The Kissing Gate

by Susan Sallis

  ‘OK.’ Gussie was balancing on a milestone, gazing over the ferns. ‘I didn’t realize you could see Seal Island from here.’

  She stepped down and Jannie took her place. ‘Oh, yes. And before that, there’s that cove where we used to jump into the sea at high tide and float up into the cave – d’you remember?’ She laughed. ‘Let’s do that tomorrow. We want to go that way for the next gate. Let’s take our costumes and leap again like frogs. Go on, Gussie – please!’ She leaped from the milestone and did an imitation of herself at ten years old, hands together in supplication.

  Gussie did not reply. She bent down and untied then retied her sensible walking shoes.

  Jannie reverted to the infant school playground, put her thumbs in her ears and waggled her fingers as she mimicked. ‘Oh, all right, I get the message. Only the beginning of April … risk of hypothermia. “Ne’er cast a clout till May is out …”’

  Gussie whipped off her long scarf, doubled it and advanced menacingly. Jannie began to run. Gussie chased her until they were at the next bus stop and far away from any sea views.

  ‘Here’s the bus.’ Jannie dodged into the shelter and turned, holding up hands in surrender this time, laughing and then doubling up. ‘Sorry, Sis. Sorry. You know Mum wouldn’t mind me using her words – no, OK, that was not as she sounded. Actually, it was meant to be you!’

  The bus drew in and Gussie panted, ‘You never used to be quite so cheeky as this! Where’s the respect for your older sister? Ten years older, I would remind you!’

  ‘Not till August!’

  They paid for single tickets to Royal Square and the driver said, ‘No need for ’ee to run like that, m’ dears. I’d’ve waited.’

  They settled into one of the double seats like birds into a nest and the driver called out, ‘Next stop, the Stennack.’

  Someone negotiated for a stop before that. ‘Got to see Granny Perkins. Staying with her sister, Barnoon way.’

  ‘Cemetery corner, then?’

  ‘Do very nicely, m’dear.’

  Gussie said, ‘It was just like this on the country buses in France, except there was probably a crate of hens somewhere!’

  Jannie smiled contentedly. ‘Devon too. I like to think of people on buses and trains and planes, sharing space and time together. Not for long. Just a touch of hands in passing.’

  They were walking back home along Fore Street when Gussie said out of the blue, ‘Yes, let’s do that. Wait for Ned to come home. We need a calm sea and the tide to be just right.’

  Jannie had paused at the display of Leach pottery in one of the windows.

  She said, ‘I loved making pottery when I was a kid. That thumb pot on the windowledge – that was my first attempt.’ She frowned and added in the next breath, ‘Are you talking about Bamaluz Point? Jumping in? Ned would never do that.’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Jannie’s frown deepened. ‘Well, we could do it anyway. I was only half serious, Gus. It’s not important. Is it?’

  ‘To me. Yes.’

  ‘Can you tell me?’

  ‘No. I can only show you. That’s why Ned should do it too.’

  ‘Is it before my time?’

  ‘Don’t try to make it into a guessing game, Jannie. Please.’

  Jannie was silent and they resumed walking. She guided herself close to her sister; Gussie reached out; they held hands. Jannie said, ‘What shall we have for supper? Shall I do pasta like I used to?’

  Gussie’s face split into a grin. ‘You did it once and once only!’

  ‘I’ve improved since then. Students live on spag bol – you must remember that!’

  ‘I loved it, actually. So … yes, please.’

  ‘Then shall we ring Ned?’

  ‘What time will it be on the West Coast?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘We’ll find out.’

  Jannie hugged her sister’s arm. ‘We’re still in the same boat, aren’t we, Gussie?’

  ‘I think so.’

  They reached the steps to the cobbled court of Mount Zion. A long black car was parked next to the Friendship bench. It was a hearse.

  Seventeen

  OLD BECK HAD died. He had gone to the Fishermen’s Lodge for his usual five-minute yarn, which had lasted from three to four o’clock. Then he had spent another ten minutes talking to a visitor about the Tate Gallery before going in to sit by the range till his missis came home after Bright Hour at chapel. When his Queen Victoria mug was full of tea and she had almost finished recounting the events of her afternoon, he announced he was going to close his eyes. Just for five minutes. His wife drank his tea.

