An Uncertain Heart

by June Tate

  ‘Brian is about to operate on her. Her intestines are twisted, so of course we couldn’t wait.’

  ‘Oh, that’s awful. Poor Cleo. Are you alright, darling?’

  ‘No, I’m not, Helen. If anything should happen to Cleo, I don’t know what I’d do. It would be just too much. You know what she means to me. To live a life and die of old age is one thing, that’s acceptable, but this …’

  Feeling helpless, Helen didn’t know how to comfort him. He promised to call if he had any news and put the phone down.

  It was a long night. James insisted on staying beside Cleo after her operation and had called Helen to tell her. She wasn’t surprised, she’d have done the same in his place, but she hardly managed an hour’s sleep that night.

  It was early afternoon when she heard her husband’s car in the drive and she held her breath wondering if he brought good news, but when he walked into the kitchen and she saw his drawn expression, her heart sank.

  He sat on a kitchen stool. ‘She’s gone, Helen. I’ve lost her,’ he said.

  Rushing over to him, she put her arms round him. ‘Oh darling, I’m so very sorry.’

  ‘The vet did the best that he could, but she didn’t make it.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m just going to the stables,’ he said.

  She let him go. He needed to be alone with his grief she realised. There was nothing she could say that was helpful at this stage, but she had tears in her eyes as she made a cup of tea.

  That night James had a nightmare. The first for several months.

  It was now July, but during the past two months James had become even more depressed. He still worked training his horses, but it gave him little satisfaction. It was just something he did every day because he had to. He rarely held a conversation, just replied to anything anyone said. Much as she tried, Helen couldn’t get behind the bleak exterior of the man she loved who was in this deep pit of despair, and she didn’t know what to do.

  Margaret also tried when she came to look after Rebecca, but without success.

  ‘You just have to let him work through it,’ she told her daughter. ‘You can’t do it for him.’

  Edward came over to see his son but he couldn’t get through to James either. He tried to chat about everyday events as he helped to groom the horses, but in the end James turned to him.

  ‘Look, Dad, I know what you’re trying to do and I do thank you, but I need to be left alone. I can’t help the way I feel, I have just to find my own way. I know I’m a worry to everyone at the moment but in time I’m sure this will pass, though not if people keep trying to chivvy me out of it. It only makes matters worse.’

  Helen was so concerned she even contemplated giving up her work, but Margaret advised against such a move.

  ‘By doing that, you’ll put even more pressure on him,’ she said, ‘and that’s the last thing the boy needs. Just be patient, that’s all you can do.’

  Life for Ann Carson couldn’t be better. Every Wednesday, she and Clive would go out for lunch, then they retired to his flat for the afternoon, undressed and climbed into bed together. Having made the decision to have an affair, they were like two young lovers, sating their desire, laughing, tumbling about the bed as they found ways to enjoy each other. She felt young again, surprised by her own lack of inhibition – delighting in it.

  Clive too was happy. He’d been a widower for some years and now it was like a rebirth of his youth, despite the fact that this was an illicit arrangement. Now he just lost himself to the enjoyment of this insatiable woman’s demands.

  Ann lay back against the bed sheet, hot and breathless, stretching her arms languidly.

  ‘Oh, darling, that was so good.’ She curled her naked body round him, her arms enclosing his broad chest, kissing his cheek.

  He held her close, enjoying the feel of her bare flesh against his, wishing that they could stay together for the night, instead of having to part, knowing that his lover would be returning to her husband, cooking his meal and eventually climbing into his bed. He resented the fact that Richard Carson had that right, especially as he had no understanding of the woman he had married. It was such a waste. But deep down he couldn’t hide the feeling of superiority, of understanding the woman beside him, knowing that he could satisfy her needs as she satisfied his.

  Richard was not unaware of the change in his wife of late. She seemed to have a spring in her step, to be more cheerful, less pompous; she’d finally stopped boasting about being a lady, which had irritated him so much. He began to wonder what had brought about such a change and at dinner that evening he asked her.

  He placed his knife and fork down on his plate. ‘That was lovely, Ann, thank you.’

  She smiled happily. ‘I’m pleased you liked it.’

  He poured them both another glass of wine. ‘You seem very chipper lately, I have to say. It’s like having a different woman about the house. What’s changed?’

  She stiffened slightly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘It’s as if you’ve taken on a new lease of life; it’s so noticeable I just wondered what has brought on such a change, that’s all. There must be some good reason for it.’

  She silently cursed; she should have been more careful when she was with him. She had changed because now she was happy, but that was because of Clive, and Richard must never discover the true reason or she was in deep trouble.

  Shrugging she said, ‘It’s because the summer’s here. I so hate the winter months, they are so depressing. It’s just so nice to be out and about in the sun. It lifts one’s spirits.’

  He wasn’t convinced. In all the years of his marriage, summer had never had this effect on his wife, but why would she lie? He stared at her and saw a moment of discomfort, and was that perhaps an expression of guilt? Something was going on, but what?

