Liam's Story

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ she said with just a hint of asperity. And then she smiled, suddenly. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t speak of him like that, should I? He’s been very kind. He always was, Liam, and very generous – the thing is, I never wanted him to be...’

  ‘Well, I hope you won’t spurn his kindness in the future. I’d like to think there’s one person you can rely on for help and advice, should you need it.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ she said gently, touching his hand.

  Reassured, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’d better go and see how Robin’s faring. And Tisha – Sarah said she wasn’t feeling very well.’

  But at the foot of the stairs he paused, considering the changes in their relationship. Now that Edward was gone, he was very much aware of shouldering an elder son’s responsibility, not only for his mother, but for the rest of the family, too. It worried him that the war prevented him from fulfilling those obligations. Ordinarily, he would have been too proud to ask the Colonel for help; but these were not ordinary times. And after all, the Colonel was family, whatever aunts Emily and Blanche might think.

  He went upstairs. Sarah was sitting with Robin, who was looking much brighter, and in her old room Tisha was reading a fashion magazine, feet propped up on pillows on the bed. She said she was hungry, so Liam knew she must be feeling better.

  With a sigh he went down again, wondering what was to be prepared for the evening meal, and whether he should make an attempt at it. He was tired more than hungry, yet a sense of restlessness made it impossible for him to relax. There was so little time, he felt he should be doing things, although precisely what eluded him. Standing in the middle of the kitchen he lit a cigarette and glanced at the clock. Almost five, and Georgina would be here about seven. Two hours. And then what? An hour or so of family company, of guarded eyes and studiously bland exchanges between them. He needed to be alone with her, needed to talk, needed to be able to reach out and touch her. Letters were not enough; and besides, it might be the last chance he would ever have.

  The thought of having to pretend a commonplace friendliness drove him to distraction. If only he could think of a way of seeing her alone!

  He was still wrestling with the problem when Tisha appeared, and, to his great surprise a moment later, started peeling potatoes. She demanded to know whether Sarah was staying to eat with them, and when he said not, expressed voluble relief.

  With a nervous, upward glance, Liam begged her to keep her voice down.

  ‘Let her hear me, I don’t care. I tell you what, though — if Robin marries her, he can kiss goodbye to the rest of us. She wants him for herself, you mark my words, and when she gets him, she’ll smother him.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong, but why should that matter to you?’ Liam asked equably. ‘You haven’t bothered much about Mother or Dad since you left York, so why bother about him?’

  There was a long silence, followed by a suppressed hiccough which might have been laughter or tears. In some amazement, he realized she was crying. He had thought her incapable of tears. Real ones, anyway. But this grief seemed genuine enough. He moved to comfort her, but she shrugged him off, fighting to control that sudden, wayward emotion.

  At last, bitterly, she said: ‘Because he’s the only one of this bloody selfish family who ever cared about me.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘It’s true. Even Dad – even he didn’t give a damn what I did...’

  ‘Oh, Tish, that’s not true. He did care — he did. Mother, too.’ Distressed for her, weighed down by sudden guilt, Liam tried to take her in his arms, but she was stiff and awkward, and the swell of the baby she carried felt very strange to him. Pressing his cheek to hers, he patted her shoulder while trying to think of something convincing to say. But there was nothing that did not sound hollow. In truth, she had always been the odd one out, hard to understand, impossible to reason with; ultimately, when she kicked, they let her carry on. Perhaps that was a lack of caring.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ he murmured wretchedly. ‘I didn’t understand, then – and when I went, I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you...’

  ‘It was her, wasn’t it?’ she sobbed. ‘If it hadn’t been for her, you wouldn’t have gone, would you? It’s not fair, it shouldn’t have been like that... why did she have to come and spoil things?’

  He stiffened, released his hold on her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Tisha felt her way to a chair, sat down and cried for a while. When the tears eventually subsided, she managed to say with passable control: ‘I know why you went. It was Georgina, wasn’t it? I heard Mother and Dad talking about the two of you one night. I didn’t understand, then. Not until I saw you together, in London. It was the way you looked at her.’ She paused to wipe her nose and eyes. ‘Are you lovers?’

  Liam sat down. He thought he was going to be sick. It took him a minute to find his voice, and when he did, it sounded foreign to him. ‘Not in the sense you mean, no.’

  If she was unconvinced by that, she did not say, and he dared not look up. As he fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, she took it from him, lit one and then another, with hands that were steadier than his.

  ‘Shocked you there, didn’t I? Oh, don’t look so worried, I won’t say anything.’ She puffed inexpertly at the cigarette, picking pits of tobacco from her lower lip. ‘Does Robin know?’

  Liam shook his head, trying to gather his scattered wits. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, it’s over, I shall be going tomorrow. And I’ll soon be back in France.’

  ‘Just as well. Sarah might drag it out of him, and she would never approve.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you do.’

  Tisha shrugged. ‘I’m not shocked, if that’s what you mean. It doesn’t matter now. In fact,’ she admitted, narrowing her eyes through a haze of blue smoke, ‘it makes me like you a little better. You were always so bloody pure and perfect, weren’t you? Quite priggish, really. It does me good to know you’re no better than me.’

