‘That’s about it!’
‘And Alice never forgave you.’
‘And never will. She blamed me and so did Larry and probably your mother did, too. She was making the best of a bad job.’ He shrugged helplessly, stood up and walked to the window, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
‘Do you think she ever forgave you?’ Olivia asked. ‘It was partly her fault as well as yours.’
‘Larry never forgave me although we tried to bury the past. Forgive and forget. It’s never easy.’
‘Larry could have married Alice.’
‘They didn’t love each other. It was a mess.’
‘And did Larry ever forgive Mother?’
‘Yes, but it was too late. A child changes everything.’
Stunned by the revelations, Olivia could find nothing else to say and a deep uncomfortable silence fell.
At last she too stood up. ‘So that’s why Alice won’t come to the wedding – because you are here and she hates you – and I can see why.’
‘Something like that.’ He did not turn. ‘If she comes she will make a scene. I can face anything she wants to throw at me because – I deserve her anger.’
‘But she will ruin the wedding.’
He nodded.
‘Should we at least prepare the others? They will know anyway if she comes and accuses you.’
‘You know them better than I do. Whatever you think best.’
He turned round at last and she saw by his expression how much the telling had cost him. She wanted to feel satisfied that it was his turn to suffer but instead she felt nothing but pity. True he had behaved badly but none of them could have imagined where that single night of drunken passion would lead them. That one false step had ruined all their lives. Ellen married to the wrong man and then abandoned by the husband she had never wanted. Larry Kline, the man who loved her, cast aside and Alice’s hopes of marrying Jack gone for ever.
‘Do what I think best?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t have the faintest idea!’ she told him and left the room on legs that trembled.
Eight
Luke’s letter landed on the mat just after seven o’clock the next morning and, by the time Alice had read it, it was twenty past and too early for a small brandy but she poured one anyway, tossing it back in two large gulps and setting the empty tumbler down with a bang – her expression furious, her usually serene face contorted. She was still in her velvet-trimmed dressing gown and matching velvet slippers and her long hair was loose around her shoulders so that she looked at first glance like a younger version of herself.
She stood by the window which overlooked the sea where a stiff breeze was blowing the spray from the waves. She whispered, ‘My God, Lucas! You cannot do this to me! You cannot ask this of me! No! Never!’
Fenella Anders! Whoever she was, she was not good enough for Lucas Fratton – not by a mile! There was no way Alice was going to allow her to interfere with the plans she had made for her godson.
‘I shall put a stop to this right now!’ she declared with false bravado, one hand clutching the letter, the other holding the dressing gown close to her neck in an attempt to stop the shivering which now engulfed her. ‘You think you can outdo me, Fenella, but you will find I am more than a match for you!’
‘I am bringing with me the woman I love . . .’ he had written in familiar, delicate handwriting which Alice loved so much. ‘I trust you will love her too . . .’
‘Well, I won’t love her,’ Alice assured him in his absence, ‘and when I have finished, you will no longer love her either because I shall show you the money-grubber behind the sweet facade that you find so adorable. You are destined for better things than marriage, my darling Luke.’ She poured herself another brandy but this time sipped it thoughtfully.
‘The married wife of a publican! What on earth is he thinking of? Has he lost his wits? Why not a singer in a shabby night club or a . . . a seedy woman of the night?’ Sighing, Alice shook her head. ‘I lost my first love,’ she whispered, ‘through no fault of my own. I lost him through his stupid pride. Oh yes! I understood that rash night of so-called love. It was because he was jealous of Larry and mortified because Ellen did not prefer him. He didn’t love Ellen and she didn’t love him . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘But Jack didn’t love anyone except himself but he could and would have loved me. It would have come in time. But no! The damned fool had to ruin everything. Now all I have is my precious boy! My precious Luke. I don’t intend to see him slip away. Life is not going to deal me that card again!’
