Treasure of the Heart

by Ruth Saberton

  Chapter 19

  “… so you see, Henry, that’s why I said ‘yes’. It wasn’t because I don’t still love you dearly or that I’ve forgotten all the wonderful times we shared. It just feels like the right thing to do.”

  Alice Tremaine paused and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. You’re being ridiculous! she told herself. After all, it wasn’t as though her husband could really hear her, was it? Yet over the eight years or so since Henry had been gone it had become something of a habit for Alice to walk up to the churchyard, stand by his headstone for a while and tell him what was troubling her.

  In those first dark weeks following his funeral, most days had seen Alice Tremaine walking up Church Lane with flowers in her hand and a heart full of sorrow. Yet as time had passed those visits had grown fewer, as the demands of daily life and grandchildren had filled her days. This was, of course, how these things had to be, but Alice still made a point of regularly visiting Henry’s resting place. The headstone was weathered now and the earth softly carpeted with grass. Her grief, like the marble, had been tempered by the passing of the seasons. Alice had discovered that in death Henry remained a wonderful listener, and she never failed to be soothed by spending time here, watching the waves roll across the bay and drinking in the timeless peace.

  At least, this was how she normally felt, but today’s visit was very difficult. It would sound crazy to anyone else, Alice reflected sadly, that she’d been standing at her husband’s graveside for over half an hour, trying to justify accepting an invitation to have dinner with another man. And not just any other man, but the very individual who’d broken her heart so badly that Henry Tremaine had spent a lifetime piecing it together. Was it a betrayal to have these growing feelings for Jonny? Or would Henry be pleased that she finally had some resolution regarding that long-ago heartbreak?

  “I’m old, my love, and I understand things more now,” Alice said slowly, and no sooner had these words left her lips than the sun slipped out from behind a cloud, casting a slice of lemon-hued light across the bay. It was an apt metaphor, thought Alice, for the years of experience that had illuminated her thinking. “Jonny was young and he was afraid. Goodness, he was just a boy really. He wasn’t independent and he had no means of making his own way. His life had been mapped out for him since birth. The right school, then Oxford and afterwards inheriting the family home. He’d been raised to know his duty.”

  High above a gull cried; it was a harsh and lonely sound.

  Duty. What an old-fashioned word that was. Indeed, it was an old-fashioned concept – but it had once meant everything. Young men had willingly sacrificed their lives to do their duty for king and country, and children had dutifully done as their parents bid because that was how it was. You did your duty and there was no questioning whether or not it was fair. It was just the way things were. Was it fair that both her brothers had died? Was it fair that she’d left school to help support her mother by working in the big house? Of course not. She was doing her duty. Jake and Danny might understand the concept, but Alice couldn’t imagine that her younger grandchildren would. In this age of celebrity worship, the notion of duty was as alien to young people as a world without electricity or the Internet.

  “It was so different back then, love, wasn’t it?” Alice sighed. She knew that somewhere Henry would be nodding in agreement. He’d always understood what had happened. Of course he had. He’d been the one to pick her up, dust her down and teach her that love might be lost for the moment, but maybe not forever; it would come again as surely as sunshine followed the rain. First love was the most vivid, the most wonderful and the most painful, but it wasn’t always the easiest. And it didn’t always last.

  But back then duty was everything. Jonny was a St Milton, heir to the big house and the estate, and he’d had a duty to his family. Alas, that duty definitely didn’t include having a relationship with the housekeeper’s daughter and Jonny had chosen his family over her. Of course he had. What possible choice was there? He was only fifteen and he knew nothing else. Alice understood this now but she certainly hadn’t then or for many years afterwards.

  “And he’s old now. Old and tired like me,” Alice finished sadly. “Lonely too, I dare say, just like I’ve been. The past is exactly what they say it is: a foreign country. And neither of us are those same people. I can forgive him now, Henry, and I really ought to be thankful to him, because if he hadn’t abandoned me back then I would never have met you and had so many wonderful years.”