  She looked smaller than usual, as if her Old Beck had taken something of her with himself. She could not stop talking.

  ‘I did know ’e was going. Nuthin’ to be done about it. Sat by him and felt his body empty of ’imself. Put out my ’and to stop him. No good. ’E were gone.’ She looked up at Jannie who was trying to cradle the stiff old body into her own young shoulder. ‘They took ’im off a bit quick. I went round to your place to use the phone and by the time I got back to ’im, they was ’ere. With the doctor – they couldn’t take ’im without a sustificate. Mr Salem always used to say we coulda been brother and sister, ’im an’ me. ’Is daddy were engaged to my mother. Then my mother fell off the end o’ Smeaton’s and Arthur Kennett did pull ’er into ’is boat. And that was that. What the sea do give you is yours. But old Mr Salem, ’e did marry the undertaker’s daughter and did very well for ’imself.’ She paused and added, ‘I shan’t ’aff miss Old Beck. ’E were the best friend I ever ’ad.’ She peered up at the two girls. ‘When we was together like, private, ’e did used to call me Bessie.’

  Jannie thought of Robert and felt her heart fill with tenderness; she must remember to tell him that. Gussie paused in her tea-making and thought of Mark and Kate … so many different kinds of love.

  She said gently, ‘He wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the night keeping watch.’ She poured tea and laced it with rum from Old Beck’s naval days. ‘That was why Mr Salem took him to the chapel of rest. You come round to us and sleep in the double room.’ No one had slept in Mark and Kate’s room since they left for America, and Old Mrs Beck knew this was an honour.

  She said grudgingly, ‘Wouldna ’urt to spend one last night sitting by the fire together. But then … ’e’d gone. It woulda been no more than sitting by his clo’es. And they was smelly enough, ’eaven alone knows.’

  Jannie avoided Gussie’s eyes in case they both laughed. And Bessie Beck wouldn’t understand laughter at such a moment. Old Beck and his missis had been good friends to the Briscoes ever since they could remember. She had kept an eye on them before Jannie, in the days when Zannah came and went. And after that Old Beck had taken Ned out in his boat to bring in the lobster pots. It was another ending, another forced beginning.

  The Bamaluz Point project was dropped for the rest of Easter, as was the search for the special gate of glory. They went with Old Mrs Beck to register her husband’s death and then to arrange his funeral. They cut sandwiches, made scones and cakes and borrowed trestle tables from the restaurant on the wharf to set up on the cobbles of Mount Zion itself. Luckily the weather, though grey, was still and dry. People came and went until every scrap of food was gone. Then the women stayed and helped to clear away.

  Jannie hardly knew how she felt about going back to Exeter. The end of the Easter holiday seemed to be upon her suddenly; only two days left before the new term started at Hartley. It would be wonderful to see Robert again, but somehow there seemed a lot of unfinished business right here.

  ‘We were going to ask Aunt Rosemary about Rory,’ Jannie said mournfully. ‘And didn’t we say we’d go to Trewyn House and see what was happening there?’

  Gussie looked away. ‘That was you. I don’t want to see it again. When I went for the clothes it was creepy. Besides, it belongs to some big consortium now. We’d probably get ourselves arrested for trespass.’
<
br />   ‘There you go, excuses again. I hope you’re not becoming a wimp in your old age!’ Jannie came behind her sister’s chair and put her arms around her shoulders, her face against the dark hair. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘I thought you’d be thrilled to get back to Robert.’

  ‘I am. Of course. But … I’d be happier still if I thought you were happy.’

  ‘Jannie, that’s not fair. We’ve had a lovely time. You can see I’ve been happy!’

  ‘Oh, I know you’re pleased about getting on so well with Zannah. But – but you still can’t see a future. I know there’s something else.’ She straightened, impatient with herself. ‘It’s Robert’s fault. He’s made me supersensitive and it’s not really me!’

  Gussie relaxed at last, turned in her chair and butted her sister’s arm. ‘Oh, yes, it is. You don’t know you like I know you!’

