Gull Island

by Grace Thompson

  Richard stood up and this time he hit Idris so he fell backwards, sliding on the upturned chair until it stopped against the far wall. Silently, Luke handed Idris a handkerchief to hold against his nose.

  ‘Told you you wouldn’t like it, didn’t I?’ Idris said thickly. ‘You’ve never been exciting enough for a woman, Richard. I had the charm ration for both of us, haven’t you noticed?’ He went to the bathroom to wash his face and stem the blood seeping into the handkerchief.

  Silently, Richard and Luke left.

  Idris looked into the bathroom mirror and smiled. His foolish fantasy of murdering Rosita was just that, a foolish fantasy – he’d never have the nerve to harm anyone. But it had been fun. He could never have pushed Rosita to that terrible death. It was just his imagination giving him ideas he could never fulfil. He had enjoyed the teasing, though, it had made him feel strong and powerful, watching her frightened face. Besides, by stirring things a bit he might still prevent or at least delay the marriage that would deprive him of Richard’s wealth.

  If Richard didn’t marry, he’d have to leave his money to someone. With the rest of their brothers spread far and wide with little contact with the family, his girls would benefit one day, even if he didn’t. All he had to do was prevent Richard from marrying Rosita. He smiled again at his reflection. That mightn’t be too difficult.

  It made him feel quite a lad, arranging for a fortune to come to his girls. What a great father he was.

  Rosita was surprised at how well she and her mother got on. Instead of the ogre she had invented to ease her misery, she found Barbara to be as gentle and kindly as Kate and a very long way from the sister who had so tragically died. The new baby helped, it was something to share; the visits to the hospital to see him, admire him and consider him more beautiful than the others in the row of identical bundles in the identical cots.

  Kate grieved with them yet held back from tears, remembering how her sister had ruined her marriage. The day before the funeral, she met her husband at his mother’s and tried to persuade him to admit the truth about Richard.

  He laughed and said, ‘What’s so wonderful about the truth? There’s plenty who’d be happier without it. I know Rosita wanted me and I told Richard. That’s the truth and he definitely didn’t want to hear it. Best I keep silent on the rest.’

  ‘Truth? That isn’t the truth!’ Kate scolded. ‘Rosita has always loved Richard.’

  ‘You have to admit it’s taken him a hell of a long time to do anything about it. No wonder she was tired of waiting. Thirty-odd years, for heaven’s sake. Hardly an irresistible passion, is it?’

  Barbara and her two daughters went together to arrange the funeral and, each day, they went to see the baby, who had remained in hospital being cared for by the nurses.

  Unknown to Rosita, Richard also found time in his day to call and see baby David. He would stand for a long time and stare, marvelling at the perfection of the tiny child.

  On the day of the funeral, the Careys’ door was propped open to allow anyone who wished to call in. The first visitor was Luke. He and Barbara hugged each other and shed a few tears like the friends they were.

  ‘Are you and Rosita friends again?’ he whispered. Barbara nodded. ‘At least something good has come out of this excruciating pain. A child is irreplaceable and it’s ironic that it took the loss of one to regain another.’

  She looked at him with her dreamy and beautiful eyes and said softly, ‘Oh, Luke. Stay with me and help me through this.’

  ‘I will, my dear. I promise.’

  Rosita found she was unable to miss a day without going to see the tiny person that was called David Prothero. After a few days she was allowed to hold him. He seemed to fit into her arms as if made for that special place. She began to think very seriously about his future.

  Hattie’s funeral was a small one, with only the family and a few neighbours returning to the house, where Mrs Carey had prepared food. Afterwards, Rosita and Kate sat close to their mother, together in their grief, comforting her, making her feel less alone. Then Rosita and Richard went out to walk along the sands of the deserted Pleasure Beach, leaving Barbara in the capable hands of Molly Carey.

  It was raining and the shelters, usually filled with the colourful extravagances of summer, looked drab and fitting for the sadness of the day.

  ‘What are we going to do about Idris?’ Richard asked. ‘I don’t trust him. What if he tries something else to harm us?’

