Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  *

  Frank Benjamin was not, as normal, enjoying the regular conversation with his daughter.

  ‘I never realised how bad the situation was, Dad, or I’d never have asked questions. I feel so awful now. You could see when they came back that Jerry was worried about Sarah, and Peter looked so down.’

  Frank Benjamin heard the distress in his daughter’s voice. She had just recounted to him the whole dreadful story.

  ‘It’s not your fault, Christa. They accepted you into their home and told you family history, as bad as it was. No one forced them to say a thing. They could have glossed it over. You could take it as a compliment that you were told the truth. As I see it, you now have a chance to help. Peter needs support. He’s received this from the McIntyres and others since he was a baby, but now he needs the confidence from outsiders who know the story but are more interested in him than anything else that has happened in his past. I know your warm heart has always gone out to him, and now we know why you feel this way, but he must be treated as normal, not like a rare specimen. You’re both young people; enjoy yourselves together as any others would do.’

  ‘Do you think I should make contact with Michael Hartman, Dad? Ought he to know about all this? I’ve been worrying about it all night.’

  He knew from the past that caution had to be instilled into his sometimes impulsive daughter.

  ‘I’m not sure, Christa. It seems he hasn’t done much over all these years to make contact in any way. It’s never an easy thing, though, attempting to build bridges. Did you say that you were told Peter’s Italian godfather had kept in touch with Hartman at the beginning?’

  ‘Yes, Dad, but I gather even he lost contact.’

  ‘Why don’t you try to meet with this man, perhaps in private, and tell him what you’ve found out, and see what he suggests?’

  He heard Christa sigh with relief. ‘I knew I could always count on you for some answers. That’s a brilliant idea. I’m going to do that. I’ll see if I can get in touch with him somehow. Thanks, Dad.’

  He was relieved to hear the bounce back in her voice.

  ‘I might be able to come over in a week or so. Would I be intruding?’

  ‘Oh, that would be marvellous. I do miss you. Please come if you can.’

  ‘Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Take care of yourself, and don’t worry. You have a job to think about, after all. Give Peter my regards.’

  CHAPTER 11

  After a mini council of war between them regarding the latest upset, Rob could see that Amy was worried by the continuing effect on their mother. He had himself noticed that she had lost some of her usual sparkle.

  ‘What do you imagine Peter will do, Amy? We mustn’t allow him to leave and find somewhere on his own. Mum will be sure to worry about him more.’

  ‘I’ll say. We all know she has a down on that Franklin creep, and she’ll be afraid Peter will mix with him more than ever. Christa is worried that she’s stirred it all up again. You know, I think she likes Peter.’

  Rob stirred himself from his habitual prone position on his bed. ‘We must talk to him and persuade him to stay. Is he downstairs?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘OK. Come on, Sis. Time to call out the cavalry.’

  He led the way downstairs.

  Peter was trying to concentrate on his work, but it was difficult. His mind kept returning to the look of shock in Christa’s eyes when he and Jerry had returned from the pub the other night. She hadn’t spoken about anything, but he guessed that she had been made aware of the whole story. Would she now consider him someone with a strange past and choose to keep a wide berth? Should he even not make any further contact with her? That would be a pity, he acknowledged to himself. He had come to look forward to seeing her, and enjoyed her company. Perhaps it was best, as Jerry had said, to let things settle down again and see what happened.

  He heard footsteps on the stairs and knew he was about to have company.

  ‘Hi, old son!’ Rob’s head appeared round the door. ‘Are we intruding on your thought waves?’

  Peter grinned back at him. ‘I don’t seem to have any at the moment, so come on in.’

  Rob sank his tall frame onto Peter’s bed, ignoring the exasperated look from his sister who had followed him into the room.

  She looked around. ‘I still think you could do with some pictures in here, Peter. Shall I sort something out for you?’

  ‘Ah… thanks all the same Amy, but I’m fine with it as it is.’ He was sure that the vivid images she would prefer were not conducive to study.

  ‘What he wants is that sketch of me looking handsome in my state uniform you’ve got tucked away in your portfolio! Something classy like that.’

  If it was possible for Rob to look more comfortable than he appeared to be, sprawled on the bed, it would have been difficult. However, he opened a lazy eye and fixed it on Peter.

  ‘What’s all this rot we hear about you leaving the nest? What’ve we done to make you want to do that? If you go, then guess who has to do more helping around the house! You’re dropping us right in it, you know. Correct, Amy?’ He cocked an eye at his sister.

  ‘That’s right. Besides, I’ll miss seeing Christa. She’s just great.’

  Peter looked from one to the other. Being so close in age, they had all grown up together, and he had a great fondness for them both. He knew the reason for their joint visit, and felt an even greater warmth towards them for their obvious caring attitude.

  ‘You both know why it crossed my mind. I can’t keep on upsetting your mother. There has to be some sort of closure.’

  Amy put her arm across his shoulders. ‘The closure is that we’re all in it together, for good or bad, supporting each other. That’s the good that will come out of it. Like a phoenix from the ashes.’

