The Girl on the Cliff

by Lucinda Riley

  Mary felt a sudden jolt in her stomach as she realized that Anna was not the only one to have become more than fond of their regular visitor. There was something about Jeremy that reminded her of the last time she’d seen Sean. She had that same feeling of protectiveness toward him. And attraction . . .

  Mary pulled herself up short. She had to end this nonsense at once. She was an orphaned Irish spinster and former domestic servant, whereas Jeremy Langdon was obviously a gentleman. He was simply a friend and a companion, someone who had known the kind of terrible pain in his life which she could empathize with. And that was the way it must stay.

  • • •

  A few days later, there was a knock on Mary’s door. Startled, as Anna was out at her ballet lesson and she wasn’t expecting a client, Mary went to the door and opened it.

  “Jeremy,” she said in astonishment. Never had Jeremy come to the flat without Anna bringing him in. “I . . . are you all right?”

  “N-No.”

  Mary could see by the ghostly color of his skin and the expression in his eyes that something had happened. “Come in. Anna’s not back yet, but we’ll be having a cup of tea while we wait, shall we?”

  “I w-wanted to speak to you. W-Without Anna.”

  “Well now, you sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be off to make the tea.”

  “N-N-No! N-Need to speak, not d-drink!”

  Mary noticed his speech was far more stilted than it had been in recent weeks. She led him into the sitting room and sat him down in his usual chair.

  “Are you sure I can’t be getting you anything, Jeremy?” she asked as she took the chair opposite him.

  “My go-godmother d-died l-last night.”

  “I—oh, Jeremy . . . I’m so sorry, pet.”

  “I . . .” Jeremy put a shaking hand to his forehead. “S-Sorry,” he offered as tears began to fall down his face. “Only p-person who”—he choked—“c-cared for me! L-Loved me! How I am n-now!”

  Mary watched as his shoulders heaved in despair. Unable to bear his suffering, she did the only thing she could. She went to Jeremy and put her arms around him. “There now,” she whispered, cradling him as if he were a child, stroking his soft hair, “You have a good cry. Nothing wrong with crying, is there?”

  As Jeremy continued to sob, she wrapped her arms tighter around his chest. “I’m here, Jeremy, and so is Anna. And we both care for you.”

  Jeremy turned his anguished eyes up to Mary. “D-Do you c-care? For a b-broken wreck like me? How c-can you?”

  “Because you’re a good, kind man. And whatever happened to you out there in the trenches was not your fault. It doesn’t change who you are inside, now does it?”

  Jeremy’s head dropped forward and Mary bent down on her knees and reached up to hold him. He buried his face in her shoulder. “Th-That’s n-not what my parents think, they h-hate what I’ve b-become. So ashamed! W-Wanted to h-hide me.”

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Mary shuddered, horrified. “I’m so sorry for what you have suffered. But I promise, it does not change the person that you were and still are. There now, you must remember that, Jeremy. The war did terrible things to men like you. Us at home had no idea what you went through to win us our freedom.”

  “You th-think so?”

  “I know so.” Mary felt the wetness of his tears dampening her shoulder. “I had a . . . somebody, who was out there for years. And, right at the end, didn’t survive to see us win.”

  At that, Jeremy lifted his head from her shoulder and looked directly at Mary. “Y-You l-lost your s-sweetheart?”

  “My fiancé. And any idea of the life we had planned along with him.”

  “M-Mary, I th-think you must b-be an angel. The way you c-care for Anna, and m-me. Listening to everything we t-talk of and yet you have l-lost so much yourself.”

  “Yes. But I haven’t faced the fear and pain and the memories of those things which you must live over and over.”

  “Yes, but you too have suffered b-because of the d-damned war! Mary.” Jeremy took her hands from his shoulders and curled them in his. “I have been thinking of this f-for a while. And what I th-think is th-that I l-love you. I love you.” With huge effort, Jeremy repeated the phrase without stuttering.