  ‘He’s all talk, too much of a coward to take chances. Don’t worry. Whatever he says, we’ll know better than to believe him. He lives in a dream world of high adventure but makes sure he holds on to the reality of Kate.’

  ‘Did your mother tell you there was £300 found among Hattie’s possessions?’ Richard asked quietly.

  ‘Three hundred? Where would she have got such a sum?’

  ‘Well, I could never prove it, but it was three hundred I suspected Idris of stealing. It doesn’t need much imagination to put the two together, does it? She was carrying his child and he didn’t want to admit it. The easiest way out was to pay her for her silence – with my money.’

  They were both silent for the rest of their walk, Richard seething with anger against his brother and Rosita holding on to the thought that if Idris had paid Hattie all that money, then the child must have been his and not Richard’s.

  Idris was fed up. Firstly there was the discomfort of sleeping night after night on the narrow couch in his own kitchen, where he and Hattie had spent so many illicit and happy hours. And besides that inconvenience, since Barbara had been staying with her, his mother had very little time for him.

  When Kate had thrown him out and he had gone back to his mother, it had been like reverting to the later years of childhood, with plates of food being put before him at regular intervals and with his every wish not only granted but improved upon. Now, worse than the rest, he was frequently ignored.

  Just like Dad treated me when I was a boy, he thought irritably. For Dad it was Richard and no one else. I was invisible to him. But Mam treated me like a young god and would now, if it weren’t for that Barbara Prothero butting in!

  On Sunday afternoon, a week after Hattie’s funeral, Rosita was relaxing, reading the newest edition of the Bookseller’s Review, the magazine which kept her up to date with what was happening in the trade, when Richard called. She could see from his face that he had something important to discuss.

  ‘Come for a drive? I thought we’d go and see Luke,’ he said. ‘He’s sure to be at the cottage.’

  When they reached there, Luke was wandering across the beach gathering firewood and for a while they helped him. Then, when they were sitting in his comfortable room, Richard brought up the subject he wanted to discuss.

  ‘I’m considering setting Idris up in a business of his own,’ he told them. ‘What d’you think? A sort of handyman. He’ll never make a fortune but he’s quite good at small building jobs and – let’s be honest – he does attract the ladies and it’s those who need the occasional plumber or carpenter. He could do quite well.’

  ‘He’d have to do a better job than he did on the plastering he did for me,’ Rosita said. Richard glanced at Luke and tightened his lips but said nothing.

  ‘It would be expensive,’ Luke warned. ‘He’ll need tools and a vehicle.’

  ‘I can afford it.’

  It would keep him busy,’ Rosita mused, ‘and he’d like being his own boss. There’s a certain prestige in working for yourself, as I well know.’

  ‘There’ll be problems too. For a start, he wouldn’t get paid unless he worked.’

  Richard thought about the plan for a while then he decided to make the announcement. He found Idris, Kate and Helen and Lynne in his mother’s house. Rosita was there too, sitting on the couch beside Barbara.

  ‘I’ve decided to do what we discussed,’ he said to Rosita and turning to his brother he went on, ‘I’m offering you a lump sum to buy tools and a van to st
art you in a business of your own. I can find you a few jobs at first, small things that need doing but which I don’t have the time or manpower to deal with. After that you’re on your own.’

  Mrs Carey was delighted and went out into the kitchen at once to find the port left from Christmas. But Idris’s reaction was odd. He seemed surprised at Richard’s generosity after the disagreements and suspicions of the past months.

  ‘What’s in it for you?’ he asked ungraciously.

  ‘Peace of mind knowing you aren’t scrounging off Mam if you must know!’ Richard snapped. ‘I know she’s been giving you handouts these past weeks. Perhaps you should have kept that £300 instead of giving it to Hattie.’ He handed his brother a sheaf of papers. ‘The van is waiting for you with your name on the side. If you aren’t happy about it just let me know and I’ll have it painted out.’ He gestured for Rosita to follow him and they walked out, leaving Mrs Carey staring in pride and pleasure at Idris.

