by Rosie Clarke
‘We could buy a house for holidays in France if you prefer?’
‘We need time together,’ Jon said. ‘I know we’ve talked, but we couldn’t make plans while I was still spending most of my time in the hospital. Let’s see how things work out …’
‘Yes, of course,’ I agreed. ‘There’s plenty of time …’
I started the car engine.
‘Time to go home,’ he said, looking as if he could not wait to leave.
‘Yes, my darling. It’s time to go home.’
We didn’t go straight home that afternoon. Jon’s mother had asked if I would take Jon for a short visit, and so we stopped at the house in Hampstead for twenty minutes or so.
‘Thank you for coming, Emma.’ Dorothy Reece was scrupulously polite with me these days. ‘I know you are busy …’
Her expression was faintly wistful, her eyes carrying a veiled accusation. I had tried to call on her and Pops every so often right through the war, though whatever I did, it was never enough for her. And despite an outburst of anger against me in the hospital the day she’d seen Jon’s scars for the first time, I had continued to visit when I could afterwards. She had blamed me that day for not preparing her for the shock of Jon’s changed looks, but the truth was she disliked me. In fact, I thought that deep down she hated me.
However, we usually kept up an armed truce, and I had visited at least once a month until Pops died the winter before last. Since then, I had merely telephoned occasionally. I still missed Jon’s grandfather, who had been the sweetest of men.
I had wondered what Dorothy would do after her father died, but she had continued to live in the large old house, and now had a female companion.
‘I suppose we had to call,’ Jon said to me when we left, ‘but I shan’t call very often, Emma. It wasn’t too bad when Pops was alive, but …’ He looked at me ruefully. ‘You were very good to them. Pops came to see me in the hospital a couple of times on his own. He told me all the things you had done for them during the war.’
‘I loved Pops, you know I did. I’m afraid I haven’t been to visit Dorothy much since he died, but I do telephone – and Miss Carter is very good. I’ve told her to let me know if she ever needs help with money or anything else.’
‘Pops left the house to me,’ Jon said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘Yes. He told me that was his intention – with the option for Dorothy to live there for as long as she wants.’
‘I should have thought she would rather have a nice modern apartment,’ Jon said. ‘I’ll have to ask her about that one day. That house is much too big for her, and I shall never live there. I could sell it and use the money to buy something more useful.’
‘Well, that’s up to you,’ I said. ‘As long as she doesn’t think it’s my idea, she might agree …’
Jon reached out for me in our bed that night. I snuggled closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body and his presence beside me. I had missed that while he was away. I did not enjoy sleeping alone.
He stroked my back through the thin silk of my night-gown, his mouth seeking mine in the darkness.
‘I love you, Emma.’
‘I love you, darling.’
‘I’ve missed you so much …’
His hand caressed my breast. He pushed back the nightgown, kissing me in the sensitive hollow between my breasts, then his hand moved down to stroke my thigh.
‘You know I want to make love to you, Emma. I want to be a proper husband to you.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘It just won’t happen … the desire is there, in my mind, in my heart … but my body won’t function.’
‘You’ve been ill for a long time.’
‘It may never happen.’ There was a catch in his voice. ‘I may never be able to …’
‘Hush, my darling.’ I kissed him, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Give it time. If it happens, that’s good, but if not … Just hold me, Jon. Hold me and love me, that’s all I ask. It’s lonely without you here. We can share so much. Let’s be grateful for what we have.’
‘My precious love …’
Jon continued to stroke and kiss me for a while, then he turned over and closed his eyes. I knew he wasn’t sleeping. Nor could I for a long time. His caresses had aroused a need in me that was unsatisfied.
I tried not to think of Jack. I tried not to remember the nights of passion we had spent together during the war, but they crept into my mind, intensifying the hunger I felt. I still wanted him, loved him … but I had no right to feel that way.
It was so unfair of me! A betrayal of the love I felt for Jon. He had endured so much for my sake. All this talk of writing was as much for me as himself. He wanted to make some sort of a living, to feel that I was not supporting him, that I did not need to work for his benefit.
I understood his pride and his need. The fact that I would have wanted to work anyway helped a little, but Jon had always been sensitive. He was a good man, a gentle man, and I’d never wanted to hurt him.
I had resisted Jack when we first met, refused to admit that I was attracted to him. Only my belief that Jon had been killed in an air crash over France had made me vulnerable to Jack’s determined pursuit.
I decided I would put Jack right out of my mind, turned over and went to sleep.
At some time during the night Jon must have left our bed. I did not stir, nor was I aware that he had gone until I woke soon after dawn and discovered that the bed was cold beside me.
I was out when Jack came to collect my son a few days later. He had phoned the previous evening to ask if it was all right, and I’d deliberately arranged to be working. I had decided it was safer not to see Jack. Safer for my peace of mind.
James showed me the present Jack had given him when I went up to say goodnight to him that evening. It was a rather smart camera, American, and more advanced than anything I had seen on sale in this country.
‘Jack showed me how to use it,’ my son told me, glowing with pride. ‘It’s easy. I think I’m going to make pictures when I grow up, Mum. I’m going to live in America and be a famous director of motion pictures. And Lizzy will be my star.’
