by Vicky Adin
Megan broke the silence. “I know your father’s heart attack came as a shock. It was a shock to all of us – there’d been no hint. There was no time to prepare or say our goodbyes.”
She paused briefly. How would she say what needed to be said? By keeping a rigid control on her temper, she hoped to sound calm and rational. “His death deeply affected us all – separately and collectively – and we’re still coming to terms with our loss, each in our own way. I understand that. I tried to explain that to myself as months went by and I barely heard from you.”
Megan paused again to give Jason time to say something, but he remained silent.
“Now I find out you and Trina have been together for over two years. Two years! You knew each other for months before your father died but didn’t think to tell us you had someone important in your life! Not once? Why, Jason, why?”
Still Jason said nothing.
Megan could feel her control slipping as her anger bubbled closer to the surface. “I have no idea what is going on with you, or why you wanted to exclude your family from your life, but I think I deserve an explanation. Don’t you?”
A few moments of awkward silence followed before Jason hesitantly answered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you or hurt you.”
“Well, you managed both,” her bitter tone not helping him one little bit.
“It was a kind of a long-distance relationship to start with, and I didn’t think there was much to tell. But the months went by and then her mum got really sick.”
Now Megan remained silent.
They walked on side by side while Megan waited for him to speak again.
“Trina was so upset. We talked every day and met up as often as we could. Sometimes we’d meet halfway between Milan and wherever my flight landed, or at the airport, depending on the schedule.” He obviously didn’t spend a lot of time in London where he supposedly lived. “Or I’d go to her. And you heard how large her family is and everything. They made me feel welcome and ...”
“And, what, Jason? It’s not as if you don’t have a family of your own who welcome you.”
“Well, yes, I know, but this was different, Mum. New. Exciting. They were fun times. Lots of food and laughter ... and Trina and I ... we were happy together.”
Megan stole a sideways glance at his face as he looked out to sea. She could read the torn emotions of this happy-sad story in his expression. Still shocked and bewildered by his secrecy, she’d started to grasp how important this girl was to him. His voice was different when he talked about Trina, almost impassioned. But she wasn’t going to let him see that yet.
“Her mum wanted to see her married before she died. The only thing she talked about – the only thing that seemed to keep her going was the thought there would be a wedding.”
“So?”
Clearly disconcerted by her terse response, Jason tried again to explain it better. “Trina broke down one night, sobbing her heart out. I didn’t know how to deal with her grief and thinking it would help, sort of suggested we do it. Get married, I mean. I ... um, you know me, impulsive at the best of times. But then I didn’t know how to tell you and Dad.”
Not telling them was the part that really hurt. Not that he’d found a girl or fallen in love or even hadn’t got around to telling them, but getting married without them cut her deeply. Trina’s mother got her wish. Why not them?
Megan stopped walking to look at Jason. “A simple phone call to say, ‘hey, I’m getting married, do you want to come?’ would’ve done. Explanations could’ve come later.” With mounting despair, she failed to keep her anger under control and out of her voice. “Why was it so hard to tell us, Jason? Why couldn’t your dad and I have been given the same respect as Trina’s mother? Why!”
Jason stepped back from the force of her fury.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I just don’t know why I didn’t. It all happened so fast. I could hardly believe it myself.”
He told her how it had only taken a couple of days to organise. He’d been so caught up in the commotion that any opportunity he might have had got lost.
Megan watched her son’s face. She couldn’t help wondering whether he’d made the right decision. What sort of marriage would they have given the circumstances? He looked bewildered and distressed, which was so unlike Jason. Against her will, her heart went out to him. They started walking again. “I’m not sure I want to hear the answers, but I need to know two things. Firstly, when was your wedding?”
Megan held her breath.
“The twenty-eighth of August.”
A gasp escaped before she regained control. “Only days before your father died! Oh, Jason. I’m not sure why, but that makes it worse.”
She took another deep breath. “So when did Trina’s mother die?”
“Two weeks after Dad.”
Megan’s eyes widened with shock. “But ... I don’t understand. That doesn’t explain why you took off the day after your father’s funeral with barely a word of goodbye, leaving me ...”
She broke off, quickening her pace to put space between them while she fought back tears. Straining through the soft sand, she headed towards the palm trees edging the beach.
She didn’t expect to be so upset by the news and struggled to accept he deliberately denied his father the chance to see him settled and happy. Never mind the circumstances. They would have been happy for him. Instantly, she appreciated why Constance had put such store on loyalty.
Jason caught up with her. “I’m sorry, Mum. I really am.” He reached out to catch her arm. “What can I say to make it up to you?”
Stopping again, she turned to look at him. “Actually, Jason. I don’t think there is anything you can say. What’s done is done. I’m going to have to figure out a way to forgive you, but don’t think for one moment I will ever forget.”