Abruptly the now familiar pain returned to her chest and she tutted irritably and drew a long, deep breath to calm herself. Damned indigestion! Probably it was the brandy on an empty stomach. She picked up a small handbell from the bedside table and rang it fiercely and non-stop until her housekeeper appeared looking flustered.
‘I’ll have my breakfast now,’ Alice instructed.
‘Now? But it’s only—’
‘Scrambled eggs on smoked salmon, thin bread and butter and a pot of Earl Grey. And then run my bath, please. I have a busy day ahead of me. And pack something suitable for me for at least a three-day stay. I am going up to Canterbury.’ To deal with a very serious matter, she thought grimly. Then aloud: ‘This Fenella woman will discover she is no match for me and Lucas will fight me at his peril.’
Wednesday, 23rd May, Midday
I think when all this is over and Izzie is safely wed, I shall ‘hie me to a nunnery’! It seems that wherever I turn I see a problem lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Jack is worrying me, Izzie is fussing as usual and now Luke tells me he has written to Aunt Alice telling her that he is taking Fenella with him when he goes down to Newquay. She will fly into one of her tempers when she reads the letter but I tell myself Cornwall is a long way away and at least she cannot interfere with the wedding.
To take my mind off all this I went through my wardrobe this morning to find something suitable to wear but only the sprigged jacket and pale green skirt look fresh enough. So maybe I shall buy some greeny feathers and a matching ribbon for my hat and settle for that. I keep telling myself I am not the bride’s mother so do not have to stand out in the crowd.
On top of everything else, Theo called in on his way to work. It seems they were all woken in the night by screams from Cicely who thought she was going into labour as she was having painful contractions! After an hour and a half and just before they sent for the midwife, the pains suddenly died away and Mrs Stokes says it was a false alarm and not uncommon as it is easy to get the date wrong so the child might have come earlier than expected – or even later than expected. It all sounds very unreliable.
Theo looked very tired and in need of support but what could I say? I wanted to reassure him but what do I know about childbirth? At times like these I realize how much we miss Mother. Since I could not offer Theo advice I fed him instead – with a fatty bacon sandwich, the way he likes them – and sent him on his way. I hope I didn’t make him late for work . . .
Olivia closed the diary and tucked it behind the big milk jug on the dresser. She was immediately assailed by an image of her father, his good-natured face wearing the familiar expression, part hope, part shame; an expression which she now suspected hid something deeper and more disturbing.
He had confided a certain amount of the family’s background which explained the hostility between him and Alice but there was still more that he was hiding from her especially about the night of the quarrel – the night when he left home and did not return. Was he going to reveal more, she wondered. She had no idea but . . . did she want to know? Despite her earlier reservations Olivia had been slightly warming towards him but now her senses cried out to be wary of the man until she knew the whole story and that involved the reason for his reappearance.
Had he been in trouble with the law, perhaps? In prison? If so, what crime or crimes had he committed? She couldn’t imagine him robbing a bank or killing another man but he might have been
a cattle rustler . . . or maybe there was a fight and both men were thrown into jail. It seemed unlikely for he seemed a mild-mannered man, but anything was possible. There were lesser crimes such as fraud or slander or debt, perhaps . . . or cheating at cards. She had a very limited idea of the American justice system but she knew that seriously wicked criminals were forced into ‘chain gangs’ and driven out to work breaking up rocks.
Staring round the kitchen she realized that she was wasting time. There was always plenty to do and she reproached herself for allowing her thoughts to be hijacked once again by her father. With an effort she went to the cupboard and investigated the contents. No eggs. Ah! She would walk round to the farm and exchange a few words with Mrs Stokes and see how Cicely was bearing up.
While she combed her hair and changed her shoes a new thought occurred. Suppose her father had made a bigamous marriage in America – it would be easy enough to hide the fact of his existing family in England. And then he might have been found out. Would that have earned a prison sentence?
Frustrated, she sighed heavily and whispered, ‘I want to like you, Father, and I almost do but I can’t allow you to disappoint us all again – that would be more than any of us could deal with. So I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt for the moment but time is running out.’
