by Rosie Harris
‘Always been one of the family, you know,’ he quipped.
Helen stiffened, biting her bottom lip to check the sharp retort she’d been about to make. Turning away she said over her shoulder, ‘The meal is all ready. I’ll have it on the table by the time you’ve taken off your coats.’
Back in the privacy of the kitchen, Helen leant against the oven, trying to quell the fury that seethed inside her. With his firm square jaw and intensely blue eyes it was almost like welcoming Adam back into the house.
The breadth of the man, the strength of him as he towered above her, brought alive feelings that she had long considered dormant. Seeing him evoked mental torment, the self-inflicted torture that had gnawed at her happiness ever since she had first realised Gary’s parentage.
Resolutely, she pushed these thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on dishing up the meal. Then she called out to Lucy to help carry the plates and dishes and asked Mark to see they were all seated round the dining-table.
‘Where are you sitting … you’ve put me in your place, haven’t you?’ Gary asked, his eyes challenging as Helen finally came to the table.
‘I … I’ll squeeze in between the two girls. They’ll make room for me.’
‘Nonsense! This is your place. I remember you always like to sit here so that you can pop back out to the kitchen without disturbing anyone … see what a memory I have?’ Gary said lightly. ‘I’ll push in between Mark and Lucy.’
Helen’s heart jolted uneasily as she saw how Lucy’s cheeks turned pink as she made room for Gary to sit next to her.
The meal passed without incident. There was so much to be said, so many questions to be asked and answered, that it was mid-afternoon before they moved from the table.
Mark suddenly pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I must get back to the yard and see to the milking,’ he told them.
‘I’ll come and give you a hand if you like,’ Gary volunteered.
‘Wait for me,’ Lucy said, rising from her chair before Helen could recover from her surprise.
As Ruth helped her clear away, Helen kept looking out of the window to where Gary and Lucy were carrying feed across the meadow to the chickens. It was a task that Lucy had always steadfastly refused to do. In fact, as far as work on the farm was concerned, she had long ago made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested.
Helen knew she should feel grateful since it was one job less for her to do, but she would have far rather gone out and tended to the hens herself than see Lucy and Gary together. She was more than relieved when they came back indoors and Gary said he must be getting back to London, as Sheila would be expecting him.
Once Gary had left, Helen was perfectly happy and contented. She had her family around her, the spirit of Christmas pervaded the house, there was plenty of food and fun and everyone was happy.
Sally and Anna had only vague memories of the farm but took to it enthusiastically, eager to be out of doors with the animals from the moment they were awake in the morning until it was dark. Hugh helped Mark around the farm, leaving Helen the opportunity to have Ruth to herself. And Helen was pleasantly surprised by the empathy between them. Ruth had matured during her two years in Hong Kong. She seemed not only more gentle, but far more tolerant and understanding.
The happy, relaxed atmosphere also brought Helen and Hugh closer. In the past she had avoided his company because of his air of superiority. She always felt that he was secretly gloating because Ruth had married him in spite of her strong opposition.
Now, Helen saw him in a new light. What she had taken for arrogance she now realised was quiet reserve and that, beneath his handsome exterior, he was in fact quite shy. There was also, from time to time, a deep, brooding sadness in his dark eyes and this worried her so much she mentioned it to Ruth, concerned that there might be a problem.
‘It was Northern Ireland.’ Ruth said, sighing. ‘He saw some terrible sights there. Savage killings, people maimed and blown apart; he still has nightmares about it even now. The trouble is, he won’t talk about it.’
‘How do you know that is what’s troubling him then?’
‘From Gary.’ Ruth laughed. ‘You know what he’s like. He doesn’t brood like Hugh. He’s talked it out of his system. And, anyway, he wasn’t over in Ireland as long as Hugh was. Perhaps if they had been together out there the whole time Hugh wouldn’t be feeling it all so badly now. I think after Gary left he became stressed. The conditions out there and worrying about me and the baby …’ she shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s all in the past, so it’s no good going on about it now. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come back home with Sally. If I’d been there, and he’d had someone to come home to when he was off duty, it might have made things easier for him.’