‘Where did all this come from?’
He wasn’t nine yet! Already he was talking of leaving home. My heart caught with fear. I blamed Jack for putting ideas into my son’s head, and in that moment I almost hated him. Why had he come back into our lives?
‘It’s not easy to do something like that, darling. Besides, you might not like it when the time comes.’
James was looking at me oddly. ‘You love going to the pictures, Mum. You always buy the latest magazines, and you tell me about the film stars you like all the time. Why shouldn’t I be interested, too? Don’t worry, when I’m as rich as Jack, I’ll have a big house with a swimming pool and you can come and live with me and Lizzy. You won’t have to work all the time. I’ll look after you and Lizzy.’
‘Thank you, James. That’s very kind of you.’
‘Don’t laugh at me!’ James said, giving me one of his scowls. ‘I’m really going to do it. I told Jack. He didn’t laugh. He promised to help me get started when I was ready.’
His statement took away any desire I might have had to laugh. Was Jack deliberately trying to set my son against me by filling his head with dreams? All this talk of big houses and swimming pools could only have come from one source, even though James’s love of the cinema might be partly my influence. If James went to live and work in America when he was older, it would be sweet revenge for the lover I had spurned.
‘I’m not laughing,’ I said. ‘If you really want to be a film director, then perhaps you will.’
‘Jack says I can do anything if I try hard enough. He says all it takes is guts, determination and hard work.’
‘I’m sure he’s right … but you don’t have to think too hard about it just yet.’
‘Will you buy me a book about photo … ography for Christmas?’
‘I’ll buy you a book long before that,’ I promised. ‘Photography is an exciting hobby. It is something you will always be able to enjoy, whatever you do when you’re older. You can take lots of pictures when we go on our holiday.’
James nodded, looking pleased by the idea. I was smiling as I kissed my son goodnight and left him to play with his new toy. He would probably grow tired of it, as he did most things he was given. This idea of going to live and work in America was quite likely to be forgotten very soon – but I would speak to Jack when he next came to take my son on an outing.
I would very politely request him not to fill James’s head with foolish dreams.
‘Why is it such an impossible idea?’ Jack frowned at me as we faced each other across the sitting room a week later. ‘I know it sounds a rather grand scheme for a child of eight to come up with – but if he has that kind of imagination at his age, who knows what he might achieve? After all, his mother isn’t exactly an ordinary woman. Is she, Emma? If you can become rich and successful in a matter of a few years – why can’t James do the same?’
‘I had a lot of help from friends …’ The colour burned my cheeks as I remembered that a large slice of that help had come from him, through the investments he had made on my behalf.
‘So? What’s wrong with that when it comes to your son?’ Jack’s brows rose. ‘I told you once – when James is older, I shall help him do whatever it is he needs to do.’
‘That was different … things were different then.’ I bit my lip, feeling helpless. Jack was such a powerful force. I had always found him difficult to resist. Why should my son be any different?
‘How different?’ Jack gave me a hard stare. ‘My feelings towards James haven’t changed.’
‘Don’t try to take him away from me, Jack. I would hate you if you did that.’ I glared at him angrily. ‘I gave permission for you to see him. I didn’t expect you to …’ I stopped, unable to continue as I realized how I must sound: like a jealous, panic-stricken woman.
‘I can’t stop James loving me. The bond between us was formed that summer we all went to the Cottage, Emma. He’s my son in all but name and blood. We can none of us change that. James knows what he wants … he’s like his mother in that way, though not in others.’
‘What do you mean?’
Something in Jack’s tone seemed to imply a lack in me. I felt hurt as I waited for his reply, but before he could speak the door opened and Jon came in. He halted, looking surprised.
‘Forgive me, Emma. I didn’t realize you had a visitor.’ He was staring at Jack, as if searching for an elusive memory. ‘Excuse me … surely we’ve met before?’
‘Yes.’ Jack walked towards him. Sure, smiling, confident as always. ‘I was General Jack Harvey then, known to my friends as Jack. We met soon after the invasion of Europe. I came down to the hospital to talk to some of the men there.’
‘Yes, of course!’ Jon shook his hand warmly. It was obvious his recollection of their meeting was a good one. ‘I didn’t realize you knew Emma – or did you come to see me?’
‘I was in business with Sol during the war,’ Jack replied easily. ‘We still have some interests in common. However, I’ve actually called to take Emma’s son out for the day. James and I became good friends during the war. I was just about to leave …’ He looked at me, eyebrows raised. ‘That’s if the boy is ready?’
‘I’m sure he is,’ I said, my heart racing.
This was awful! I had dreaded the moment when the two men met in my presence. Would Jon sense anything between Jack and I? Would he guess that we had been lovers? I prayed he would not, for his sake as much as my own.
I looked at Jack. ‘If you ask Mrs Rowan, she will take you up to James. I think he has something he wants to show you before you leave.’
Jack nodded. His manner was polite, friendly, but if he was feeling any sort of emotion it didn’t show. ‘It was nice speaking to you, Mr Reece – and you, Emma. Excuse me now, I mustn’t keep James waiting.’