Jason looked suitably embarrassed and kicked at the sand with his bare feet. “She needed me, Mum.” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. “We were planning to go to New Zealand, as soon as her mother ... um ... when it was ... over – to tell you together. We thought we’d have a proper ceremony and party at home. But when Dad went like that, it didn’t feel right any more. You had your own pain to deal with. I didn’t want to make it worse.” He ran his fingers through his hair and paced a circle, trying to find the words. “Telling you without Trina with me didn’t seem right either – and she couldn’t leave her mother. The three events were so close together I was reeling. The more time passed, the more difficult it got until I couldn’t figure out how to tell you at all. I know I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Megan listened to his explanation all the while trying to reconcile her bitter, angry thoughts with the overwhelming love she held for her son. She hated seeing him so torn apart, but she was hurting too. “So you hid yourself away and said nothing? Hoping it would somehow solve itself?”
Jason nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry, Mum. Honestly I am. I just had to be with her. We needed to be together to get through it all.” He paused again, his voice breaking with emotion. “She’s my best mate. I think ... I hope we will share something like you and Dad ...” and in a voice barely audible, “Please understand.”
Despite her distress, Megan understood perfectly. It was everything she had ever wished for her baby – to be happy, to find a soul mate. She knew she would give in and forgive him yet again, as she had so many times in the past. He had never learnt his easy-going manner could be so careless of other people’s feelings. Maybe his wife could teach him something she hadn’t been able to. She let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Jason. What am I going to do with you?” Her rhetorical question hung unanswered between them.
Taking a step towards him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am happy you have found someone special, my boy.”
Within seconds, he hugged her back, tightly, relief emptying from every pore.
Pulling out of the embrace, Megan pointed along the beach. “You should get back, but
I need to keep walking. I’m still far too upset. I need time to think this through and calm down.”
She started to move away, then turned and, walking backwards, called out, “Merry Christmas!”
Isabel’s Journal
22 December 1910 – Nice
Our hostess in Nice is a very flamboyant Frenchwoman whom Mrs B met some years ago. I forget the story she told me, it was too complicated and involved, far too many people. It seems Mrs B likes to catch up with Madame Veronique Le Beau when she can, especially the times when lots of food is involved. A week or two at Christmas proves an opportunity too good to miss. At least the weather is fine and sunny. The rains have passed, and whilst it isn’t hot, it is mild enough to walk along the promenade.
Mme Le Beau is an odd mix. In the evenings she wears the most fashionable of gowns: sleek, floating silks and voiles sometimes heavily embroidered or beaded, (although I suspect she still wears her old-fashioned corsets underneath), but her morning gowns are outdated: full, flared, frilled and lacy with huge petticoats, under which, I suspect, she doesn’t wear corsets at all. How odd! She loves to smoke those new Gauloises. She constantly carries an excessively long cigarette holder, which can become quite dangerous if you are too close; such is her habit of waving her arms about when speaking. However, she is welcoming, and her villa is comfortable with wonderful views of the bay.
It’s strange being here in a foreign place with strangers at Christmastime. I wonder what is happening at home. Not that Christmas at home was much fun anyway. Mama was a tyrant when organising the traditional social events. Francis could do no wrong, and Constance was allowed to do almost anything she wanted, as long as she wasn’t underfoot. I was just someone to parade about at parties with her hinting all the time what a great prize I would be for someone. It was a meat market, and I was the meat – a nuisance with too many ideas. I enjoyed the music, the lights and even the boring old neighbours who sometimes brought new visitors. I can’t help but miss them even so, especially Papa.
Chapter 14
By the time Megan returned from her walk everyone was up and sharing in Bella’s joy over the goodies from her Christmas stocking. Bella rushed up and jumped into her arms.
“Nana, Nana. See what I got.”
For a couple of minutes Megan concentrated all her attention on her granddaughter. The day had not started out quite as she had dreamed. She felt a little sad she’d missed an important part of the morning with Bella, but talking to Jason was more important.
He wasn’t forgiven, not yet, not by a long way, and it would take more time before she could begin to forget. Even so, she hoped the rest of the day would prove festive, even if Jason and Sarah avoided one another. At least he seemed to have recovered some of his natural exuberance.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of room service brunch. Putting on their best behaviour, the family trooped out on the terrace to drink bubbles and orange juice and wear silly Christmas hats. They soon slipped into the spirit of the day with carefully chosen words and shared laughter over presents exchanged.
Bella eased any remaining disquiet. Squealing and laughing, she helped everyone rip the paper from their gifts before running round putting the fancy hats on every head and then taking them off again. Before long, with paper strewn from one end of the terrace to the other and everyone having received and given something, they looked expectantly at Megan.
Sarah spoke first. “Thanks for everything, Mum. You’ve spoilt us rotten, and I love this bracelet.” She stretched her arm out to show off her gift. “It’s been fantastic, but I think it’s time you told us why you brought us all here.”
Megan lifted Bella onto her knee, to help push buttons on some new electronic toy Jason had bought.
“You have a choice,” said Megan, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. “A long, lazy afternoon swimming, walking, talking or sleeping and getting ready for dinner. Or I can completely upset the applecart and bore your socks off with tales of my journey so far.”