  ‘Did I ever claim to be?’

  ‘Not in so many words. But you always thought you were better, always acted that way.’

  ‘If I did, then I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely, responding to her pain and quelling his innate distrust of both words and motives. ‘I am sorry, Tisha. I wish you’d believe me.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ came the weary reply, ‘but it’s a bit late now, isn’t it? I mean we’ve all made such a bloody mess of things, haven’t we? And you can’t go back. What a family! I don’t know about cigarettes, Liam, but I could do with a drink. Still,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t expect Mother keeps strong liquor in the house.’

  ‘There’s some sherry...’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  A moment later, while Liam was reflecting on their various situations, Tisha said bleakly: ‘I hope I never fall in love. It’s just a shambles, isn’t it? Look at Mother – look at you! God, what a mess. And I can’t say those two lovebirds upstairs fill me with confidence, either. If that’s what love does to people, fawning all over each other, I don’t want it.’

  He was shocked. ‘But what about Edwin? Don’t you love him?’

  Again, that eloquent shrug, as though Edwin was of no moment. ‘I’m fond of him, yes. Besotted by him, no.’

  ‘But – how? I mean, why? Why marry him?’

  Her glance was pitying. ‘He was the best offer I had. The best I was likely to get, what with everybody going off to the war and getting killed. Quite young, nice-looking, plenty of money... kind, too. And madly in love with me. Trouble was,’ she added with devastating candour, ‘I never counted on him getting called up. I thought he was safe, secure, and ensconced in the bloody War Office for the duration! He used to joke about it, about volunteering and being promoted every time.’ She sighed. ‘But they called his bluff. Now I expect he’ll end up with some dreadful wound, like Robin, and I shall have to be a nursemaid for the rest of my life... The thing is, I can’t see myself being very good at that.’<
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  Words failed him.

  ‘Oh, don’t look so grim,’ she said with affected lightness. ‘What does it matter? What does any of it matter? We all die in the end, don’t we?’ But her voice broke there. ‘Like Dad – just like Dad...’

  On a flood of grief, she hurried, as fast as her bulk would allow, for the stairs.

  Liam felt as though he had been mangled. Remembering the sherry, he poured a generous measure and downed it in one gulp. Tisha was right: it was a mess, and likely to remain so, but with regard to himself, he wished only that he could trust her. If it suited her ends, she was quite likely to blurt out his secret to whoever would listen. And if she did – oh, God, the people it would hurt!

  Then another thought struck him. If she had guessed so accurately, then others might have done the same. But no, surely not. If anyone had guessed, he would know from their attitude towards him. Only Tisha could be as nonchalant as that.

  Although the thought of food nauseated him, Liam put together a meal of sorts: potatoes and carrots – which with a box of withered apples were the only things to have survived Louisa’s winter storage – to go with what remained of the sliced cold meats prepared for the funeral luncheon. There was some cold apple pie to finish.

  It seemed no one had eaten much earlier, so Liam’s basic meal was much appreciated, especially by his mother. With the return of a little colour to her cheeks, she announced that she would stay on at the cottage, for this summer at least.

  ‘My garden has provided food for us, and helped out a lot of families besides. So I’ll do what I did last year – plant vegetables that can be stored – and it will give me something to do. Edward would have wanted it.’

  It seemed the last word on the matter, and although Liam would have preferred to think of her in a less isolated place, his mother’s determination was heartening; and perhaps the satisfaction of growing things was a good antidote to grief.

  As Sarah left, he helped his brother into the parlour, propping him up with cushions on the sofa. The day’s strain and activity had made his pain worse. In a silent gesture of sympathy, Liam reached out and held his hand.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, despite the circumstances.’

  Robin nodded and pressed his hand. ‘I’m so glad you came home and made it up with Mother and Dad.’

  Liam smiled. ‘So am I.’

  It was good to see him up and about again. In hospital Liam had wondered whether his brother would live. He had, and strength would return, he was sure of that. Robin was possessed of will and determination; but he would never again be that carefree boy. None of them would.

  He shivered, and Robin looked up to read the bleakness in his eyes; there was a flash of understanding between them, and then his brother’s fingers gripped with surprising force.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ Robin whispered. ‘You haven’t come this far to go down now. I always thought you were a lot tougher than me, only I seem to have spent most of my life trying to prove otherwise.’ He smiled, wanly. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, you’re one of life’s survivors – you’ll come through, I know you will.’

  Grateful for that vote of confidence, Liam smiled. ‘Well, if you say so...’ he remarked lightly, and the moment dissolved in soft laughter.

  With the squeak of the garden gate his heart leapt. Two shadowy figures hesitated for a second before advancing down the path, and as they did so he rose, with deliberate lack of haste, to open the front door.

  The Colonel shook his hand, eyes urgently questioning even before the words were on his lips. Liam said that his mother was taking things well, although he suspected she was more upset than she allowed herself to appear.

  ‘I shouldn’t think she’s taken it in yet,’ the older man said softly as Liam took coats and hats and hung them on the hall-stand.

