‘You should get back to Greencliffe,’ he said. ‘Bad enough one of us missing college but no need for you to stay on too, after all she was nothing to you, was she?’
His words stung a little. True I had only spent a few days in Cecily’s company but even in that short time I had become fond of her. But Chris insisted that he could manage alone so I caught the train the following morning, leaving him to the bleak task of disposing of Cecily’s belongings.
When a week went by and he hadn’t returned or been in touch I rang.
‘Chris, it’s me, Elaine. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ He sounded odd.
‘You haven’t been in touch and I wondered – when are you coming back?’ When he didn’t reply I went on, ‘You could put the cottage in the hands of an estate agent. You don’t have to stay on and—’
‘I’m not coming back.’
His words stopped me in mid sentence. ‘Sorry – you’re not…?’
‘Coming back,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve let the college know.’
‘But – why? You’ve only got another few months to go on your course. You don’t want to have to start again.’
‘Gran left everything to me; the cottage and all her savings. With what she got for the business it amounted to quite a bit, enough to keep me going for a couple of years at least until I establish myself.’
Establish himself! I felt as thought all the breath had been knocked out of me. ‘But – what about your accountancy?’
‘You know how I feel about that, Elaine.’
‘But it was what she wanted, Chris. You’ll be letting her down.’
‘She’d understand. She had a dream too but for her it was too late. I feel this is like fate. It’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. If I did I’d regret it for the rest of my life.’
‘And if you don’t succeed in a couple of years – what then?’ I swallowed hard, my heart thumping dully in my chest as I thought about the faith Cecily had had in me. What could I say to make him see sense?
‘If I take this opportunity to concentrate on it, I believe I will succeed. And if the worst comes to the worst I’ll still have the cottage to sell.’
I was stunned as the reality of the situation became clear and I could see everything slipping away from me. ‘I see. So you’re saying that it’s over between us then?’
He paused. ‘You could always join me here – if you want to.’
‘You could sound more enthusiastic.’
‘I still love you and want to be with you, Elaine,’ he said warmly. ‘That hasn’t changed. But I can’t have any encumbrances at the moment.’
‘I understand that.’
‘I don’t feel it’s fair to ask you to give up your course. Even if you joined me down here after you’d qualified there’d be no work for you and anyway I’d—’
‘Be busy,’ I finished for him. ‘Too busy to bother with a silly girl hanging around.’
‘It’s not like that, Elaine, you know it’s not. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have you with me.’
‘As what?’ I asked. ‘A housekeeper?’
‘You have no idea how inspired I am down here,’ he went on excitedly, oblivious to the irony of my remark. ‘I’m getting up at the crack of dawn and writing like crazy. It’s pouring out of me. I know this is the right decision.’
‘And that’s all you need; you don’t need anything else?’
He paused. ‘I still want you, Elaine.’
Want, not need! Suddenly I was angry; angry and frustrated with him. Who had ever heard of Chris Harding? How would he ever get anyone to take him seriously? I’d read some of his stories and I hadn’t been that impressed. And what would he do once the money ran out?
‘You knew you were going to do this when you sent me back, didn’t you?’ I accused.
‘I knew it was a possibility,’ he hedged. ‘I needed time alone to think it through.’
‘Okay, Chris, have it your way,’ I snapped. ‘You stay down there alone and scribble away to your heart’s content. You throw away your future and everything your grandmother worked so hard for. You go ahead and let everyone down and good luck to you!’
‘I’m sorry you feel like that, Elaine,’ he said, calmly. ‘But I did mean what I said. If you want to be with me you have to take me as I am.’
I slammed the receiver down without saying goodbye then I ran up to my room and threw myself down on the bed in a torrent of tears. How could he be so selfish? How could he say he loved me when all he really wanted was to write? If I did go down to Cornwall and join him it would just be to cook his meals and wash his clothes. Why should I give up my future for that, especially when his head was full of silly rubbish – dreams that would never come true?
But as the days went by and my resentment cooled I missed him terribly. It was unbearably painful, like a red hot poker burning a hole in my heart. Maybe life in St Ives wouldn’t be so bad, I told myself. I could get a job in one of the little cafés in the town and earn some money to keep myself. Chris clearly wasn’t ready for marriage but that wouldn’t matter. I’d take what time and attention he could spare me. Perhaps he needed to get the idea of writing out of his system and grow up. When he did I’d be there for him. I rang him again.
‘Hello – Chris Harding.’ He sounded slightly impatient at being disturbed.
‘Chris, it’s me. Look, I’ve thought about it and if you want me, I’ll come.’
‘No!’ His abruptness shook me. ‘I’ve thought too, Elaine. It wouldn’t be right to ask you to give up your future, especially as you don’t share my faith that I can make it as a writer.’
‘I do, Chris.’ I sounded unconvincing even to myself.
‘No, you don’t. Even if you did it wouldn’t be right to ask you to sacrifice your future. You love what you’re doing too. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘But if I’m willing to do it – for you.’
‘Right now it might seem like a good idea. You miss me and I miss you,’ he said. ‘But better if we make this goodbye – at least for a while. Maybe I’ll get in touch again when things start happening for me. Maybe by then….’
