Letters to Alice

by Rosie James

  He was the first to utter a sound. ‘Hello, Fay,’ he said, his voice weak and strange.

  ‘Hello,’ Fay answered. She wasn’t going to call him Dad – or call him anything. And although she was shocked at his appearance, she didn’t feel sorry for him. Not at all. The best efforts of Hitler’s gang had failed to give him as much as a headache, but perhaps nature was going to do the thing she’d been waiting years for. She hoped so. And didn’t feel bad thinking it, hoping for it.

  After a moment or two, she recovered herself and went over to his side and looked down at him. And he returned her gaze and patted the bed beside him, wanting her to sit. To sit by him. Instead, she pulled up the small wicker Lloyd Loom chair in the corner and sat on that instead.

  There was silence for a few seconds and Fay thought – what do you say to a very sick person? To a very sick person whom you’ve despised since memory began? Then –

  ‘You’ve not been too good,’ she said. ‘How…how are you feeling now?’

  He shrugged, his thin lips twisting in the ugly way Fay knew only too well. ‘I’m OK – women make a fuss about nothing,’ he grunted.

  ‘Is the doctor making a fuss about nothing as well?’ Fay asked, glancing over at the bottle of pills on the bedside table. ‘He thinks you should be in hospital doesn’t he?’

  ‘I’m not going to any hospital,’ her father said, his voice suddenly sounding almost as strong as ever. ‘Dangerous places, hospitals. No.’ He waited for a moment. ‘Your mother can take care of me,’ he said, ‘like she’s always done. She’s always kept to her marriage vows. Well, we both have. And I’ll soon get over this.’

  Fay felt like choking. Unexpected vulnerability hadn’t changed her father’s ebullient outlook one bit.

  Suddenly, slowly, he put his hand out, wanting her to take it, but Fay recoiled. She didn’t want to touch him. Then – ‘Still working on that farm I suppose,’ he said. ‘Are you happy there?’

  Without hesitation, Fay said – ‘Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.’

  The cold grey eyes swivelled towards her again. Then – ‘I know we haven’t always seen things eye to eye, Fay,’ he said, ‘but we’re alike, and we understand each other, don’t we…and we’ve had good times, all of us, in the past, haven’t we? Remember how in the summer we sometimes went down to Weston, and you had donkey rides on the beach? Remember I used to run alongside you? They were good days, weren’t they?’

  Fay tightened her grip on the arms of the chair. She was going to be sick in a minute. She leaned forward. ‘You are wrong,’ she said firmly, ‘we are not alike, and never have been.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Because you are a vile disgrace,’ she said flatly, ‘and after today, I never want to see you again. Ever.’

  There was dead silence after that, then Fay went on coolly, ‘And by the way, what other “good times” are you referring to, exactly? Oh, of course, you had a good time, didn’t you – well you must have done because you made sure you enjoyed them regularly, very regularly indeed. And always, of course, when Mum was nowhere around, or when her sleeping pills had put her out for a few hours.’

  Fay leaned back now, and folded her arms. The floodgates of years of desperation had finally been opened, and there was to be no stopping her. And when he didn’t make any comments, she went on –

  ‘Lost your memory? Don’t know what I’m talking about? Well, let me put you in the clear.’ She paused. ‘Let me see – I think the first time was after my third birthday. Absolutely amazing what can lay dormant, but still alive, after more than twenty years, isn’t it?’ She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if she was trying to remember. ‘Of course, they do say that it’s from the age of three that we have our first memories. So – you may have crawled into my bed even before that…perhaps I was only two – or eighteen months? We shall never know, shall we?’

  He opened his mouth to say something, but made no sound as Fay went on –

  ‘At first, I only thought we were having cuddles, but when I was older…four…five…six…even in my innocence I knew that what you were doing…what you were making me do was…disgusting…repulsive…not right. And there was nothing I could do about it! Nothing! – It was too dirty and shameful, and you were a grown- up! Everyone would believe you, and no one would believe me! And I couldn’t possibly tell Mum…it would have broken her heart. I was trapped. You had me trapped in a situation that I only got free from when I was old enough to stand up to you and, thankfully, leave home. Get out of your life for ever.’

