Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  He walked up to their table and, with a slight smile in his grey eyes, spoke to her in a rather formal fashion.

  ‘Good evening. I hope you’ve had no ill effects from your tumble this afternoon?’

  ‘Er, no. I’m fine, thank you, Mr…?’

  ‘Sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Peter Hartman.’ He held out his hand to her.

  ‘I’m Christa Benjamin, and this is my father.’

  Rising to his feet, her father shook the younger man’s proffered hand. ‘I’m Frank Benjamin. Glad to meet you, Peter. I hear you had a bruising meeting with my daughter. I know the feeling. I have them all the time!’ Despite his words, there was a fondness in the smile he gave her.

  ‘It was my mistake, sir, and once again I offer my apologies.’

  Christa listened, almost entranced. There was an old-world charm about this young man with his speech and manners, nothing like the rough and tumble she had become used to in others of her age.

  Her father also must have been impressed. ‘If you’re dining alone, Peter, why don’t you share our table? Save the waiters a bit of trouble. Oh, and the name’s Frank.’

  ‘Thank you, er… Frank. I would like that, if Christa would have no objection.’

  His immediate use of her Christian name pleased her, and she smiled at him and shook her head.

  Over dinner she learnt that he was staying for ten days, with only three further days remaining. The sudden sense of disappointment she felt was so great that she lost track of the conversation flowing between the two men. Whether or not her father was astute enough to notice her slight change of mood, she didn’t know, but he spoke to the younger man with a laugh.

  ‘As I’m finding that my old legs can’t keep up with the youngsters any more, if you have the time, I would deem it a favour if you could keep Christa company whilst you’re still here. I’d like to feel I’ve derived some benefit from my holiday.’

  Christa looked across at her father. He hadn’t shown any signs of flagging when he’d been skiing with her before. He caught her look and stared back at her with no apparent expression, but she sensed that he was asking for her approval.

  She found Peter Hartman looking at her with a strange, sombre look in his grey eyes, but the tone of his voice was warm enough when he answered, ‘I’d be delighted to help out, if you wish.’

  Christa sensed that the remark was being directed at her, and not her father. ‘Thank you. That would be very kind. My father does suffer so.’

  She watched with inner mirth as her father choked on his wine, just recovering by the time they ordered their meal.

  CHAPTER 2

  Over coffee, she sat in discomfort as her father began his well-practiced inquisition of the younger man.

  ‘By your accent, I assume you’re British. Are you working in Canada? I say that, because it seems a long way to come on your own for just a holiday.’

  ‘In fact, strange as it may seem, I am in this country on holiday. It’s an unexpected but marvellous present from a great uncle, for doing well in my law studies. I should have been here with a friend but he broke his leg just before we left.’ A smile began to play around his mouth. ‘He fell off a horse.’

  ‘Oh, bad luck. Some of them can be awkward creatures.’

  ‘No animal could be as bad as Rob’s senior officer.’ Seeing their puzzled looks, he explained, ‘My friend is a junior officer in the Household Cavalry. Falling off your horse is not an option, I gather.’

  His smile broadened as he recounted to them Rob’s pained expression when they brought him home from the hospital, not all as a result of his injury. ‘His sister hasn’t stopped laughing yet.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I thought about cancelling the holiday, but in the end decided to come on my own.’

  Christa was watching with interest as Peter’s face became lighter and more animated. He should smile more often, she thought. He was quite handsome. Since she had first seen him, she knew there was something about him that had attracted her – but she wasn’t quite sure at the moment just what it was.

  ‘A pity your plans were spoilt somewhat, but I hope you’ve enjoyed seeing something of the country?’

  ‘I have indeed. I’ve been very impressed.’

  Frank Benjamin went on with his cross-examination. ‘You say you’ve just taken law exams?’

  ‘Yes. Now I have my degree, I’m due to join a barrister’s chambers in London when I get back. My great uncle seems pleased, and perhaps that’s why he’s been generous with the holiday. He’s a retired Judge. He’s been an enormous help to me all through my studies, and I owe him a lot.’

  ‘You say that your career move has pleased your great uncle. What about you or your parents?’ Christa couldn’t help but make the comment.

  Their companion seemed to draw in on himself, remaining silent for several moments. Christa looked at her father, who shrugged, and was about to speak when the young man seemed to rouse himself.

  ‘My parents died… in an accident… when I was a few weeks old. I was brought up by their good friends, a doctor and his wife. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jerry have been brilliant, and their two children, Robert, who should have been here with me, and Amy, have been like a brother and sister. I also have a wonderful godfather. So, between them all, I’ve been well taken care of.

  ‘However, to answer your question, if I’m honest, I went into law because I found it easy. My great uncle has been generous in his financial assistance with my schooling, and began to teach me law even as a young boy. I suppose I just absorbed it without being conscious of the fact. When I started studying at university, he acted as a private legal tutor, which was a terrific benefit. I found I was way ahead of everyone else, so after all the help and support he’s given me, I owe it to Great Uncle Lionel to do as well as I can.’

