Roselle had seen for herself how upset her daughter was, and had decided not to ask where she had been, but she looked brighter now. ‘OK?’ she said, hoping this would encourage her to open up.
Dilly took the bait. ‘I’ve just posted a letter of resignation. But I was thinking, I know I’ll have to find another job, but I need to talk to somebody about - things.’
‘You can talk to me. I’m always willing to listen.’
‘Thanks Mum, but it has to be an outsider. I was thinking of going down to see Helen Milne. You used to say she was always giving people advice. What d’you think?’
Roselle took no time to think. ‘It’s a marvellous idea. I’ll come with you.’
‘But I know Dad didn’t want you to have anything to do with her, so what’ll he say?’
‘We won’t tell him. I’ll say I’m taking you away to help you to get over …’
‘Are you sure, Mum? I don’t want to come between you and Dad.’
‘I’ll be very diplomatic, Dilly. I’ve been thinking about Helen a lot lately, and I’d love to see her and Frank again.’
When the concocted story was put to him, Brian was quite supportive. ‘It’ll do you both good to get away for a couple of days. If I wasn’t so busy at work, I’d come with you. Have you decided where you’re going?’
It was Roselle who came up with the impromptu untruth. ‘To Glasgow, to do some shopping. We’ve never been there, either of us.’ Her brain added silently, ‘I don’t think I have, anyway.’ She had given up all hope, some years ago, of regaining her memory.
Her husband almost scuppered their plan by saying that he’d take them right to the station to make sure that they got on to the right train, but realising their true destination would be revealed if he did, Roselle succeeded in talking him out of it. ‘Don’t make yourself late for work, Bri. We’ll easily manage.’
Within half an hour, both women were on their way to Grangemouth, looking forward excitedly to seeing their old friends again.
Andrew Milne had, to his father’s great relief, flown over from Belfast as soon as he received the letter about his mother’s death. ‘You should have let me know as soon as Mum took ill,’ he scolded Frank. ‘How long was it?’
‘Apart from the effects of the stroke, she wasn’t ill at all. I rose to make her a cup of tea, and when I went back with it, she was dead.’
A great surge of guilt swamped the younger man. He had never seen his father so upset, and he wished with all his heart that he had come to see his parents at least once a year, instead of letting Peggy talk him into going to Spain, Greece, Germany, Italy or wherever her fancy took them. She was a selfish woman, but he had been stupid to let her rule the roost like that. He had a duty to the old folk, they brought him up, they gave him a good education, and they’d had not a penny of benefit from it. Not that he supposed they had wanted that, but it would have been the proper thing to do.
Now, his mother was dead and his father was a frail old man, having looked after her for years. He wouldn’t have minded that, of course. He’d have been happy to do it for his beloved wife, for there was never any doubt about how much they loved each other.
The funeral was taking place the following day, and his father did not feel like going out at all, so they were sitting silently, one on each side of the fire, when someone rang the doorbell. He jumped up. ‘I’ll go, Dad.’
There had been a steady stream of people coming to tender their condolences - his mother had been well liked - so he was not at all surprised to see two smartly dressed ladies, one perhaps forty-something and the other looked to be her daughter, early twenties, probably. Both seemed very surprised to see him, but he said, graciously, ‘You’d better come in.’
To his amazement, his father jumped up and embraced the older lady as if she had been a long-lost daughter. ‘Oh, Roselle, if only you’d come a week ago.’ Tears coursed down his wrinkled face Seeing her puzzlement, Andrew stepped in. ‘My mother died a few days ago. Her funeral’s tomorrow, if you’d like to come.’
His father turned outraged eyes on him. ‘Of course they’ll come. As long as Roselle has turned up, Helen wouldn’t care a docken who else was there.’
Over the next hour or so, Andrew learned what had happened, why the Lewises had moved away, why Roselle had only sent Christmas cards without giving her address. It was so similar to his own behaviour that he could empathise with her guilty sorrow, share her regret for neglecting a woman she loved. Frank, of course, was getting to know the girl, the grown-up Dilly who had also flung her arms around him and wept tears for the missing years.