  Rob groaned.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Amy, you’ll have us manning the barricades in a minute. But I do tend to agree with you. As a family we’ve all learnt that you should give help and support if needed. We just wanted to remind you of that…’ – he stood up, a look of anticipation on his face – ‘and to suggest that now you’re in gainful employment, you buy us a drink at the pub.’

  Peter burst out laughing. ‘I knew there had to be an ulterior motive. Come on, you two, before you break out the violins and make me cry.’

  He switched off his computer, grabbed a jacket and led the way out of the room, missing the wink Rob gave to his sister. Mission accomplished.

  *

  Christa found it easier than expected to make contact with Luigi Gandoni. He turned up for lunch as a guest of the McIntyres the very next Sunday. She liked his obvious warm, smiling attitude, but she judged that there was a shrewd mind behind his air of benevolence. It was clear that he had a great fondness for Peter.

  After lunch the two of them were excused the clearing up and found themselves alone in the front room.

  ‘I’m pleased that you have been able to join Peter in England. He has spoken to me of you.’ The warm dark eyes studied her. ‘He needs a friend. Sometimes families are too close to the emotion in troubled times.’

  It was obvious what he was trying to tell her.

  Christa looked back at him, her brown eyes steady. ‘I like Peter a lot, and I admire him for the way he’s dealt with all his troubles. It can’t have been easy.’

  ‘We have all tried to help, but as we all know, in those quiet moments at night unbidden thoughts can intrude.’

  Christa saw the pain mirrored deep in the dark eyes, and on impulse put out her hand to him, which he took and squeezed.

  ‘Mr Gandoni, I wanted to have a talk with you, but somewhere private so we’re not overheard. Would you meet me, perhaps at my flat?’

  She could see the question on his face, but then he smiled. ‘How can I resist an invitation like th
at? Yes, I will meet you, young lady, and in view of our clandestine arrangement may I suggest you call me “Luigi”.’

  Christa answered his grin with one of her own. She scribbled her address and telephone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. ‘Give me a call and we’ll fix something up. Perhaps next week?’

  Luigi pocketed the paper just as the rest of the family joined them with coffee.

  Christa enjoyed the afternoon, knowing that she would at last tell someone in this family the truth.

  *

  Lionel Franklin was bored. Peter had been going on about how work was organised at Ravens, and also the girl, for some time now, as if he was interested in any of it. He had noticed of late that the boy was more articulate than he used to be. In the past he would listen, rather than talk so much himself. It must be these new influences. He had to do something about both before it was too late.

  ‘Well, Peter, you seem to have plenty going on in your life at the moment. I would, however, caution you about too much involvement with this Benjamin girl. She seems to have chased after you with a lame excuse of wanting to work over here. I didn’t wish to say so to you, but I did find her a bit evasive in answering some of my questions. What do you know about her?’

  He could see the slight confusion in the young man’s face, and pressed home the advantage.

  ‘Is she by any chance aware of your financial circumstances? Your inheritance from your mother? You can’t be too careful, Peter.’

  ‘She knows nothing about that.’ A pause followed. ‘From me anyway.’

  Franklin could see the boy thinking. This was good!

  ‘Have the McIntyres told her, do you suppose? Peter, I hate to say this, but you are unused to the sometimes unscrupulous ways people have of engineering certain circumstances. This girl might well have come to this country to follow her career, but now she is here she might be seeking other potential possibilities. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘I can’t think Christa is that kind of a person, Lionel.’

  His tone of voice was adamant; but was there just a trace of doubt? Better to let the idea lie for a while. Now implanted, it might grow.

  Franklin shrugged and waved a nonchalant hand. ‘Well, of course, you must know best, Peter. But I do still urge caution. Your career must be your first thought; there will be plenty of time for, er, dalliances, once you are well set up.’ He patted the boy’s knee. ‘Now, if you want to trot down and see Chef, we can have a nice meal together. Take your time. Choose something you fancy, and I’ll have my usual.’

  When Peter had left the room, Franklin rose with difficulty, and walked over to his desk. He took out two sheets of paper and crossed back to where Peter had left his briefcase, opened it, and studied the contents for some time. He then slipped the sheets of paper into one of the files and replaced the items in the briefcase, before settling back in his chair.

  When Peter returned, Franklin decided to complete the second part of his strategy.

  ‘So you’re liking the Ravens set-up, Peter?’

  ‘Oh, yes. They all seem a nice crowd to work with. We have to work hard, but they’re fair in other ways. I do sometimes wonder how good I would be in Court. I enjoy the researching side, but I can’t say I’m so comfortable with having to be an orator. Jonathan Raven is a class act. I watched him have a witness in a complete muddle the other day.’

  ‘Barristers are just showmen, Peter. The Judge rules the Court. Sometimes play-acting covers a lack of knowledge, either of law itself, or of the case in particular. Take a tip from me: know your law, that’s the basis. Dig around in archives, and you’ll be surprised what you find to help you. Use it to make or nullify legal arguments. Become used to looking for it. Train yourself. I know I wasn’t popular with some of my decisions, but they couldn’t be argued with. Some barristers are more amenable than others. I always thought Ravens took a too rigid stance. Show them what you’re capable of in independent thought, Peter, although they might not appreciate what you have to offer. If they don’t, we can find someone else who will. Another point is to take notice of the people involved in the courtroom and their personal circumstances. You never know when that knowledge could be useful to you.’