  The graveyard shimmered and swam before her, and she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  “I really hope you understand,” Alice said quietly, “because if it wasn’t for you, Henry Tremaine, I’d never have dared to hope love could come more than once in a lifetime.”

  She kissed her fingertips and laid them briefly against the stone, the lichen crumbling beneath her touch and the marble warm in the weak sunshine. Then she turned away, to begin her walk back into the village. As she did so a blackbird’s song fluttered from the yew hedge, and Alice’s heart rose with every trembling note.

  A sense of peace washed over her. Henry understood and he was telling her that all was well.

  * * *

  Polwenna House, as it had once been known, sat at the top of the village, reclining on smooth lawns and gazing out across the endless sea. An elegant Georgian mansion, it had been home to the St Milton family for generations, and in bygone days the big house had been a staple employer for many of the villagers. As the car now swept up the drive, past stately cedar trees and weathered statues, Alice Tremaine felt the same twist of nerves she’d had as a girl when walking up to the house for work. Of course in those days she’d never have dreamed of venturing near the grand front entrance with its huge columns and towering door. That door was strictly for the upstairs people only; Alice, her mother and all the other folks who’d worked for the family entered by the back of the house where nobody would see them.

  Out of sight and out of mind, Alice reflected, and they hadn’t questioned this because it was just the way things were. Her teenage self would never have believed that one day she’d be chauffeured to the house in a beautiful black Jag, the wheels scrunching over the immaculate gravel as the car neared the foot of the sweeping steps. No, Alice Pendeen was more likely to be found scrubbing those same steps. She certainly wouldn’t have been invited inside to dine with the son and heir. Instead she and Jonny had pilfered bread, cheese, apples and ginger beer from the pantry for secret picnics down in the St Miltons’ private cove, and nothing before or since had ever tasted as wonderful.

  How times had changed. Back then she’d been young with smooth skin and thick brown tresses. Her stomach flipping nervously, Alice checked her reflection in her powder compact and smoothed a strand of her hair back into the chignon Summer had helped her with. Her hair was silver now, and there were a few more wrinkles on her skin these days.

  Both of us have altered, Alice thought, gazing up at the house. Although it still looked the same on the outside, it had been converted into a hotel many years ago. The small army of staff had also vanished, replaced now with hotel employees and smart managers instead of housemaids, stable boys and Mr Jensen – the old and terrifying butler. If Alice lived until she was one hundred, she’d probably never get over the horror of being caught by him as she’d sneaked out of Jonny’s bedroom. The names he’d called her! And Mrs St Milton’s icy fury had haunted her nightmares for years.

  Both the butler and Jonny’s haughty mother had been dead for decades, but as the car halted and the driver opened her door, Alice couldn’t help feeling like a teenager again. She half expected to see her mother scuttling towards her, waggling a finger and muttering. Laughing at her foolishness, Alice alighted from the car and, looking around, frowned. Even for a January evening it seemed very empty here. Where were all the cars for the other guests?

  “Alice! Welcome!” Jonny St Milton stood at the foot of the steps, smiling at her and holdin
g out his hands. Her own mouth curving upwards in answer, Alice let him take her hands and brush a kiss against her cheek.

  Oh! He still smelt exactly the same, and the giddy rush she felt at being so near to him could have belonged to the same girl who’d once trembled whenever those searching grey eyes looked her way.

  “You look wonderful,” Jonny was saying, stepping back and admiring her. “Green always was your colour, Ally.”

  Surely she wasn’t blushing? Heat rose in her cheeks as she saw the appreciation in his gaze. Alice was suddenly very glad she’d let Summer persuade her into wearing a pretty green tea dress and cashmere shawl, because Jonny was looking exceedingly distinguished in a dinner jacket and bow tie.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You brush up pretty well yourself. What a smart suit.”