‘You did the right thing. It was no place to be with a new baby,’ Helen defended.
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do wish Hugh would talk about it; I’m sure it would help. Perhaps in time he will.’ Impulsively she hugged Helen. ‘Come on, forget it. Don’t let it spoil our holiday.’
Despite his moods, Helen found Hugh more approachable. They had never been really close but they had always had a healthy respect for each other. His ways were not hers but she had never interfered. She was pleasantly surprised to find he had turned out to be a wonderful father, combining patience with discipline. And he was always ready to show a lively interest in whatever the girls were doing.
Anna’s mischievous ways still seemed to captivate him, but Helen noticed that, now Sally was older, she and Hugh seemed to have a special rapport. Not only did she take after him in looks with her dark hair and eyes, but she had his quiet, serious manner. Listening to them talking, or Hugh explaining something, warmed Helen’s heart.
It was a wonderful Christmas for them all. On Christmas day a light snow fell, gilding the trees and hedges. More snow fell overnight and, by morning, there was at least three inches on the ground. The girls were entranced. When the milking was done and the cattle attended to, Mark dragged out a sleigh from the depths of the barn and he and Hugh spent an energetic morning giving the girls rides on it. Ruth and Lucy joined in later as they built an enormous snowman and finally took sides for a full-scale snowball fight.
Watching them all playing together, Helen smiled happily. It was the first time for years that she had her complete family around her. She was enjoying the experience so much that, when Ruth told her Gary had volunteered to come and pick them up at the end of their stay, she suggested that perhaps he and Sheila might like to come for New Year’s Eve.
‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ Hugh asked in surprise.
Helen flushed, remembering the many times Hugh had witnessed her antagonism to his friend, but she refused to be drawn.
‘I think it will be a wonderful end to our holiday,’ Ruth told Helen, giving her a quick hug. ‘You’ll like Sheila; she’s great. We had a wonderful time together out in Hong Kong. The children adore her and she’s very good with them. It’s a pity she can’t persuade Gary to start a family.’
‘Perhaps he doesn’t like children.’
‘He’s very fond of our two.’
‘Not quite the same thing, is it? You don’t have any responsibility when they’re someone else’s.’
‘It’s not that. It’s something much deeper … something he won’t talk about – even to Sheila. You don’t want to let that brash way of his fool you, you know. Underneath he’s quite susceptible.’
Remembering how much her opinion of Hugh had changed during the past week, Helen wisely said nothing. She began to wish she hadn’t invited Gary and Sheila for New Year’s Eve, but knew she could hardly change her mind now.
Chapter 25
Sally and Anna were allowed to stay up on New Year’s Eve to see 1979 in. Hugh let in the New Year, and, after they had all joined in the traditional first-footing festivities, Ruth suggested that the two girls should go to bed. They were so worn out that they agreed fairly readily. Sally insisted that
Lucy should take her up to bed, but Anna wanted Gary to do it.
‘We’ll both do it,’ Lucy said, grabbing their hands. ‘Come on Gary.’
He obeyed with alacrity. Helen held her breath, waiting for Sheila, Ruth or Hugh to object, but Mark was refilling their glasses and none of them seemed to be taking any notice.
Helen bit her lip, and refused to have any more wine. She waited with growing irritation for Gary or Lucy to return to the room.
After five minutes, she commented on their absence.
‘Probably telling them a story,’ Ruth said, smothering a yawn. ‘He often does.’
Another five minutes passed and, feeling uneasy, Helen went upstairs to find out where they were. It was very quiet. She walked into the bedroom that Anna and Sally were sharing and found they were both fast asleep, Sally with one hand underneath her cheek, Anna on her back, her golden hair spread out like a halo.
They stirred slightly as she gently kissed them both, but were much too tired to return her caress. As she came out of their room, wondering where Gary and Lucy could be, she heard a giggle coming from Lucy’s room. Apprehensively she pushed open the door. Gary was sitting on the side of the bed, leaning over Lucy, who lay there giggling. Supporting himself on one elbow, he was running a finger teasingly around her chin and neck. For a moment Helen froze, then suddenly exploded with anger.