  Again, no word, but his eyes darted over at the commode which was standing in the corner, and he indicated his need to use it. And Fay cringed. If he thought she was going to assist him, he could think again.

  ‘Oh – want to use the toilet? Well, hard luck. You can wait until my poor mother returns. I hope you can control yourself until then.’

  Fay paused. Her heart was racing wildly, her face was on fire, and she realized that she, herself, was losing control. Getting all this off her chest was hard, hurtful…agonizing. But she hadn’t finished yet.

  ‘Do you remember the day you were going to throw me down the lavatory and pull the flush?’ she went on. ‘I was about five…yes, I was five…and I’d wet the bed…after you’d – finished with me – I’d wet the bed. And you were so angry, you picked me up and took me into the bathroom.’ Fay stopped for a moment, trying to stem the angry tears which were boiling up behind her eyelids. Then pulling herself together, she went on. ‘Do you remember that you held me over the toilet…as if you were going to drown me? Remember that? No? No? Well, unfortunately for me, I remember it very well indeed.’ Her words came spilling out in a torrent. ‘I will never…I can never…forget it. Forget any of it! And all I can see in my nightmares is your hateful – disgusting – revolting – sweaty – face!’

  Her father stirred restlessly, seeming, now, unable to utter a single word. But he was able to turn over and reach for the bottle of tablets…

  Fay got there first. She picked up the bottle and held it right away, out of his grasp, holding it in the air in a gesture of triumph. This was her moment! She’d always wanted to kill him but had never known how to, or when. Perhaps that time had arrived at last, because her father’s expression had changed to one of fear…real fear…he was gasping for breath, and holding his throat as if he was choking. He was begging her to let him have one of his magic pills…

  But Fay dropped the bottle on the floor, kicked it under the bed, and left the room without another word.

  As she went downstairs, the front door opened and gran and her mother came back, both full of enthusiasm about the neighbour’s little grandson.

  Mrs. Reynolds looked at her daughter anxiously. ‘What do you think? How did you find Dad?’ she asked. ‘Is he OK?’

  Fay smiled. ‘He’s fine. We’ve had a lovely chat,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t disturb him.’

  Fay’s mother hesitated. ‘Well, I’d better just pop up,’ she said. It was nice to think that her husband and daughter had been chatting. They’d never done much of that.

  Fay and her gran went into the kitchen. It was time for another cup of tea, and for a few moments they stood there discussing what time the train would get Fay back to the farm. Although she had brought an overnight bag, she had no intention of staying.

  Presently, Mrs. Reynolds returned, looking pleased. ‘Jolly good job I went up,’ she said, ‘because he’d desperately wanted one of his pills – but somehow he’d managed to knock the bottle off the table and onto the floor where he couldn’t reach it. Wasn’t like him to be that careless,’ she added. She started pouring milk into a jug. ‘But I was able to give him one in time, and now he’s feeling much better and says he’d like some tea! So hand down another cup, Fay, will you, dear?’

  The small train was on time and due to arrive at the Halt at 11pm. Fay took down her overnight bag from the rack, then sat back down and stared out of the window, just able to make out the cottages and fields a
nd farms in the darkening scenery…all so familiar, so dear to her, now, she thought.

  She sighed briefly. Everyone knew the war would be ending in the foreseeable future, and Fay wasn’t surprised at her own feelings on the matter. War was bad – awful – yet for many people, good things happened as well, and she would look back on her own war with a certain amount of gratitude. Although she had had to do the sort of hard, dirty – albeit rewarding – work that would never have been part of her life normally, she had learned a great deal, and had met some of the best people you could ever come across. The Foulkes family were the salt of the Earth – and as for Alice and Evie – she knew they’d always be good friends.

  Fay paused in her thoughts for a moment. Today, she, Fay Reynolds, had almost committed murder.

  And the opportunity had presented itself very unexpectedly. If only her mother hadn’t been so diligent, if only she’d stayed downstairs for another ten minutes or so…the deed may have happened, all by itself…but fate had intervened, denying Fay her long-held wish.

