Breach of Faith

by Andrea Hughes

  Reaching across the table, Frank grasped my hand. “You could always come back with me,” he suggested with a twinkle in his eye and ill-disguised hope in his voice.

  I hesitated. “Well, that wouldn’t be the last nail in the coffin of my marriage, would it.” I smiled to soften the sarcasm but we both knew it couldn’t possibly work. Frank was dying; his life measured in months not years. Then I really would be alone.

  Frank shrugged and smiled a little too brightly, “can’t blame a man for trying.” He pressed gently on my fingers then released my hand. “While we’re on the subject … have you heard from Will?”

  I shook my head, “not a thing, maybe he’s been kidnapped by aliens. To be honest it’s a relief, he was really starting to scare me. I feel awful having to lie to Kensie and Tom but how can I tell them I’ve got no idea where he is?”

  “That man has a lot to answer for.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “But he’s still their father and my husband, which makes it very complicated if we can’t find him.”

  Frank glanced at his watch, “I wish I didn’t have to go.” He stared shrewdly at me, “you will take care, won’t you?”

  Putting on my bravest face, I nodded, “I’ll be flying home soon myself and I’ll call you when I get back. You will tell me if anything happens, won’t you?”

  “Happens?”

  I gestured vaguely towards his body, “you know, with the … um … the –”

  “Cancer?” Frank finished for me, his voice gentle. He stood up and picked up his rucksack. “You know I will.”

  At the gate, he kissed me, quickly, fiercely and then was gone, turning just once to wave before disappearing.

  “Goodbye,” I whispered, then walked slowly away, tears streaming down my face.

  *

  Mum poked her head around the kitchen door, smiling at me as I wandered through the dining room. “Did he get off okay?”

  I nodded and sat down. “I know you don’t approve of him, mum, but he’s really helped. I’m going to miss having him around.”

  “I know.” Mum looked kindly at me, “and I did thank him for that. He’s been a damn sight more useful than Will but, Kate, you do realise that if it wasn’t for your connection with Frank then Will probably wouldn’t be in this state in the first place.”

  I scowled, “you can’t blame Frank for Will’s problems.”

  “Maybe not.” Mum passed me a coffee, “but I won’t say I’m sorry to see him go. By the way, you had a phone call while you were out.”

  I looked up sharply. “Will?” A movement outside caught my eye, I rapped on the glass, shaking my head when Kensie looked up. “Don’t pull Misty’s tail.”

  “It wasn’t Will. Actually it was an old friend of yours. Do you remember Isobel?”

  “Isobel Marshall? Of course I remember.” I grinned suddenly, “I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “She’s been living in Scotland,” Mum waved at Tom and turned her nose up at the mud he was pushing down his trousers, “that boy will need a damn good bath when he comes in.”

  I laughed, “what did Isobel say?”

  “She said she’d be in town for a few days and would love to catch up.” She passed me a scrap of paper. “This is her number.”

  “It’d be great to see her again. I bet she’ll be surprised to hear I bumped into Angus. Damn, I wish I had a contact number for him as well, it’d be awesome getting together with both of them.”

  I glanced at Mum to find a satisfied smile on her face and nudged the older woman with my elbow. “What is it?”

  “It’s good to see you happy,” Mum replied simply.

  I thought for a moment, “it is, isn’t it. I’ve been in the doldrums for so long. Well, no more dull and dreary, this is the first proper holiday I’ve had in years and I intend to enjoy the time I have left over here.” Leaning over, I gave my mother a big hug, “thanks, mum.”

  “What for?”

  I grinned, “everything. You’ve been wonderful through all this.”

  Mum patted my back, “my invoice is in the mail.”

  Releasing my mother, I stood up, “I might go and make this phone call now. It’s about bloody time I had a bit of fun.”

  For the first time in ages I relaxed. Finally I felt as if I was back in control and the sensation was amazing, empowering. I had risen from a terrible time, like a phoenix from the flames, emerging the other side a stronger person. Things could only get better from here.