  “What, this old thing? I just threw it on!” He offered her his arm. “Seriously, Ally. You look a million dollars and I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

  Arm in arm, they climbed the steps and entered the grand hall. The fire was lit in the enormous marble fireplace, chandeliers glittered above them and every step on the sweeping staircase was laden with red roses. As Alice stared around in amazement, an employee in smart attire stepped forward to take her shawl and a string quartet began to play Vivaldi. The reception desk was deserted. There was not a sign of any other guest.

  She turned to Jonny in confusion. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “There isn’t anyone else.” He took her hands in his again. “I closed the hotel for the night. It’s just us.”

  “Jonny! You’ll lose a whole night’s takings! That’s crazy!”

  “I am crazy, Ally. Crazy about you.”

  She raised her eyes to the cupola above them and he grinned.

  “Too cheesy?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Well, cheesy or not, I mean it. I am crazy about you, Alice. I always was but I was too much of a coward to do anything about it – and I’ve spent a lifetime regretting that. What’s losing an evening’s takings in comparison to losing you?” Then he winked. “Besides, it’s January. Trade’s slow and Ella wanted a night off!”

  But Alice knew this wasn’t strictly true. Apart from the fact that his granddaughter was a notorious workaholic, the Polwenna Bay Hotel was always popular regardless of the season. With its award-winning chef, famed wine cellar and wonderful views overlooking the bay, the restaurant was usually booked solid. Closing it for one night must have been a logistical nightmare. Oh dear. He really shouldn’t have done that on her account.

  “No, protests,” Jonny said, seeing that Alice was about to object. “I wanted to have you to myself tonight. Anyway, it’s the least I deserve after all that walking up to Seaspray. I thought it was going to kill me.”

  “So did I,” she agreed. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

  He looked at her intently. “I suppose I’m hoping you’re here because, like me, not a day goes by when you don’t think about what we once had and what could have been.”

  Alice was on the brink of replying that she’d been happily married for a very long time and that although she’d sometimes thought a little nostalgically about her first love, as all women do, it hadn’t been a major preoccupation. However, it was at this point that the maître d’ joined them.

  “Excuse me – sir, madam – but the table is ready for you now.”

  “Wonderful, Serge, thank you.” Jonny released her hands and offered his arm. “Mrs Tremaine, may I have the honour of escorting you to dinner?”

  Feeling like a film star, Alice placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and together they walked across the grand hall and through the tall door, which led into the restaurant. The last time she’d been here had been for the annual Christmas charity gala and the place had been full to bursting point. This evening, however, it was dark and empty, the only light coming from hundreds of candles and fairy lights strung outside on the terrace.

  “We’re eating outside? In January? Won’t it be cold?” Alice asked Jonny as two waiters held the terrace doors open for them. Stepping into the chilly night and shivering, she wondered if she could ask for her shawl back.

  “Fear not, I’ve no desire to catch pneumonia. Trust me, you’ll not be cold where we’re going.”

  Mystified, she allowed him to lead her along the terrace and then down a flight of worn stone steps onto the main lawn. A marquee had been erected and Alice’s hands flew to her mouth. Like a small Bedouin tent it was all red and pink silks, lit with dancing white fairy lights and lined with sumptuous velvet hangings. Heaters filled the space with deliciously warm air and a harpist was playing a heart-achingly beautiful melody. In the middle of the tent, with a breathtaking view of the sea and the stars, was a table set for two.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “I love it! It’s wonderful.” Alice was stunned. He’d made so much effort.

  “I know it probably seems mad to be eating outside in January, but really I’d wanted to take you to our special cove,” Jonny explained, holding out a chair for Alice. Sitting down opposite her and reaching into the ice bucket, he continued, “I had all sorts of ideas about how we could get down there. Boats, quads, even a golf cart, but at the end of the day I couldn’t avoid the fact that we’d have had to scramble over all those rocks. I tried to see if I could manage it but my bloody hip just wouldn’t make it.”

  Alice didn’t know whether to be moved or furious. “You daft old man! You could have injured yourself.”