Fury rose in my throat almost choking me. ‘Goodbye, Chris!’ I slammed down the receiver. Was he really so arrogant that he thought I’d waste my youth waiting for his impossible dreams to come true?
I confided in Mary. She didn’t say much but I knew that as the weeks went by she worried about me. My mood alternated between anger and self-pity. I couldn’t eat and I wasn’t sleeping very well. Even I could see the dark rings under my eyes and my dull, limp hair. I lost weight and to make matters worse I went down with some kind of tummy bug that wouldn’t clear up.
One morning as I staggered out of the bathroom I found her waiting by the door with something in her hand. She pushed it towards me.
‘Indulge me,’ she said. ‘Just put both our minds at rest, will you darlin’?’
It was a pregnancy testing kit. I stared at it, then at her, and shook my head. ‘I can’t be!’
‘Well I only hope you’re right, sweetheart, but just let’s make sure, shall we?’
I took the box from her and read the instructions. Later I stared at the tell-tale blue line in stunned disbelief as Mary and I sat opposite each other at the breakfast table.
‘What do you want to do?’ she asked. ‘Will you go to him now? Will you ring and tell him?’
My first instinct had been to do just that but when I thought about it I knew I couldn’t. He would see it as a trap. He might even think I’d done it on purpose. If I was the cause of his dreams being dashed he would never forgive me. For the rest of our lives he would resent me – and the unwanted child. I knew only too well what it was to be unwanted and resented. I’d suffered from that all of my life and I didn’t want to go down that road again.
‘No,’ I told her emphatically. ‘I shan’t be telling Chris.’
‘He does have a right to know,’ she reminded me.
>
‘Believe me, Mary, it’s the last thing he’d want to hear.’ I didn’t need to say more, she knew about Chris’s single mindedness when it came to living his dream and she clearly understood my reasons. She considered for a moment, her eyes on my face.
‘Would your mum and dad be supportive?’
I shook my head in horror, trying to imagine the scenario: Dad’s disappointment in the way I’d let him down; Mother’s disgust and secret triumph. Tears ran down my cheeks. There was no choice. Going home was out of the question.
Mary reached out a hand to me. As always she was non-judgmental and coolly practical. ‘In that case you have to think seriously about your options, pet,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to go through with it, you know. It’s very early days. No one need ever know.’
I swallowed hard at the lump in my throat. ‘I’d know,’ I said. ‘For the rest of my life I’d know. I couldn’t live with that, Mary.’
She sighed and raised an eyebrow. ‘So…?’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe adoption.’ I looked at her. ‘I realize I can’t stay here, Mary. You’ve been so good to me. I feel I’m letting you and everyone else down. And as for college—’
She held up her hand. ‘Woah! Slow down! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now,’ she counted on her fingers, ‘the baby will be born next spring, right?’ I lifted my shoulders. I hadn’t even thought about dates yet. She went on, ‘You can carry on till Christmas – the end of this term at least. After that we can see how things are going and think again.’
I looked up at her. ‘We can – you mean…?’
‘Yes, of course “we”.’ She looked surprised. ‘Because you’re staying here with me. There’s no two ways about it. Did you really think I’d chuck you out at a time like this?’
Two
Somehow I got through most of that term without anyone guessing I was pregnant but when it began to be obvious tongues began to wag. Most people knew that Chris and I had been an item and guessed that he was the father. It wasn’t an easy time.
‘Is that why he scarpered, the bastard?’ Cheryl asked with characteristic bluntness.
I told her he knew nothing about it and I wanted it kept that way but she clearly didn’t believe me.
My morning sickness gradually wore off and I began to feel better, though I tired easily and I found some of the coursework exacting. Mary looked after me like a mother. She made sure I ate properly and went for regular antenatal check-ups. The doctor pronounced me fit and well, the pregnancy progressing normally. Then we broke up for Christmas and I had to write to Mother and Dad and break the news that I wouldn’t be going home.
By return I had a brusque letter from Mother, saying that going home was the least courtesy I could pay them after not going home in the summer. She reminded me that she and Dad were still supplementing me financially and that it was the least I owed them. I wrote back saying that I hadn’t been well and that as the Christmas holiday was short it wasn’t really worth making the long journey up to Yorkshire.
It was two days before Christmas Eve and I was alone in the house as Mary had gone to do some Christmas shopping. I was making a cup of tea when there was a ring on the front door bell. I went through the hall to answer it and my heart lurched when I opened the door to find my father standing on the doorstep.
‘Dad!’
The smile froze on his face as he took in my newly rounded figure. For a moment we just stood there, the two of us, staring at each other. I was the first to recover.
‘Come in, Dad. It’s cold and you’ve come all this way. I was just making tea and—’ As I closed the door he grasped my arm and turned me round to face him.
‘My God, Elaine, why didn’t you tell us?’
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Dad. Surely you realize why.’
‘Who is the father?’
‘He’s – out of the picture. He doesn’t even know.’
We sat over the pot of tea at the kitchen table and I told him the whole story.
‘I did love him, Dad – very much. I still do. If I hadn’t I would never have….’
