Isabel's Wedding

by Pamela Oldfield

  He nodded. ‘Please forgive me. It was a stupid idea but at the time it seemed . . . I was feeling low and I’d had a few drinks . . . It was very much spur of the moment stuff. I dashed off a letter to you and after that . . .’

  She closed her eyes, afraid to even look at him. ‘Then where is Father? What have you done to him? Where is the real Jack Fratton?’

  ‘He died about five months ago. After I’d written to tell you I . . . I tore up the letter. I thought – hey! Why not? I could do it! I could pass myself off as—’

  ‘Dead? Oh no!’ Panic-stricken, Olivia clutched his arm. ‘Don’t tell Izzie! Not yet. Let her get through the wedding the way she has it planned. Please! It would be such a blow. We can tell her afterwards.’

  He shook his head, unconvinced about the wisdom of allowing the deceit to go further. ‘They used to say we looked like brothers and I thought, because you wouldn’t know how he looks now – that is, how he looked before he died . . . I might just get away with it. Now I know. It was madness.’

  Olivia’s dazed mind was slowly beginning to grasp the enormity of what had happened. Larry Kline had impersonated his one-time friend. ‘But why?’ she asked, bewildered. ‘Why not tell the truth?’

  He searched the surrounding churchyard as if searching for words that would make his story sound more credible. ‘Because I wanted to be part of the family and not just a visitor! Ellen was going to marry me. We were actually engaged. Until Jack . . . Well, something happened. I guess you can imagine! Then, when Ellen found she was expecting his child – that was Theo – she reluctantly agreed to marry him.’ He looked at her with something akin to desperation. ‘Don’t you see? All these years . . . Ellen’s children should have been my children. I should have been your father instead of Jack. You four should have been my family, not his! You should have been mine and Ellen’s!’

  Struggling to understand the full significance of his explanation it was Olivia’s turn to close her eyes. She heard him say, ‘Alice was in love with Jack. She was devastated. She never forgave him.’

  Olivia opened her eyes. ‘So that’s why she never had a good word to say about him!’ Her eyes widened as another thought struck her. ‘So if Alice had come to the wedding you’d have been found out! She would have denounced you!’

  He nodded. ‘I’d lost track of how old she was and didn’t take her into consideration . . . I can’t believe I’ve been such an almighty fool! Whatever must you think of me?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think.’ Olivia hesitated. ‘I think I’m rather pleased – that you’re not our father because we really are past the age where a father is important and now . . . Well, you can be a good friend. A sort of honorary uncle!’ She laughed suddenly. ‘If you were Jack Fratton then we’d always blame you for deserting us but if you’re not, if instead you are the man that truly loved Mother, then we have nothing to forgive you for.’

  He gave a wry smile but at that moment Bertie rushed out and grabbed his bicycle. ‘I’m going to be late!’ he cried. ‘What a waste of time that was!’ he added crossly as he cycled off.

  ‘The thing is –’ Olivia was thinking rapidly – ‘I think we must keep this a secret until after the wedding. I’d hate to shatter Izzie’s dream. After she’s married she’ll be more likely to take the news in her stride. She’ll have Bertie. What do you think?’

  It was agreed just in time as the vicar reappeared with Isabel and Olivia and ‘Father’ were told that the rehearsal was over.

  The goodbyes were said and they went their separate ways. Isabel, buoyed up with excitement, chattered non-stop on the way home and fortunately quite failed to notice how quiet her two companions were.

  Nine

  Thursday, 24th May

  What on earth am I supposed to do now? As the only one who knows the truth I am in something of a quandary. If I tell the family it will disrupt everything and cause no end of fuss. If I keep it to myself until later they will all blame me for not sharing the truth with them. Even Izzie . . .

  Olivia, seated at the table in her bedroom, stared out into the garden but it was past eleven at night and heavy clouds shut out most of the light. She wore nothing but her nightdress and slippers but the room was warm and the small oil lamp bright enough to see by.

  . . . Apart from being burdened with the secret, I am also unable to decide how I feel about it – about the fact that Father is not Father but Larry Kline, who has no real right to be here except as a family friend from the distant past. Part of me wants to strangle him but the other part is relieved that he does not belong here and can be asked, or told, to leave at any time . . .

