by Anne Mather
Downstairs again, she found her legs were actually a little shaky themselves, due no doubt to the unaccustomed journeys up and down the stairs. At the flat there were no stairs, and even at work, there were lifts to take one from floor to floor.
‘You look worn out already,’ remarked Marion callously. She had returned to peeling potatoes and her cup, saucer and plate were now waiting to be washed.
Her sarcasm was the last straw. Lesley’s control snapped. ‘Well, at least I’ll improve with time!’ she countered grimly, and Marion’s face blazed with colour.
‘How—how dare you—sp-speak to me like that?’ she choked indignantly, but Lesley stood her ground.
‘I’ll speak to you how I like,’ she declared coldly. ‘For someone with such an incredibly thick hide you have a remarkably thin skin.’
‘Why, you—you listen to me—–’
‘No, you listen to me, Marion. I’ve been very patient, too patient, I see that now, but years ago I was young and immature, and too insecure to fight you at your own game. But things are different now and I’ve had it up to here with your unsubtle barbs and innuendoes. You think you’re so efficient, don’t you? Just because you can milk a cow and estimate how much grain you’ll need to see you through the winter! Well, let me tell you, there’s more to living with a man than you’ll have learned from Aaron Bowland who was old enough to be your grandfather! Why you can’t even take care of one small boy, and you think you make me look small! You’re wrong. And what’s more, you’re wrong about Carne, too. He still wants me, do you know that? He can’t keep his hands off me!’
‘That’s not true!’ Marion was pale now, but Lesley was unrepentant.
‘It is true. It is. I can prove it. Did you know he arranged for us to spend a night at an hotel before coming here?’
‘That means nothing!’ Marion’s lips twisted. ‘That’s not proof! Even if you did spend the night at an hotel, which I doubt, why should I believe anything you say when Carne’s already told me that there’s no question of a reconciliation?’
Lesley’s stomach plunged sickeningly. Had Carne discussed their affairs with Marion, then? Had he confided in her? Had he already discussed the possibility of the divorce his mother had told her about? And why did it matter to her anyway, when she would be returning to London in three days?
But it did matter and she knew it. And what was more, Marion knew it. Already her lips were curving upward in a smile of triumph as she guessed she had struck the right note.
‘Poor Lesley,’ she said, but there was no sympathy in her voice. ‘Do you think I don’t know how you feel? I knew all along what drove you to walk out on Carne. All that talk of independence, when what you really meant was inadequacy. Carne was never happy with you, you could never satisfy him, a skinny little townie, whose only ability was to get pregnant and force him to marry you!’
‘You’re lying!’ Now Lesley was on the defensive, but she couldn’t help it.
‘I’m not lying. That child was born less than nine months after Carne put his ring on your finger. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think the people of the dale are stupid? We knew. We all knew why he had to marry you!’
Lesley gasped, but she knew it would do no good to argue. And besides, why should she? Why should she justify herself to a woman who had hated and despised her from the very beginning? But Marion’s contemptuous words did have another effect, they inspired the glimmer of an idea inside her, an idea which although quite outrageous would spike her guns once and for all.
Breaking in on the other girl’s tirade about so-called intellectuals, and what did they know about farming, she said:
‘You are right about one thing, Marion,’ and the other girl broke off what she was saying to stare at her suspiciously.
‘Oh? I’m surprised you admit it, whatever it is.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Lesley forced herself to speak almost pleasantly, although she was trembling so much inside she could hardly speak coherently. Yet now that she had Marion’s attention, she was loath to continue, as common sense reasserted itself in the face of her recklessness.
‘Well?’ Marion was getting impatient. ‘What is it? Spit it out! Or don’t you have the guts to admit you were lying?’
Her vindictiveness was the spur that drove Lesley on. Clasping her hands together, she said, ‘You were right in saying my ability was to get pregnant, Marion.’ And as the other girl’s lips parted in silent protest, she added: ‘I’m afraid after that night at the hotel, I’ve done it again.’