‘Get out!’ she hissed.
Gary stumbled to his feet, backing away towards the door.
Lucy also swung from the bed, her blue eyes blazing. ‘Mother, what do you think you’re doing walking into my bedroom like this?’
‘What are you doing might be more to the point?’ Helen snapped.
‘Not what you seem to think!’ Lucy exclaimed, her cheeks pink, her blue eyes flashing angrily.
‘Lucy’s right. We were only planning an outing for the two girls,’ Gary said quickly.
‘Really!’ The scorn and disbelief in Helen’s voice brought a dark flush to his face.
‘What on earth’s going on? What’s all the shouting about? You’ll wake the girls in a minute.’ Ruth asked as she came running up the stairs.
‘It’s Mum and Gary … she’s always picking on him,’ Lucy said tearfully.
Ruth’s grey eyes were puzzled as she looked questioningly at her mother.
‘Mum walked into my bedroom and because Gary was there she blew her top.’ Lucy sniffed. ‘We were only making plans to take the girls to the pantomime, but Mum won’t believe us,’ Lucy gabbled on.
Helen turned away, too choked to speak. She realised she’d been hasty, but the sight of Gary and Lucy lying there had brought such mixed feelings that she had been unable to control her outburst.
The tension in the room was electric. Helen knew Ruth was waiting for some sort of explanation and that Gary, and possibly even Lucy, deserved some kind of apology from her. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
‘Lucy, I’ve just made the coffee,’ Ruth said. ‘Why don’t you and Gary go on down and have yours with the others? I’ll bring Mum’s up here.’
‘I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, Lucy,’ Helen heard Ruth say as the three of them went down the stairs. ‘Mum’s worn out with so many of us here over Christmas. You go and have your coffee with the others and forget the whole thing. I’ll have a chat with Mum.’
Helen felt sick as she waited for Ruth to bring up her coffee. The torment inside was more than she could bear alone. If only Adam were there to advise her. Mark wouldn’t understand. He never did see things her way. She could imagine the cold stare he would give her, the slight curl to his top lip as he listened, then the imperceptible shrug of his shoulders before he walked away. She couldn’t stand that kind of rejection. If only Adam was here, she thought sadly. Yet it was Adam who was the root cause of her problem, she reminded herself bitterly.
She went into her own bedroom and sat down at the dressing-table. The face that stared back at her disturbed her. Her hair was not just streaked with grey but almost white. There were a myriad lines around her grey eyes; her mouth was tightly pursed and she looked old.
‘I shouldn’t look like this at fifty-four,’ she murmured aloud. ‘What’s happening to me?’
She combed her hair, then outlined her mouth with fresh lipstick, and applied some blue eye-shadow to liven up the dullness of her grey eyes.
‘You look better now,’ Ruth said cheerfully, putting a cup of coffee down on the dressing-table. ‘You quite frightened me when I walked into Lucy’s room. You looked so upset. Now, what’s all the fuss about? I’m sure Gary wasn’t seducing young Lucy. Not that I’d altogether blame him if he was; she’s been playing him along ever since he arrived.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed and sipped her coffee. ‘Lucy’s right though, you never have liked Gary. What’s wrong with him?’
Helen slowly turned to face Ruth. She tried to speak, but couldn’t, then, suddenly, she was in floods of tears. All the pent-up misery of the years since she had first suspected that Gary was Adam’s child, was finally released. Her shoulders slumped and her entire body shook with sobs.
‘Mum!’ Ruth put her arms round her mother. Gently she led her over to the bed. ‘Lie down, I’ll get Hugh,’ she said helplessly.
‘No, no.’ Desperately Helen restrained her. ‘Shut the bedroom door … lock it. I don’t want anyone coming in here and seeing me like this.’
Ruth did as Helen asked, then came and stood uncertainly near the bed.