Two hours after Alice had read Luke’s letter she was sitting in a first-class carriage on the train to London where she had booked into the Cumberland Hotel for the night. It was her intention to travel down to Canterbury the following morning and take the household by surprise. That way, she assured herself, the wretched Jack would have no chance to avoid her – and neither would Lucas. If she had signalled her travel plans she had no doubt that Jack would disappear. Anything rather than confront her. In a way she hoped he would.
She also did not want Lucas to escape her by wandering off into the sunset with his wretched Fenella in tow. She had plenty to say to both men. ‘Strike while the iron is hot,’ she thought. The idea that she might upset Isabel’s wedding did not enter her head but if it had she would have ignored it. Alice Redmond had her own concerns and would not permit anyone to interfere with them.
A shilling to the porter had ensured that she sat in a window seat, facing the way the train was moving, with a small table in front of her. A well-dressed woman sat opposite her, clutching a small dog to her chest. The animal wore a striped jacket and looked quite ridiculous in Alice’s opinion. For a few minutes she fumed inwardly, incensed by the way the woman murmured to the animal as if it were a baby. Alice imagined a smug expression on the woman’s face which also annoyed her but then the woman produced a small biscuit from her pocket and offered it to the dog who sniffed it disdainfully and turned its head away.
The woman smiled at Alice. ‘Poor Bobo! He must be hungry but he doesn’t like eating on trains. I think the rumble of the wheels upsets his little tummy. He’s very sensitive and I fear the journey—’
‘He’s probably too hot,’ Alice interrupted sharply.
‘Too hot? I don’t think so.’ She patted the dog. ‘Is Mummy’s precious too hot?’ She shook her head, answering her own question. ‘It’s his digestion. The vet says he needs to eat little and often because he has such a delicate stomach.’
Alice’s irritation flared suddenly. Fuelled by her adrenalin and the battles awaiting her in Canterbury, she leaned forward.
‘May I ask why he needs to wear that coat?’ she asked crisply and without any sign that this might be intended as anything but a criticism. ‘He’s an animal. Surely his own fur is intended to keep him warm.’
The woman stiffened, her smile suddenly replaced by a disapproving look. ‘You may ask,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t think it is any of your business.’
Alice was accustomed to her views being accepted and she was surprised by the rebuff. She had a few seconds in which to decide how to deal with the situation. She could mutter something which would avert further hostility or she could persevere with her protest. She chose the latter.
‘The carriage is warm enough, in my opinion. In my experience animals do not like to be coddled.’
Even as she uttered the words Alice wondered why she was bothering. She had no experience of pets of any kind. The truth was that she needed to release some of the pent-up anger she was carrying towards Jack Fratton and her errant godson.
The woman tilted her head slightly. ‘Are you an expert of some kind where animals are concerned? A veterinarian, perhaps? If not I suggest you have said quite enough. Anyone can see that Bobo looks perfectly comfortable in his coat.’
‘I thought you said he was hot.’
‘No. It was you who suggested he was hot. You blamed his coat which incidentally came from Harrods and was a gift from my sister on his birthday.’
Alice tossed her head derisively. ‘Oh, Harrods was it? I suppose that makes it all right then!’
By this time the bad-tempered exchange had caught the attention of several other passengers. A gentleman looked on with interest making no attempt to hide his amusement, and two women glanced in her direction and whispered together.
Unfortunately the train attendant chose that moment to enter the carriage and Bobo’s owner raised an imperative finger so that, being summoned, he hurried forward.
She said, ‘This unpleasant woman is trying to cause a scene.’ She waved a hand around her. ‘She has been quite insulting and I have plenty of witnesses to prove what I say.’
Alice straightened her back. ‘I simply questioned the need for the animal’s ridiculous coat. It makes him look like a monkey! All he needs is the organ grinder.’
