Disputed Love

by Margaret Carr

  There was more of a personal nature and it ended with his thanks for leaving him the message under the stone telling him where she and Jack had gone. Belle lingered on her feelings for Mac, who had proved himself a real friend, but she couldn’t see the relationship going beyond that. In fact it was hard for her to see any future at all until Jack’s custody was sorted out.

  A family barbecue was to be held that Saturday for Jack’s fourth birthday. Jack had already met most of the family in and around the village. But on Saturday he would meet members from other parts of Portugal. Already Jack had adapted to a different language and developed a child’s ability to make himself understood while also understanding others, as only children can. He would often accompany her father to the beach and play around the boats boasting upon his return of how much he had helped to do this or that task. The village children soon accepted him into their midst, and Belle could see him growing in confidence and stature day by day.

  At night, she often wept for what the future might hold for him. But then day would dawn and she would answer his constant questions as best she could as she baked bread for her mother or shopped in the village. In the afternoon they would go exploring in the surrounding countryside and Belle would tell him stories about the adventures she’d had in this same place when she was small.

  The day of the barbecue dawned bright and calm. Belle’s mother was up and working as the sun rose and as the morning progressed every hand was turned to helping with the preparations for the event. The local family members came, the men to help Jose fetch more heavy wooden tables and chairs from his neighbours, string lanterns in the trees and haul beer and wine from the village. The women helped with the food preparation and kept an eye on the children.

  Belle worked alongside her mother, stopping to chat now and again with an aunt or cousin she hadn’t yet seen since her return. The party began in earnest when the first of the distant relatives arrived. This was the Santos family from Oporto. Belle knew that Antonio Santos was a successful solicitor. He approached her now and clasped her in his arms saying, ‘My wonderful girl, how you have grown since last we saw you. Are you well?’

  ‘Very well, thank you. But I would be grateful of a chance later to ask your advice about something that’s worrying me.’

  ‘Of course, of course, my dear. Anything I can do to help. Perhaps when the meal is over we can talk, eh?’

  Belle smiled and nodded. Feeling suddenly lighter she threw herself into the party mood. Food of every description abounded, consumed with gusto as everyone sat around the large tables laughing and chattering. The wine and beer flowed freely, mostly among the men as the younger women got up to dance, dragging their men with them, while the older women cleared up. When all was put aside and the older members of the family were sitting along the outer wall of the house laughing and joking at some of the antics the younger men and women were getting up to, Belle and Antonio sat by the cold hearth discussing Jack’s future.

  ‘It is very difficult for me to advise you without knowing all the circumstances, you understand. There are important questions unanswered. The contents of the letters for instance. They would have to be very damming indeed to offset this Senor Carlton’s claim. He is the legally-named parent, so it is up to the Senor Kettering to bring the allegations.’

  ‘I see,’ Belle commented.

  ‘It is really very unwise to become so attached to a child who is not your own, Belle,’ he said in fatherly tones.

  ‘I know that but I have had the care of Jack for such a long time. He looks upon me as his mother. I can’t turn him over to just anybody.’

  She was startled as she realised this was the first time she had admitted to herself the strong feelings of motherhood.

  ‘It is time you were married with children of your own, Isabelle. You should be out there dancing,’ he said indicating the party outside. ‘Giving all the young men the run around.’

  They rejoined the party and Belle laughed and danced as much as anyone there. But inside her head questions were swirling. In all the ways that counted, she was Jack’s mother. His joy was her joy, his pain her pain. There had been no time for dancing and boyfriends. Either of the men in Kathleen Carlton’s life could lay claim to fatherhood, but that didn’t make them a real father. Neither of them had shared Jack’s life as she had. Until recently no-one but she had wanted, loved, or cared for this little boy.

  Now she believed that one man might. Was that because in her heart he was the more suitable of the two or was it simply that she had taken an instant dislike to the alternative? Or was it because she could see herself, Jeffrey Carlton and Jack becoming a real family?

  Stop fooling yourself, she scolded. The more she probed for answers the harder she danced. Then she was aware her mother was waving to her from the kitchen doorway. She excused herself from her partner and hurried over.

  ‘There’s a phone call for you. I didn’t catch the name because of the noise.’ Her mother smiled. ‘It’s a man,’ she said as Belle passed by.

  It could only be Mac or Jeffrey. They were the only people she had given the phone number to. She went through into the front room and picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello, Isabelle Mendes here,’ she said.

  The reply was a long time in coming and Belle thought they might have been cut off. It was often the case with overseas calls. But then someone repeated her name and she knew it wasn’t Jeffrey.

  ‘Hello, Mac, is that you?’

  ‘No, Miss Mendes, it is not your friend Duncan MacDonald. It’s Peter Kettering here. I’m extremely unhappy that you have decided to kidnap my son, and am ringing up to warn you that you will be hearing from my solicitor in the near future.’

  Belle was stunned. How on earth had he got her address and phone number? Or for that matter how did he know where she was?