  Though their last two days were full of laughter, Jannie still rang Ned from her room at Exeter and told him to ‘hurry up and come home and do something about Gussie’.

  His reply was completely irrelevant.

  ‘Do you know whether Gussie gave this address to United Chemicals?’

  ‘What? Oh … your firm. No, I’ve no idea. But she would have said if there had been an enquiry.’

  ‘When did you leave?’

  ‘Yesterday. I came to Exeter first. I need to see my education tutor.’

  ‘So they could have contacted Gussie today? No, that’s stupid. They need to have written two or three days ago. They did not know I was here. I resigned before Christmas and they wrote back then, accepting my resignation with much regret. Now, today, I receive a letter saying they cannot after all accept my resignation. What’s that all about? And how the hell did they know I was over here?’ He paused. ‘It’s from my director, too. I don’t get it, Jan.’

  ‘I don’t either. But does it matter?’

  ‘I don’t like mysteries. My mother should have told me about my father. And now Gussie … all this business about her long-lost fiancé. She should have told us about that. And why on earth her crazy mother decided to push him into a river – what’s all that about?’ He sounded strangely angry.

  Jannie said, ‘Hey, my dissertation has got me a First. I’m telling you now, before I’ve phoned Gussie. OK? No mystery there.’

  There was a pause, then an explosion in her ear as he laughed. ‘Oh, Jan, sorry – and well done! How marvellous. You deserve it. Congratulations.’

  ‘It was rather a nice surprise,’ she said. ‘He phoned me – Howard Summer – isn’t it a lovely name? I never thought so before. He always seemed such an old stick-in-the-mud. He wanted to see me to discuss my future. I was going to get the bus out to Hartley yesterday but Robert and I chatted it over and it seemed more sensible to get the interview over first, then leave here. The kids will be back by then and settled in. I’m going to stay there for the whole of the summer term. Make myself absolutely indispensable so that Geoff has to offer me a job.’

  ‘If that’s what you really want.’

  ‘I do, honestly. I can tell you and Gussie think it’s only because Robert is there but I am pretty certain that if Robert had not been there, I would still have adored to teach those children. They are so … worthwhile.’

  ‘Oh, Jan, you’ve hit the nail on the head. That’s what we all need – to be doing something worthwhile! Conrad looking after Victor, and Victor painting people who matter! And now you getting your honours degree and knowing just what to do about it – good for you!’

  For a moment Jannie was overwhelmed by her brother’s praise. Then she said robustly, ‘Don’t forget all your work with United Chemicals. And Gussie’s wonderful gardens.’ She thought of her sister, alone, marking time and went on quickly, ‘And I think you’re wrong about Gussie and her mystery. I think she was dumped by this Andrew Bellamy. She was very hurt in all kinds of ways. And she did not want all of us worrying about her. She’s private but she’s not secretive, not in the way you are imagining at present.’

  He said hesitantly, ‘All right … How was she?’

  ‘Up for it. She met me at the station three weeks ago with your awful old trolley. We’ve put it back in Grampy’s studio but I suggest you chop it up.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘What with? Oh, Gussie. I’d worked out a project for us to do – keep us occupied and not broody. You know.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘It’s called the glory gates project. We’re looking – mapping – all the kissing gates Mum and Dad could have used. There might be a special one somewhere. We might plant a cross or something. Don’t know. We haven’t found it yet. Oh, and we’ve decided we will jump off the cliff at Bamaluz Point, like we used to.’

  ‘I did it only once. Never again. Count me out.’

  ‘Gussie is waiting for you to join us before we do it.’

  ‘Wait on, Macduff.’ He laughed. ‘Listen up, Junior. When you talk to Gussie tomorrow ask her whether she knows anything about United Chemicals.’

  ‘Ask her yourself. She always has to phone you. It’s not fair.’

  ‘I’m going to New York tomorrow with the paintings. Victor wants me to hang them – or advise on the hanging. It will have to wait till I get back.’

  She heard him take a deep breath; it sounded like a force-nine gale.

  He said, ‘It’s time I came home.’

  She was shocked at his tone. ‘Don’t you want to?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘More than anything.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  ‘You won’t be there. Old Beck won’t be there. Mum and Dad—’

  ‘Shut up, Ned! Gussie is there. She needs you.’