“I think Bella, Trina and I should take the first choice and make ourselves scarce,” said Nick with an exaggerated yawn. “Sarah and Jason can stay and listen to your so-called boring tales.” They knew he was teasing, while at the same time offering to give them space if they wanted it.
“No way,” said Sarah, before anyone else had a chance. “If I have to listen to Mum’s tales then so do you. However, I suspect what she’s about to tell us will be anything but boring.”
“I agree, Nick. Sorry. If we talk now, I think you and Trina should listen. It’ll concern you all in the long run.” Hesitating briefly and trying not to sound harsh, Megan quizzed her son. “Jason? What about you? Where do you stand?”
“Fine by me,” he answered with an eloquent shrug. “After all, you went out of your way to make this happen. So let’s hear it.”
“Good choice. You’re not off the hook yet, by any means, but you’re making progress.” She sent him a glance she imagined he would remember from his childhood.
It worked.
“Truce, Mum.” He raised his hands in supplication. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
A look of renewed understanding passed between them.
“And I’ll keep you to that promise.”
Megan saw Sarah’s enquiring look and nodded to confirm things were on the mend. There was no point in making matters worse between him and Sarah. His sister needed to work out how she felt about Jason’s behaviour by herself.
“Righto, Mum. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“All right. I’m as ready as I ever will be. But listen, there’s a lot to take in, and it could take a while. So let me tell you what I know first – without interruptions, please. You can ask questions later.”
As briefly as possible, she outlined how she fitted into the family tree, the people she’d met, about the loss of the family fortune and, especially, what she’d discovered about Constance and why her history was important.
The family had been unable to resist butting in with the odd question, but Megan managed to keep them more or less on track.
“And you should see the library. The panelling is superb,” she finished, with a detailed description of the house. “Constance and someone before her were avid book collectors.”
“How fascinating,” said Sarah, although Megan could tell the boys were not quite so interested in the manor house.
“Can you tell us more about Isabel?”
“Not yet, sweetheart. Great-grandmother Isabel’s story is yet to come. She is hardly remembered in Cornwall and certainly wasn’t there for the time period I’m talking about.”
It had taken quite some time to even get that far with her story, and she’d still kept back the bit about her inheritance and its wrinkles. She wasn’t even sure why she was withholding the most important part of the story. It just seemed right that Constance’s story be told first.
“Enough for the time being, I think. I need a drink.”
Given how quickly the men took off, heading straight for the pool, Megan figured they weren’t all that interested in her family history. From their point of view, it wasn’t all that meaningful so far – that part would come – but Megan felt they needed to know the background to it first.
Sarah went to get the drinks with Bella. Trina remained, tentatively asking questions about the décor and the paintings. Encouraged by Trina’s interest, Megan chatted on, pleased to discover they shared a similar love of antiquity.
She had been tempted to blame Trina for much of Jason’s behaviour but knew that would be unfair on the girl. It wasn’t her fault. Jason was responsible for his own actions. More importantly, she was beginning to like her new daughter-in-law and could see why Jason had been smitten. The girl was quiet, but strong-willed and would anchor Jason to the real world.
“I’m sorry, Trina. With everything that’s happened, I don’t think we’ve done a good job of welcoming you to the family, nor found the time to get to know you bette
r. I will, I promise. I’m so happy we have some interests in common.”
“That’s all right, Mrs Marsh,” began Trina.
“Call me Megan, please. Mrs Marsh is far too formal, and I would like us to be friends.”
“Megan, then. Thank you and yes, I would like to be friends too. Jason talks about you all the time.”
“He does?” Megan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, especially about what you and his dad shared.” Trina reinforced Jason’s words.
Megan was glad to know he valued his parents’ relationship, despite his silences over the last couple of years. Whilst she would always be disappointed, for Tony’s sake, she must learn not to dwell on it. “Tell me, Trina. Where do you work?”
“I work for a fine art dealer in Milan.”
“How amazing. What a wonderful thing to do. But how did you and Jason meet? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in an art gallery in his life.”
Trina laughed. “No, and you still won’t, not willingly anyway. He looks like a fish out of water. He came to my rescue.” Her eyes turned lovingly in his direction. “I slipped on some cobblestones on my way home after working late at an art auction. I fell, twisting my ankle, and broke the heel off my shoe. He picked me up and carried me home. The rest is history, as they say.”
“Are you two still gossiping over there?” called Jason, coming back inside some time later.
“We’re not gossiping. We’re sharing stories.” She winked at Megan.
“Well, whatever you want to call it, sweetheart,” Jason said, putting his arm around her. “Enough of the tête-à-tête. We’d better hear the rest of Mum’s story before dinner.”
“Yes, Mum. Let’s make the most of it while Bella has a nap, before we have to get ready,” echoed Sarah.
“What, now? Can’t it wait till tomorrow or the next day?” Megan was now worried she was overloading them.
“No,” came the chorus.
“Oh dear,” she said, sitting down again. “Well, all right. This next piece is about Constance and the family business. It’s also long and complicated, I’m afraid.”