  ‘Probably not.’ He frowned, wanting to say more. His father went into the kitchen, and Georgina reached up with a chaste kiss for his cheek. There was a tension about her which was echoed in himself. He ached to hold her, to feel that tight anxiety dissipate in the warmth of her embrace; he must see her alone, he must...

  But as he began to frame the words, Tisha joined them, and Georgina turned to greet her with a solicitous enquiry. Still talking, they went through into the parlour.

  Liam thought his sister’s quick, glancing smile was dangerously conspiratorial, but no one else seemed to notice, and in the sun of Georgina’s greeting, Robin beamed, assuring her that he was quite well, and in only slight discomfort. Although it was a patent lie, she did not dispute it, passing on to lighter matters, including Tisha in her conversation. She did it so very well, only Liam knew the effort it cost.

  As Robert and Louisa joined them, there was a necessary rearrangement of seats. Liam stood up to offer his chair, but Robert declined it, preferring the end of the sofa to what had traditionally been Edward’s place. There was a further exchange of enquiries after everyone’s health, and subdued comments on the funeral, all perfectly normal under the circumstances; but Liam, listening, looking, experienced a particular feeling of dislocation. The room was much as it had always been, with pictures and ornaments shining in the soft lamplight. The delft tiles framing the fireplace were the same, and the embroidered velvet mantel-cover; the spoon-backed chairs and the table and heavily-carved sideboard were all as he recalled, only the people were different. He was sitting in Edward’s chair, something he had not been allowed to do as a boy; and Edward was no longer here.

  His absence left an enormous gap, yet that was only part of it. Another awareness dominated, shuttling thoughts back and forth between this gathering and a similar one in the summer of 1913, when they had all sat down in this selfsame room for tea. Then, hostility and unformed suspicion had been uppermost in Liam’s mind: he had noted the resemblance between his brother and Robert Duncannon, and his mother’s unusual gaiety, and that lively repartee across the table had seemed somehow improper, especially in the shadow of Edward’s quiet watchfulness. He understood it now, but at the time, Robert had seemed to be taking far too many liberties.

  He could not be accused of that now, however. His affection for them all was palpable but subdued, and if a corner of his heart was in any way relieved by Edward’s death, it was not apparent. Rather, to Liam, it seemed that he grieved for them all in their loss, as any caring father would.

  For the first time, Liam thought, they were gathered together as a family, around one fireside, knowing the truth of their situation. Mother, father, children, all together for the first time.

  It was odd enough to send a tingling shiver down his spine. He wondered whether the others were aware of it, too, and whether it crossed their minds, as it did his, that this one occasion might be the last. Tisha would soon return to London, to bear her child and greet Edwin on his return, making a family of her own. Sooner or later, Robin would be in a similar position, while Georgina would always be Georgina, full of compassion for others, making her life with them and for them. As for himself, well, with first light he would be away, and once he returned to France, his fate would lie in other hands.

  Remembering those few days in Bournemouth, it seemed just as well. The war would roll on, and if he survived, Liam knew he must return to Australia. There could be nothing for him here. To stay in England, with Georgina close enough to reach yet more than ever forbidden, would be impossible. If there had been hopes and fantasies before, then those stolen days together had revealed the impossibilities. Their relationship could go no further, not without the direst of consequences, not without destroying the already fragile threads holding this family together. Liam had done enough damage, and in his struggle to repair it, would not willingly blast them apart again. Nor could he bear to think of Georgina’s fears made reality.

  If the death of innocence had killed their high ideals, then weeks of separation had finally broken all the curbs. It had not been intentional. In the joy of reunion it had simply happened, almost
before either of them realized it; and once joined, there could be no going back. Nor had there been. The physical sense of being part of her was too seductive, and the emotional sense too comprehensive. And with that awareness of impending separation the wanting had been equal, so that they had made love far too often. Oh, he had been very careful, particularly after the first time; and, looking back, he thought how strange it was that he should have been so calm, so absolutely sure of himself and what he was doing. It was as though he were saying to her, as he had longed to do in the beginning, that in this they were one, and could never be divided.

  In the heart of the flame, pain did not exist, there was only a sense of calm, of being insulated and protected against all else. They were loving and tender with each other, perfectly content for the first time; they did not discuss what was happening between them, there was no point, no need. It simply was, and in a short time, it would be no more. They both knew that.

  They had parted at the station, Georgina to return to London, while Liam had travelled the short distance to the training camp at Wareham.

  That was where reality took centre stage, leading torment with burned and blistered hands. Compared to what was going on in his mind, the physical hell of retraining was almost a pleasure. When he finally received the letter to say that all was well, he was light-headed with relief. Georgina made it clear that they must never tempt fate in such a way again, and with that Liam heartily concurred. Only afterwards, with all the ramifications clear to him, did he realize what she was saying. It was over, it had to be; they could never meet like that again.

  As things were, it was no longer possible, and for that he had a small measure of gratitude. But it was no match for the pain which overwhelmed him every time he thought about saying goodbye.

  She was sitting close to Robin, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, part of the family circle which in that moment was almost a physical entity. Slightly apart from the rest, Liam was aware that in some strange way the break lay with him, that he was the odd one out, divided by thought and consciousness and the nature of his love for her.