‘Drink your coffee, and pass me mine,’ Helen said in a choked voice. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘You’ve been overdoing things Mum. We’d better go home. It’s too much for you …’
‘No, no. It’s not that at all, Ruth. You just don’t understand. Give me a minute and I’ll try and explain.’
The coffee steadied Helen’s nerves and brought the colour back into her cheeks.
‘Well?’ Ruth asked curiously, as Helen put her cup down on the bedside-table.
Helen looked at her in silence, trying to find the right words. She felt she owed Ruth an explanation, and she hoped she would understand her dilemma, and why she had acted as she did.
‘It’s to do with Gary,’ Helen said and paused.
‘I rather gathered that,’ Ruth said wryly. ‘Go on.’
‘You probably don’t remember the first time I met him …’
‘Yes I do. It was when you came over to see me in Ireland.’
‘You’d told me all about him before then; that he’d come from London, that his mother had died when he was born and he’d never known who his father was …’
‘Well, what about it?’
Helen didn’t reply. She got up and pulled an old leather handbag from her wardrobe. Inside the bag was a framed photograph which she gave to Ruth.
‘This is a picture of Dad isn’t it? I’ve never seen it before.’
‘It was taken just after we first met. He had it done especially for me,’ Helen said, holding out her hand to take the photo back. ‘Does it remind you of anyone?’
‘Mark, I suppose,’ Ruth said with a light shrug. ‘Except that Dad’s eyes were a different sort of blue to Mark’s and, as far as I remember, Dad’s hair was more bushy.’
‘No one else?’
‘Let’s have another look.’ Ruth held out her hand for the photograph. She sat staring at it for a minute or two, then looked up, frowning, her grey eyes questioning. Without speaking she shook her head and passed the photograph back.
‘Come on,’ Helen challenged.
‘I know what you want me to say,’ Ruth said in a shaky voice, ‘but it’s nonsense. His eyes are like Dad’s and there is a resemblance, but that’s probably because they’re both in Guards’ uniform … his hair’s the wrong colour, anyway.’
‘Look at this.’ Helen handed her an old, faded photo. She saw Ruth’s eyes widen as she took it. Then Ruth stood up and took it across to the light, staring at it and shaking her head as if refusing to believe
the evidence of her own eyes.
‘Have you told Gary?’ Ruth whispered. ‘Oh Mum!’ Her face was contorted as she looked up at Helen. ‘You don’t know what a relief this is.’
‘Relief?’ Helen looked bewildered.
‘I’ve always had such strong feelings for Gary, ever since we first met. It used to worry me, especially if he called round and Hugh was away. Sometimes I even thought I’d like him to make a pass at me. Now I know why I felt the way I did. It was perfectly natural, the sort of feeling you would have for a cousin.’
‘For a cousin!’ Helen stared at her perplexed.
‘Well, if he’s Dad’s brother’s son then that would make him our cousin, wouldn’t it?’
Helen didn’t answer. She wanted to scream the truth at Ruth, but commonsense prevailed. It was enough if she understood why Gary must never get involved with Lucy.
‘You must tell Gary. It will mean so much to him to know who his father was,’ Ruth said eagerly.
Helen held out her hand for the snapshot. ‘Let’s leave things as they are.’
Ruth looked down at the faded piece of pasteboard. Slowly she turned it over, reading the writing on the other side. She suddenly froze, her brows furrowed in a frown. When she looked up, Helen was startled by the abject misery in their grey depths.
‘It wasn’t Dad’s brother who was Gary’s father, was it?’ she whispered, aghast. ‘It couldn’t have been … he was killed in France …’ she stopped as she read the answer in her mother’s eyes.
‘Oh, Mum … Mum …’ She put her arms around Helen and held her close.
‘Are you sure?’
Helen nodded. ‘I’ve been over it all so many times. It all fits …’ she stopped, choked by tears. Then, taking a deep breath she told Ruth all she knew.
Ruth was silent for a few minutes after Helen had finished. Then she said in a flat voice, ‘You can’t really be certain though, can you? I agree it all seems to fit, but it is so out of character for Dad. He was always such a stickler for the truth and doing one’s duty and all the rest of it.’
