounge bar, passing Robbie Haskins, the assistant manager, on the way. Honeysuckle asked if he would join us for a nightcap, but Robbie was just about to lock up for the night and then watch a film.
“He fancies you.”
“Don’t be so daft, Cass.” Honeysuckle was shocked. “I know I’m a bit trimmer than, well, way back, but even so…”
“It’s not about your waistline, you know, sweetie. It’s about the personality shining from within. And you’re one of the best, you always were. And Robbie can see that. Besides, since you mention physical attributes, your hair is still gorgeously long and red, and your complexion is flawless. So there.”
“Crikey, woman, I wish you hadn’t said anything. Now I’ll be self-conscious around him.”
Just then, a smiling Robbie strolled past, winked at Honeysuckle and wished us goodnight.
“Well, Honeysuckle dear, you’ll either have to get used to the attention or wear thick make-up, because that red hair and puce face are not a winning combination.”
Still blushing, Honeysuckle clinked glasses with me as we giggled like a couple of schoolgirls.
~~~
Remembering breakfasting in The Orangery earlier in the year, it occurred to me that I had only seen Mr. Shepherd a couple of times since my arrival, and then only briefly. Admittedly, he looked very frail but, since Honeysuckle had not said otherwise, I assumed all was reasonably well and he was attending to business. Still, it would not hurt to seek him out this morning for a friendly chat. As I headed for the office, Robbie politely offered his assistance.
“Mr. Shepherd is still in his room, Mrs. Harrington. He rarely comes down until after lunch. He did until a few months ago, but it’s getting a bit too much for him now.” Seeing the surprise on my face, the assistant manager steered me towards the office where we sat at opposite ends of the old burgundy leather chesterfield sofa. Well, at least Robbie had not planted himself behind the desk as though he owned the place; that would have been a bit too much for me.
Robbie’s smile was genuine, lighting up his face. I could see why Honeysuckle blushed when he winked at her. “I really hope I didn’t speak out of turn, Mrs. Harrington. To be honest, I’m surprised at your surprise. I just thought, with you and Honeysuckle being such good friends, she might have said something. Still, perhaps Mr. Shepherd didn’t want…” As his voice petered out, I wanted to pat his hand reassuringly, but that seemed too familiar somehow. I smiled warmly instead.
“Listen, how about if I call you Robbie and you call me Cassie?” His face visibly relaxed. “Now, I’d really appreciate it if you would tell me what’s going on, please.”
“To be blunt, Mrs.…um, Cassie, Mr. Shepherd has cancer. He was diagnosed not long after last Christmas, and has decided against treatment, preferring pain management instead. He wants to keep his hand on the tiller as much as possible until, in his words, his time’s up. I was drafted in from an agency. I must say, this is the best place I’ve ever worked. Everyone is so professional and friendly. There are usually one or two who spoil it for the rest, but not here.” Robbie nodded towards my coffee cup. “Would you like a top-up?”
Having declined, The Lion’s assistant manager returned both our cups to the tray before ringing for them to be removed. I liked Robbie Haskins.
His voice was calm and reassuring, with just a hint of the quiet authority he appeared to possess in spades. Extremely efficient at his work (according to Honeysuckle), he was also popular and approachable with patrons and staff alike.
~~~
“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you again. Mind you, I expect you’re down for Albert’s funeral. I didn’t go, always thought he was a miserable old git. Anyway, now you’re here, what do you want?”
As she opened the door a little wider to let me in, I noticed that the place looked surprisingly fresh and tidy. “Nice to see you too, Merry. Lost none of your charm, I see.”
“Don’t come around here starting on me, Sis, I had more than enough with those two. Now, what is it?”
Unable to see Mr Shepherd, I thought I would visit Merry and get the fact that we were biologically unrelated out of the way. Cycling along in the fresh Autumn morning, I had deliberated how to tell her. Whilst not flattering myself that I would be any great loss, nevertheless I wondered how she would take the news. Her present attitude was making my mission very easy. Standing in the hallway, I dived in.
“You don’t need to call me “Sis” any more, Merry, because we’re not biologically related.”
Merry threw back her head and laughed. “Really? Well, thank God for that. Did you know, Mum always used to say, after you’d left home, that you were so far up yourself as to be declared missing. Wow, Cassie, that’s the best news I’ve had since those two were jailed. Well, you didn’t expect me to be upset, did you?”
“Not at all. I know some adopted people still like to refer to any siblings as brother or sister, and that’s fine. After all, they’re legally, if not biologically, family. But, Merry dear, if you’re half as pleased as I am with this news, then you must be over the moon.” I smiled. “Well, that’s that and I’ll be on my way.”
“Before you go, who are your real parents? Just out of curiosity.”
Home is Just a Feeling Page 6
