The Kissing Gate

by Susan Sallis

  ‘Thank you, Mr Perks,’ she came back demurely as she settled herself beside Robert. ‘See you soon, I expect.’

  Robert used his remote to close the ramp, and they drove through the village and turned in at the school gates. He stopped the van and she got out and shut the gates, breathing in the air appreciatively. It had been a long and bumpy ride from Exeter and the bus had smelled of its occupants. The drive that led to Hartley School was hemmed in by rhododendrons already showing buds; its smell was completely different.

  She hopped back into the van. ‘I have a cat’s sense of smell. When you come home with me this summer, I want you to think about smells. The difference between seaweed and rhododendrons.’

  ‘Is this one of your projects?’ He did not wait for an answer but added, ‘You’ll have to tell them before I appear.’

  ‘Yes. And yes again. You’re absolutely right, they are quite used to having a man around in a wheelchair. It’s no big deal, honestly.’

  ‘Yet you did not tell your sister.’

  ‘Like I said, there was something different about Gussie. I’m still not sure why I didn’t. Afraid it might make the chair into a problem – just not wanting it to be a big deal, I guess.’

  ‘I told my mother about us. When I said I wouldn’t visit for a while – give her and Jonathan time to settle in together – she came here. Just for the day. Two hundred and fifty miles. Just for the day.’

  Jannie looked at him. ‘So … she wanted to see you. Fairly urgently.’

  ‘She said things about children from broken homes.’ He grinned sideways at her. ‘She doesn’t quite believe in the ME. Lots of people don’t. She thinks I was subconsciously traumatized by knowing about Dad and his girlfriends. It’s her way of thinking that tomorrow or the next day – maybe the one after – I’m going to leap out of the chair and go for a run.’

  She reached over and put a hand on his arm. ‘She doesn’t quite trust me to stick around. Did you tell her about my dad?’

  ‘I told her about his wheelchair. And, of course, the Twin Towers.’ They were silent while he rounded a thicket of rhododendrons. ‘She just said that we all had to take the opportunity of happiness where and when we could.’

  Jannie drew in a quick breath. ‘That’s wonderful, Robert! So lovely.’ And he nodded.

  He slowed right down as the house came into view. It was Georgian and had a wide porticoed frontage. Every pillar was decorated with balloons. They floated in the breeze.

  Jannie held his arm. ‘Stop. Let me look.’

  He stopped, pulled on the handbrake and said, ‘I reminded her I had not lived at home – not properly – since I was eighteen.’

  She still held on to his arm. ‘She was anxious about you. You were wrong about her forgetting all about you. She must have been anxious. It was a long drive.’ She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. ‘You told her about us. You told everybody about us. Didn’t you?’

  ‘It was a bit difficult not to. When I started to do the balloons yesterday, Cathy Johnson offered to help.’

  ‘You mean she snatched a balloon from you and popped it!’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. She said, “I want some of that.” She spoke, Jan. She actually spoke. She came here last September, an elected mute. And she has now elected to speak. She has blown up eighteen balloons and tied them herself.’

  Jannie felt her eyes fill. She tried to tell him how wonderful that was, but he was still talking.

  ‘You see, Jan, I had to tell someone. About us. About how it feels to be half of someone else. About the joy but also about the – the – responsibility. You for me. Me for you.’ He sighed. ‘She doesn’t speak. But you know that somehow she understands. So I kept on with the balloons, but I told her. And she understood. And then she spoke.’

  ‘She meant she wanted some love.’

  ‘And she understood that the balloons were a symbol. They all wanted to blow balloons after that. Elizabeth said it was good for their lungs. So Geoff got the steps out and tied the higher ones.’

  Jannie whispered, ‘Oh, Robert, do you realize you have made our own very special glory gates?’ She twisted in her seat, held his face in her hands and kissed him.