  Chapter thirty eight

  13 January

  I smiled and shook my head, “I can’t believe it. You don’t look any different, Belle.”

  Isobel chuckled and leaned across the table, patting me familiarly on the belly. “Well, except for the extra weight you’re carrying, nor do you. Maybe cut back on the meat pies, eh?”

  I stuck my tongue out, “very funny.”

  Isobel grinned, her small round face lighting up, “when’re you due?”

  I rubbed my bump proudly. “Middle of June.”

  “Girl or boy?”

  I shrugged, “don’t know, don’t care. I’ve already got one of each so it doesn’t matter.”

  Isobel whistled looking impressed, “three kids? Your husband must be crapping himself. Most of the blokes I know would be scared to death.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I hedged, changing the focus of the conversation. I smiled brightly, ‘so I take it you don’t have any kids yet?”

  Feigning shock, Isobel pretended to choke on a chip. “Me? Bloody hell, kids are the last thing on my mind. I’m your typical obsessed career woman; late nights at the office, no time for relationships, regular liquid lunches and the gym three times a week.”

  “Are you happy?”

  Isobel glanced shrewdly at me. “Yes, Kate, it suits me fine. Maybe one day I’ll settle down, rent myself a couple of ankle-biters.”

  I smiled, “you always were a tough nut. You used to do that thing with your mouth when you were really angry. I only ever saw you do it to me once, when I kissed Harry at that party and you fancied him.”

  Isobel hooted with laughter, “bloody hell, I remember that. Christ, I was only about fifteen, I haven’t seen Harry in years.” She waved at the waiter, ordering another round of drinks. “So what on earth made you go all the way to Australia to live? All those bronzed bodies and hot, sweaty beaches was it?”

  I sipped my juice and popped a hot chip into my mouth. “I went over on a working holiday after university, met Will, got married, been there ever since. What about you? Mum said you were living in Scotland?”

  As we talked, I found myself more relaxed than I’d felt in a long time. The problems that had been plaguing me had been temporarily relegated to the back of my mind; Will’s homosexuality, my baby’s paternity, Frank’s leukaemia. It was just like old times, I even felt younger. Not quite mid-teens maybe, but definitely younger.

  Laughing at Isobel’s impersonation of her boss, I felt a sudden hollowness in the pit of my stomach, an abrupt homesickness that made me quite breathless. I knew it wouldn’t have been like this if I’d stayed, and I’d never have met Will, never have had those two beautiful little people that were waiting for me back at my mum and dad’s.

  No; there was no point feeling homesick, or was it “old-friend sick”? I had a different life now, a life that suited me, a life I loved. This was fun but there was no way to compare this afternoon’s enjoyment with the different road my life could have taken.

  Pulling my mind away from the revolving door my life had become, I realised Isobel had asked a question and was waiting for an answer. I bit my lip and smiled awkwardly, ‘sorry, Belle, I was miles away. What did you say?”

  Isobel grinned good-naturedly. “You always were a dreamer, Kate. It’s good to see nothing’s changed. I asked if you’d seen anyone else while you’d been over here, anyone from school? I ran into Rachael the other day, almost didn’t bloody recognise her. Remember the weird clothes she used t
o wear, all that arty-farty stuff and her big, fluffy hair? You wouldn’t believe what she’s done to herself. She was wearing a suit, Kate; a suit. And to top it off, the gorgeous girl we used to know, the blonde-bombshell who had the boys falling at her feet and sucking the nail polish off her toes … she’s a bloody lesbian.”

  “What?” I sat up in my seat, “No. Not Rachael.”

  Isobel’s grin grew and she nodded. “She even introduced me to her girlfriend.”

  “Bloody hell,” I breathed in disbelief, my mind full of pictures of our old friend, probably the prettiest girl in our gang.

  Isobel giggled, “I did stay in touch with Mark for a while but he left after getting married and I haven’t heard from him since. The rest of them, I wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “Would you believe I ran into Angus? Literally! I almost knocked him off his feet.”

