Living in the Shadows

by Judith Barrow

  ‘Long day. The train went all over Wales to get here,’ he said.

  ‘We’re lucky this station stayed open,’ Mary said. ‘A lot didn’t.’

  ‘I know,’ Richard said. ‘You might have had to come to Cardiff to get us, isn’t it. Anyway, more important, how’s Dad?’

  ‘It was just a minor scare in the end. He’s friendly with the heart specialist at Pont-y-Haven and he pulled some strings. They let him home, providing he rests.’ Mary gave a short wry laugh. ‘But he’s a fidgety patient, to say the least; I’ve nearly had to tie him down. Anyway, he’s much better.’

  ‘Used to being on the other side of the desk,’ Richard said.

  ‘You’re right. But seeing you two will be the best tonic for him.’ She included each of them in a smile but her voice faltered. ‘If only your sister would let us know where she is.’

  ‘So no news?’

  ‘No.’ Mary’s eyes filled; she brushed the tears away. ‘Nothing. We can’t think where else to look, who else to ask.’

  Linda fiddled with the strap on her suitcase, an unwilling onlooker to her aunt’s distress. If Vicky was standing in front of her right now she’d give her a good shake. Her cousin’s selfishness made what she had to tell Auntie Mary more difficult.

  ‘She’ll be fine; you do know that, don’t you?’ Richard said. ‘She’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘I am.’ Richard hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder.

  Mary touched it. ‘That new?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll tell you about it sometime.’

  The porter slammed shut the last of the doors and blew on his whistle. With a squeal of wheels the train stuttered away from the platform and out of the station.

  ‘You must both be worn out after that journey.’ Mary linked arms with both of them.

  ‘Exhausted.’ Linda picked up her suitcase with her free hand. ‘Thought we’d never arrive.’

  ‘Let’s get you home, then. I parked the car on the road outside the station.’

  Twenty minutes later they were at the cottage.

  ‘It’s great to be here. Just look at that sunset.’ Linda watched the colours flickering through the trees on the opposite side of the road as the sun dropped below the horizon in a blaze of fiery orange and scarlet, lighting the sea into a ruby redness. High above, creamy yellows and pinks rippled through the layers of clouds. ‘Beautiful,’ she breathed, ‘just beautiful.’

  They stood for a moment by the gate, savouring the peace. Then: ‘Come on; let’s get your bags out of the car and into the house.’ Mary shooed Linda in front of her. ‘Your Uncle Peter’s in the back garden. At least, he was when I left to pick you up. He’ll want to hear all about how you got on in Manchester, Richard.’

  ‘I’ll park the Hillman round the side of the house and then I’ll bring everything in,’ Richard said. ‘You two go on.’

  ‘Thanks, love. Be careful with it, you know it’s your dad’s pride and joy.’ Mary waited until the dark green Hillman Minx was safely driven off the road before she led the way around the back of the house. She laughed. ‘Your Uncle Peter would never forgive me if I got so much as a scratch on that car,’ she said. ‘Now, young lady, you can have a good rest while you’re here.’ She’d been shocked by the pallid thinness of her niece. ‘We’ll have a nice cup of tea and you can fill me in with all your news.’ She’d already had a phone-call from Ellen demanding she find out from Linda what was wrong between her and her boyfriend, but she wasn’t going to pry. If Linda wanted to tell her anything at all, it was up to her.

  ‘Peter,’ she called, ‘look who’s here.’

  ‘I think we should go in.’ Mary swatted at the midges that hovered around their heads as she and Linda sat on the low wall in the back garden. ‘I can’t stand these things. And it’s dark, anyway.’

  Linda stood up. ‘The house seems so big since you extended it, since you made the two cottages into one.’ She gazed along the length of it. ‘I keep looking to where Gwyneth’s back door used to be.’ She glanced at Mary. ‘Must seem strange to you too, Auntie Mary.’

  ‘Hmm? Yes.’ A sadness shadowed Mary’s eyes. ‘I really miss her. If it wasn’t for her … and her son … we wouldn’t be here. It was a refuge for Tom and me for a long time. And your grandmother. She had a hard life before she came here. She loved Wales.’ She smiled, a wistfulness hovering around her mouth. ‘You won’t remember her, but I think you’d have liked her.’