  None of them, not even the suddenly loquacious Cathy Johnson, had become angels. For the younger girls the balloons meant a future wedding with a new teacher taking on some of the English students. It would be OK to turn discussions of The Tempest into possibilities of sex from a wheelchair. Cathy Johnson decided that, on the strength of her blond hair and intensely blue eyes, Jan Briscoe was Swedish. Her parents, ecstatic that she was now talking, were staying in Hartley and as the voice became louder and louder each day, eventually agreed to take her into Exeter and have her hair professionally bleached. They had been going to cancel a much-needed holiday abroad but Geoff persuaded them not to do this. In spite of having no speech for the last eighteen months, Cathy was doing extremely well academically and should continue with her school routine. She would spend time with Miss Briscoe, who was an excellent role model, each day.

  Jannie, hearing of this later, passed it on to Ned and Gussie without delay.

  It was a week later, when she was waiting for Robert to join her for their usual evening walk that she had what she dubbed a V.I.S.T. with Gussie – ‘a very important sister talk’. She knew that she had to work up to it carefully in case Gussie simply put down the receiver at her end. So she started off with some anecdotes from that day’s timetable. Gussie laughed.

  Jannie went on, encouraged, ‘Seriously, darling, I want you to come to the next event. We can get another bed into my room so that you will be part of the school. It’s on the side of a sort of dell – trees all around and a gorgeous view of the countryside in front. You’d just love it. In fact, Geoff’s wife, Elizabeth, wants to ask your advice about growing grapes. Lots of space and calm but such excitement too. Robert is still working on the electronic hand and he’s got three of the sixth-form boys and two of the girls really involved. There’s a chap called Derek Newman, who has no arms – about six inches – who tests the hand now and then. He’s actually an artist, would you believe. And the art department – wow! That’s all I can say. Wow.’

  She went on to say a lot more, however, and when she paused Gussie said slowly, ‘D’you know, Jannie, that’s the first time you’ve actually mentioned any of the children having impairments. Isn’t that absolutely marvellous?’

  Jannie smiled. ‘Yes. It is. Especially as a lot of them spend time with the therapist most days. But you’ve got it, Gus. Geoff – all of us – concentrate on providing experiences that include impairments. For instance, Marcus, the deaf chap, is teaching us BSL – that’s British Sign Language.’ Her smile turned to a grin. ‘Most of us have now got at least one remark we can make across a crowded room.’

  ‘Well? What is it?’

  Jannie started to laugh, but Gussie heard her very clearly. ‘What a plonker!’

  Gussie spluttered, ‘Oh, Jan! You make it sound great. But then of course that’s because of Robert.’

  ‘No. It is great because somehow Geoff and Elizabeth have made it so. We have all found a place for ourselves here. I am in the right place, Gus. And so is Robert.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘Gus, I thought being in love was a sort of constant ecstasy – adoration. It’s so much more than that. It’s being in the right place with the right person.’ She stopped talking for a whole two seconds and then blurted, ‘Have you told Ned your secret yet?’

  There was a shocked silence from the phone. Then Gussie said, ‘How do you know? You’ve spoken to Zannah? How could she? I can’t believe she would do such a thing!’

  Jannie said quickly, ‘Of course I haven’t been in touch with Zannah. I don’t know your secret – how could I? But I know it’s there because I know you. And whatever it is, Gus, you have to tell Ned. That’s important. When he comes home, you have to tell him.’

  ‘He is the last person on this earth … I couldn’t bear him
to know.’ Gus was obviously crying. Jannie gripped the receiver in both hands, fighting against her own sudden rush of tears.

  And then, quite suddenly, Gussie’s voice was calm again. She said, ‘Darling, don’t cry. I’ll tell you myself one day. Soon. But Ned … no. You will understand, I promise.’ Her tone changed again, became brisk. ‘Listen. Something odd’s going on about Ned’s work. I’ve had a visit from one of his colleagues at United Chemicals – Head of Research – about the special project he was working on pre Nine Eleven.’

  Jannie was successfully diverted. ‘Really? That’s strange because – I meant to tell you – he was wittering on when he phoned me at Exeter. Apparently he sent in his resignation just after – or before – Christmas. Can’t remember which now. They accepted it then, but now he’s had a letter to say they’ve changed their minds. I think he asked me to contact you about it. Oh dear, I’m sorry, Gus. I completely forgot everything once I arrived.’