  Isobel nudged me in the ribs. “You had a huge crush on Angus when we were at school, didn’t you?” Isobel’s face screwed up in thought, her eyes far away. “Shame about what happened to him, though. I didn’t realise you’d been over here so long, I thought you’d only come over just before Christmas.”

  I felt blank, trusting that my face looked as blank as I felt. “I did,” I confirmed. “What happened to him?”

  Isobel frowned. “The accident. Oh, don’t tell me that you haven’t heard. God, Kate, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have blurted it out like that if I’d realised. I assumed you knew.”

  “Accident? When?”

  “Last October,” Isobel’s face was sad. “I don’t know the whole story but apparently, he was driving home from work late one night, it was a dark country road, no streetlights and about half an hour before, some stupid bugger had broken down on the road. Apparently he had electrical problems, so he couldn’t put his hazard lights on and according to reports, his car was all but invisible until the last moment. Angus didn’t have a hope in hell of avoiding it and crashed.”

  The last few words were said quietly and simply, very unlike Isobel’s normal, brusque tone and I felt a shiver run all the way down my spine.

  “They found him later,” Isobel continued, her voice heavy with emotion. “With massive head injuries.”

  I rubbed savagely at my temples; nothing about this seemed real. If Angus had been in such a horrific accident only a few months ago, how could he look so healthy now? I looked at Isobel, “well, it obviously wasn’t as bad as they originally thought. Although, it does explain why he was at hospital the other day. I wonder why he didn’t tell me the truth? Didn’t want to worry me I suppose, after everything I’d been through.”

  Isobel looked bemused, “what are you talking about?”

  “Sorry,” I smiled. “Thinking out loud. I had a visit to the hospital a few days ago and saw Angus there. He must have been having some kind of follow-up treatment.”

  “Treatment?” Isobel leaned towards me, staring deep into my eyes “Kate, didn’t you hear what I said? When Angus crashed, he sustained massive head injuries. He stopped breathing, Kate.”

  I scowled, “what are you trying to say? Is he brain damaged, or something?”

  “You could say that,” Isobel muttered. She grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake. “Kate, I have no idea what you’re going on about. They didn’t get him breathing again, they were too late.”

  I looked at Isobel in shock, feeling all the blood drain from my face, then abruptly stood up, shoving my chair back so hard it tipped over, almost knocking a waiter off his feet. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  Isobel stood and reached out, her hands fluttering centimetres from me. “Kate –”

  I stepped back, glaring furiously at Isobel, and somehow managing to avoid both my chair and the waiter who was desperately trying to right it. “You’re telling me Angus’s dead? Is this some kind of joke?” My voice broke and I turned away. “That’s not funny.”

  Steaming out of the restaurant, the tears began to bubble over. I didn’t know what game Isobel was playing but it was hurtful and infantile. I heard my name being called and quickened my steps. If I had to face her again, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

  “Kate! Wait, please.”

  “Go away, Isobel.”

  “Kate, I’m sorry I upset you but it’s true.”

  I felt Isobel’s hand on my arm and turned angrily to face her. “So how come I saw him the other day? I don’t understand why you’re being such a bitch.”

  Isobel sighed heavily, “I don’t know what to tell you, Kate. You can’t have seen him the other day because he’s gone; dead and buried. Maybe you saw someone who looked like him, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, there’s no chance that you saw Angus Paterson in the last three months.”

  I shook Isobel’s hand off my arm.

  Isobel shook her head sadly. “He’s dead, Kate. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.” She gestured down the hill with her head, towards a church barely visible beyond the trees. “He’s buried just down there.”

  Chapter thirty nine

  13 January

  I slid through the gate and gazed pensively at the rows of stone markers as I wandered through the overgrown graveyard.

  Beloved son …

  … remembered forever …

  … in God’s hands …

  “Eliza Beresford,” I murmured, staring sadly at the inscription in front of me. “Born May eighteenth, nineteen-ten. Died June first, nineteen-twelve; poor little thing.”

