by Rebecca Shaw
“Miriam!”
“It’s true. I could have slapped that client’s face for her. However, what’s worse is she didn’t hear it from anyone connected to old Askew; she heard it from someone who’d been here at the clinic this morning. They’d overheard a conversation at the desk.”
“Did they indeed. Wait till I see Joy; I’ll have a thing or two to say to her.”
“Joy wouldn’t be so careless. It was more probably the girls.”
“You’re right, as usual. But I can’t let Dan go yet; we need him.”
“I don’t see why you should.”
“Do I hear you working up to persuading me to let him stay?”
Before she answered him, Miriam served the food. As she carried their plates into the dining room, she said, “As you well know, I never interfere with the running of the practice.”
“I detect … mayonnaise?” Miriam nodded. “And a hint of self-righteousness in your tone. You know full well you never say we must do this or not do that. You manage everything very competently with subtle hints here and there. I didn’t realize how majestically you manipulated me until a couple of years ago.”
“I don’t know the first thing about running a practice.”
Mungo almost choked. “That must be the understatement of the year! How I love you. I really do.”
Miriam went red and fell silent.
“Darling! I didn’t mean to upset you. Come on. I love you no matter what.”
She still didn’t answer him.
“Come on, pick up your knife and fork and finish your food. It’ll be going cold. Darling?”
Miriam shook her head. “That’s the first time you’ve said ‘I love you,’ and it sounded truly, truly, truly convincing to me.”
Her voice was so low Mungo could scarcely hear what she’d said. “I didn’t hear you properly; say it again.”
She repeated it word for word without looking at him.
He was stunned. And then shattered when he heard her next words.
“When you marry someone who has lost the love of his life before you came on the scene, you’re never quite sure, you see.”
It was Mungo now who was lost for words.
“You feel second best. All the time.”
“But you know I love you.”
Miriam stopped looking at her plate and looked instead at him. “Of course you do; I know you do. You were wonderful when the children died. I don’t know where you found the strength, and I wouldn’t have got through it if I hadn’t had you like a rock beside me; but as for that powerful, overwhelming, bewildering surge that comes with first love, I’ve always felt I had that but that you didn’t because of how you loved Janey. Somehow I feel I’ve missed out; there’s a kind of aching void.” She placed her knife and fork together. “I envy Janey for having been your first love. I so wish it had been me.”
Perkins ambled in. His bright brown Airedale eyes looked at each of them in turn. Then he came to sit beside Miriam and placed his chin on her knee. His head was jammed uncomfortably under the edge of the table, but he didn’t care; he’d sensed her need for his sympathy and had come to give it to her. Perkins’s simple gesture of solidarity made her tears flow.
Mungo leaped from his chair, uncomfortable at the thought of the dog having more sensitivity than he did. “Here, look, it’s clean.” He gave her his handkerchief. “If only you knew.”
“Then tell me.”
But he couldn’t for her sobbing. “Come into the sitting room, and I’ll get you a stiff drink. Then I’ll tell you something I’ve never confessed to anyone else.” He put his hand under her elbow, helped her up out of her chair and, closely followed by Perkins, they made their way out of the dining room. He sat her in her favorite chair and poured her a brandy. “Here, sip this.”
Mungo pulled a chair close to hers and sat in it. On the other side of her, Perkins watched and waited. “Better?”
Miriam nodded.
“Then listen. Every word is the absolute truth. I’ve never been able to tell anyone this because … well … you’ll understand when you hear.” He leaned his elbows on his thighs and stared into the fire. Perkins put his chin on Miriam’s knee again and prepared to listen to what Mungo had to say.
“I met Janey when I was a student. She was a high flyer in the mathematics faculty, with everything going for her. We met at a student disco and I fell instantly in love. She was beautiful, exquisite, exciting, stimulating, amusing, highly intelligent. All the things anyone could hope for in a woman. We fell into bed together within the week. I was obsessed, totally obsessed, and I wasn’t really me anymore. My work, everything, fell apart. I couldn’t get enough of her, either her body or her personality; she brought fire and power into my life in a way I had never experienced before. And at twenty-two that is mind-blowing. I could not believe how lucky I was.”