  ‘Yes, I think I probably would. And, from what I remember, Uncle Tom.’

  Mary nodded. ‘He and Iori should have had more time together. But…’ She folded her arms and held them tightly to her. ‘It wasn’t to be.’ She flapped her hands again at the insects. ‘Horrid things. Come on, let’s get inside.’

  In the kitchen Mary took out two mugs from the cupboard. ‘I’m glad your Uncle Peter had an early night, he was tired out. Coffee?’

  ‘Please. Yes, he did look absolutely shattered.’

  ‘Like I said, he’s a fidgety patient. Very fidgety.’

  Linda peered around the door. Into the living room. It was empty. ‘Where’s Richard?’

  ‘On the telephone in the hall. He’s been on there for ages talking to the girl he met when he was up with you.’ Mary opened another cupboard and brought out a tin of Nescafé.

  She spooned the coffee into the mugs. ‘I spoke to your mother earlier.’ She tried to speak casually. ‘She sounded a bit … agitated. Is she—?’

  ‘Drinking again? Yes, she is.’ Linda’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t know what would stop her falling into a bottle whenever anything goes wrong.’

  ‘What is it this time?’ Mary held up the spoon. ‘CoffeeMate okay? I forgot to re-order the milk.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Linda smiled and then pulled her face. ‘And I don’t know what’s up with Mum.’ This wasn’t the right time to talk to Mary about Karen. ‘She gets in a flap about anything.’

  Mary stirred the coffee and then spooned in the milk substitute, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  Linda realised she hadn’t fooled her aunt; she’d always been able to tell when she was holding something back, just like Nelly could. They were so much alike, Auntie Mary and Gran. No wonder they were such good friends. And she knew she couldn’t avoid the subject of George Shuttleworth much longer.

  Chapter 43: Mary Schormann and Linda Booth

  Llamroth, midday: Monday, September 29th

  Linda breathed in the sea air, surprised how much more settled she felt in Wales rather than Ashford. It had been her home from home since childhood. She loved the sound of the drag of pebbles under the waves and the raucous calls of the seagulls, the shapes and patterns in the cliffs. And there was no underlying tension between her aunt and uncle. Unlike at home.

  She half twisted round and smiled at her aunt who appeared at the front door and sat on the step next to her.

  ‘That’s the baking done,’ Mary said. ‘One Victoria sponge, two apple-and-blackberry pies and some jam tarts with the left-over pastry. Phew! That kitchen’s like an oven.’ She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘Peter and me often sit here watching the world go by. Not that much does … pass by, I mean. It’s so quiet here, lovely and peaceful.’ She tilted her head toward Linda. ‘I know they said it was a slight attack, but it’s still a worry. How does he look to you?’ she asked. ‘Putting your nurse’s head on?’

  ‘Better than I expected, I’m glad to say. Where is he now?’

  ‘Gone up for a nap. He gets tired easily. He was so pleased you came back with Richard; I don’t think he slept much over the last two nights. But I’m glad you think he looks okay.’ Mary smiled. ‘I did wonder if I was too close, that I just wanted him to be better than he actually was.’

  ‘No, he looks fine. Must have been a shock when it happened?’

  ‘It was. Worse than the first scare we had, actually. At least then he was in the surge
ry with the other doctors. Even though the old skills kicked in, it was more frightening because we were out on our own.’

  ‘You should have told me about it, Auntie. I would have been down here like a shot.’

  ‘I know.’ Mary gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re a love.’ But there was a quizzical look in her eyes. ‘You okay?’

  Linda wanted to pour out her own worries. But that would be too selfish; her aunt and uncle had so much on their plate already. And, soon, when she told them about Richard and Karen, she’d be adding to them anyway. So she smiled and avoided the question. ‘It’s so peaceful. When I’m home I think about Llamroth a lot.’

  The dog came and pushed his head between them. Mary rubbed his ears. ‘You’re glad to be home, Gelert, aren’t you, boy?’ His tail thumped on the door. ‘And we’d love to have Linda here, wouldn’t we?’ She glanced at her niece. ‘You could always move down here, you know that. You’d easily get a job at the hospital in Pont-y-Haven, I’m sure.’ She sighed. ‘Peter and I will miss Richard if … when he goes. He seems quite optimistic about his interviews. Did you think so?’