The attendant’s face fell as he realized that tact and diplomacy were going to be needed. Looking at Bobo’s owner he said hopefully, ‘I’m sure this lady intended no slight. Probably a misunder—’
‘Oh but she did!’ cried one of the listening women. ‘She was quite rude. We all heard her.’
He looked at Alice appealingly. ‘I’m sure if you could bring yourself to apologize . . .?’
‘Apologize?’ Alice tossed her head. ‘Certainly not! It’s a lot of fuss about nothing.’
Bobo’s owner struggled to her feet. ‘I’ve heard quite enough!’ she announced, her voice shrill. ‘Please find me another vacant seat, first class, of course. Bobo and I would like to move.’
Alice held her breath. She was herself feeling rather hot and was by now secretly regretting her earlier words and wishing the confrontation at an end. In her present mood, however, she could not back down.
‘What nonsense!’ she exclaimed. ‘I merely made an innocent observation about her dog. I’m afraid she has exaggerated the exchange and is wasting your time but I should be glad if you could accommodate them elsewhere.’
Her pulse, she now realized, was racing with anxiety but she resisted the impulse to put a hand to her heart.
Unsure how to react, the attendant glanced round at the nearest passengers for help.
The gentleman said, ‘Really, it was a storm in a teacup. Nothing more.’
As the attendant hesitated hopefully, the second woman spoke up for Bobo’s owner. Pointing to Alice she said, ‘She was laughing at the dog’s coat which came from Harrods. Saying it must be too hot and it had its own fur to keep it warm. She is a very unpleasant woman.’
Cursing inwardly Alice said, ‘I was concerned for the dog’s welfare. That is all.’ Unable to resist any longer, she laid a hand across her pounding heart, adding unwisely, ‘Nothing to make a song and dance about!’
Bobo’s owner said, ‘I’ll be the judge of that!’
The attendant took the line of least resistance. ‘I’ll go and see if there’s a vacant seat anywhere,’ he offered and withdrew promptly.
Alice sank back against her seat, all the fire gone out of her and matters might have rested there but Bobo’s owner sniffed pointedly and muttered something that sounded like ‘interfering busybody’ and Alice struggled to her feet in sudden fury.
‘I
’ll have you know,’ she began shrilly, ‘that I thoroughly despise people like you who . . .’ Suddenly she felt herself sway and clutched at the table for support. ‘People like . . .’ she persisted but now the carriage seemed to swim before her eyes and she felt a pain in her chest which left her breathless. ‘People . . .’ she began again but her whispered words faded as she suddenly pitched forward across the table and lost consciousness.
When she came to she found herself flat on the floor with somebody’s coat rolled up as a pillow. The attendant was leaning over her. ‘We’re just approaching London, madam, and we’ve arranged for an ambulance to be waiting there. Don’t try to talk. No! Don’t try to sit up. Just lie back.’
Dazed, Alice tried to look around her. There was no sign of Bobo or his owner but the gentleman who had called the incident ‘a storm in a teacup’ was sitting beside her. He smiled.
The attendant said, ‘This gentleman is a doctor. He’s going to wait with you until you are on your way to the hospital. Now you must excuse me but I have other passengers to attend to.’
Alice tried to smile and then she tried to speak but could manage neither. Instead she felt tears of weakness streaming down her face and they were a wonderful release. She gave up the struggle to express herself in words and sobbed silently. The doctor leaned down, took her hand in his and patted it gently.
When she had recovered a little she asked, ‘What happened to me? I don’t remember.’
‘It might have been a very mild heart attack,’ he told her, ‘or possibly just a faint. You mustn’t worry yourself about it. Just look on it as a warning and try to relax more. The hospital doctor will give you some pills and will probably keep you in overnight then advise you to visit your own doctor as soon as possible.’
Alice struggled up on to one elbow. ‘It’s easy to say don’t worry but at my age—’ She stopped, feeling breathless.
There was no sign of the two women who had whispered about her – no one except herself and the doctor. She realized she was panting slightly and allowed herself to fall back again with her head resting on the ‘pillow’.
Isabel's Wedding Page 14