Mungo, so wrapped in his story, wasn’t aware of the pain he was causing Miriam. The words exquisite, exciting, beautiful sounded to her like the tolling of her own funeral bell.
“We were the golden couple of our year. We were asked to all the parties; no function was held without an invitation to us; socially we were the seal of success everyone yearned for. Somehow I managed to pass all my exams, and the marriage we planned took place that summer. I had one friend who had uttered a word of caution when I’d first started going around with her, but I was too much in love to take note of what he said.”
Seeing a glimmer of hope, Miriam asked, “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re taking a grave risk.’ I was so wild with him, we had a row; and it was weeks before we healed the breach.”
“What did he mean?”
Mungo smiled grimly. Perkins took his head from Miriam’s knee, curled up with his head on her feet and went to sleep.
“We couldn’t afford a long honeymoon; so we had just a week in a seaside town in Brittany, came home and I began work immediately while she played at housekeeping for a while before finding a job. We had a fantastic sex life, Miriam, believe me. It was that satisfaction and the fact that I was working all hours like assistant vets do in their first job that meant I never had any time to suspect anything was wrong for months and months. One night we went to an evening wedding reception, and I arrived there having been on call all the previous night and spending most of it up; and I was exhausted. Maybe my view of life was jaundiced because of that, but I suddenly caught sight of Janey from across the room and saw her with new eyes. She was flirting with a friend from her tennis club, and there was something about her body language which alerted me. This wasn’t the flirting of a happily contented wife; this was something very different. There was a kind of craving in the way she was behaving, and I looked away completely bewildered by what I’d recognized and caught the eye of a chap I’d never liked. He raised his glass to me with a mocking, knowing look on his face; and I thought, my God he’s been to bed with Janey. I just knew it in my bones. For certain.”
“Mungo!” She took his hand.
“To cut a long, sordid story short, I found out she’d been sleeping around quite often, with whoever took her fancy, all the time I’d known her.”
“Mungo!” Miriam kissed his hand.
His face became almost savage as he said, “She drowned in that f-f-ferry disaster coming back from the Continent after a weekend in Amsterdam with someone unknown. I searched the list of victims to see if I could find a name I knew, but I couldn’t; so presumably he’s still walking around somewhere.”
“Well, it could have been someone you didn’t know and he could be dead, but he’s of no consequence.”
“No, you’re right. I spent two years pining for her, hating her, loathing her, loving her, missing her. I was in a complete daze, on autopilot, terrified anyone would find out what a fool I’d been, and how nastily and shamefully my passion for her had been betrayed. I sold the house and used the money to set up my first practice, with Joy as my
nurse.” Mungo hesitated and wondered whether he should tell her about Joy—was this the moment? But he felt the warmth of Miriam’s hand so sympathetically clasping his and knew Joy’s secret was best kept to himself.
“Then one day this lovely woman walked into my surgery with a sick cat, which unfortunately I had to put to sleep—not the best of situations in which to meet your future wife—and I looked into her eyes and saw my salvation, and found new hope. And since that day I have never looked back. Her name was Miriam and I love her.” Mungo gripped her hand. “I’m unbelievably sorry for not telling you that my silence about Janey was hiding my shame and not my love.”
“You were very badly hurt. I expect you felt that as long as you didn’t talk about it, it had never happened.”
Mungo nodded. “I felt as though I would soil our love for each other if I told you and that if I did, you’d think less of me. No one knows, Miriam, only you and the other men, I suppose.”
“I shan’t tell a living soul.”
They sat silently for a few minutes, then Miriam said, “You see, Dan’s so like you. Firm as a rock, with tremendous integrity, professional beyond compare and yet with such hurt in him.”