  Two weeks later, Richard was in a taxi on his way back to the hospital when the car slowed because of the traffic. Glancing out of the window of the vehicle, Richard was surprised to see Ann and Clive Bradshaw in deep conversation, sitting in the window of a small restaurant. Ann looked somewhat concerned, he thought, then to his further surprise, he watched as Clive reached across the table and took her hand as if to placate her. The cab moved on and they were out of his sight.

  He tried to sort what he’d just seen. Ann had resigned from the charity she ran with Clive when she moved back into the house with him, so what on earth were they doing together? As far as he knew, all ties had been cut with all of his wife’s charity work.

  His eyes narrowed as he mulled over these thoughts. Was this man behind the change in Ann?

  When he arrived home that evening, he hung up his coat and hat, poured a Scotch and soda and went into the kitchen where Ann was preparing the dinner.

  ‘So what did you do with yourself today?’ he asked.

  ‘I met Henrietta and we went out to lunch together,’ she answered immediately.

  ‘And after?’

  ‘We did some shopping, then I came home. Dinner won’t be long. Go and read the paper whilst I finish off here.’

  Richard sat in his usual chair, picked up the paper but didn’t open it. Was Clive Bradshaw the reason for the change in his wife, he wondered? Well he certainly wasn’t going to put up with that. But he would have to be certain and there was only one way to find out.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Brian telephoned Helen over the weekend to see if James was any better. He’d seen for himself the devastating effect that losing Cleo had on his friend, and like his family, was very concerned.

  ‘No, Brian, he’s much the same. He does talk to Rebecca sometimes when he feeds her for me, but other than that, there doesn’t seem to be any improvement and I’m so worried. I really don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Try not to worry, Helen. It just takes time, that’s all.’ But as he put down the receiver, he had an idea.

  The following morning, James was surprised to see Brian arrive in his yard driving a
horsebox. He went out to greet him.

  ‘Brian! How are you and what are you doing here?’

  ‘Looking for an enormous favour, James. Come with me.’ He led him to the back of the horsebox and opened the door.

  Inside was a horse, but he was a sorry sight to behold. His coat was a mess, his bones could be seen and he was decidedly nervous. Brian spoke softly to the animal as they walked inside the box.

  James was shocked when he saw the state of the animal.

  ‘What the hell has happened to him?’

  ‘You might ask. I found him tied up in a field and left. No one has come forward to claim him and if I could find who did this I’d bloody well horsewhip them for being so cruel.’

  James walked up to the horse, talking quietly, and was appalled when it seemed to cringe away from him. He quietly stroked its nose and, putting a hand in his pocket, gave it a lump of sugar, talking softly as he did so.

  ‘I don’t have the time to take care of him, James, and I wondered if you would take him, otherwise I’m going to have to put him down.’

  ‘No! Don’t do that, please.’ He stroked the horse’s neck. ‘You poor bugger, no one deserves to be treated like this. Now, you and I are going to work together and make you well, but you have to trust me, alright?’ He turned to his friend. ‘How could people be this cold-hearted. They should be shot!’

  ‘If you keep him, my friend, I’ll supply any medication needed, but the rest is up to you. Are you game?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll certainly do my best. It used to break my heart during the war to see the bloated carcasses of horses that had been injured then shot and left by the roadside. If I can save this one, it will in some small way make up for that. Does it have a name?’

  With a rueful smile Brian said, ‘It doesn’t have anything. Feel free.’

  James looked into the sad eyes that looked back at him. ‘Well, we’ll wait and see before we give you a name. Now come along, my beauty – and I use the term lightly – I’ve got a nice warm stall waiting for you.’

  Brian watched as James slowly coaxed the new arrival out of the box and across the yard into the stable block. He smiled to himself. Two poor, sad creatures together. Maybe each would be the other’s salvation. He certainly hoped so.

  During the following three hours, James spent time with his new stablemate, brushing its coat gently, talking softly as he did so and trying to calm the fear that someone had instilled in this poor animal. His heart bled for the poor creature. Eventually he gave it a feed. Not too much too soon. This would have to be a very gradual care in every way. Then he stroked the horse.

  ‘I’ve got to go to the house now, my lovely, but I’ll be back. Now you rest up. Nothing bad will happen to you whilst you’re in my care, understand?’

  There was no response from the animal, but it had seemed to have settled a little and had stopped trembling when James was near him.

  James burst into the kitchen and when he saw Helen he gave vent to his anger.

  ‘Brian has just brought a horse in and asked me to look after it. You wouldn’t believe the state it’s in, Helen. He’s been left in a field to starve! You can see the poor thing’s bones, would you believe, and it’s terrified of humans. It makes my blood boil to see the neglect!’

  She was startled. This was the most that James had said in one breath for weeks. But she was thrilled to see him so animated.

  ‘Can you help him, do you think?’

  ‘I’m certainly going to try. No animal should be treated like that, it’s inhumane. I’ve just come in for a quick cup of tea and a sandwich, then I’ll go back.’

  As he sat and ate his sandwich, he began making a plan for the animal’s treatment.

  ‘Firstly I need to feed him to give him some strength, and secondly I have to teach him to trust me and not be scared, then we can really make strides, but it’s going to take time.’