  ‘Well, it’s about his resignation. This woman, Margaret Scott – Dr Margaret Scott – wanted to see him to persuade him to stay on. She was evasive; obviously didn’t want to discuss him with me. But it seems as though some extra money is being injected into the project. It has suddenly become the most important piece of research in the organization. I told her that Ned was one of a team and the research would proceed as it always has done. Anyway, she seemed so keen to talk to him that in the end I gave her that cellphone contact. And then yesterday Ned phoned me to say he was arriving home in a week or so.’

  Jannie said, ‘Is it to do with this business? Because actually he was going to New York to oversee the delivery of his father’s work to Mack. And I sort of suggested that he should come home from there. And he seemed to agree.’

  ‘Really? I assumed Margaret Scott had telephoned him and he was coming back because of that. But … was he coming anyway?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure of it. He knew that once his father had finished this special stuff he was painting, that would be it.’

  ‘Oh. I’m glad.’ Gussie sounded lighter somehow. ‘I really thought he had – how did you put it? – found a place out there. He seemed so settled. Happy.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s to do with finding a place within himself? He needed to know where he came from, Gus. After all, you always knew all about your background. He never did.’

  ‘True. You’re turning out to be the wise Briscoe, Jannie!’

  ‘I am. I probably always was. But my family never realized it.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Jannie did and Gussie added anxiously, ‘I didn’t mean it. Speak to me!’

  ‘I jolly well am, only you can’t see me. I’m saying over and over again – what a plonker!’

  She clicked off the phone, put it on her pillow and ran to meet Robert, who was bowling his chair along the terrace.

  ‘I made a mess of it! She thought I knew her secret. Oh, Rob, it must be awful. D’you suppose she murdered someone? And that awful Andrew Bellamy was blackmailing her so Zannah tried to kill him?’

  Robert looked up at her and said nothing.

  ‘I know. I’m going off on one. But the sooner Ned gets home the better!’

  Robert said, ‘Let’s go to your room. I want to kiss you and I can feel the eyes of several of your group boring into my back.’

  Jannie looked up at the long row of sash windows above them. Sure enough the evening sun highlighted the newly bleached hair of Cathy Johnson and Rita Meares. In unison they performed the well-learned sign. Jannie and Robert pretended they had not seen anything. Slowly and with great dignity, they moved back to the staff wing.

  Once in her room they clasped each other and laughed helplessly.

  Eighteen

  JANNIE TOLD ROBERT that the first few days of that summer term were to be spent in ‘cementing’ their relationship. Robert took it literally and explained in detail that the old stonemasons needed no mortar. Their building blocks, large and small, were perfectly matched. He cited cathedrals and castles and named a few names. Jannie listened because she loved the sound of his voice when he was expounding something, she loved the breadth of his knowledge, his curiosity and the way his eyes became greener as he got into his subject.

  He paused, then concluded, ‘We fit together, Jan. We knew it the moment we set eyes on each other in the workshop. That’s what they must mean when they talk about a good match. I never thought of that before.’

  ‘But you convinced your mother.’ She kissed him. ‘Of course. That’s why I didn’t bother to tell Gussie about the wheelchair. Because you’ll do it for me.’

  She sat back smiling and then looked very serious. ‘Darling, I know it’s not really my role to bring this up but I think we should get married before the autumn term begins. Some time during the summer break. What do you think?’

  He stared at her, eyes wider than she had ever seen them. She thought it was one of his jokes, pretending to be shocked at her brazen suggestion.

  But then he breathed, ‘Jan. Darling. Are you pregnant?’

  She was shocked too. Not so much by his question as his tone. He was almost breathless with sheer anticipation. They had made love twice; it must have been on his mind ever since, yet it had barely occurred to her. Well, it wouldn’t, of course, because her period had come on time as she arrived in St Ives. She looked at his face and felt her own heart leap at the thought of them making a baby.

  She smiled, kissed him, held his face in her hands. ‘That is still to come, my darling. This is much more mundane.’ She studied him and he tried to adjust his expression. ‘It’s about living quarters. And you and me being teachers. Like Geoff and Elizabeth. But if I have to be pregnant before you’ll marry me, then we’d better get on with it!’