  It had changed a bit since I was last here. The large stretch of neatly kept ground behind the church building had been relatively empty when I was growing up, the main focus of the area being the five or six rows of identical white markers, lined up, one after the other.

  The War Graves.

  Year after year I had come up here, plastic poppy clutched in my hand, to commemorate Armistice Day and show respect for the dead.

  And every year, I had put my poppy on the same grave.

  Knowing I was delaying the real reason for being here and knowing I was doing it on purpose, I changed direction and rather than making my way towards the newest graves, I meandered instead through the curved, white stones.

  “Second row,” I murmured, “eleventh one along.” I’d chosen the second row, all those years ago, because everyone else tended just to lean forward and plonk their poppy down on the closest grave, forgetting the soldiers commemorated in rows further back.

  “Clarkie,” I whispered, running my fingers gently along the top of his stone. “Long time, no see. Sorry I left you for so long.” Crouching down, I kissed the tip of my finger, bringing the digit softly down to touch the C in his name.

  I stared at the cold, white stone for a moment longer before a flash of movement caught my eye and I stumbled to my feet, peering at a small group of trees at the far end of the graveyard. A young man wearing a long, dull coloured, woollen coat was smoking a cigarette beside a huge oak tree and as I shaded my eyes to see the indistinct figure better, he raised his arm and waved.

  In the blink of an eye he was gone. I studied the small copse but it was as if he had never been. I glanced back over my shoulder, but the church grounds were devoid of any living human, except myself. A shiver ran up my spine and I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “Clarkie.”

  A sharp gust of wind tugged me and I laughed nervously, glancing around once more. Deliberately ignoring the memorial stone at my feet, I turned and hurried away.

  The newest graves were over by the fence, I could tell they were recent additions because of their rawness, they had a patchy bareness, where the winter weather had discouraged grass and weed growth. In direct contrast to the dull and dirty surroundings, many also held a profusion of brightly coloured flowers, a seemingly incongruous addition to the sobriety surrounding the small mounds of earth.

  My inner monologue was assuring me Isobel had made a mistake.

  Maybe she’s thinking of someone els
e.

  Maybe she’s been given some dodgy information.

  Maybe she’s making it up, because she hates you.

  Shut up. I stopped in front of one of the graves. Go away.

  Maybe she’s totally crazy, hiding behind a tree, giggling so hard her tiny brain will fall out of her ear and be eaten by a cockroach, while she watches you fall hook, line and sinker for her sad little prank.

  Resisting the urge to check, I stared instead at the words in front of me, dreading what I might see. “In loving memory of Angus Paterson,” I read, as the baby began to stir and I rubbed absently at my small bulge. “Tragedy has many faces, but love has just one. Go with God, our beloved son. Ripped from our lives, so young and bright. Don’t be afraid, love, walk into the light.” I gulped and closed my eyes briefly, “gone but not forgotten.”

  Opening my eyes, I gazed solemnly at the gravestone. There was just one more thing.

  “Born fifteenth February, that’s a pretty big coincidence,” I muttered thoughtfully. “I’m sure Angus’s birthday is the day after Valentine’s Day too.”

  “It is. Or, at least, it was.”

  The familiar voice made me jump and I spun around. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Without meaning to, I took a small step away from him.

  Angus held out his hand, “don’t be afraid, Kate.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I lied, “I just want to know who the bloody hell you are. Are you Angus’s brother? And why are you doing this to me? Why are you pretending to be him?”

  “Kate, I’m not pretending.” He was staring at the gravestone. “I still get a shock when I see that.” He turned solemn eyes to me, “it’s a bizarre feeling, you know, being at your own funeral. Wanting to comfort all those people who love you, hating their tears and not being able to do anything about it. That was the hardest part of dying.”

  “Stop!” Instinctively, I put my hands up in front of me, to fend off the words I didn’t want to hear. “Stop this. It’s not funny.”

  “At least the pain’s gone,” he continued. A sudden clarity came into his eyes as he stared intently at me. “How can I convince you?”