Hold the Dream

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

‘The frock, Mother,’ Edwina replied without a moment’s hesitation. ‘It’s a little young for you, isn’t it?’

  Emma stiffened, and wondered if her charitable feelings had been misplaced. Edwina was intent on being obnoxious. Then she relaxed and laughed a gay, dismissive laugh, resolved not to let Edwina get her goat. When she spoke her voice was even. ‘I like red,’ she said. ‘It’s lively. What colour would you like me to wear? Black? I’m not dead yet you know, and whilst we’re on the subject of clothes, why do you insist on wearing those awful lumpy tweeds?’ Not waiting for a reply, she added, ‘You have a lovely figure, Edwina. You should show it off more.’

  Edwina let this small compliment slide by her. And she asked herself why she had ever accepted Jim Fairley’s invitation, or agreed to stay here at Pennistone Royal. She must be insane, to expose herself to her mother in this way.

  Emma compressed her lips, her eyes narrowing as they weighed Edwina speculatively. She said, with the utmost care, ‘I’d like to talk to you about Anthony.’

  This statement jolted Edwina out of her introspection, and swinging to face Emma, she exclaimed, ‘Oh no, Mother! When Emily said you’d be coming down to see me, I suspected as much. However, I refuse to discuss my son with you. You’re manipulative and controlling.’

  ‘And you, Edwina, are beginning to sound like a broken record,’ Emma remarked. ‘I’m tired of hearing that accusation from you. I’m also fed up with your continual sniping. It’s impossible to have a decent conversation with you about anything. You’re defensive and hostile.’

  Strong as these words were, Emma’s tone had been mild, and her face was devoid of emotion as she pushed herself up and out of the chair. She went to the William and Mary chest in the corner, poured herself a small glass of sherry, then resumed her position in front of the fire. She sat holding her drink, a reflective light in her eyes. After a long moment, she said, ‘I am an old woman. A very old woman really. Although I realize there will never be total peace in this family of mine, I would like a bit of tranquillity for the rest of my life, if that’s possible. And so I’m prepared to forget a lot of the things you’ve said and done, Edwina, because I’ve come to the conclusion it’s about time you and I buried the hatchet. I think we should try to be friends.’

  Edwina gaped at her in astonishment, wondering if she was dreaming. She had hardly expected to hear these words from her mother. She finally managed, ‘Why me? Why not any of the others? Or are you planning to give the same little speech to them this weekend?’

  ‘I don’t believe they’ve been invited. And if they had, I would hope they’d have enough sense not to come. I don’t have much time for any of them.’

  ‘And you do for me?’ Edwina asked incredulously, mentally thrown off balance by her mother’s conciliatory gesture.

  ‘Let’s put it this way, I think you were the least guilty in that ridiculous plot against me last year. I know now that you were coerced to a certain extent. You never were very devious, avaricious or venal, Edwina. Also, I do regret our estrangement over the years. We should have made up long ago, I see that now.’ Emma genuinely meant this, but she was also motivated by another reason. Anthony. Emma was convinced that only by winning Edwina over to her side could she hope to influence her, get her to adopt a more reasonable attitude towards her son. So she said again, ‘I do think we should give it a try. What do we have to lose? And if we can’t be real friends, perhaps we can have an amicable relationship at the very least.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Mother.’

  Emma exhaled wearily. ‘I am saddened for you, Edwina, I really am. You threw away one of the most important things in your life, but –’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘My love for you.’

  ‘Oh come off it, Mother,’ Edwina said with a sneer, looking down her nose at Emma. ‘You never loved me.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘I don’t believe this conversation!’ Edwina exclaimed, shifting in her chair. She took a gulp of her scotch, then brought the glass down on the Georgian side table with a bang. ‘You’re incredible, Mother. You sit there making these extraordinary statements and expecting me to swallow them whole. That’s the joke of the century. I might be stupid, but I’m not that stupid.’ She leaned forward, staring hard at Emma, her eyes like chips of grey ice. ‘What about you? My God, it was you who threw me away when I was a baby.’

  Emma brought herself up in the chair with enormous dignity and her face was formidable, her eyes steely as she said, ‘I did not. And don’t you ever dare say that to me again. Ever, do you hear? You know that I put you in your Aunt Freda’s care because I had to work like a drudge to support you. But we’ve gone through this enough times in the past, and you’ll think what you want, I suppose. In the meantime, I have no intention of being side tracked from what I have to say to you, just because you have the need to dredge up all your old grudges against me.’