  He pulled down one of her hands and held it hard. ‘Sorry, Jannie. It would have been so bloody marvellous. But I’ll settle for a non-shotgun wedding.’

  ‘That’s a relief. We don’t have many shotguns in St Ives. She laughed and so did he. She flipped open her diary. ‘How about the fourteenth of August – that’s a Wednesday? We’ll have been in St Ives a few weeks. People will know you and you’ll know them. Bessie will have put it about that you’re lovely—’

  ‘Bessie?’

  ‘Our neighbour. I’ve always called her Old Mrs Beck but since Old Beck died we really do need to call her by her given name. She’s a sort of public relations officer for a number of people, including us.’

  ‘Does it have to be so public, Jan? I thought a registry office somewhere.’

  ‘Darling, Father Martin will be so upset if we don’t seal the knot in church. I promise it won’t be public. It will be a weekday. Just your mum and dad and their partners. Ned and Gussie. Aunt Rosemary won’t set foot in St Ives and Uncle Rory won’t even know about it. Tell you what – I won’t breathe a word to Bessie. That way she will deny any rumours that might start elsewhere. How would that be?’

  She put her head on one side as if she were encouraging him to take a spoonful of medicine. He reached out and grabbed her and she pretended to fight him off. But not for long. And as they kissed and kissed and purposefully let their feelings build, Jannie wondered whether she should have delayed this particular moment until they had talked more about making babies. Then she simply crossed her fingers and put it out of her head. Gussie would be delighted.

  During the next two days she decided to tell Gussie about the ME. The wheelchair would not be an issue, she was certain of that. Ned might jib at the wheelchair. He could remember a time in his life when it was not omnipresent and having reconnected with a father who, at over eighty years of age, did not require one, might well colour his feelings. Gussie – like Jannie herself – had never known a father who was not dependent on a wheelchair. So, in a way, she had not considered it a secret when she had spent those three weeks with Gussie at Easter. It had been like trying to describe Robert’s deftness as a welder or as a carpenter. So many, many characteristics added up to the sum total of Robert Hanniford.

 
But to cover all angles she must somehow let Gussie know that a baby was an imminent part of the plan. Any objections would be swept away by that. Gussie was now thirty-one years old and seemed uninterested in men, let alone babies. The mystery of her engagement to Andrew Bellamy could well have put her off marriage and babies for ever. A nephew or niece was the obvious answer. Jannie chewed her lip as she considered this. What on earth could have happened? Just what was the mystery about? And if Jannie told her about their plans, Gussie might feel obliged to do likewise and explain her feelings?

  She offered to do the shopping trip into Hartley that Saturday. Robert was working with Derek Newman, the sixth-form boy who had no arms. They were testing the electronic hand. It always happened on a Saturday out of the timetable and this time the physiotherapist was there. Jannie sensed that Robert was being supervised in some way, especially when he asked her to do the shopping trip without him.

  She drove the van to the post office and parked next to the storeroom. Between them she and Mr Perks loaded the next week’s supplies into the vehicle and then she made her phone call from the kiosk next to the pillar box.

  She counted ten rings because that was how long it took to get from kitchen to hallway, but when it went on to fifteen and then twenty she thought Gussie must be next door with Bessie Beck or fetching weekend shopping from Fore Street. Then the ringing stopped and Gussie’s voice said breathlessly, ‘Have you broken down? Where are you?’

  ‘Gussie – it’s me. Jannie.’

  ‘Oh, darling … hello. I was expecting Ned really early. He was staying with Aunt Ro in Bristol overnight and expected to be here for breakfast. But no message and he hasn’t turned up.’

  There was fear behind the breathlessness. Jannie said, ‘Try Aunt Rosemary again. He could have been delayed, for some reason.’

  ‘He could. Thanks, Jan. The voice of reason. I’ll do that now.’ And she put the receiver down at her end.

  Jannie stared through the window at the post office and the van, and beyond that, the little River Otter and a field of cows. Gussie thought she was phoning from Hartley so she would ring back there. Jannie was filled with the kind of childish frustration she remembered so well from her childhood. For two pins she could have cried as she would have done then. Then she said aloud, ‘Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. Trying to do a deal with secrets!’