Whether or not she would have been able to sustain Marion’s malevolent disbelief, she was never to know. As the damning words left her lips, there was a muffled oath from the door that led into the yard, and her horrified eyes turned to encounter Carne’s incredulous gaze. She didn’t know how long he had been there, but it was obvious he had heard her last statement, and she wished with all her heart that she could withdraw it.
‘You’re going to have a baby!’ he said, through taut lips, and coward though she was, she could not deny it. Not then, not in front of Marion.
‘You mean it’s possible!’ Now it was Marion herself who spoke and a look at Carne’s face was answer enough. ‘My God!’ she exclaimed, and there was pain as well as bitterness in her voice. ‘I thought you’d got over that stupid affair! But it seems I was wrong. How could you, Carne? How could you?’
Carne turned to look at her with grim eyes. ‘I think you’d better go, Marion,’ he said quietly. ‘This has nothing to do with you.’
‘It does. It does!’ she cried desperately. ‘You know how I feel about you …’
‘And you know how I feel about you,’ declared Carne flatly, and even through the tide of agony and humiliation that was washing over her, Lesley sensed the detachment in his words.
But what did it mean? What was he saying? That he had no feeling for Marion? It certainly sounded like it, and suddenly a wave of illumination swept doubt and suspicion aside. This was what Mary had meant when she said that Marion had married Aaron Bowland out of pique. The other girl had married the old man to try and make Carne jealous, knowing full well that Aaron had few more years to live. Shrewd and calculating it might have been, but it was the sort of thing Marion might have done.
Now Marion had turned towards the door, but she wasn’t quite ready to concede defeat. ‘You think you hold all the cards, don’t you, Lesley?’ she demanded maliciously. ‘Well, don’t forget there’s still Carne’s mother to contend with. She’ll never accept you at Raventhorpe. She never has—and she never will!’
And as if to emphasise the fact, at that moment there came a heavy hammering on the floor above their heads.
‘That’s her now,’ said Marion triumphantly, but as Carne moved towards the door, Lesley’s hand on his arm stopped him.
‘Let me,’ she said, and leaving Marion and Carne together, she hurried unsteadily up the stairs.
Mrs Radley was sitting up in bed when she opened her door, and when she saw Lesley her mouth drew into a tight line.
‘Oh, so it’s you!’ she said, the dying blemishes on her weather worn features giving her a mottled look. ‘I might have known. What’s going on? Where’s Mary? I want my afternoon tea.’
‘Mary?’ Lesley’s lips framed the name. ‘But I—well, Mary’s not here.’
‘Not here? Not here?’ Mrs Radley frowned. ‘What do you mean? Where is she? She’s always here.’
Lesley hesitated, and Carne’s mother regarded her suspiciously. ‘Well? What is it? Where is she? What’s she doing? Oh, no—she’s not got this blessed disease, too, has she?’
‘No.’ Lesley decided she had to be honest. ‘She—she left.’
‘Left?’ Mrs Radley glared at her. ‘Talk sense, girl. Why would Mary leave? She’s been here—what? Fifteen years!’
‘I know, but—well, apparently she and Marion—–’
‘Marion? Marion? What has she got to do with it?’
‘I—I believe she and Mary had—h
ad a difference of opinion.’
‘Indeed?’ Carne’s mother plucked at the bedspread. ‘What about? You?’
‘No.’ Lesley was indignant. ‘I just got here a few hours ago. As a matter of fact, it was—to do with Jeremy.’
‘Huh!’ Mrs Radley didn’t express any disbelief. ‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Not the maternal type, isn’t Marion. Should have seen that before. Mind, I’m not saying that young rascal hasn’t been a nuisance, because he has! Demanding attention at all times of the day and night, running his father and Marion, and Mary too, if she’d let him, off their feet. But when it comes down to it, Mary’s got more compassion in her little finger than Marion’s got in her whole body!’
Hiding her astonishment at this unexpected speech, Lesley managed to nod and say: ‘Apparently Jeremy wet the bed and—–’
‘Ah!’ Mrs Radley was nodding now, and Lesley took the opportunity to ask how she was feeling.