When evening came - after they had consumed the fish and chips that Andrew had insisted on going out for although they had all said they weren’t hungry - they sat quietly by the fire, Andrew and Dyllis mostly listening to Frank and Roselle reliving many happy memories, not forgetting the harrowing time they had shared when Dilly had contracted meningitis.
At last, Roselle glanced at the Westminster clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Frank, it’s nearly midnight. You must be absolutely shattered.’
He shook his silver head. ‘I’m OK, lass. It’s well past my usual bedtime, but I’m still as bright as a button.’
His grey, lined face, however, told a different story, so she turned to her daughter. ‘We’d better go, Dilly. We’ll find a bed and breakfast somewhere for the night.’
‘Indeed, you will not!’ the old man declared, indignantly. ‘Helen would give me a right tongueing if I turned you out.’
‘I’ll sleep on the settee so you can have my bed,’ Andrew offered, thinking that it would be no hardship to him. He slept on the settee often enough at home when Peggy locked him out of their room.
Only Frank’s insistence that they stay made Roselle agree to this arrangement, but the hands of the Westminster clock on the mantelpiece had gone round a full hour before they were all housed up and, too tired to do anything else, each one fell asleep within minutes.
The next morning was bright and clear, but because this was the day of the funeral, spirits were much lower than they had been the night before. Andrew had breakfast ready when the two women came downstairs, but he felt somewhat awkward with them. ‘You must think I’ve been a terrible son. Never looking near the old folk for years.’
‘You’re no worse than I was,’ Roselle said, sadly. ‘Frank and Helen were like parents to me, yet I dropped them when Brian was promoted and we moved away.’
‘That was Dad’s fault,’ Dilly reminded her, but the remark was really intended for Andrew’s benefit. ‘He wouldn’t let Mum give Helen our new address.’
He frowned in puzzlement. ‘Why was that?’
Roselle shook her head impatiently. ‘He had the idea that Helen was nosey.’
‘Mum always wanted to know everything about everybody,’ he grinned.
‘That’s just because she was interested,’ Frank said, coming in at that moment. ‘She never meant to be nosey, but that’s how some people looked at it.’
‘That kind of people weren’t worth bothering about,’ Roselle said, angrily defending the woman who had been like a mother to her. ‘Brian included,’ she added.
They sorted out an order for using the bathroom, and eventually they were all washed and dressed - Frank and Andrew in smart parson-grey suits, and Roselle wishing that she had something darker than a beige coat to wear over her pink dress, but she hadn’t known she would need any mourning clothes. Dilly’s tailored grey trouser suit didn’t look so out of place, but, really, what did clothes matter in the long run? She was so glad that she was having the opportunity to say a proper farewell to this fine woman, whom she had treated so badly, and she could only hope that Helen would be aware that she was there.
Roselle flatly refused to go back to the house after the funeral. ‘We have to go home, F
rank, but I’m so glad I got here in time. I only wish …’
He slid his arm round her back. ‘No, lass, let bygones be bygones. We can’t change the past, however much we’d like to. But now you’ve got back in touch, you’ll not forget me, will you?’
She turned to hug him fondly. ‘I never did forget you, either of you, it was …’
‘Aye. Well.’
Andrew, waiting to drive them to the railway station, had settled Dilly into one of the rear seats and was holding the front passenger door open for her. They waved to Frank until the car turned the corner, and then Andrew said, ‘He’s bearing up quite well.’
‘It must have been a terrible shock for him, though, and he’ll feel even worse when you go home.’
‘Yes, that’s why I’ve made up my mind - maybe you’ll think I’m silly—’ He stopped, as if still undecided, and then continued, ‘I’m going to take him home with me.’
‘What a good idea!’ Dilly exclaimed.