  Christa felt dreadful for being instrumental in having brought up his sad past, and her heart warmed to him. Perhaps this explained some of the strange solitary quality about him, and why she felt herself drawn to him.

  ‘I know it won’t help to say we’re sorry, but we are. What happened to your parents is not an ideal start in life, is it.’

  ‘No, but I can’t change anything. I must make my own life, and as I said, I’ve had all the care and help from everyone that I needed. At least I’ll have no trouble remembering 2000 as the year when I started gainful employment!’

  Music could be heard playing in the background and Christa, making a sudden decision, looked at Peter in query.

  ‘Do you dance?’

  ‘Oh Lord, I’m not very good.’

  Laughing at him, Christa took hold of his arm and half-dragged him out of his seat.

  ‘Well, you can get in some practice now. See you, Dad.’

  Frank Benjamin rose to his feet. ‘I feel an old man’s game of bridge coming on. Have fun, you two.’

  *

  Peter found he enjoyed the next few days. The weather was good, and he and Christa were able to ski each day, and it was nice to have company at mealtimes. With interest, he watched the easy relationship between Christa and her father. The generation gap was non-existent as they sparred off each other. He found himself laughing more than he could remember.

  It was obvious that Christa was well educated, and when he had enquired about her father’s occupation she replied, ‘He builds boats’. She herself had just started work in journalism after leaving college, and again the close relationship with her father became apparent as she mentioned that he had left her to choose her own career path.

  With his own experience, Peter was reluctant to make any query about her mother, but one day while they were having a warming drink after one of their skiing sessions, she volunteered the information.

  ‘Mum and Dad divorced several years ago. They went through a bad patch while I was away at school. Dad says it was his faul
t. He was concentrating on his business so much that they drifted apart. Just one of those things that happen, he said. They’ve remained on good terms, and I see my mother from time to time. She’s married again and seems to be happy enough. I was given the choice of who I wanted to live with, and I chose my Dad. I sensed he had taken the whole thing hard. I’m glad I made that choice. We get on so well, and I love him to bits.’

  Peter thought about what she had told him and became envious of the good relationship she had with her father. Would he have had the same with his?

  On his last day, as they stopped to rest out on the slope, Peter stood looking at the view.

  ‘This is a very beautiful country.’ Without knowing why, he found himself adding, ‘Do you know, I might have a grandfather living in Canada.’

  Christa came and caught his arm. ‘Oh, Peter. How wonderful! Do you know where he lives?’

  He turned to her. ‘No. He emigrated when my father was in the Army. All I know is that his name is Michael and he came out here in his late thirties, in about 1958, after resigning from the police force in London. According to my godfather, he corresponded with him for a few years when he was living in Halifax, but then lost touch. I suppose I could attempt to trace him if I wanted, but I’m not sure about making contact after such a length of time. My father never did, so I’m told. It’s perhaps better left as it is.’

  He returned his gaze to the view and, watching him, Christa began to form a plan.

  *

  Both Christa and her father insisted on seeing him off at the airport. Frank Benjamin shook his hand.

  ‘Make sure, if you’re ever this way again, that you look us up. Have a good journey, Peter.’

  Then, in a tactful move, he left to retrieve the car.

  Peter looked at Christa. Her long hair was held back off her face, exposing her smooth skin and showing off her tan. He would miss her. She was like quicksilver, in both mind and movements. He felt energised in her company. He noted that for once the brown eyes regarding him were serious. It was impossible for him to read her thoughts, but he sensed she was coming to some sort of decision.

  ‘As Dad said, keep in touch won’t you? You have all my details.’ She paused. ‘Peter, I know this will sound a bit contrived, but I was considering coming to England to work on a British newspaper. If I did, could we meet?’

  As he thought over her statement, Peter was at first taken aback, but then as the idea grew in his mind he decided that, yes, he would look forward to it.

  ‘Of course, Christa. Let me know.’

  ‘Alright, I will.’ Her smile became mischievous. ‘You’d better go now or you’ll miss your plane.’

  ‘Oh! Yes… right… I’d better.’ He felt foolish, not knowing what to do or say.

  Before he realised it, she had reached up and kissed him on the cheek and then disappeared into the crowd. He stood there for a moment looking after her and then, with a quiet smile, turned toward the boarding gate.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sarah and Amy were waiting at the barrier. Peter’s plane was late in, and for the third time in as many minutes Amy began fretting about her date that evening.

  ‘Oh, do come on Peter, please.’ She tucked errant strands of red-dyed hair back behind her ear and pulled the multicoloured scarf tighter around her neck.

  ‘It’s not Peter’s fault, Amy. Now calm down, he’ll be here any moment.’

  Sarah looked at her daughter’s startling and vivid appearance. She loved her independent spirit but felt unnerved at being with her in public when she was in one of her ‘arty’ dress moods. The Art College had a lot to answer for, she decided.

  She hoped Peter’s holiday had gone well. It was a shame he’d been forced to go on his own. He was too much on his own already. Rob, in typical fashion, just had to do something idiotic at the wrong time!