  He nodded. “That’s pretty much word for word what Ella said. So in the end I had to admit defeat and plump for this as a compromise. Don’t worry though; we’ve still got bread and cheese for dinner.”

  “And I suppose that’s ginger beer, not champagne?”

  “You’ve got it!” He pulled out the bottle and poured them each a glass. Raising his in a toast, he said, “To old friends.”

  “To old friends.” They chinked glasses and as she sipped her drink the sharpness on her tongue was enough to whizz Alice back across the years.

  “And are we really having bread and cheese?” she asked.

  “This is a little awkward, Ally, but I don’t think my teeth are quite up to a baguette,” Jonny admitted. “Just for the record, I still have my own and I’m quite partial to keeping them, so I’m afraid a little cheating has taken place. Are you ready to see?”

  “I can hardly wait,” she said.

  A rich stilton soup topped with croutons was served as a starter, followed by mouth-watering cheese soufflé and then apple tart and clotted cream for pudding. Simple it may have been compared to the usual fare that was prepared in the restaurant, but the thought that had gone into the evening’s menu showed that even after all these years Jonny remembered their picnics. Alice was touched. As they ate they chatted easily, the memories flowing like the ginger beer and the years seeming to slip away. The boy she had once loved was still there, Alice realised, but he’d also grown into someone new. Life, with all its joys, heartaches and disappointments, had smoothed away the rough angles and harsh planes to form a man who, like her, had lived long enough to know what was important and what really didn’t matter a jot.

  Status. Class. Money. Parents. Like boulders washed away from the beach by a storm surge, obstacles that had once seemed insurmountable no longer existed.

  Once the plates had been cleared away and they were sipping their coffee, Jonny reached across for Alice’s hand.

  “I’m so sorry for hurting you back then,” he began to say, but Alice shook her head and refused to hear another word.

  “I know you are and you don’t need to apologise again,” she told him firmly. “It was a different world then and we were different people. Good Lord, Jonny! We were little more than children. Of course we made choices that we don’t always feel proud of, but we’ve learned to live with those, haven’t we?”

  He nodded. “That’s true. But it wasn’t always easy.”

  “I
’ve been very happy. I had a wonderful marriage and I have a wonderful family. I don’t have regrets or hold a grudge for anything that happened all those years ago,” Alice reassured him. “Besides, nothing’s black and white, Jonny. As I get old I realise that the past is really a collage of greys. So please, no more apologies.”

  His knotted fingers squeezed hers. “Thank you.”

  They sat for a while without talking, each lost in thought. The harpist played on, the waves whispered below and somewhere an owl’s cry trembled though the frosty night air.

  “Is this our new start?” he asked eventually.

  Alice sighed. “I’m almost eighty years old. I don’t want to spend what time I may have left looking back into the past. Where’s the sense in that? I want to enjoy the present and look forward to the future.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Jonny said. “Which leads me to something I hope I can put clearly, although I’m shaking so much I’m not quite sure I’ll manage it.”

  Pushing back his chair and holding the edge of the table for support, he lowered himself creakily down onto his knees.

  “What are you doing? Get up, you silly old man! You’ll get stuck!” Alice gasped.

  Jonny ignored her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a simple diamond ring.

  “Ally, I love you. I know I’m old and my heart’s a bit dodgy, but it works well enough to know it loves you – always has and always will. Nothing has ever changed that, and I promise I’ll love you until the day that dicky old heart stops. We might have months, or we might have years, but one thing I do know is that if you would spend them with me then they’ll be the happiest days of my life. So, Alice Tremaine, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

  Alice’s hand fluttered to her chest. Never mind Jonny’s dodgy heart – beneath her ribs her own was doing a very strange jig.

  “I’ve waited a lifetime to be able to ask you this and I should have done so all those years ago,” Jonny said, his eyes holding hers with burning intensity. “So, will you, Alice? Will you marry me?”