  She bit her teeth into her bottom lip, hard, remembering how, at one point in the past, she’d questioned her mother about all the ugly black bruises on her upper arms…where Fay had seen them so many times before. There would have been some on her mother’s thighs, too…always just out of sight to any casual observer. Remembered how her mother had said lightly – too lightly – Oh you know how easily I bruise, Fay…always have done…

  And then Fay had had to listen while Mrs. Reynolds had said what a good marriage she had…how lucky she was…she’d never been kept short of money, like some people she knew had…she’d wanted for nothing…

  And Fay’s mother had followed that with – ‘Don’t ever worry about me, Fay. He doesn’t mean it, not really…it only happens in bed, at night, when he’s a bit stressed about things…work and that…you know how it is. You know how it is…with some men.’

  Now, Fay pursed her lips together. No, she didn’t know how it is with some men! She didn’t want to know how it is with some men… Things like that shouldn’t be happening to anyone at all!

  The train pulled in, and Fay got to her feet. She’d bet anything that Roger would be waiting with the van to drive her back to the farm, just in case she’d decided to come back the same day…

  And he was.

  Taking her bag from her, Roger opened the door of the van for Fay to get in, then he went around and got in himself, slamming the door behind him. Without switching on the engine, he stared ahead of him for a moment, then turned to look at her. She had her head back against the seat and her eyes were closed. She was clearly upset. And it wasn’t like Fay to show her feelings.

  ‘So…how did you find everything, Fay?’ he asked gently. ‘I hope your father is still holding his own…’

  Not opening her eyes – ‘Oh yes. He’s still alive,’ she said. ‘Not too many worries there.’

  There was a long, strange silence between them, and Roger frowned briefly. Then, he put his arm around her shoulders and leaned a bit closer towards her.

  ‘What’s the matter, babe?’ he asked softly.

  He should not have said that. He should not have used that lovely, comfortable, consoling word of endearment. He should not have called her babe.

  Because in that instant, all Fay’s defences crumbled…all her angst, all her pent-up emotion, all those years of all that boiling passion disintegrated into nothingness. Falling like litter at her feet.

  And Fay wept. And wept. Her tears streaming down unchecked as she sobbed helplessly.

  Roger didn’t speak. But he handed her his large white handkerchief, and waited for to quieten. Then, softly –

  ‘Tell me, Fay,’ he murmured, still with his arm around her shoulder.

  Her face, red and glistening, Fay dropped her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes again.

  ‘Oh Roger,’ she whispered, ‘I did a terrible thing today. Too terrible to tell you. You would hate me, and you would never understand.’

  Roger could never hate Fay. Never.

  ‘Try me,’ he said. ‘Make me understand.’

  After a moment, while she tried to gather herself together, and wiping her eyes and nose over and over again, Fay said –

  ‘Today, I tried to kill my father, Roger. And I failed. Miserably.’

  Roger swallowed. She’d said he wouldn’t understand, but he was going to try.

  ‘Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it?’ he said, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. ‘You didn’t kill him – and anyway, you could never kill anyone, Fay. I know that. But…how did you intend to…to do whatever you intended to do?’ he asked.

  Fay waited before going on, then, sighing, ‘I withheld the medicine that was keeping him alive. Deliberately, I mean. I was hoping that he would die. I didn’t wait to see if I’d succeeded, and then…my mother arrived just in time to save him.’

  Fay turned to look Roger in the face. ‘Have you ever met a murderer before, Roger?’ she said. ‘Because although I didn’t succeed, it was something I had hoped to do – for most of my life. I have had murderous intent in my heart all these years, Roger. And it has eaten into my soul.’ She dropped her head onto his shoulder so that their faces were touching, and he bent to lightly kiss her forehead.

  He took a deep breath. He wasn’t exactly a man of the world, but he was a man, a wise and intelligent man, and it didn’t take too much imagination for him to guess that something dreadful had gone on behind the closed doors in Fay’s life.