It was a moment or so before Roselle said, ‘I don’t know. He’s been in that house since he and Helen were married. He won’t want to leave it - all the memories.’
‘But he’s always getting older,’ Andrew pointed out. ‘There’ll come a time when he won’t be able to look after himself.’
‘Yes, I see what you’re getting at, but how would you like to be yanked out of the only home you’ve known for fifty years?’
His eyes never leaving the road in front of them, he gave her hand a light pat. ‘You’re a very caring woman, Roselle. Do you know that?’
‘I care very much what happens to your father, I know that.’
‘I know that too, and I can’t thank you enough for it, but I have to look to the future. What does that hold for him? It’s a bugger, really.’
A deep silence followed, until, by tacit consent, they started to speak about other things, their own likes and dislikes, including Dilly in the conversation until, before they knew it, they were drawing up in the station car park.
‘You don’t have to wait,’ Roselle said, as they got out. ‘Get back to your dad and spend as much time with him as you can. When were you intending going home?’
‘I had three weeks’ vacation to come, so I took them all. There’s still sixteen days to go, so, hopefully, I’ll manage to persuade him to come with me.’
‘What’ll your wife say about having him living with you?’
‘I neither know, nor care,’ he said, turning away. ‘Goodbye, Roselle, Dilly. Hope to see you again some time.’
‘He’s nice,’ the girl observed, as they made their way to the correct platform.
‘Mmmm.’ But Roselle’s mind had suddenly jumped ahead. How was she to explain all this to Brian?
Frank was very glad of his son’s company, but he was not at all enamoured of the idea of going to live with him. He’d only met Frank’s wife once, at their wedding, and she’d seemed a right madam. A woman who liked her own way and damn the consequences.
No, he didn’t think he could be happy there. In any case, as he told Andrew, he was quite happy here in his own house. It would be lonely without Helen, of course, but he’d get used to that, and he’d always have his memories. He’d been doing all the cooking and housework for years, anyway, so that would be nothing new.
The two men were sitting by the fire this rainy day, and having exhausted all topics of conversation that they could think of, were awkwardly silent.
‘Dad,’ Andrew said, suddenly, ‘what are those big books sitting along the sideboard?’
So used to flicking them with the feathery duster every other day, Frank had more or less forgotten what they were, but suddenly realising that this was something that should interest his son, he said, ‘Take one down and have a look.’
Removing the volume nearest to him, Andrew was, indeed, eager to see the contents of Album No. 1, and settled down to follow the lives of his parents, starting with their wedding portrait - an upright young man in a dark suit beaming proudly as he stood behind the very beautiful girl in the chair, who was smiling shyly at the camera.
‘I didn’t realise Mum was so pretty,’ he exclaimed. ‘No wonder you married her.’
‘She’s always been lovely to me,’ Frank murmured. ‘And she’ll carry on being lovely for as long as I live.’
‘You’re an old romantic, aren’t you? But you were quite handsome yourself.’
‘Get away with you.’
Number One having divulged all its secrets, the two men recalling all the events of Andrew’s childhood, he replaced it and took down Album No.2. He couldn’t help chuckling at all the different hairstyles he had adopted during his teens, and the number of different girls he had dallied with. One, in particular, held his attention for some time.
Mandy Troup had been his steady for about two years, and, came the awful truth, she was the one he should have married. Even-tempered, but not a mouse, she could stand her ground about anything she felt strongly about, but, unlike Peggy, she could be rational.
‘Would you have any idea what happened to Mandy, Dad?’ he asked, casually.
‘She’s married with five kids,’ Frank smiled, then sobered as he recalled how Helen had felt about that. ‘They should have been our grandchildren,’ she had said once. But there was no need to tell the lad that.
So the afternoon went on, but it was Album No.5 that seemed to interest Andrew most - dozens of snaps of two charming children, following their growth from babies to toddlers to sturdy, possibly five-year-olds. Even the typed captions at the foot of each page gave him no hint as to their identities. ‘Who are Dyllis and Roderick, Dad?’ he asked, because something told him that they had once meant a lot to him.