  There was a pause as Mary looked into Jeremy’s eyes. Her natural common sense and pragmatism won over what he was saying. This was a moment of high emotion and need for him. And she mustn’t believe it. “Jeremy, you are in so much pain, you’re not after knowing where you are. It’s the shock, you see. And—”

  “N-No! It’s not the shock. You are so b-beautiful and so kind. I’ve l-loved you from the moment you handed me the c-coat. Since then, I haven’t been coming to stand by the l-lamppost to think of my dead sweetheart. But to catch a g-glimpse of you.”

  “Jeremy—stop it, please!” Mary said desperately.

  “It’s true! I watched Anna, knew she was your d-daughter, spoke to her. To give me a chance to meet you p-properly. And t-today, when I’ve l-lost the only person who c-cared for me, I had to tell you my feelings! L-life is very short!”

  Mary looked up into his tear-filled eyes in wonderment. Not only because Jeremy professed to love—to love her—but because he had just managed to utter at least two paragraphs in the same breath.

  “Well now, Jeremy, I’d be saying that is very kind of you, but I think, if I’m honest, you’ve had a bit of a nasty shock, so.”

  “Mary.” Jeremy’s tears had dried now. His eyes softened as he looked at her. “I understand that you and I, we b-both know what pain is. Trust me, I would never play with your f-feelings. And I’m not getting mine c-confused either. Perhaps you feel nothing f-for me anyway.”

  Mary sat at Jeremy’s feet, her eyes downcast, her hands still held in his.

  “I understand.” Jeremy nodded. “How c-could anyone l-love somebody like me?”

  Mary dragged her eyes up to his again. “No, ’tis not that. It’s simply that I’ve loved before and lost. I”—Mary drew in her breath—“do care for you. In fact, I’d be saying I care for you a deal too much. And if you were to go out of my life, I’d be worrying that I’d miss you.”

  “Well, I understand that we’ve both l-lost someone. We share that. Could we share the fact we’ve f-found someone too?”

  “Oh, Jeremy, you know nothing about me.” Mary shook her head sadly. “There’s many things I’ve done, many things about me—”

  “M-Mary, I’ve killed other human b-beings! Nothing you could ever tell me would shock me, after what I have s-seen. And whatever it is, my love, I would want to share it! So tell me and I will t-tell you of the things I’ve d-done. That’s what l-love is all about, isn’t it? Trust?”

  “But, Jeremy, pet,” Mary whispered, “I’m an orphan from nowhere. You are a gentleman, and you need a lady. I can never be that, not even for you.”

  “Do you think I care?! My mother is a real l-lady and when I came b-back from the t-trenches, she put me into an”—Jeremy struggled to say the word—“asylum! Her own ch-child!” He gulped back his tears. “War has changed everything, there is nothing I n-need to know about you. Other than that you are the k-kindest person I have ever met. And you have a b-beautiful heart.”

  “Ah, Jeremy . . .” Mary took her hands away from his and wiped her eyes roughly.

  It was Jeremy’s turn to reach down, pull her from the floor and fold her into his arms. And what she felt there, after years of loneliness, she could hardly describe. The smell of him, a man’s smell—so familiar, yet unknown.

  He tipped her chin up and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Mary, I’d never h-hurt you. You must believe me. I c-can read the fear in your eyes. I’ve seen it so m-many times b-before.”

  He planted gentle kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. Finally, she gave up trying to analyze whatever this might mean, and gave in. Feelings were aroused in her as he kissed her and caressed her which Mary thought she’d never experience again. For all J
eremy’s outward disabilities, Mary felt his maleness and his strength.

  Twenty minutes later, Mary glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Anna will be waiting for me.” She climbed off Jeremy’s knee and straightened her hair in the mirror.

  “May I accompany you to c-collect her?”

  Mary turned and smiled at him. “If you’d be wanting to, yes.”

  A disgruntled Anna was sitting on the steps outside the studio when Mary and Jeremy appeared around the corner. Her expression changed immediately as she saw them.

  “Hello, you two! You’re late.” She smiled.

  “Yes, sorry about that, pet, but Jeremy came round to see me. He’s had some bad news today, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna looked at him quizzically. “You look very happy for someone who’s had b-bad news,” she responded.

  Jeremy gave Mary a secret smile as they set off toward home. Anna danced happily along in front of the two of them. “It’s all right, I know why. I’ve been waiting for this to h-happen for weeks!” She stopped suddenly on the pavement to turn around to face them. “You two love each other, don’t you?”