  ‘So now you know what a terrible person I am,’ she went on miserably. ‘It is one thing to dislike someone, but another to wish them dead – and then to seize the first opportunity that comes along.’ She paused. ‘And whether I succeeded or not, is beside the point. Because all I feel is shame, shame that I have wanted another human being to die by my hand.’

  Roger chose his words carefully. ‘Fay, I can only imagine that you must have had a very good reason to have wanted to…kill…your father,’ he said quietly. ‘And I would never want you to tell me why. Because that part of your life is all over now, Fay, gone. It’s obviously in the past. And that’s where you must leave it…put it all behind you. For ever.’ He kissed her forehead again, tenderly. ‘I feel – honoured – that you have taken me into your confidence,’ he went on, ‘and you needn’t think that I feel any less of you, because I don’t. You are a good and lovely girl, Fay…today you must have acted on impulse, and we all do that occasionally.’

  Fay rested her face into his neck, aware of his strength, his masculinity. His kindness. Then –

  ‘Have you ever wanted anything, badly, for a long time, Roger? she asked. ‘Longing for something that you know in your heart you can never have, but wanting it just the same?’

  He answered at once. ‘Yes. I have. I do,’ he added. ‘And I’ve never told anyone about it, ever.’

  Fay turned her head to look up at him. ‘Really? What is it?’ she asked. She didn’t think his wish was going to be quite the same as hers…

  ‘Well, I sometimes wish that my life could be different…that I could…escape and travel the world, Fay. Go right away from all this, away from the farm for maybe a year or two or three or four.’ He sighed briefly. ‘You may think me mad, but I had hoped to be called up,’ he went on, ‘because that would have been the perfect excuse to cut myself adrift…only for a while, of course.’ He paused. ‘One of my mates has a cousin who’s been in North Africa, guarding Tobruk. Think how vital…how exciting that must have been!’ Roger looked down at her. ‘But I could never do anything to hurt my parents,’ he went on, ‘because they mean so much to me – and they rely on me. Totally. I could never let them down. So,’ he shrugged briefly, ‘I’ve accepted that this is my destiny, Fay, to live here for ever and ever. Not that I don’t love farming – because I do – it will always be my first love. But, just imagine going away to places that we’ve only heard about…Paris or Prague, San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas�
�or where you would see animals in the wild, see elephants and lions and tigers in their own habitat! Wouldn’t that be amazing, Fay?’ He smiled down at her. ‘So now you know my secret. Occasionally, I feel as if I’m in a straightjacket that I’ll never escape from. That there’s no way out.’

  Fay lifted her face, and with neither of them expecting it, their lips met in a slow, gentle kiss. Then –

  ‘So now we know each other’s peccadillos, Roger went on, ‘shall we forgive each other, Fay? I’ll forgive you yours, and you forgive me mine, and that’ll neutralize them and put things right. OK?’

  Fay smiled for the first time that day. ‘OK,’ she agreed.

  There was silence for a few moments, then – ‘I know,’ Roger said. ‘Let’s make a provisional date to go away somewhere, Fay…travel the world…explore…perhaps five years from now when life has settled down a bit…would you be game to come with me?’

  ‘I’d be game,’ Fay said at once.

  ‘So – where shall we make a start?’ Roger grinned, already imagining that the plan might actually work. ‘Paris? Paris sounds exciting,’ he said, ‘for starters.’

  ‘Paris it is,’ Fay agreed. ‘And we’ll hire a bateau and see which of us can spit furthest into the Seine.’

  Presently, reluctantly, he let her go and switched on the engine. ‘Sorry to spoil your otherwise “perfect day”,’ he said. ‘but I have to remind you that you’re on the early milking shift tomorrow.’

  Fay’s gran got off the bus and started walking up Red Lion Hill, back to her own home. It only took her about twenty minutes, and she’d never had trouble with her feet, thank goodness.

  A little smile played on her lips as she strolled up the hill. It had been lovely seeing their Fay today, and it had meant so much to her mum – and to her dad, as well, by all accounts. It was wonderful that they’d enjoyed talking to each other upstairs, because they’d never been close. Which was such a shame. Only child…