Frank shook his head at this ignorance. ‘Dilly and Roddy, of course.’
‘The Dilly who was here?’
‘Aye, Roselle’s twins, but she told me Roddy’s in New York now. They were real close twins, you know, hardly ever separate.’
‘So it’s Roselle with them in these snaps? I didn’t recognise her.’
‘Ah, well, she’s changed a good bit. From some of the things she said, I think she’s had her troubles.’ ‘You mean with her husband?’
‘No, not Brian, they’re still OK, it’s Dilly. She’s had some problem with a man, that’s why Roselle took her away for a few days, but I think she looked a lot better by the time she went home. Both of them did, in fact.’
‘You’ve no snaps of Brian, then? I’d be interested to see what he looks like.’
‘He was usually away working all day, but there should be one or two of him. He was a nice lad, though your mother thought he didn’t like her.’
It was only two pages later that Andrew gasped, ‘Is this him?’
Frank glanced over. ‘Aye, that’s him.’ Seeing his son’s concerned face, he said, ‘Hey, are you all right?’
‘I think so. Listen, I’m sure this man’s face is on a wanted poster I see every day.’
‘No, no, it couldn’t be Brian. He’s not a criminal.’
‘The man I’m speaking about is a criminal. I can’t say any more than that, but would you mind if I take this snap with me? I’ll give it back as soon as I can.’
‘Help yourself, lad, but I’m sure you’re barking up the wrong tree.’
Andrew felt equally as sure that he wasn’t, but said nothing further. Unfortunately, the damage had been done. The easy camaraderie that had sprung up between them again was lost, and he could hardly wait for the next morning, to get back into harness.
First up, Andrew looked up his mother’s address book where Roselle had written in her address in Cruden Bay before she went home. Mr & Mrs Brian Lewis. Well, that certainly wasn’t the name on the poster, but a change was only to be expected for a crime of that magnitude. Of course, he was only a suspec
t, but, from the information given at the time, he was also the only suspect, so his guilt was practically a certainty.
Roselle couldn’t get over how well Brian had accepted the fact that she and Dilly had gone to see Helen. In fact, he even seemed to be pleased about it. ‘Frank must really have been devastated by her death,’ he had said. ‘I’m sure he was glad to see you.’
‘He was,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m really glad I went. I didn’t know she had died, of course, and I felt bad about all the troubles she had suffered, but Frank never criticised me at all. His son was there as well, and he’s just as nice as his father.’
For a second, it did look as if Brian was feeling angry, or apprehensive, or something not very nice, then he smiled, a sad little smile. ‘How did Frank behave towards him? Was he annoyed that his son had never gone to see them?’
‘Not while we were there, but to be honest, I don’t think there was any ill feeling.’
‘Well, it’s good that you went just at that time. What’s Frank going to do now?’
‘Andrew was speaking about taking him to live with them, but I don’t think his father would want that. As far as I could make out, he doesn’t have a very good opinion of his daughter-in-law.’
‘Well it’s up to him. He shouldn’t be bulldozed into something he doesn’t want. Um - how was Dilly while you were there?’
‘She was fine. Like me, she was quite emotional at seeing Frank again, especially at such a sad time, but she cheered up. I think she’s got over whatever happened to her.’
‘Thank heaven for that. She seemed to be quite happy when she was studying the “Situations Vacant” column in the paper last night, and she’s speaking about going to the Job Centre in Aberdeen, or whatever they call it nowadays.’
On his way to work, Brian heaved a huge sigh of relief. Helen’s death had put an end to the fear that had hung over him like the Sword of Damocles ever since he’d learned that her son was a policeman in Northern Ireland. Having thought that he’d got away with what he had done, it was as if God was playing cat and mouse with him, and although it had got slightly easier since they’d moved to Cruden Bay, there had still been moments when blind terror had gripped him like a vice.
Duplicity Page 27