  ‘I did not kidnap your son, Mr Kettering. For one thing, he is not your son until a court of law makes him so. And secondly, I have Jeffrey Carlton’s permission to take him on holiday. In case it slipped your mind, his mother died not long ago and Jack’s still upset about it. This holiday,’ she said emphasising the word holiday, ‘is to allow him time to get over that loss.’

  There was a nasty laugh on the other end of the line and Belle felt an urge to lash out at Kettering. As it was, all she could do was to slam down the phone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The letter from Kettering’s solicitor arrived two days later. It asked her to return to England with the child, Jack Carlton, whose custody was in dispute. Belle sat down and wrote a long letter to Jeffrey, enclosing the solicitor’s letter and asking him what she should do. Could she claim that she was in his employ, she asked.

  A letter came back to say that he had already informed his solicitor that she was his fiancée. Would she please confirm her agreement in writing?

  Belle sat and gaped at the page. She read it through a second and third time. She tried to control the fluttering inside her. Resentment, fear, panic, all rushed through her head.

  ‘What is it, Belle?’

  Her mother stood alongside her, a look of concern on her face.

  ‘You look as though you’ve had bad news.’

  Without saying a word, she handed the letter to her mother.

  ‘My goodness,’ her mother said from where she’d sat down at the table and pushed the letter back to Belle. ‘This isn’t a genuine offer, is it?’

  Belle shook her head.

  ‘But you’d like it to be,’ she said in a soft voice.

  Belle rubbed her thumbs along the edge of the table. Still she could find no answer for her mother.

  ‘He’s asking you to lie for him. So he is aware that you want him to be Jack’s father?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought you were waiting to allow the courts to decide who should be Jack’s parent.’

  Belle left the table to stand over the empty hearth.

  ‘I was, I am, but Kettering’s solicitor asked m
e to take Jack back to England and I can’t do that. You don’t know these Ketterings, Mama. They’re not nice people. If I take Jack back I just know he’ll be in danger.’

  ‘Don’t you think you might be exaggerating just a little?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  She turned to face her mother with clenched jaw and hard eyes.

  ‘I’ve seen what they were prepared to do and I don’t for a minute believe their intentions towards Jack are genuine. There’s something else going on here. Some other reason why they are desperate to get their hands on Jack and I think it has to do with the inheritance Kathleen left him. He’s not supposed to come into that until he’s eighteen. But you hear of trustees mishandling funds all the time, don’t you? I thought it was the reason Jeffrey was holding on to Jack at one time, but not any more. Nobody can fool a child and Jack loves his father.’

  Her mother raised her brows at Belle’s slip.

  ‘I can understand why Jack’s future is so important to you, Belle, but I wouldn’t want to see you hurt and a man who is prepared to let you lie for him is a man who might end up lying to you.’

  Belle was shaking her head.

  ‘Jack is my only concern and I know he will be better off with Jeffrey Carlton. If it’ll help him to keep custody then I’ll agree to be his fiancée.’

  Anne Mendes rose from the table, a worried look in her eyes.

  That night, as Belle lay in bed listening to Jack’s gentle breathing, she thought over the conversation she’d had with her mother that morning. She’d written back confirming that she would pretend to be Jeffrey’s fiancée until Jack’s future was decided.

  Now as she lay in bed she wondered just what that might mean. If the authorities forced her to go back would she and Jeffrey have to put on a display to satisfy everyone that they were indeed a couple? Where would they stay? She doubted that he could afford lodgings for them and her funds wouldn’t support them for long. Though she’d saved quite a substantial amount while in Kathleen’s service she’d been living for the past few months without wages.

  The cottage flashed into her mind and she wondered what he’d done with the statue. He must have taken it with him. Where was it now? Had he finished it? What was more, had he sold it? Was that how he’d been able to afford to move to London?

  She thought again of the girl rising from the black stone and her senses quivered to touch it. Jeffrey had moulded this girl unbeknown to anyone but her. His strong-fingered, lean hands had drawn it forth into life. She hated to think of it belonging to someone else.

  The small room was hot tonight, Belle thought, as she threw back the single blanket and sheet to slip from the bed and cross to the shuttered window. She pushed the window wide and leaned over the sill, staring down the valley to the sea. The air was full of the sound of the sea and down at the bottom of the garden a cricket chirruped. Night was a velvet gown bejewelled with stars and Belle was aware of an emptiness deep down inside her.

  Back in bed, the empty feeling inside her persisted, grew into an ache and she brought up her knees and curled her back to bring comfort. Her pillow was wet with tears when she finally fell asleep.

  A few days later, when she came downstairs, Anne and Jose were sitting at the table in earnest conversation. She pretended not to notice their sudden silence at her appearance and her mother left the table to offer her breakfast.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mama?’

  Her father and Jack had risen from the table and left the house after kissing her mother and giving Belle a hug, but Jose had said nothing to her and Belle sensed a tense atmosphere. Anne turned from the sink and wiped her hands on a cloth suspended from the catch of a cupboard door.