  Edwina opened her mouth, but Emma shook her head. ‘No, let me finish,’ she insisted, her green eyes holding Edwina’s sharply. ‘I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice in your life. I don’t want you to throw Anthony’s love away, as you did mine. And you’re in grave danger of doing so.’ She sat back, hoping her words would sink in, would have some effect.

  ‘I have never heard anything quite so ridiculous,’ Edwina snorted, assuming a haughty expression.

  ‘It’s the truth, nevertheless.’

  ‘What do you know about my relationship with my son!’

  ‘A great deal. But despite his love for you, which is considerable, you are hell bent on driving a wedge between the two of you. Why, only last night, he told me how concerned he is about your relationship, and he looked pretty damn worried to me.’

  Edwina lifted her head swiftly. ‘So he is here. When I phoned him at his London club last night they said he’d already left. I couldn’t imagine where he was. I had no idea he was coming to the christening. Is he here?’

  This was asked with anxiousness, and Emma saw the eager light flickering in her daughter’s eyes. She said, ‘No, he’s not.’

  ‘Where is he staying?’

  Emma chose to ignore this question for the moment. She said, ‘Anthony can’t understand why you’re so opposed to his divorce. It seems you’re making his life miserable, badgering him night and day to reconcile with Min. He is baffled and distressed, Edwina.’

  ‘So is poor Min! She’s heartbroken, and she can’t comprehend him, or his behaviour. Neither can I. He’s upsetting our lives in the most disturbing way, creating havoc. I’m almost as distraught as she is.’

  ‘Well, that’s understandable. No one likes divorce, nor the pain it involves. However, you must think of Anthony before anyone else. From what he tells me, he’s been very unhappy for –’

  ‘Not that unhappy, Mother,’ Edwina interrupted, her voice snippy and high-pitched with tension. ‘He and Min do have a lot in common, whatever he might have told you. Naturally, he’s disappointed she hasn’t had a child. On the other hand, they’ve only been married six years. She could still get pregnant. Min is perfect for him. And don’t look at me like that, Mother, so very superior and knowing. It just so happens that I know my son better than you do. Anthony might have strength of character, as you’re so fond of pointing out to me whenever you get the opportunity. Nonetheless, he does have certain weaknesses.’

  Edwina stopped, uncertain about continuing, then decided her mother might as well know the truth. ‘Sex, for one thing,’ she announced flatly, staring Emma down with a show of defiance. ‘He’ll go for a pretty face every time. He got himself into the most awful scrapes with women before he married Min.’ Edwina shook her head, and bit her lip, muttering in a low voice, ‘I don’t know how much Min actually knows, but I’m aware that in the last couple of years Anthony has had several affairs, and as usual with the wrong sort of women.’

  Emma was not unduly surprised by this bit of information, nor was she particularly interested, and sh
e did not rise to the bait. Instead she gave Edwina a curious look, asked, ‘What exactly do you mean by the wrong sort of women?’

  ‘You know very well what I mean, Mother. Unsuitable females with no background or breeding. A man in Anthony’s position, a peer of the realm with enormous responsibilities, should have a wife who comes from the aristocracy, his own class, who understands his way of life.’

  Stifling her amusement at Edwina’s hidebound snobbery, Emma said, ‘Oh for God’s sake, stop talking like a Victorian dowager. We’re living in the twenty-first century – well almost. Your views are outdated, my dear.’

  ‘I might have known you’d say something like that,’ Edwina replied in a snooty voice. ‘I must admit, you constantly surprise me, Mother. For a woman of your immense wealth and power you are awfully careless about certain things. Background is one of them.’

  Emma chuckled and sipped her sherry and her eyes twinkled over the rim of the glass. ‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,’ she said, and chuckled again.

  Edwina’s face coloured, and then wrinkling her nose in a gesture of distaste, she said, ‘I dread to think of who he’ll end up with, if this divorce ever goes through.’

  ‘Oh it’s going through all right,’ Emma said in her softest tone. ‘I think you would be wise to accept that. Immediately. It’s a fact of life you cannot change.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. Min has to agree before he can do anything.’