Jon looked at me as he went out into the hall. He seemed slightly puzzled, though not suspicious.
‘I had no idea you knew anyone like that, Emma.’
‘He wasn’t a general when we first met,’ I replied, keeping my voice level. ‘He and Jane Melcher are great friends. She gave parties for the children. One was in the summer and we held races. James and Jack won the three-legged race together. I suppose something like that stays in a child’s mind. James … sort of adopted him as an uncle.’
Jon accepted my excuse at once. ‘Yes, I can see how that might happen. He needed a father, Emma – and I wasn’t here. It’s not surprising that he doesn’t see me in that light, even though he gives me the title of Father. He surely doesn’t remember me from before the war, and we have hardly had time to get to know each other as yet.’
‘It wasn’t your fault you weren’t here, Jon. You never wanted the war in the first place.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Jon said. His eyes held a thoughtful expression. ‘The war is to blame for a lot of pain and hurt, Emma – but it is over now. We need to look at the future. This holiday you were talking about …’
‘Yes?’ I was surprised he should mention it. I had thought he wasn’t too keen on the prospect.
‘You should go ahead and book a house, Emma. It will be an ideal chance for us all to relax as a family. That’s what we need, darling. It will help to break down James’s resistance to me, help us all to get to know each other.’
‘Yes. I did think it might help, with Mum and perhaps Bert there too.’
Jon smiled at me. ‘We all of us have to live with what we have, Emma. The past is over now. We have to try and find a life together – a way of living that suits us all.’
I went to him then, reaching up to kiss him on the lips. This was the man I loved so much, the caring, decent, thoughtful man that still lived on despite all that he had endured.
‘That’s what I want, Jon.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He touched my face. ‘I love you, darling. I want us all to be happy. If that’s possible?’ A wry look crept into his eyes. ‘Perhaps that’s asking too much? Peace and content might be more achievable.’
‘We can be happy, Jon. I know we can …’
I heard the sound of my son’s eager voice in the hall, and the deeper tones of Jack answering.
‘At least James is happy today,’ my husband said. ‘It was good of Mr Harvey to take the trouble to visit him. Not many men of his status would bother about a young boy …’
‘Jack is fond of him. He wouldn’t harm him … he’s not one of those odd men who interfere with children.’
Jon laughed, seeming amused. ‘Good grief, no! I didn’t think that for a moment, Emma. No, that was the last thing on my mind …’
Something in Jon’s eyes made me catch my breath. Was it possible that he was beginning to suspect the truth? Or was it just the knowledge of my guilt that made me think so?
‘Were you going to tell me something just now?’ I asked, anxious to pass over the awkward moment.
‘Yes! It slipped my mind for the moment,’ Jon said and laughed. ‘I’ve had news … about my play.’
‘Have the BBC taken it?’ I sensed his excitement. He had subdued it when he discovered Jack here, but now it was in his eyes. ‘They have, haven’t they?’
‘It was just a short piece,’ Jon said. ‘It’s a trial for a series, Emma. They’ve paid me an advance of fifty pounds …’
‘Fifty pounds!’ I was surprised. It seemed a lot of money for one short script. ‘They must have been impressed, Jon.’
He looked oddly shy, almost embarrassed. ‘Well, yes, I think they were. If it goes down all right, they will want me to produce twelve scripts for the first series.’
‘That sounds li
ke a lot of work?’ I looked at him anxiously. ‘The doctors said you shouldn’t do too much, Jon.’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ Jon said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. ‘I know what I’m capable of – and what I’m not.’
I heard the bitterness and it shocked me. I had known that Jon felt his inability to make love deeply, but until now he had hidden his anguish from me. Now it was there, raw and ugly.
‘I wasn’t nagging you, Jon.’
‘No, of course you weren’t.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Forgive me, Emma. I suppose it’s nerves. I was anxious that they wouldn’t like my play, now I’m anxious in case they don’t want to go on with the series. It’s foolish, I know, but it means quite a lot to me. I want to feel that I’m doing something worthwhile.’
‘Yes, I understand that. I shan’t interfere with your work, Jon – but you won’t tire yourself too much, will you?’
‘No, I shan’t,’ he promised. ‘I’ve already done a lot of the background stuff. I just need to polish it up a little. I can work during the night when we’re on holiday. I seldom sleep much anyway. That’s when I wrote while I was in hospital … at night, when I couldn’t sleep. It’s a habit, I suppose.’
‘So that’s where you go? I had wondered …’ I nodded as he smiled slightly ruefully. I had woken several times to find the bed cold and empty beside me. ‘Well, if it’s what you want, of course you must do it, my darling.’
Jon’s news left me with mixed feelings. He had been paid a considerable sum of money for his play, and I was pleased at his success, but the doctor’s warnings echoed in my mind. Warnings given me only weeks before he left hospital.
‘Your husband is unlikely to live to middle age, Mrs Reece. He seems better for the moment, but his condition could suddenly take a turn for the worse. He shouldn’t try to do too much …’
How could I forbid Jon the chance to make a success of his life? If I forced him to become an invalid, he would resent me. It would have been easier and kinder to have left him in the hospital if I was going to make his life intolerable.