“How can you say that? You haven’t known him five minutes!”
She ignored his surprise at her intuitive understanding of Dan. “It’s his dependability that makes me want him to stay. He’ll do so well for us. Whatever Letty with her money or Zoe with her bigoted opinions says about him, he must stay.”
“We’ll see. We’re stuck with him anyhow for a few more weeks till we find someone else. Has he confided in you, then?”
“About what hurts him? No, of course not. I just sense it. Like you, the hurt lies so very deep.” She bent down to stroke Perkins. “I’m just so deeply grateful I needn’t fear Janey anymore.”
“I’ve been a fool not to have told you before, but I’d no idea you felt second best like you do.”
“I didn’t intend you should; no second wife wants to dwell on her predecessor. You see, I believed for you to have loved her so much Janey must have been perfect. But she wasn’t. So I shan’t feel like I did anymore.”
“You’ve no need to at all. You’re everything to me, since the day we met.”
“Thank you. Me too. I loved you that first day and have worshipped you ever since.”
Mungo tenderly placed his hands either side of her face and kissed her lips. “I am forever in your debt.”
“And I in yours for rescuing me from such a lonely life and for loving me with a love I don’t deserve.” Miriam gently released herself from his grasp and leaned back in her chair. Staring into the fire, she said, “We’ll get over this problem with old Askew. You’ll see. I’m so pleased we made the move and got this place built. It not only gave me something to fill my mind after the children died, but businesswise it was the right thing to do. Everything works so well. Rhodri and Graham and Valentine and you and Colin and now Dan. With Zoe back we shall make a good team. Where we would be without Joy I don’t know, and she is such a good friend to me. We shall miss Kate when she goes, though. She’ll make a good vet. Kate will be like you and Dan: dependable, strong, clever, caring.”
He thought of how it pained him when he first realized that Kate’s face reminded him so much of Janey’s; but having shared his anguish with Miriam, he felt it no longer seemed to matter. “Nice girl. I hope she makes it.”
“So do I. I’m sure she will.”
Chapter
• 3 •
We’ve had the most horrendous day at the practice. I’m shattered; but I’ve chemistry to do for tomorrow night, and I’ve got to press on with it.” Kate leaned her elbows on the kitchen table and waited for some sympathy from her father.
Gerry thumped his fist on the table. “Think of the rewards! I’ll be so proud.” He reached across and patted her arm. “There’s no father could be prouder of his daughter than me. When you go to college I shall tell everyone I meet.”
“Dad! Please, you won’t say a word, will you, till we know for certain?”
“I’m not daft. I can bide my time. I never thought when you were born that you’d grow up to be a vet.”
“What did you think I’d be?”
“I never gave it a thought, I was too busy being amazed at what I had produced. A miracle you were to me. An utter miracle!”
Watching his face glowing with his memories, Kate wondered about asking him what her mother had felt on that day. The subject had been taboo all her life, but there came a time … “And my mother, what did she think of me when she saw me?” Kate knew she was in uncharted waters with her question, but she had to ask it; she had to know. For the first time in her life she saw her father’s eyes fill with tears. She watched him take out his handkerchief and blow his nose, saw when he’d finished that he was too filled with emotion to answer. “Sorry, Dad, it doesn’t matter if you can’t…”
Gerry shook his head. He got up from the table and went upstairs. Kate could hear his footsteps climbing right up to the attic and then the whirr of his train set starting up, and she knew that certainly tonight she wasn’t going to hear about that elusive mother of hers. She shrugged her shoulders.
Mia came in from the supermarket loaded with shopping. “Give me a hand, love, will you?” Mia gave her a couple of bags. “Thanks. Where’s your dad?”
Kate put the bags down and pointed to the ceiling.
Mia looked resigned. “Train set? Do men ever grow up? Just think if I were still playing with a doll’s pram. They’d be taking me away!”
“I’ve never thought about it like that. I wouldn’t let them, though. I’d look after you.”