  ‘But, my dear Edwina, she has agreed.’

  Edwina was shocked and she stared at her mother through horrified eyes, trying to grasp these words. For a split second she was disbelieving, and then with a sinking heart she acknowledged that her mother spoke the truth. Whatever else she was, Emma Harte was not a liar. Furthermore, her information was always reliable, deadly accurate. Edwina finally stammered, ‘But…but…’ Her voice let her down, and she was unable to continue. She reached for her glass with a shaking hand, and then put it back on the table without drinking from it. Slowly she said, ‘But Min didn’t say anything to me last night when we had dinner. How very strange. We’ve always been close. Why, she’s been like a daughter to me. I wonder why she didn’t confide in me, she always has in the past.’ Edwina’s face was a picture of dismay as she pondered Min’s extraordinary behaviour, and her very perplexing reticence.

  For the first time, with a sudden flash of insight, Emma understood why her daughter was so frantic. She was obviously on intimate terms with Min, happy in the relationship. Yes, she was comfortable, secure and safe with her daughter-in-law. Anthony, in upsetting the matrimonial applecart, had put his mother’s world in jeopardy, or at least so Edwina believed. She was petrified of change, of a new woman in her son’s life, who may not accept her quite as readily as Min had, who might even alienate her son from her.

  Leaning towards Edwina, Emma said with more gentleness than usual, ‘Perhaps Min was afraid to tell you, afraid of distressing you further. Look here, you mustn’t feel threatened by this divorce. It’s not going to change your life that much, and I’m sure Anthony won’t object if you remain friendly with Min.’ She attempted a light laugh. ‘And after all, Anthony is getting a divorce from Min, not from you, Edwina. He would never do anything to hurt you,’ she placated.

  ‘He already has. His behaviour is unforgivable.’ Edwina’s voice was harsh and unrelenting and her face flooded with bitterness.

  Emma drew back, and the irritation she had been suppressing suddenly rose up in her. Her mouth curved down in a tight line, and her eyes turned cold. ‘You’re a selfish woman, Edwina,’ she admonished. ‘You’re not thinking of Anthony, you’re only concerned with yourself. You claim your son is the centre of your life, well, if he is, you have a damn poor way of showing it. He needs your love and support at a difficult time like this, not your animosity.’ Emma threw her a condemning stare. ‘I don’t understand you. There’s far too much resentment and hostility in you, for everyone, not only me. I can’t imagine why. You’ve had a good life, your marriage was happy, at least I presume it was. I know Jeremy adored you, and I always thought you loved him.’ Her glance remained fixed on Edwina. ‘I hope to God you did love him, for your own sake. Yet despite all the wonderful things life has given you, you are filled with an all-consuming anger. Please turn away from it, put this bitterness out of your heart once and for all.’

  Edwina remained engulfed in silence, her expression as obdurate as ever, and Emma went on, ‘Trust your son, trust his judgement. I certainly do. You’re knocking your head against a brick wall, fighting this divorce. You can’t possibly win. In fact, you’ll end up the loser. You’ll drive Anthony away forever.’ She searched her daughter’s face, seeking a sign of softening on her part, but it was still closed and unyielding.

  Sighing to herself, Emma thought: I give up. I’ll never get through to her. And then she felt compelled to make one last stab at convincing her to change her views. She cautioned gravely, ‘You’ll end up a lonely old woman. I can’t believe you would want that to happen. And if you think I have an axe to grind, remember I have nothing to gain. Very genuinely, Edwina, I simply want to prevent you from making the most terrible mistake.’

  Although Edwina was unresponsive, sat huddled in the chair, avoiding her mother’s penetrating eyes, she had been listening attentively for the last few minutes, and digesting Emma’s words. They had struck home, Emma’s belief to the contrary. Now, in the inner recesses of Edwina’s mind, something stirred. It was a dim awareness that she had been wrong. Suddenly, discomfort with herself overwhelmed her, and she felt guilty about Anthony. She had been selfish, more selfish than she had realized until this moment. It was true that she loved Min like the daughter she had never had, and she dreaded the thought of losing her. But she dreaded losing her son more. And that had already begun to happen.

