The Girl at the Window

by Rowan Coleman

  ‘Will?’ I do my best to keep my voice low and calm. ‘Will, it’s OK, Mummy’s here and I’m so sorry I left you.’

  ‘Mummy?’ His voice comes from another room, deeper within the wreckage and I scramble through the branches of a dead tree that once erupted though the flagstone floor, to see him curled against a wall.

  ‘Will.’ Gathering him up with my hand I hold him hard against me, hard enough to feel the race of his heart beat in time with mine, to feel his breath on my cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, so sorry, Will. What happened? Were you trying to get back to Ponden?’

  ‘You weren’t there,’ he says, his voice as slight as a breath in the dark. ‘I looked but you weren’t there, and I was worried I’d lost you, too. I don’t like it. I want my house, and my bed and my toys. And I want my daddy. I want him, and he’s not here and I don’t know where he is, but I know he isn’t here. I thought that if I got really lost, out here in the dark, and called for him, then he’d come. I thought he’d have to … but he didn’t. Daddy didn’t come to save me, you did.’

  ‘Oh Will …’ I let him cry against me, his cheek against mine.

  ‘You must have felt so scared in here,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ Will shoots back, and I believe him.

  ‘You weren’t scared in this creepy old Scooby-Doo house in the middle of nowhere in the dark?’ I smile, and see his eyes shine in return.

  ‘No, I wasn’t, I felt safe here. For a while, in the dark, I was scared. It was far and I didn’t know the way. But then it was like I wasn’t alone, and the sign said keep out, but I thought, if I wait here, Mummy will come. So I did.’

  ‘Well, it’s not safe. It could fall down on our heads any minute and you are a very silly boy, coming out here on your own in the middle of nowhere but …’ I reach for his face, cupping his cheek in my hand. ‘… you’re safe now, I’ve got you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mummy.’ Will’s head burrows into the curve of my neck.

  ‘And I’m sorry I let you down.’

  ‘Do I have to go to school tomorrow?’

  ‘Not tomorrow, no,’ I say. ‘But someday soon, Will. They don’t let you be an astrophysicist until you’ve done Year Four at school.’

  ‘OK,’ Will says. ‘Thank you for finding me, Mummy.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’d never stop looking for you, baby.’

  Will is quiet for a moment, and outside the window I can hear the shouts of searchers and see the beams of torchlight tracking across the night sky.

  ‘But you stopped looking for Daddy,’ Will whispers, just before the torches are trained on us. ‘Why did you stop looking for Daddy, Mummy?’

  Tru and Abe

  We’d left it another month before we told our parents about my pregnancy. Enough time to find a place in Leeds to share, for me to talk to the university. Four perfect weeks of happiness when we could just plan our lives as if no one else had a say in them.

  When the time came to break the news we had taken the train down to London first. Nearly three long hours of nerves and scarcely a word spoken, holding hands tightly on the tube to Putney, my whole body clenched protectively around the life within.

  At first Unity had kissed me and welcomed me, and Abe’s dad, Sam, had shaken my hand and kissed me on each cheek. Behind them tea was laid out on the dining-room table, and a bottle of wine stood in a chiller.

  And then Unity had taken a step back from me as she’d held my hand and had looked me up and down.

  ‘Well, Trudy,’ she’d said, her smiling fading fast, ‘you didn’t tell me you were expecting.’

  Of course there had been tears and arguments. Unity had cried and Samuel had taken Abe out for a long walk, while I’d sat on the edge of the sofa and looked out of the window, the whole of London marching towards me, tangling my fingers in knots. For a moment it had felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  ‘He’s going to finish his studies,’ Unity had said to me. ‘He’s worked so hard.’

  ‘I know.’ I’d turned to her. ‘I’ve worked hard, too. And I’m going to take my degree. It might take longer, but I am. And we’re going to love our baby, so much.’

  She’d shaken her head, looking down at her hands for a long moment.

  ‘I can see how happy you make him,’ she’d said. ‘And I won’t say I don’t think you are fools, but I’d rather be with you than against you. So, don’t look so worried; you’re my daughter too, now, and you’re carrying my grandchild. So you’ve got me now, I’m in your life forever.’

  When Abe and his dad had returned we’d eaten, and laughed, and I’d looked at a thousand photos of Abe growing up and it had felt so good to be in the middle of that family, to feel part of something bigger than just me.

  But I’d known it wouldn’t be like that when we told Ma.