  Olivia yawned but she was not deceived into thinking that sleep would come easily to her when she settled down. Her thoughts wandered to her brother who had arrived home that evening looking very troubled. In answer to her questions he had simply said that ‘things were coming to a head’ and that ‘matters were out of his hands’. Refusing to explain further he had stomped up to his room and remained there. Olivia sighed. Much as she wanted to help him she could not be all things to all people. Reluctantly she pushed his problems aside and returned to her main worry.

  . . . Poor Larry! He could, of course, choose to leave at any time without a word of warning. He was very wrong to try and deceive us and worm his way into our lives and affections but it was also a great risk on his part and he must have been very keen to meet us. Not because of who we are but what we are – Ellen’s children. Hardly flattering to us but at least it shows how much he cared for Mother, which is in his favour. I wonder how different all our lives would have been if Mother had married him instead of Jack Fratton. We shall never know and we must never forget the debt we owe to Aunt Alice – even though, according to Jack – I mean Larry – she felt responsible for the way she chased out our father.

  The strange thing is that now that I know who he really is I realize that I was warming to him in spite of my doubts and if he does leave I think I shall miss him. With Luke gone and Izzie married, I shall rattle around here. As nothing more than family friends, we might have jogged along here together. Who knows?

  It was twenty past eleven that same night that Alice decided she must catch the attention of one of the nurses and waved her hand at a nurse who was passing the bed. ‘Nurse Allington!’ she called.

  ‘Miss Redmond, you should be sleeping,’ the nurse chided.

  ‘I have to send a telegram,’ Alice informed her briskly. ‘I shall dictate it now and you must send it first thing – as soon as the Post Office opens. It is most urgent . . .’

  ‘Miss Redmond!’ The nurse paused, obviously reluctant to be delayed from the task in hand. ‘It’s the middle of the night! Your telegram can wait a while. You can send it first thing in the—’

  ‘I tell you I want to deal with it now before I forget what I want to say. I may have confused the dates and it may be that the wedding is tomorrow and not the day after so they will have to alter it and wait for my arrival.’

  The nurse, annoyed by Alice’s attitude, tightened her lips. ‘I fear your telegram will have to wait. It’s hardly an urgent matter and here we are with a ward full of sick people who all need care and attention. Can you not see that a family telegram can wait until—’

  ‘Where is Matron?’ Alice glared at her indignantly. ‘I would like to speak to—’

  ‘Matron?’ Her eyes widened with indignation. ‘Well, did you ever hear the like! Matron, indeed! The poor woman will be fast asleep in her bed and no one will dare to disturb her. Now excuse me.’

  She moved briskly away towards her next patient and Alice watched her go with rising fury. ‘Uppity little madam!’ she muttered, watching the nurse balefully as she bent over the bed and spoke with the patient, checked her temperature and moved on to someone further down the ward.

  ‘Of all the impertinence!’ she muttered with a despairing roll of her eyes. ‘That’s what you can expect from this generation. Today’s young women have no idea of discip
line. None at all.’ She sighed heavily as she settled back against the pillows, seething with annoyance. The carefully chosen words for her telegram had now slipped from her mind and she struggled to recapture them. Her heart was beginning to thump and Alice made an effort to calm herself. She did not want a repeat of the debacle on the train.

  She took long, slow breaths but the discomfort in her chest did not lessen. Probably indigestion. The hospital food could have been better cooked. Milk of Magnesia would soon put her right.

  She called ‘Nurse!’

  She raised her voice. ‘Nurse!’

  The discomfort was spreading and becoming a pain. ‘Oh! Not again!’ she muttered, torn between fear and irritation. ‘Nurse! Come at once!’

  This time it was more of a plea than a command. At last she heard the sound of hurrying footsteps and the pain became something serious to worry about. She felt a rush of dizziness and someone was groaning. Was it her? Alice closed her eyes. Someone said, ‘Quickly, fetch the superintendent!’ and then Alice mercifully knew no more.