  ‘Yes.’ Linda’s spirits lifted. She supposed the constant feeling of sickness was nerves after everything that had happened, but Mary’s words were a godsend. If only she could move – it would be the answer to everything.

  The dog settled down between them with a long sigh, his head on Mary’s lap. She stroked him. ‘And with Victoria goodness knows where.’ There was a break in her voice.

  Linda chided herself for her selfishness. She covered her aunt’s fingers with her own. ‘I’m sure Vicky’s fine, wherever she is. She’s stronger than you think, you know.’ She grinned. ‘She’ll be back driving you mad before you know it.’

  ‘I hope so. I miss her so much.’ Linda was relieved to see Mary’s small smile. ‘I even miss that darned wailing music she insists on playing.’

  ‘Bob Dylan still her favourite?’

  ‘She’s gone on to Joan somebody or other over the last few months.’

  ‘Joan Baez.’

  ‘Hmm, yes.’ Mary nodded. ‘I’d just be happy … well, satisfied, at least, to know where she is. I’ve always been aware that we over-protected the twins but—’

  ‘But it was understandable.’ Linda watched a green single-decker bus drone past; it looked as if there were only two people besides the driver on it. The image of the crowds in Manchester was an instant contrast. Yes, she could live here quite happily.

  ‘Perhaps. Peter and I took quite a bit of flak from some people when we first came here. More so when we visited Ashford. I suppose that was because of the camp being there. People have long memories.’

  ‘Some people are just stupid.’

  ‘No, I suppose it was too soon after the war for people to understand. To forgive.’ Linda felt the sigh Mary gave. ‘I used to worry about what happened to the children when they weren’t with us – when they were in school. But they managed. At least, Richard did; Victoria was always railing about somebody or other.’ Her voice grew vague. ‘Something or other.’

  Linda let the quiet moment stretch out. She was aware that she was procrastinating: putting off the moment when she would spoil this visit. Because she was sure that’s what would happen. The first mention of George Worth … Shuttleworth … and all the peace would be shattered. And she wasn’t sure her aunt would be able to cope with it. Let alone Uncle Peter.

  But the decision was taken from her. Mary leaned against Linda, giving her a quick nudge. ‘Now, then, tell me about this girl Richard’s met? He’s going around grinning like the Cheshire cat ever since he got home. He was barely up there a fortnight but she’s certainly made an impression on him. Whoever she is I’d like to meet her and give her a hug; he’s happier than I’ve seen him for a long time.’

  ‘He does seem to be.’ Linda rested her head against the door-frame, watching the high clouds merging and reforming, being driven by a wind that had not yet descended to scatter the seagulls floating over the sea.

  ‘I know it’s daft,’ Mary said, ‘but I still worry about how people treat him.’ She touched her ear. ‘You know, with his deafness.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I suppose it started when he first went to school. The teachers treated him as though he was slow; they didn’t realise how clever he was for years. We always seemed to be going in to school for one thing or another.’ Mary frowned. ‘And he had so much time off with the operations. It never seemed to bother him, though, he always had good friends.’

  ‘Because he’s a nice lad, Auntie,’ Linda said. ‘And anyway, didn’t you tell me it was his last one – he won’t need any more?’

  ‘I did. It was. There’s nothing else they can do to improve things. His hearing is as good as it’ll be, now.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll let it hold him back, he’s a determined lad. And it’s different these days.’ She twisted her Saint Christopher necklace around her finger. ‘Well, some things are, anyway.’

  She smoothed her thumb over the pendant. Now or never, she told herself. ‘Auntie Mary, I have to talk to you about something…’ she glanced over her shoulder into the porch. ‘While we’re on our own.’

  ‘Okay.’ Puzzled, Mary looked at her.

  ‘You know what happened to me when I was little? The time I was taken and Uncle Peter rescued me from that cellar in the old mill?’

  Mary looked shaken. But all she said was ‘Of course, love.’

  ‘I still have nightmares about it, you know. Has Mum ever told you?’

  ‘No. No, she hasn’t.’ Mary slipped her arm around Linda. ‘And you’ve never mentioned it before. I’m sorry you’re still troubled by it.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘No, I know.’