  That was enough for today, he thought to himself. Now let’s see how things work out. With any luck, when this new-found confidence had been stripped away he would be able to regain his full control again.

  *

  Peter lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His disturbed thoughts were keeping him awake. For the first time he found himself questioning some of the advice Lionel had given him. When he thought about it, he realised that in the past he had accepted what his great uncle said without much argument.

  Now he found that he didn’t altogether agree with Lionel’s ideas of barristers, and of Judges ruling in Court in the sense he felt Lionel had meant. There had been the inference that all the other participants were bit players, there to make up the numbers at most, and could be treated as irrelevant. But over the years, numerous clever barristers had been successful and, more important still, correct to challenge on points of law. Lionel was advocating that the Judge’s word was law and all others were subservient, without any discussion. No, he considered, there was a dangerous flaw there.

  When he thought about it, this was something like the topic he and Jonathan had begun discussing a while ago. He would be interested in bringing up the point with Jonathan again. Also, what was it Lionel meant about noticing the sort of people who were in the Court, and that they might be useful in the future? He had no idea why that should be important.

  However, the thing that disturbed him most was what Lionel had said about Christa. He knew he’d not mentioned his impending financial windfall to her, and knowing the McIntyres so well he was sure that they also had mentioned nothing to her. On what basis, then, could Lionel make the assumption that Christa had befriended him for her own financial gain? Peter thought back over his conversations with her since they had met, and could remember no questioning by her, casual or otherwise, of his financial situation. She seemed to just enjoy his company.

  Now he was taking the time to examine his feelings, Peter realised that he always looked forward to seeing her, and thought about her often when they were not together. Was this how it all began: a feeling of contentment in being with someone? Did his parents feel the same way about each other at first, as he did about Christa? He would never be able to ask them; and once again his thoughts returned to what had happened between them.

  Unsettled now, he turned over on to his side and looked out of the window at the night sky. Why did he always come back to this problem, which he never managed to resolve? Statistics showed that only a low percentage of marriages ended in violence, as opposed to living in relative harmony for years. He had to believe that it could be so for him; but there was always that lingering doubt. He knew he wasn’t cut out for one night stands. He’d found that out when he first ventured into the adult world of college. He’d come to realise that he was the kind of person who would need the reassurance of long-term commitment; but being sure enough to give that commitment was difficult. Although it wasn’t satisfactory for him to move from one brief affair to another, how could you be certain that the one you chose would turn out to be the right one? He gave a sigh. His association with Christa might not lead anywhere long term, but the one certainty was that he needed her as part of his life at the moment, and he was very glad they had met.

  Rolling on to his back, he came to a sudden decision. He would just let things move forward at their own pace. They got along well, and he for one would try to keep it that way. He closed his eyes and at last settled to sleep.

  CHAPTER 12

  Luigi checked the address on his piece of paper. Yes, the taxi had deposited him at the right place. He looked around. An affluent district, not the sort of area you might assume a y
oung working journalist might inhabit, but you never could tell these days. The girl seemed nice enough. It was obvious that she and Peter were getting on well together, and the McIntyres liked her. He rang the intercom bell, and when he heard the girl’s voice, announced himself.

  She was waiting for him on the first-floor landing with a welcoming smile.

  ‘I’m so glad you could come, Luigi. This way.’

  She led him into the flat, which lived up to its promise from outside. She offered him a glass of wine and then came and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Dinner in a few minutes, if that’s alright?’

  ‘That’s fine, my dear. This is a nice flat. I believe you have taken it over from a friend who is in Canada?’

  He saw her head go down, and began to worry.

  ‘Luigi, this flat belongs to my father. He uses it when he comes over to the UK and Europe on business, which he does quite often. I haven’t told Peter or the McIntyres this.’

  ‘I see. Peter told me that he builds boats.’

  The girl laughed. ‘Oh, he does that, alright. He owns one of the biggest shipyards in Canada and builds ships of most sizes, and for all purposes. Dad and I are in the habit of not making too much of the situation with strangers who don’t need to know. He has this morbid fear of a string of suitors chasing me, in the hope that they can cash in. Back in Canada it doesn’t always work as Dad is better known, but elsewhere it pays off. That’s why I said what I did about borrowing this from a friend.’

  ‘I can see the logic behind that, and also the fears of your father. He must worry about it.’

  ‘Oh, he does. Many a young man has been warned off by a glare from him if he thinks they’re unsuitable.’

  ‘What does he think about Peter?’

  He watched the girl twisting the stem of her wine glass round and round.

  ‘He likes him. He was impressed with his manner when we met in the hotel. The poor boy was given the third degree during the time we had together, but Dad has it down to such a fine art by now that the targeted specimens don’t even know they’re being dissected. Peter came out OK. Dad is well aware that I’ve come over to the UK as much for Peter as for the job experience. He’s a brilliant Dad, he lets me have plenty of rope to make my own decisions, but he’s always there in the background keeping an eye on things.’