“Thank you, that’s a relief to know. I suppose we have to be thankful he isn’t a train-spotter! I couldn’t be married to a train-spotter, could you?” Mia wrinkled her nose in disgust, half laughing, half serious.
“Certainly not.” Kate had to laugh. “Do you know that’s the first time I’ve laughed today.”
“Why’s that?” Mia finished putting things away in the fridge and sat down to listen.
“It’s not the same without Scott: no jokes, no pulling silly faces at the windows, no flirting.”
“I’m sorry you miss him so.” Mia laid a hand on Kate’s cheek, with a loving look on her thin face, her eyes kindly and full of sympathy. “This Dan Brown’s a miserable so-and-so, is he?”
“Oh! No. He’s not, but nobody but me likes him. They all think he’s too blunt, too up front with his opinions, and what none of them likes is he’s lost us a good client, and that is bad news.”
“It must be.”
“But worst of all it seems Lynne’s abandoned us. She was sent home to lunch early because of a row with Joy about Dan Brown and didn’t come back—no phone call, no nothing. What makes matters even worse is that Colin’s wife, Letty, has insisted she’ll come in tomorrow to help out if Lynne doesn’t turn up.”
“What’s happened to Stephie, then?”
“On holiday for three weeks, a family wedding in New Zealand. We are grateful for Letty’s help.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“You should have seen Joy’s face when Colin told her. I didn’t need to ask what she thought of the idea. She tried hard to sound enthusiastic, but it rang very hollow. She said afterward to me that she’d be praying like mad tonight for Lynne to come in because she couldn’t stand Letty. She must be difficult, because Joy is always so loyal about people. It’s not like her to talk about someone that way.”
“I like Joy; she’s nice. She might do better, might this Letty, than you think. Keep an open mind.”
“I will.” Kate idly rearranged the tiny flowers Mia had put in a bowl in the middle of the table and then said, “I’ve upset Dad. He said it seemed like a miracle to him when I was born, so I asked him what my mother thought of me, and he couldn’t answer. That’s why he’s upstairs with his trains.”
Mia sighed. She spotted a flower in danger of fall
ing out of the bowl and pushed it back in. “I’d better go see. Put the kettle on; I’m parched. He never speaks of her to me, so …” She got up from the table and began to climb to the attic.
She found Gerry engrossed in rearranging the figures standing on the main platform. With a Q-tip he was meticulously cleaning a porter pushing a trolley, intense concentration on his face, not noticing her arrival. It was a magnificent layout, with trees and station buildings, sidings and signal boxes, passengers and rolling stock, parcels waiting to be loaded, ticket office open, sandwich board announcing a day trip to the sea next Saturday—minute detail lovingly and painstakingly worked upon by a real enthusiast. Zooming round a wide curve at the far edge of the layout was the Flying Scotsman hurtling toward the station.
“It’s me.”
Gerry looked up, startled. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What do you want?”
“In the best of all possible worlds your wife would like you to come clean with Kate about her mother. There. I’ve said it.”
Gerry didn’t answer.
“I mean it, Gerry.”
He bent to replace the porter, and his knuckles collided with the Flying Scotsman as it dashed by. It shot up in the air and crashed down on the signal box farther down the line.
“Damn and blast! Now look what you’ve made me do. It’s all your fault.”
“No, Gerry, it’s yours. You should have told her years ago. She’s reached an age when she needs to know; and I can’t tell her because I never met the woman, did I?”
Gerry tenderly picked up the engine and examined it. He appeared engrossed and Mia thought she’d lost the initiative, but suddenly he answered her. “How can I tell her that her mother walked out on her, a defenseless, helpless babe? What’s that going to do to her?”
“Sometimes, however hard it is, it’s better to face the truth. After all, it isn’t as if she’s been in an orphanage somewhere, is it? She’s had you all her life and then me since before she can remember. She’s never been without family.”