  Yet the inflexion in her tone told Linda her aunt was as nervous as she was.

  ‘But I haven’t forgotten. How could I?’ Linda clenched her fingers together. ‘And there’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It concerns Richard as well.’

  ‘Richard?’ Mary blanched. ‘What about Richard?’

  On the journey to Llamroth, Linda had thought of all the different ways she might tell her aunt about Karen but none were right. Not one could lessen the awful facts.

  ‘The girl Richard’s met is lovely. I’m sure you would like her…’

  ‘What’s that got to do with—?’

  ‘I just need you to know that I know you would like her. Before I go on.’ This was coming out all wrong; her aunt was looking more and more concerned.

  ‘What do you mean … would? Of course we’ll meet her if he wants us to. But what—?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Auntie Mary, I’m not explaining myself very well.’

  ‘Just take your time, love.’ Mary put her hand over Linda’s clenched fingers.

  ‘This girl. Karen. Richard’s completely smitten with her. And, as far as I can see, she is with him. They’ve been inseparable since they met the first night he was in Ashford.’ Linda knew not to divulge how they’d met. If ever Richard wanted his parents to know that he was almost beaten up, it was up to him to tell them. ‘But there’s a problem. A big problem.’

  ‘Go on,’ Mary said, her voice all at once calm.

  ‘Karen’s mother was on my ward. She’d had a baby.’ Linda swallowed.

  ‘How old is Karen, then? Is she under age?’ Mary looked instantly alarmed.

  ‘No, nothing like that, the baby was the result of the mother’s second marriage. Karen’s about seventeen, eighteen. She has a car. She drives anyway…’

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s her stepfather.’ Linda rushed the words, in the vain hope that, if they escaped quickly their impact wouldn’t be so devastating. ‘He’s a horrible man.’

  ‘He found out Richard was half-German?’ The relief was palpable in Mary’s voice even as her face clouded with anger.

  ‘No. Well, yes, he did find out
—’

  ‘Still it goes on.’ Mary’s jaw set. ‘But we’ve dealt with all this before. If necessary I’ll go up north and talk to the man. If this girl is the one to make Richard happy, I won’t let anybody spoil it.’ She pushed her dark hair back from her forehead. ‘I’ll have to find a way not to let Peter know, though. It would only upset him and he’s not fit enough to deal with all that again.’

  ‘Wait, Auntie Mary. It’s not as easy as that.’

  ‘If Richard gets this post in Manchester we’ll be taking him up there. I could see the man then … surely his daughter’s—’

  ‘Stepdaughter…’

  ‘Stepdaughter’s happiness is more important. It isn’t fair, not in this day and age, not so long after the war.’ Mary insisted.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be fair … or right. But it’s not just that, Auntie Mary.’ Linda forced the words out. ‘It’s who this man is.’

  Mary looked bewildered. ‘Who…?’

  ‘George Shuttleworth. George Shuttleworth is Karen’s stepfather.’

  Chapter 44: Victoria Schormann

  Ashford, afternoon: Monday, September 29th

  ‘I haven’t seen you for two days.’ Victoria had been going mad with worry and frustration. She’d expected to have been moved into Seth’s room on the ground floor by now, to be seen by the commune as his girlfriend. ‘You said I was special to you. You needed me by your side.’

  ‘You are. I do.’ Seth stroked the back of her hand with his forefinger, then lifted it and kissed her palm.

  He spoke so evenly she knew he was holding back.

  ‘Crap.’ She snatched her hand away and let her hair swing forward so he couldn’t see her face. She was cross to feel the hot tears at the back of her eyes. ‘What you said at the fest — and what you said that day on the canal…’ God, she wished she’d not suggested that walk; she wouldn’t be stuck in this shit-hole now. ‘And after that … that meditation …’ She didn’t dare say what she really felt about the sessions he held. She sat up, glared at him. ‘Bloody hell, Seth, you persuaded me to join this … this…’ She swung her arm around the dorm, where each partitioned-off section was identical, and then at her single mattress, her clothes hanging on the rail. ‘I gave you my whole savings. Five hundred pounds. You said it would be for things in my room. My room,’ she emphasised, barely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘I didn’t mind that because I thought it would be our room.’