  ‘There’s lovely,’ they heard her say as they left. ‘You’ll be a proper businessman, working for yourself. Come on, then, let’s go and see your ol’ van with your name an’ all!’

  ‘I’ll be getting back home,’ Kate said. She and the girls left, while Idris fussed about, getting his mother to put on a coat before walking out to the kerb where Richard had parked the newly-painted van. He offered his arm; Molly Carey was getting very frail.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘don’t rush me. Just like a child with a new toy you are.’

  Idris was pleased when he saw the van. Although old, it had been smartly painted in cream with his name, Idris Carey, and below it the legend, ‘Handyman’, in brown.

  He tossed the keys and grinned at his mother. ‘Go on, get your handbag or whatever else you can’t travel without, and we’ll go for a spin.’

  ‘Lovely. Can we go over to the beach house, where we lived when you were small?’ she pleaded, and, after getting her a scarf and some warm boots, they set off.

  ‘Fancy the old green van being given a new lease of life,’ he said with a grin. ‘It won’t last long, mind, but it’ll do for a while, until I make my fortune and buy a brand new one twice the size of this old wreck.’

  ‘Now you be patient, Idris. Best to walk before you run, mind.’

  From the town, he didn’t drive straight to their destination but first took his mother on a sightseeing trip. He knew she loved to see places where she and his father had spent their hard but happy youth. Out through country lanes, to the lonely but beautiful stone-built Merthyr Dyfan church where she and Henry had married, where she stopped to look and revive memories he didn’t share.

  He drove on, between slowly greening hedges, where a large flock of goldfinches flew across their path.

  ‘A charm of goldfinches,’ she said. ‘They’ll soon be pairing up for the spring.’

  ‘Lucky sods,’ Idris muttered.

  Leaving the narrow lanes, they headed towards the busy main road into Cardiff. He stopped once or twice for her to look at places she remembered, then suggested they went back towards the Pleasure Beach before going on to Gull Island. He enjoyed giving her this treat, reminding her he was her favourite, her golden boy.

  The day was surprisingly warm for early spring, with skies clear and blue. People on the pavements had lost the urgent, bent-forward, hasty walk of winter and were strolling, enjoying the sweet fresh air. The road back to town was very steep and a lorry was slowly chugging its way up towards them in a low gear. Idris slowed near the top for her to look across the docks and the sea beyond, then eased his foot off the brake and swooped down.

  ‘Don’t!’ Mrs Carey laughed excitedly. ‘You’ll frighten me to death!’

  He laughed too, pleased that she was enjoying her unexpected outing. Then, after slowing again, he touched the accelerator to frighten her and add to the fun and somehow the wheel slipped in his hand and the van shot across the road, touched the wing of an approaching lorry, bounced off and careered over, to stop against the wall of the school.

  The contact was severe and his mother catapulted forward and hit her head on the facia. Another few miles per hour and she would have gone straight through the windscreen. Idris hit the screen but miraculously it didn’t break. The rear-view mirror caught the side of his face and blood ran in a fast stream down his face.

  Stemming the flow with a handkerchief, he helped his mother out and ran to phone Richard. He wanted to call an ambulance but she insisted that he phoned Richard.

  ‘I’m only a bit shaken,’ she said. ‘Richard will know what to do.’

  A householder invited them inside but Idris stood by the gate and waited for his brother, preparing his story. Mrs Carey sat inside, sipping tea in trembling hands, her arms shaking like a drummer on a final roll. Richard arrived in less than fifteen minutes and he carried his mother to his car and took her to the hospital. He said nothing to Idris, saving his fury until he knew his mother was safe.

  Unbelievably, Mrs Carey wasn’t seriously hurt, but the doctor advised her to stay overnight, in case of delayed shock or other damage revealing itself. Idris was bandaged and then insisted he was well enough to go home.

  He walked into the house with an unnecessary limp, and saw with relief the look of alarm and horror that crossed Kate’s face. Exaggerating his discomfort just a little, he allowed himself to be put to bed and fussed over.