  “Well now, I . . .” Mary blushed furiously.

  Jeremy took her hand firmly in his. “Yes. Do you m-mind?”

  “Of course I don’t! I think I’m about the happiest girl in the world. It means that if you two get married, I have a mother and a father. And we can be a p-proper family.” Anna threw her arms spontaneously around both of them. “Because I love both of you l-lots and lots and lots!”

  20

  The death of Jeremy’s godmother had left him the owner of a large house in West Kensington, enough money to provide him with a small income for life and a smart black Ford car. A week after his godmother’s funeral, Jeremy took Mary and Anna to see his house.

  Anna ran from room to room happily. “It’s almost as big as Cadogan House, b-but not quite.”

  Mary shifted uncomfortably when Anna made the comparison. Although she trusted Jeremy implicitly, any talk of the past, especially to someone who came from the same social class as her former employees, had to be dangerous.

  As Anna ran down the stairs into the entrance hall, she stopped and turned to look at Mary and Jeremy, who were walking down with more decorum behind her. “Are you going to ask us to come and l-live here with you, Jeremy? It’s a big house for just you. And it seems silly, Mary and I l-living in our little flat, when you have all this space.”

  “Now then, Anna.” Mary blushed at Anna’s lack of guile. “Jeremy’s only showing us his house. Don’t be asking him such impertinent questions.”

  “Sorry, Mary. It w-was just that I thought . . .”

  “You th-thought right, Anna.” Jeremy smiled. “The l-logic of a child. Well, Mary, would you l-like to come and l-live here?”

  “Please . . . !” It was all too much. Mary fled down the rest of the stairs, across the hall and out of the front door. She didn’t stop running until she arrived in the safety of her own sitting room.

  Jeremy arrived at the front door of her flat ten minutes later. She let him in, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s Anna?” she asked.

  “I’ve told Mrs. Hawkins, the housekeeper, to give her t-tea. I th-thought that you and I should have a ch-chat. Can I come in?”

  Mary nodded tearfully, then turned and walked back into the sitting room. “Jeremy, I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever it is, it’s not something I can ever give you. You don’t know who I am! I’m not a lady, as I said before. And your housekeeper knew it. I could see it in her eyes. I should be serving you, not being your girlfriend!”

  Jeremy took out a handkerchief and offered it to her as she sank into a chair. “Mary, I’ve b-been in your company almost every day for months now. You are everything a l-lady should be. And as for your so-social position, I learned in the trenches that class has nothing to do with one’s c-character. As for the secrets you keep, I can only say I will l-listen. I’ve said to you before, there is nothing that can ever sh-shock me.” He knelt down in front of her, wiping a stray piece of hair from her cheek. “And I believe that love can f-forgive and understand anything. Tell me, Mary, tr-trust me,” he urged.

  Mary sighed deeply, knowing that to tell him would perhaps be the end of their possible future. But to give that future a chance, she had to do as he asked.

  Mary asked for help from up above. And, finally, she nodded.

  “I’ll tell you.”

  • • •

  Twenty minutes later, Mary wrung her hands. “The fact is, I have committed a sin against God. I’ve pretended Anna is dead and I’ve stolen her away. I’ve stolen a child. Oh, God save me . . .”

  Jeremy went to her and held her tight in his arms. “Mary, Mary, please d-don’t punish yourself anymore. Yes, you’ve done a wrong thing, but for the r-right reasons. You did it because you love Anna, and wanted her h-happy and safe.”

  “But did I do it for Anna?” Mary looked up at him in anguish. “Or for me, because I needed her?”

  “From what you’ve t-told me, and the danger you’ll face if the secret is ever discovered, I would b-believe your motives were unselfish.”

  “You really think that?”

  “Yes.” Jeremy took her hands and squeezed them hard. “I d-do. Mary, is it any different from telling a relative that their son d-died in the trenches painlessly, when in fact he was screaming in agony? And”—Jeremy looked away—“perhaps taking days to die. Or a platoon captain sending his men over the t-top every day, knowing they were going to their d-deaths?” Jeremy’s gaze fell on her once more. “You have done your best to pr-protect someone you love, and you should n-never be ashamed of that! Never! And I l-love you even more for what you’ve done.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. You are brave and g-good and strong.”