  Breakfast the next morning found Lucas buttering toast and Olivia eyeing him uneasily over her scrambled eggs. His eyes were dark and his expression was something little short of despair.

  ‘It’s rude to stare!’ he snapped.

  ‘Forgive me. I was simply wondering—’

  ‘Don’t!’

  ‘—if I could help. A listening ear. Two heads are better than one.’

  ‘A friend in need?’ At last he gave her a half-hearted grin.

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘A shoulder to cry on.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Olivia! Can’t a chap be miserable in peace? I don’t want your help or that pitying look!’

  Ignoring his protests, Olivia pushed her plate away. ‘Does Aunt Alice know – about Fenella?’

  ‘I wrote to her. She’ll have it by now. She’ll be very cross.’

  ‘To put it mildly! Are you going to tell me what’s happening?’ He was silent. ‘Luke, I’d rather not know, if I’m honest,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll only worry more.’

  He cut himself a slice of bread and reached for the marmalade. ‘Then why do you ask?’

  ‘In the hope that I can help you.’

  ‘Fenella’s had a letter – from her husband.’ He avoided her eyes, gazing down at the plate in front of him. ‘It was what she thought. He wasn’t really with an ailing aunt, he was with another woman.’

  Olivia tried to hide her dismay. ‘Is that good or bad?’ she asked in what she hoped was a neutral tone. ‘I mean . . . are you glad or sorry about that? And how does Fenella feel?’

  ‘She’s glad because he wants to live with the other woman. To be precise, he wants Fenella to move out because he is still the landlord and he wants his lady friend to move in with him!’ At last he lifted his gaze. ‘It’s going to set the tongues wagging! And Fenella wants to move in with me . . . and I want her to do just that.’

  Deeply shocked by the revelations, Olivia was almost speechless – not because she had nothing to say but because she didn’t know how to put her reaction into words without upsetting her brother. She could not bring herself to encourage him in what seemed a very rash decision but he was not in a mood to heed any warnings, and certainly not likely to appreciate any advice.

  After a long pause he sighed. ‘Say something, for Lord’s sake!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Luke. I don’t know what to say. It all depends on . . . It seems very sudden. Are you pleased that Fenella will be free to do whatever the two of you decide? Is that what it means to you? Will it mean a divorce? I just don’t know about these things, Luke.’ She regarded him helplessly. ‘Is it truly what you want? You’ll have to tell me how you feel about it or how can I understand? How can I help you?’

  ‘I don’t know how I feel – except that I don’t want her to spend another moment in his despicable company! I want her to move out of the pub.’

  There was a long silence.

  Olivia said, ‘You do realize that your future in Cornwall with Aunt Alice—’

  ‘She will probably disinherit me!’

  ‘She will certainly try and change your plans. I doubt if she would countenance Fenella joining you down there.’

  There was another silence.

  He said, ‘Aunt Alice can’t run my life for me. I’m not a child.’

  ‘Have you talked to Fenella about the Cornwall gallery and your future plans?’

  ‘Naturally. She understands but we haven’t thought it all through. It is rather sudden.’ He ran anxious fingers through his hair. ‘I shall talk to Father,’ he said. ‘That’s what they’re for, isn’t it? Fathers. To give advice to their sons. He’s a man of the world. He might know what we should do.’

  He might, she thought wryly, though he’s not your father . . . but he probably could advise you. Not that he has made a big success of his own life! She said, ‘That’s a good idea.’

  ‘Has he come down yet?’

  ‘He had a slice of toast earlier and went out for a walk. He says it clears his head.’

  ‘So can Fenella stay here?’

  ‘It’s fine with me, and you won’t object, and Isabel will be moving out tomorrow.’ She glanced towards the stairs. ‘Talk of the devil!’

  Izzie appeared, already washed and dressed. She smiled brilliantly at them both. ‘Miss Denny will be here in ten minutes for any final alterations although I have tried not to eat more or less than usual so the dress should still fit perfectly. She is so happy. She says my dress is the best she has ever made and I shall be her most beautiful bride! And I’m not to mind if she cries during the service because they’ll be tears of happiness.’

  Lucas said, ‘And you will be beautiful.’