‘Me?’ The old woman sniffed. ‘Better—now.’ Her lips twisted wryly. ‘I should have had more sense, but that boy of yours wanted a puppy, and I took him over to Minters to see their litter. I knew their boy had measles, but I never thought we’d get it. Kept out of the house on purpose, but there you are.’
‘Yes.’ Lesley had never had such a civil conversation with her mother-in-law. But she was not foolish enough to imagine anything had changed between them because of it. Nevertheless, it was reassuring to know that Carne’s mother could behave civilly towards her.
As if to underline this fact, Mrs Radley chose that moment to return to the attack. ‘What are you doing here anyway? Who told you I was ill? Not Marion, I’ll be bound.’
‘No. It was Mary,’ answered Lesley honestly, wondering what was going on downstairs, wondering what else Marion was saying. ‘She rang the flat and spoke to my mother. When I heard—I came.’
‘Hmm.’ A little of the old antagonism sparked in Carne’s mother’s eyes. ‘Well, you’re a bit late, as it happens. The worst’s over. We’re both on the mend. And Marion’s been a great help.’ Then she paused, catching her lower lip between her teeth. ‘But Mary walking out …’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not like Mary.’ She shook her head. ‘Marion will have to see her, speak to her, ask her to come back. We can’t do without Mary.’
Lesley moved her shoulders in a helpless gesture, and as she did so, she heard someone coming up the stairs. It could only be Carne and she said quickly: ‘I don’t know whether Mary would listen to Marion. They—well, they don’t like one another very much.’
‘Perhaps not.’ Mrs Radley conceded the point unwillingly. ‘But people’s likes and dislikes can’t always be considered. Mary’s needed here. Who’s going to do the cooking and cleaning, the washing and the ironing, if Mary’s not here?’
‘Perhaps Lesley will help us out herself,’ declared her husband’s voice behind her, and she turned to stare anxiously into his vaguely strained features. ‘This is her home, after all. Her husband and child are here. Perhaps now she’ll decide that this is where she belongs.’
CHAPTER TEN
HOW Lesley got out of that room, she could never afterwards remember. All she knew was that she muttered something about hearing Jeremy calling her, but after closing Carne’s mother’s door, she hastened quickly down the stairs.
The kitchen was empty. Apparently Marion had gone, and she cringed from the recollection of what had been said. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have allowed Marion to goad her into saying something so outrageous? And how could she tell Carne that it had been a lie?
Why had she said it? Perhaps she should ask herself that question first. After all, for someone who professed such little interest in her husband, she behaved in a totally unreasonable way. Why should it matter to her that Marion was making herself at home at Raventhorpe? Why should she care if Carne turned to her now? Years ago, things had been different. She had loved Carne then, loved him desperately, cared that her marriage was splintering before her eyes. But all that should be over now. Surely that was why she had left, so why should it surprise her or still have the power to hurt her?
She moved to the sink and pressed her clenched fists against the cool steel of the drainer. The unpalatable truth was that in spite of everything that had gone before, she still cared about her marriage, still cared about Carne; and her jealousy over Jeremy had merely been a blind to hide her own feelings. Of course she hadn’t wanted Jeremy to come to Raventhorpe. But not because she cared about his clothes or the things Carne and his mother might say to him. She was afraid of herself, of her own feelings, of the kindling torment associating with Carne again after all this time might arouse. Marion had been right about one thing—her independence was only a shield, to protect her own vulnerability.
She had not been aware of anyone’s approach, and when hard fingers stroked the length of her arm from elbow to wrist she started violently.
‘Lesley!’ Carne’s voice was low and passionate, close behind her ear. ‘Lesley, I should have been the first to know—not Marion Bowland.’
Lesley glanced round at him tautly, unable to meet the reproachful darkness of his eyes. What was he thinking? she wondered desperately. Had her announcement taken him off guard? Or had it swung a kind of mental balance in her favour? Had supposing he was to be a father again temporarily banished the contempt he felt for her, or was he simply feeling sorry for her? Whatever, he would have to be told the truth …
‘Carne …’ she began, but he shook his head, breaking in on her, bracing himself with his hands against the drainer unit.