  “Ah, Jeremy, I’m not. I’m so frightened of being discovered and Anna taken away from me. I look behind me every time I’m out of the flat.”

  “Protecting an orphan, just like yourself, is something to be proud of. B-besides”—Jeremy smiled at her—“I just m-might be able to help you and Anna. If you m-marry me, that is.”

  “Even after all I’ve told you, you still want to?” Mary was astonished.

  “More than ever, Mary. I p-promise you.”

  21

  Three months later, Mary Swan, orphaned child of parents unknown, became Mrs. Jeremy Langdon, chatelaine of a large house in Kensington. The only other person present at the wedding was Anna Swan, a girl of ten.

  In the following year, three things happened to make Mary believe there truly was a God protecting her. She found herself pregnant, which brought untold joy to all of them. Then Jeremy, through channels which Mary did not wish to know about, discovered that Lawrence Lisle had died nine months earlier of malaria in Bangkok. Elizabeth Lisle, so he’d heard, had miscarried her baby soon afterward, but, equally, had lost no time in finding herself another suitable husband. Jeremy’s contacts had discovered the chap had been posted to Shanghai and Elizabeth Lisle had accompanied him.

  “You d-do understand what this means, Mary? It means you’re free. Lawrence Lisle can n-never come after you now. And from what I heard, I’d d-doubt Elizabeth Lisle would be interested.”

  Mary crossed herself, feeling guilty at the relief she felt that Lawrence Lisle was dead. “ ’Tis sad news, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t part of me that’s happy. Mind you, Jeremy, I doubt I’ll ever be able to relax again.”

  “I know, darling, but he c-can’t get you where he’s gone, I promise. Which means I think I should investigate our going through the process of officially adopting Anna.”

  “But she has no birth certificate. And not even a second name.”

  “Leave it to me, darling.” Jeremy waved this away as a mere detail. “I may be a wreck of a man now, but C-Captain Jeremy Langdon can still call in a few fav
ors at the H-Home Office. One chap in particular owes me his life.” He patted Mary’s hand and gently moved it to the small, but visible, outline of the baby nestling inside her.

  • • •

  Six weeks before their own baby was due to be born, Mary and Jeremy signed the adoption papers that would legally make Anna their own child.

  “No one can touch her now, darling. Or take you or her away from m-me,” he’d whispered softly into her ear.

  Mary watched with tears in her eyes as Anna danced around the kitchen table with her certificate of adoption.

  “Anna Langdon,” she mouthed in contentment, and then threw her arms around both of her new parents. “I’m so happy, I can hardly b-breathe!”

  The baby arrived, much to Mary’s frustration, ten days late, but otherwise without incident. Mary lay in her beautiful bedroom, a baby to her breast, her beloved husband and newly adopted child cooing over both of them. She only wished that time could stand still, wished she could die at this very moment, because she could not feel any greater contentment. The baby, a plump, rosy-cheeked girl they named Sophia, after Mary’s favorite saint, was placid and happy. Mary watched with pleasure as Jeremy gently cradled his daughter in his arms.

  She noticed how, these days, his stammer was barely discernible when he spoke to her. And the terrible nightmares he’d suffered—waking up screaming and drenched in sweat—were lessening as time passed. Mary had read all she could about shell shock, knew it rarely disappeared, but could at least be controlled by a peaceful and tranquil existence. Jeremy rarely left the house, other than to stroll through Kensington Gardens on his way home from buying The Times, but if he did so and they were in a noisy London street, he’d jump every time a horn sounded. Both his stammer and his shaking hands would become more acute for a while afterward. Yet the restrictions placed on their life were not a problem to Mary. As long as her family was calm and content, so was she.

  Jeremy took to painting and proved himself a more than adequate artist. When Mary looked at the black darkness of the trenches he reproduced, she shuddered, but she knew it was cathartic for him, an outward expression of all the pain, fear, loss and death he relived every single day of his life.