  ‘Oh that’s so sweet!’ Surprised, Isabel beamed at him. Blissfully unaware of his state of mind she cut a slice of bread, buttered it and went on. ‘So where’s Father?’

  ‘Gone for a walk to clear his head.’ Lucas pushed his plate away and stood up and winked at Olivia. ‘I’m sure you two have lots to talk about.’

  Olivia stifled a groan. ‘We have,’ she agreed, wondering whether she should mention Fenella to Isabel and quickly deciding that that was her brother’s problem.

  She was on the point of leaving the table when she glanced from the window and saw a boy on a bicycle dismounting beside their gate. Instinctively she put a hand to her heart. ‘It’s a telegram boy!’

  Isabel leaped to her feet in alarm and for a moment they were both silent, watching his jaunty progress towards the front door. Olivia rushed from the dining room and opened the front door.

  ‘Telegram, missus!’ The boy, probably no more than fourteen, smiled cheerfully. With a flourish, he handed over a buff-coloured envelope, thrust his hands into his pocket and began to whistle.

  ‘Oh Lord!’ Isabel’s face paled. Nine times out of ten a telegram meant bad news. She opened the envelope with shaking fingers. ‘Oh no!’ she cried, scanning the neat rows of capital letters. ‘It’s Aunt Alice. She’s in St Barts Hospital in London. She’s had a heart attack!’

  They stared at each other. Isabel recovered first. ‘In London? What on earth is she doing in London?’

  ‘A heart attack!’ Badly shaken, Olivia leaned back against the door jamb.

  Ignoring their reaction to the bad news, the telegram boy said perkily, ‘Any answer?’

  The sisters looked at each other. Olivia wondered fleetingly how they chose the telegram boys. Not for their sensitivity, that was clear. She said, ‘I’ll have to go up on the next train and see how she is and find out what’s happening.’

  Isabel gasped. ‘But what about the wedding? When will you be back?’

  ‘I have no idea until I see her and speak to the doctor. If she’s fit enough I’ll have to bring her home somehow.’

  ‘I can’t come with you,’ Isabel said quickly. ‘I’ve got to see Miss Denny.’

  ‘I’ll manage somehow.’

  Olivia looked at the waiting boy.
‘There’s no answer but wait and I’ll fetch you a sixpence.’

  Moments later they watched him remount, still whistling as he rode away.

  ‘Bad news?’

  Olivia turned to see that Larry had returned from the opposite direction. ‘I’m afraid so. I have to go up to London on the next train. Izzie will explain.’

  He said, ‘I’ll ring for a taxi to take you to the station – or I could come with you if I would be of any help.’

  Remembering that Lucas wanted to speak to him, Olivia declined his offer but agreed that it would help if he called a taxi for her.

  Miss Denny chose that moment to arrive and as they all milled about in the hall Lucas joined them, looking for his father.

  For one long moment Olivia was suddenly and heartily thankful that she was needed in London and was going to escape the family for a few hours.

  As soon as Olivia reached the hospital she made her way to the front desk where a small wooden plate gave the receptionist’s name as Mrs Burrows.

  Olivia managed a smile. ‘Good morning. I have received a telegram from a Doctor Long who says that Miss Alice Redmond was brought here yesterday as an emergency patient.’

  ‘Which ward would that be then?’ Elderly, Mrs Burrows fixed Olivia with stern blue eyes and pursed lips.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know. The telegram was very brief.’

  Mrs Burrows sighed and turned away with a slight shake of her head. She riffled through an index tray and nodded. ‘Miss Alice Redmond?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She studied the card and then pointed towards a flight of stairs. ‘Turn left at the top and after fifty yards or so turn right and the doors to the ward are on your left. You can’t miss it. Any one of the staff will help you.’

  Olivia had never been in hospital and she was already feeling nervous, affected by the smell of disinfectant, the murmur of concealed voices and the echoing clatter of footsteps along corridors and up and down the stairs. The busy hum of London’s traffic was muffled and Olivia had the feeling that she had stepped into another world – an alien world where she would find Aunt Alice taking a new role. No longer in charge of her destiny but brought down by illness.