  Kate couldn’t turn him from her bed any longer. He was difficult, completely unreliable and untrustworthy, but the naughty-boy charm always got to her. Something within her still felt the strong emotional ties of marriage and, she had to admit it, love. She didn’t have much difficulty persuading him to stay.

  Mrs Carey stayed in hospital for three days and in that time had more visitors than the rest of the ward together; including Rosita, Kate and Richard, and a contrite Idris who brought flowers and fruit and a huge box of chocolates far beyond a sweets ration – refusing to explain how they were acquired!

  Rosita and Richard still went daily to see baby David and having met twice at the hospital, no longer without telling each other. Although they talked about him a lot, they didn’t discuss his future, but knew the time was coming when a decision would have to be made. In a wheelchair Mrs Carey also visited the nursery and admired the child. One day she was there when Richard arrived.

  He approached the cot and smiled at his mother. ‘He’s a funny little chap, isn’t he?’ he said after kissing his mother. ‘I feel drawn to him somehow. He looks so helpless and alone in there.’

  ‘He’s a Carey, in spite of not carrying the name, and should be our responsibility.’ Mrs Carey sighed. ‘And there’s Kate not willing, and me too old to do anything about it.’

  Luke drove from Cardiff and after parking his car beside the cottage, looked along the beach and saw someone sitting on the steps of the Careys’ old house. He knew at once that it was Barbara. He went into the cottage and prepared a tray of tea and, balancing it carefully, he made his way across the uneven rocks, to sit beside her.

  ‘I have so many memories of this place, Luke,’ she said as she took a cup of tea. ‘Remember how we used to walk out here? The youngest Carey sitting on the bogie cart? Often barefoot, dressed in clothing that was rarely a proper fit. We used to drag firewood back the two miles home. Me surrounded by the Carey clan. And the picnics we enjoyed! Very different from the picnics people would have today. A loaf and a scraping of margarine and a jar of jam, Marmite or bloater paste. Remember?’

  ‘I remember,’ Luke said softly. ‘I once came here looking for you to ask you to marry me.’

  She turned her face to him in surprise, her beautiful eyes widening. Her face showed the signs of too much wind and sun, the still-thick hair more grey than brown. To Luke she had never looked more beautiful.

  ‘I’d decided that the best for you and Rosita was for you to marry me. I came here, couldn’t find you and was eventually told by Mrs Carey that you’d become Mrs Graham Prothero. I went that same day and lied my w
ay into the army and was sent to France.’

  ‘What a different life we’d have had if I’d delayed my decision for a week or two. Poor Rosita. I let her down badly.’ She leaned towards him and his arms held her close.

  The evening drew in and an offshore wind moved the warmed air from the land out onto the colder sea and covered the scene in a chilling mist. The island disappeared as though a curtain had been drawn over it. There was no one else around, just the two figures locked together on the steps of the ruined house. It was a long time before they moved.

  Mrs Carey knew there was something wrong between Rosita and Richard. Nothing had been said, but looking at them now, each pretending to look at a newspaper, tense and unhappy, she thought there must have been a quarrel. When would they ever learn to accept their differences?

  Barbara had telephoned; said she had met Luke and would like to bring him back for supper. They were sitting waiting for them to arrive.

  ‘What is it with you two?’ she demanded when she could stand the silence no longer. ‘Ever since I asked you to stay and eat with us, the atmosphere has been as thick as a boiled sock!’

  Rosita smiled and assured her that everything was ‘just fine’. Mrs Carey glared at Richard’s miserable face and ‘humphed’ to show she wasn’t convinced.

  Barbara and Luke arrived and were soon followed by Kate, Idris and the girls and there was a mood of celebration. Mrs Carey was home from hospital, Idris was wallowing in Kate’s loving attention. It was only from Rosita and Richard there was a lack of joy.

  Unaware of the tension, Barbara said, ‘Well, you two, have you a date for the wedding yet?’

  ‘Richard and I won’t be marrying after all. Too many complications. We want different things.’