‘I know, love.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘I know, and I still think he should shoulder his responsibility.’
‘No, Dad. It was a mistake. It would just make matters worse. It’s better this way.’
He sighed. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Try to finish my course and get my diploma before the birth and then have the baby adopted,’ I told him. ‘They’ve been very good at the college. They’re going to let me study at home for the last few weeks – just go in for the exam. Luckily it’s in April.’
‘When’s the child due?’
I bit my lip. ‘April the 10th.’
He winced. ‘That’s driving it close.’
‘I know, but most first babies are late, so they say. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.’ Suddenly I couldn’t believe I was talking to my father like this. He was taking it all so well. ‘With a bit of luck I’ll be able to come home for Easter. It’s late next year.’ I looked at him. ‘Mother need never know about it. I think you’ll agree that would be best.’
Suddenly he stood up and came round the table to pull me to my feet. His arms around me, he hugged me close and I felt his tears wet against my cheek.
‘You’re talking about my grandchild,’ he said huskily. ‘The one I’m never going to be allowed to see.’
It was the first time I’d thought about the baby I was carrying as a real live entity and it brought me up sharply. I wiped his tears away with my thumbs. ‘Dad, I can’t keep the baby. You know what Mother is like. She’s never had much time for me anyhow and she’d never forgive me for shaming her – letting her down. I’d never be able to come home again. And if I’m not there she’ll make life hell for you. You were the one who stood up for me. When I’ve got my diploma I’ll be able to get a good job down here and I’ll pay back every penny you’ve spent on me. You have to agree that it’s best Mother never knows.’
‘She has to know,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s time she faced up to life in the twenty-first century. I don’t like the way things are nowadays any more than she does, but you are our daughter.’ He shook his head at me. ‘I can’t believe you’ve been through all this alone and felt you couldn’t come to your own family.’
‘I haven’t been alone, Dad,’ I told him. ‘I’ve got the most marvellous landlady and friend. She’ll be home soon. You must meet her. And I’m sure she’ll insist that you spend the night here. You can’t make the journey back to Yorkshire tonight.’
Mary was surprised to find Dad sitting in her kitchen when she came home, but as always she rose to the occasion and treated him like an old friend. They seemed to take to one another on sight. She insisted that he stayed the night and made up the bed in the tiny third bedroom for him.
After I’d gone to bed the two of them sat up talking till late. Lying in bed I could hear the buzz of their conversation in the sitting room below my room. It continued until I fell asleep. I had no idea what they discussed but Dad seemed happier in the morning. I took an hour off and went to the station to see him off. Before he boarded the train he hugged me.
‘Mary’ll take care of you,’ he said. ‘You’re so lucky to have found her. She’s a real gem. Take her advice, love. It’ll be sound common sense.’
I looked at him. ‘You won’t really tell Mother, will you?’
‘I’ve told you, love; she has to know.’ He sounded adamant. Looking at my troubled expression he added, ‘Just you let me worry about her.’ He grinned wryly. ‘I might be tougher than you realize.’ He kissed my forehead. ‘Take good care of yourself and keep in touch. Goodbye, and have a happy Christmas.’
Crossing to the station exit I stopped halfway across the bridge to watch the train pull out. With tears in my eyes I watched until it disappeared into the distance, my heart heavy. This wasn’t how I meant things to be at all.
Christmas came and went.
I had a letter from Mother. She wrote that my news had come as a shock but no real surprise to her. She’d always known that I was weak-willed and irresponsible, but she wished me no ill will. She made it clear that I would not be welcome at home until after my ‘condition had been restored to normal’ and suggested that I might write and let them know when that day came.
It was no less than I had expected.
The new term began and the exam date was set for 8 April. By the time January was halfway through I found standing behind the bar all evening too tiring and Mary persuaded me to give in my notice even though I desperately needed the money. I worked hard at home from the beginning of March and with Mary’s help and encouragement I was confident that I had a fair chance of getting my diploma.
On the morning of the 8th I awoke at 5.30 with a dull pain low in my back. I said nothing to Mary at breakfast, telling myself it was just exam nerves and trying to ignore it. We travelled in to college together in the car.
The first contraction came as I turned over my paper half an hour later. All morning as I worked on the written paper I was aware of the pains growing relentlessly stronger but I carried on. During the lunch break I tried not to let Mary see when the pain came but there was no fooling her. She kept asking me if I was all right. I insisted that I was.
The afternoon was taken up with the practical exam, hygienic food preparation, care of equipment and kitchen management. Somehow I got through it but when at last I eased myself with relief into the passenger seat of Mary’s car she looked at my ashen face with concern.
‘You’re not all right, are you?’
I winced as another pain seized me in its grip. ‘N-not really, no.’
‘It’s the baby – yes?’
‘I think so.’
‘So do I.’
I looked at her apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mary.’
She frowned. ‘For God’s sake, what have you got to be sorry about? Have you been in pain all day?’ I nodded. She switched on the ignition and let in the clutch determinedly. ‘Right, we’ll drop in at home for your case and then it’s straight to the hospital with you, my girl!’
Too Late to Paint the Roses Page 3