‘You don’t have to make excuses,’ he said, and his voice had harshened a little. ‘I know I’m to blame.’
‘Carne, you don’t understand—–’
‘Nor do you,’ he countered, not letting her finish. ‘God knows, it’s what I hoped would happen!’
‘Wh-what you hoped?’ Lesley stared at his profile. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I know. I know.’ A smile of self-derision twisted his expression. ‘Do you think I don’t know how you’re feeling right now?’ He shook his head again. ‘Lesley, let me tell you the truth—–’
‘Carne, I—–’
‘No, listen to me. Please!’ He looked at her, and the pain in his eyes brought a choking lump to her throat that successfully robbed her of speech. ‘When you walked out on me, I never intended it to go so far.’ He paused. ‘Believe it or not, but I really believed that all you needed was time. Time to reorientate yourself, time to get things into perspective, time to realise that you loved me and would come back to me.’ He moved his shoulders helplessly. ‘Even stopping seeing Jeremy was a calculated risk I had to take. I knew that so long as I kept appearing in your life, you would never feel really free of me. So I kept away.’
‘But, Carne—–’
‘Let me finish …’ He bent his head, his knuckles white through the brown skin of his hands. ‘So—I guess it would be about a year after I’d last seen you, I decided it had gone on long enough. I told my mother that I was going to London to ask you to come back.’ He sighed. ‘That was about six weeks before her accident. After that …’ He spread his hands. ‘Things were never the same again.’
‘You should have written—–’
‘I did write. To your mother.’ He expelled his breath noisily. ‘She kept me informed, as you’ve already accused. Then, when I heard you were sending Jeremy to boarding school, I decided that maybe I was a fool imagining you would ever come back. You had your own life to lead, and not even Jeremy was going to get in your way—–’
‘That’s not true! My mother couldn’t be expected—–’
‘Oh, I know. I know there were reasons. But you didn’t—not then. That was when I decided I would have my son if nothing else.’
‘Carne!’
He turned his head to give her a bitter look. ‘Yes. Foolish, wasn’t it? I even fooled myself that when I saw you again, I’d feel nothing but contempt. But it did
n’t happen—and you know it! From the minute you came into your mother’s living room, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake, but it was too late then to draw back. And so I decided to fight, can you believe that? To fight, in the only way I knew how.’
Lesley couldn’t meet his gaze. Her own heart was pounding so heavily, she could hardly think, but what was coming over loud and clear was that Carne was telling her he had never stopped wanting her.
Putting some space between them, she burst out: ‘Why did you let me leave Raventhorpe?’
‘Why did I let you leave? Could I have stopped you?’
‘Of course.’ She flicked a glance at him. ‘If you feel like this now, why didn’t you feel like it then? Why did you let me think you were involved with Marion Harvey? Or were you? And has that worn off now?’
His eyes darkened angrily, and his hands reached for her, jerking her roughly towards him. ‘Don’t ever say that to me again!’ he commanded savagely. ‘You know there was nothing—nothing like that between Marion and me.’
‘Do I?’
‘You should.’ His eyes moved hungrily over her face. ‘I did everything I could to show you I only cared about you.’
‘Did you?’ She stared at him. ‘Like—like moving out of our bedroom?’
‘Yes.’ His fingers dug into her flesh. ‘Damn you, yes.’ He moved his head in a frustrated gesture. ‘It wasn’t our bedroom any more, was it? It was yours—and the baby’s. Once Jeremy was born, you were only interested in him, not in anything else.’
‘You can’t believe that!’
‘Can’t I?’ Carne’s lips tightened. ‘Believe me, a man can believe anything if he convinces himself it’s true. Didn’t you convince yourself that I was involved with Marion? Just to justify the real reasons you had for leaving?’
Lesley swallowed. ‘Which were?’
‘Independence—ambition. You name it. Being a farmer’s wife had become a bore. The novelty had worn off. You needed something to blame, so you blamed my relationship with Marion.’
Lesley blinked. Was it true? Had they both been so blind? Had Mrs Radley and Marion only underlined the basic insecurities of their relationship? If it were true … If it were true …