  ‘I’m a coward, Jannie.’

  ‘What utter rubbish!’

  ‘I’ve got a place here. A role. With my father. I’ve got to start again if I come home.’

  Jannie almost shouted down the phone, ‘You’ve always had a place. Your mother is my mother, my father is Gussie’s father. I thought you understood this better than I did. I thought you always knew it and I didn’t really get it till after they were gone and we were left!’

  There was a shocked silence. She calmed down and said quietly, ‘Just come home, Ned. If you’re going to New York tomorrow, say your goodbyes and get a flight home from there. It sounds as if you’ve done what you went to do.’

  Still he did not speak.

  At last she said sharply, ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

  He said, ‘Yes … to all that. Thank you, Jannie. Speak again soon. Congratulations.’ He pressed a button and was gone.

  Robert met her at Hartley’s post office. The bus drew in and there was no sign of him or his van. The driver lifted her suitcase on to the wide pavement and looked up and down the road.

  ‘He’s late, miss. And I reckon it’s going to tip down with rain any minute now.’

  She said with complete confidence, ‘He’s on his way. I phoned him at Otterdown and he was already crossing the river.’

  Then the post office door pinged as it opened and there he was, blessedly and wonderfully familiar in jeans and oiled wool sweater, one of his silly pseudo-naval hats pulled well forward over floppy ginger fringe, thin face halved by an enormous grin and green eyes alight. She went to meet him, dragging her case, shouldering her backpack. She felt the usual tenderness filling her physical body. It had happened the first time they had set eyes on each other. She knew it would always be there.

  She said, ‘I haven’t been lovesick. I promise. Have you?’

  ‘No. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you every minute of every day.’

  She swallowed. ‘Likewise.’ She looked away from the clever face, down to the big, capable hands. She said, ‘I couldn’t tell her – I couldn’t tell Gussie. I’m sorry, my darling.’

  He said, ‘You didn’t phone so I knew you hadn’t. Will it matter to her?’

  ‘No. But there is something between us at the moment. She has a secr
et.’

  He lifted his hands and took hers and pulled her down. ‘So have you, my darling.’

  She crouched and held on to the wheelchair, and he cupped her face in those wonderful hands and kissed her. She closed her eyes; it was a butterfly kiss. She savoured it. She whispered, ‘I could not have borne it if she had been … cautious.’

  ‘Why would she be? Her father was a wheelchair user.’ He kissed her again, this time on the tip of her nose.

  ‘That might have been a reason for caution. She is different. She used to be my older sister. And Ned’s too. Now … she needs someone, something.’

  ‘In other words, she needed you, and you were scared that if you said your new boyfriend had ME she would feel you were moving away?’

  She opened her eyes abruptly and stared into his. She saw they were full of laughter but still said angrily, ‘You are not – a hundred times not – my new boyfriend! And Gussie is not “needy” like that – not one bit!’

  ‘OK. What am I then?’

  ‘You are my love.’ She held his gaze. ‘You are the light of my life. You and I were put on this earth to be together.’

  They stared, not wanting to pull away, recognizing one of their moments of what Robert the practical called ‘inter-locking connection’.

  At last he said, ‘You deserve that honours degree, Jan. You’ve got a brain and you’re not afraid to use it.’

  The van was parked behind the post office with its ramp open on to the door of the storeroom. Mr Perks, the postmaster, was loading two crates of tinned food into the interior next to a rack of tools. Robert manoeuvred his chair carefully past other groceries and ran it into the driver’s well. He grinned as he passed Mr Perks.

  ‘I know you were running a book on whether she would come back – well, she’s here. How does that suit you?’

  ‘Very well, Mr Hanniford.’ Mr Perks pushed Jannie’s case beneath a bench and winked at Jannie. ‘He bet me a trillion pounds you’d come back. I nearly rang you up and told you to stay in St Ives and we’d split the money between us but as I knew he’d only got his teacher’s pay, it didn’t seem worth it, really.’ He took her backpack and shoved it after the case. ‘Welcome back, Miss Briscoe.’