  ‘And patience,’ she added. ‘But you have such a way with horses, darling. You’ll manage in the end.’

  ‘Mick can help me with the training of the others in the stable, but I alone need to look after this one until it feels more secure and safe.’

  He drank his tea and rose from his seat. ‘I have to get back. I’ll be in in time for dinner.’ He kissed her and left.

  When she was alone, Helen went to the telephone and called the vet.

  ‘Thank you, Brian, for bringing in that poor stray. You wouldn’t believe the difference in James. He now has a mission and, believe me, he intends to carry it out. I do believe you’ve found the key to unlock that dark place where James was buried.’

  ‘I do hope so. It was just an idea, but if it works, then I’m really happy. James has been through so much and, like you, I want to see him recover.’

  Whilst James was sorting out his problem with the sick animal, Richard Carson was faced with a problem of his own. That morning on his way out of the house he’d picked up his mail and was now reading one of the letters in his office. It was a report from a private detective he’d hired. There were also some photographs for him to look at.

  First he read the letter then he looked at the photos, one after the other. It showed his wife and Clive Bradshaw in different places. In a restaurant, holding hands, walking through a park and a few of Ann leaving Clive’s flat and kissing him goodbye. Richard was livid! How dare she do this to him? But now he had the evidence. This was why she was so cheerful these days. She was having an affair! This could not be allowed to continue. But how was he to handle the situation – that was the problem. He placed the report and photographs into a drawer in his desk and locked it. He needed time to think.

  Completely unaware that her secret had been discovered, Ann was on her way to meet Clive. They chose different restaurants in which to dine, not wanting to become familiar figures in one and maybe recognised.

  She had never been so happy. Clive loved her, spoilt her, buying small gifts she’d hidden in the drawers in her bedroom: a small brooch, a pair of earrings, a silk scarf. He was an ardent lover who satisfied her every need. What more could a woman want?

  Entering the restaurant, she saw Clive waiting. He rose from his seat as she took hers.

  ‘Hello, my dear, how are you today? You look lovely, as usual.’

  She beamed at him. She was wearing a new outfit, bought especially for the occasion, knowing that he always remarked on her appearance, whereas Richard hardly ever noticed.

  ‘I’m fine now I’ve seen you,’ she said softly.

  ‘Be careful, darling,’ he warned. ‘You mustn’t look at me like that, you’ll give the game away.’

  She chuckled with delight. ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ she replied. ‘I want to kiss you hello, but I know I can’t. But I’ll make up for it later.’

  ‘Behave yourself, Ann.’ He handed her the menu. ‘What would you like?’ Seeing the mischievous expression on her face he added ‘… from the menu, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, you’re no fun at all!’ she teased.

  They ate a leisurely lunch, then walked to his flat … and eventually climbed into bed.

  That evening when Richard arrived home, he could hear Ann singing in the kitchen, which enraged him even more, but after hanging up his coat and hat, he went into the kitchen, kissed her on the cheek as usual, then in the living room he poured himself a large Scotch and soda. Walking into the dining room, he lay out the photographs on the table where his wife sat – and waited.

  Ann came into the room and placed his meal in front of him, then walked around to her own seat. She suddenly saw the photographs and, with a cry, dropped the plate of food, which shattered on the floor, her face suddenly devoid of colour as she looked at the evidence before her.

  ‘Sit down, Ann,’ Richard said in a voice tinged with steel. ‘We need to talk.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ann collapsed into her chair as her legs had ceased to hold her, the photos still in front of her. She wanted to sweep them away, hide them. B
ut it was far too late for that. She looked up at her husband. His face was like granite. His eyes cold. She felt sick.

  ‘It would seem that it wasn’t the summer making you so happy, after all.’

  Still in shock, she didn’t know what to say, so remained silent.

  ‘I can’t believe that you were so stupid as to embark on a sordid affair – and with a man like Clive Bradshaw. Really! How could you?’

  At the sound of disgust in her husband’s voice over her choice of lover, Ann recovered her composure through anger.

  ‘How easy it is for you to denigrate Clive,’ she retorted. ‘If you were half the man he is I probably wouldn’t have felt the need to have an affair, which believe me is far from sordid. He loves me and makes me feel like a woman, something you never did, I might add.’

  Richard kept his temper under control as he spoke.

  ‘What could he give you, compared with the life you have, married to me? You have money, a beautiful home, a position in society and now a title, which you delight in using at every opportunity. Could he do the same?’

  ‘You know that he couldn’t but he cares about me. I feel cherished with him, not an appendage as I do with you. He’s interested in me as a woman, a friend … a lover!’

  Richard, now furious, rose suddenly, sending his chair crashing to the ground.

  ‘I’m happy for you, my dear, because from now on, he’ll be able to care for you completely. Twenty-four hours a day. That should make you very happy!’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Now she was worried.

  ‘I mean that I can no longer consider you my wife. You have made your choice. If your lover cares as much for you as you say he does, he’ll be delighted for you to move in with him – permanently!’