  Peter would be even more in debt to Lionel Franklin now, was her unhappy thought. Right from the beginning of caring for him she had been apprehensive about any involvement with the man. But then he had offered to assist with school fees, enabling Peter to have a far better education than might have been the case. As Jerry had said, for Peter’s sake they had to accept. All she wanted was for him to be happy in whatever he was doing.

  It became obvious that Peter was a bright boy and he had done well. Sarah considered that Lionel Franklin had been too hard on him by encouraging him to do extra, over and above his school work, but it had paid off with grades that gave him an easy university entrance. Then there was the choice between reading law or something else, and again his great uncle won by encouraging him to read law under an old friend at Cambridge. Once more, how much opposition could she have mounted? It would have looked as if she was not doing her best for Peter. She knew his Uncle Luigi felt the same; indeed, she sensed he disliked any involvement with Lionel Franklin at all. However, it seemed that through the law Peter had found a common bond with his great uncle, displaying affection for him and singing his praises on a regular basis.

  As they stood waiting, try as she might to ignore it, she felt the familiar apprehension building in her. Whenever Peter was away for even a short while, the first moment of seeing him again was like having three people there instead of just one. His physical appearance and mannerisms were a vivid reminder of the people she still could not believe she would never see again. It had been so difficult over all these years, and the pain of hearing that dreadful, unimagined news was still as fresh inside her.

  ‘Are you OK, Mum?’

  Amy’s enquiry brought her back to reality, and the arm around her shoulders was comforting.

  ‘Come on, Mum. Don’t go there again. You know it makes Dad upset. Buck up. Peter will be here any moment.’

  Sarah had made the deliberate decision of asking Amy to come to the airport with her, and she knew very well that her daughter understood the reason. They all knew how she felt, although she tried hard to hide it. When Rob and Amy were considered old enough, they were told the full situation regarding Peter’s parents; and, bless them, they had been even more supportive of their special brother.

  ‘Here he comes, at last!’ Amy jumped up and down and waved her arms, never considering that it was impossible she could be missed in the crowd.

  Sarah saw Peter wave back and come towards them. He was a nice-looking boy, she thought. Not quite the film star good looks of his father, but still attractive enough in his own way. However, there was that air of vulnerability about him, much like Catherine. It always concerned her; although it might bring out the mothering instinct in some females… but, she sighed, not yet it seemed. He had a tan. It’s done him good to be out in the fresh air, she thought.

  Peter came straight to her, enveloping her in a hug, and kissing each cheek. His body felt lean and hard and he seemed more relaxed than before he went away. His holiday must have been worthwhile.

  ‘Hi, Aunt Sarah. Thanks for coming to meet me.’

  He then turned to Amy, and Sarah hid a smile as he winced. ‘I did see you, you know. I think it was when the plane was still at ten thousand feet!’

  Amy was unmoved and just made a face at him. She grabbed his arm. ‘Come on, Peter, I can’t hang around here all night. I’ve got a date.’

  ‘Poor boy,’ Peter murmured, with a grin at Sarah.

  Amy turned back to him with a saccharine sweet smile. ‘I was going to say it’s nice to have you back, but I’m not sure now.’ And she marched off towards the car park.

  Sarah put her arm through Peter’s as they walked. It was always so nice to have the children together, with their amicable bickering. She knew very well that, when pushed, they were always protective of each other, and Jerry and herself.

  *

  The car eased off the road into the parking area at the front of the large four-storey semi-detached Victorian villa.

  ‘Dad’s not back y
et,’ Amy commented to her mother.

  ‘So I see, but he shouldn’t be long now. I hope I’ve left him enough room to park.’

  It was a running family joke that Sarah wasn’t the world’s best driver, and time and again Jerry had to move her car in order for him to fit his own into the rather limited space.

  He was now a Consultant Paediatrician at St Thomas’s and was often away either at conferences or on courses. The house was convenient for the hospital and also big enough for their extended family. Peter had been given the basement as his own self-contained living area, and had his own key so he could come and go as he liked.

  Sarah loved the house. It was always full of bustle and laughter; and some tantrums now and again. It was a home in the true sense of the word, and the big extended kitchen at the rear was the hub. All major discussions took place around the big wooden table, and even when guests came they seemed to gravitate from the best rooms into the warmth of the kitchen.

  Sarah had always encouraged the children to assist in the running of the house, and now that she herself was back at work full-time, it came in handy. Despite appearing a scatterbrain, Amy was, in fact, quite organised and methodical, and Sarah was very glad of her practical help.

  She had worked part-time at first when the children were young, but once they were all away at college, decided to go full-time. She was now at last working in the Rheumatology Department at St Thomas’s, and was studying hard.

  Moving her books to one side of the table, she motioned to Peter. ‘Dump your bag there. We’ll sort it out in a minute and put the washer on later. I’ll see how the meal’s doing first.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunt, I’ll sort it out. There’s not much anyway. I did some in the hotel. Is Rob upstairs?’

  Busy at the oven, Sarah turned to him. ‘I would imagine so. He can’t go far at the moment, can he!’ With a chuckle she turned back to her casserole.

  ‘I’ll just nip up and say hello. I’ll tell him the meal’s on the go, shall I?’