  ‘I’m painting on the hill above the olive grove. Will you come with me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They left the house together, her mother carrying her folding easel, paint box and stool. Belle had brought a rug, book, flask of cold lemonade and sandwich box. Both were dressed for comfort in loose-fitting long cotton skirts and tops. Anne wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. When they arrived at the spot where her mother wanted to paint, Belle left her to arrange her equipment for best position of lighting and view. The laughter had gone now. Her eyes were avoiding those of her daughter.

  ‘You brought us up here so we could talk undisturbed, didn’t you?’

  Belle watched her mother seat herself on the stool and open her paint box, her face calm now as she looked out over the view.

  ‘The police have talked to your father,’ Anne said.

  Belle gasped.

  ‘They have asked him to advise you to return to England with the boy. They will not personally take any action but they strongly recommend that you do this of your own choice.’

  ‘I’m not breaking any laws. I’m here on holiday,’ Belle cried angrily.

  ‘Yes, they know that.’

  ‘I’m a Portuguese citizen. This is my country.’

  ‘Of course it is, but it’s not Jack’s country and they are only trying to prevent what might turn into an ugly situation. We don’t know how influential these men are, who are fighting over Jack.’

  Belle stiffened.

  ‘In other words you want Jack and I to leave, is that it?’

  An indescribable pain shot through her at the thought. Anne’s hand spread paint with a light touch upon the canvas as she replied.

  ‘The police would be happier if you were to leave, but this is your home and your father and I will always want you here with us. We missed you so much while you were in London. Now every day we have you with us is a blessing.’

  Belle moved up to the stool and wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

  ‘I’ll wait and see what Jeffrey’s next letter brings,’ she whispered. ‘If it’s bad news then I’ll take Jack back to London.’

  But Belle didn’t get the chance to wait for that evening. When they returned home Jose was standing by the door watching out for them.

  ‘I was hoping the little one was with you,’ he growled.

  Anne threw a hasty glance at her daughter.

  ‘No, isn’t he with you?’

  Warning bells were ringing in Belle’s head. But this was home, he was safe here. Her mother was plying her father with questions.

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone home with one of the boys,’ she ended.

  ‘I asked around,’ her father said with a shrug. ‘One minute he was playing beside me, then when I call him to come home, he is gone. I go into the village but no-one has seen him.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ her mother called, as Belle ran into the house, threw on a jacket and reappeared in the doorway. ‘I’m going with her,’ Anne said to her husband. ‘You go out and ask all our neighbours again.’

  Belle was heading down to the beach as Anne caught up to her.

  ‘He may have been trying to find me and got lost,’ she cried. ‘I’ll start at the beach and work my way back up to the olive grove. If he’s somewhere on the path I’ll find him.’

  ‘Your father will gather the men in the village and make a search party.’

  ‘It’ll be dark soon,’ Belle’s voice trembled.

  ‘I’ll go over the headland towards the village and send the men up to the olive grove. Then I’ll go home in case he comes back on his own.’

  ‘That’s a good idea, Mama. Call for him as you go.’

  Now Belle was alone, she began to run shouting out Jack’s name every few minutes. After a while other voices could be heard echoing down the valley. She reached the olive grove without any sign of Jack and as darkness fell her heart was racing with fear. The searchers had split in half and the party her father led had reached the grove before her. Her father and a young man called Manuel had waited for her and brought her up to date with what was happening. Now they insisted on taking her home after they had called and searched all over the area.

  ‘We mustn’t stop looking just because it is dark,’ she begged. ‘He’ll be so scared
out here all alone. Anything could happen to him.’

  She thrust a fist into her mouth as tears dripped from her jaw.

  Look-outs were posted in the hills during the night and the lights left on in the village as a guide to the little boy. Belle paced the floor while her mother provided endless cups of coffee. Her father was one of the men keeping watch on the hill. Anne Mendes tried her best to comfort her tortured daughter. But Belle was frantic and wouldn’t be consoled.

  In the morning, when further searches revealed nothing, the police were called in. Belle was taken into the local station and grilled on her reasons for coming back to Portugal and the situation she had left behind in England. It was extremely harassing to discover that instead of being helped she was in fact under suspicion of what, she had no idea.

  By now she was in the grip of real terror. She still didn’t know what had happened to Jack and she was on the verge of being arrested. The lack of sleep and the long hours of questioning were beginning to tell. She was so confused that when she was suddenly told she could go, she failed to move from the chair and just stared back at the plain clothes policeman.

  ‘You will be informed if the boy is found.’

  Back at the cottage, half the relations had gathered, all offering helpful ideas and solutions to the family’s problem. Belle was packed off to bed by her mother after a bowl of hot soup and a piece of home-made bread. As she lay unable to sleep, she could hear the voices below in the kitchen. They were all eager to help, this family of hers, yet how could they? Jack had gone and the pillow beneath her cheek was wet with tears when she had thought that there were no more tears left to shed.

  She must tell Jeffrey, was her next thought. Would the knowledge free him or anger him? No, she would swear that in the last weeks he had come to think fondly of Jack. No-one could resist her Jack for long. Oh, please, she prayed, find him soon and bring him back safe and I promise faithfully I’ll never let him out of my sight again.