  Edwina did not have much insight, nor was she a clever woman, but she was not without a certain intelligence, and this now told her that Anthony had turned to his grandmother in desperation, had confided in Emma instead of her. Resentment and jealousy, her worst traits, flared within her at the thought of this betrayal on her son’s part. And then, with a wisdom uncommon for her, she put aside these feelings. Anthony had not really been treacherous or disloyal. It was all her fault. She was driving him away from her, as her mother had pointed out. Emma was being sincere in trying to bridge the rift rapidly developing between herself and her son. Emma did want them to remain close, that seemed obvious, if she considered her words dispassionately and with fairness. This admission astonished Edwina, and against her volition she experienced a feeling of gratitude to her mother for making this effort on her behalf.

  Edwina spoke slowly, in a muted voice. ‘It’s been a shock, the divorce, I mean. But you’re right, Mother. I must think of Anthony first. Yes, it’s his happiness that counts.’

  For the first time in her life, Edwina found herself turning to Emma for help. Her anger and bitterness now somewhat diffused, she asked softly, ‘What do you think I should do, Mother? He must be very angry with me.’

  Believing that her attempts to drill some common sense into Edwina had had no effect whatsoever, Emma was a bit taken aback by this unanticipated reversal. Rapidly regrouping her thoughts, she said, ‘No, he’s not angry. Hurt perhaps, worried even. He loves you very much, you know, and the last thing he wants is a permanent split between you.’ Emma half smiled. ‘You asked me what you should do. Why, Edwina, I think you should tell him exactly what you’ve just told me…that his happiness is the most important thing to you, and that he has your blessing, whatever he plans to do with his life.’

  ‘I will,’ Edwina cried. ‘I must.’ She gazed at Emma, for once without rancour, and added, ‘There’s something else.’ She swallowed, finished in a strangled voice, ‘Thank you, Mother. Thank you for trying to help.’

  Emma nodded and glanced away. Her face was calm but she was filling with uneasiness. I have to tell her about Sally, she thought. If I avoi
d revealing his involvement with the girl, holy hell will break loose tomorrow. Everything I’ve accomplished in the last half-hour will be swept away by Edwina’s wrath when she sees them together. This way, she’ll have time to sleep on her rage, perhaps put it behind her. When she’s calm she’ll surely recognize she cannot live her son’s life for him.

  Gathering her strength, Emma said, ‘I have something further to say to you, Edwina, and I want you to hear me out before you make any comment.’

  Edwina frowned. ‘What is it?’ she asked nervously, clasping her hands together in her lap. Emma was silent, but her face was readable for a change. It telegraphed trouble to Edwina. Steeling herself for what she somehow knew would be a body blow, she nodded for her mother to proceed.

  Emma said, ‘Anthony is in love with another woman. It’s Sally…Sally Harte. Now, Edwina, I – ’

  ‘Oh no!’ Edwina cried, aghast. Her face had paled and she gripped the arms of the chair to steady herself.

  ‘I asked you to hear me out. You just said your son’s happiness was the only thing that matters. I trust you really meant that. He intends to marry Sally when he is free to do so, and you are –’

  Again Edwina interrupted. ‘And you said you had no axe to grind!’

  ‘I don’t,’ Emma declared. ‘And if you think I’ve encouraged them, you’re mistaken. I was aware he’d taken her out several times, when he’s been in Yorkshire, I don’t deny that. But I hadn’t paid much attention. Anyway, it seems they are seriously involved. Also, Anthony came to announce his plans to me, not ask my permission to marry my great-niece. Furthermore, I gather he took the same stance with Randolph, told him he was going to marry his daughter, and without so much as a by your leave. Randolph can be old-fashioned at times, and his nose was considerably out of joint when we spoke late last night. But I soon put him straight.’

  Moving to the edge of the chair, the fuming Edwina let her furious glance roam over Emma. She examined that old and wrinkled face minutely, looking for signs of duplicity and cunning. But they were absent, and the hooded green eyes were clear, guileless. Then without warning, a vivid picture of Sally Harte flew into Edwina’s twisting mind. They had run into each other nine months ago, at the exhibition of Sally’s paintings at the Royal Academy. She had sought Edwina out actually, and had been charming, very friendly. At the time Edwina had thought that Sally had grown up to become one of the most beautiful women she had ever laid eyes on. A Harte though, through and through, with her grandfather Winston’s arresting looks, his carefree blue eyes, his dark windblown hair.