  Abe had borrowed a car and driven over to Ponden where I was waiting for him. He had brought her tulips, the old-fashioned kind you see in the paintings of Dutch masters, with different colours and frilly petals, the kind that she loved.

  ‘No.’ Ma had shaken her head just once when I’d told her what we planned. ‘No.’

  ‘Ma, I’m not asking you.’ I’d stopped myself, and smiled, hopeful, pleading. ‘Abe and I are getting married in Leeds town hall a month from today. I’d really like you to be there, like his mum and dad will be. We are so, so happy; happy about getting married and happy about the baby.’ I’d taken a hesitant step towards her. ‘Please, Ma, can’t you be happy too? It would make me so happy if you were.’

  She’d looked at the flowers she was still holding and tossed them in the sink, still in their brown paper wrapper.

  ‘You’re too young, you bloody idiot,’ Ma had said. ‘You’re barely more than a child. What do you know about the world? Who have you loved outside of your bloody books? If you think Heathcliff is your dream man you got a lot of growing up to do, and as for you …’ She’d turned to Abe. ‘She’s always had her head stuck in the clouds, but you, you’re going to be a doctor.’

  ‘Mrs Heaton, we aren’t the first people to get married young, to have a child young. It’s not all stories of doom and gloom. We both want the best for each other, for our child. And I love your daughter.’

  ‘If you loved her, if you really did, you would wait.’ It had been Ma’s turn to plead. ‘Wait until she’s finished university, until you have, for God’s sake, until you’ve got a job, then, if you still want to get married, that’s the time. That’s the time to have a baby, not now!’

  ‘Well, the baby’s happening,’ I’d told her, reaching for Abe’s hand. ‘It will be a January baby.’

  ‘It’s not like when I was a kid. You don’t have to get married, you don’t have to have a baby because of one mistake. You don’t have parents forcing you into something you don’t want. You have a choice, Trudy.’

  ‘I know,’ I’d said. ‘This is the choice I’m making, Ma, I’m choosing Abe and our baby.’

  ‘Mrs Heaton …’ Abe had extended his hand in placation. ‘I know how it looks. Don’t think we haven’t heard the same from my mum and dad; they think it’s too soon, that we’ll regret it. But I told them what I’m telling you: Trudy is the woman that I love, the woman I want to make happy, the woman I will stand by for the rest of our lives and I will be such a good father to our child – and they are willing to support us.’

  Ma had leaned her flour-covered hands on the table, a strand of her silvery blonde hair falling down over her eyes.

  ‘You two,’ she’d said, cold as first frost, ‘don’t know what love is. You think it’s grand speeches? You think it’s sex? It’s got nothing to do with that, not really. It’s hard work, compromise, accepting what you cannot change. You aren’t ready for that, Trudy Heaton. You never have been – and take it from me, if you rush into this you’ll find yourself with a husband that doesn’t love you and a baby you don’t—’

  If I’d been listening then, really listening, maybe I would have been ready for what happened nex
t. But I hadn’t been listening to Ma; I’d been full of heat and fire and I’d just wanted to be heard.

  ‘How dare you try and tell me about love?’ I’d barked a laugh. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone, Ma. You treated Dad like a stranger and me like an inconvenience.’ Turning my back on her, I’d looked out of the window, down the hill to where the two sides of the valley met, longing to be on the other side of that horizon, far away from her, and still travelling. ‘You’ve always hated me, Ma, you made that pretty clear. Normal mothers love their kids, they’re proud of them. They spend time with them, they are affectionate, they comfort them when their father has died … You were never there for me. Even after Dad died, the most “love” you ever showed me was to pour me a cup of tea. I tell you who doesn’t know anything about love, Ma: it’s you. You are a frigid, spiteful, bitter old woman who’s jealous of her own daughter. You were jealous because Dad loved me more than he loved you, and now you’re jealous because I have Abe and I’m happy – happy now I can get away from you.’

  ‘Trudy, that’s not fair,’ Abe had said, but I’d shaken his steadying hand off my arm, my eyes fixed on her.

  ‘What’s not fair is having a mother who never showed me a bit of affection.’

  ‘Then if you won’t listen to me, listen to yourself,’ Ma had said. ‘I was a teenager when I married your dad. I was knocked-up too. He didn’t want to marry me, but my dad was an old-fashioned man, and he wasn’t going to give me the choices I’m giving you. So we got married, and we tried, me and your dad. Or rather, I tried. Your dad was bored with me before you were even born, and when you were born … well, all you did was cry every time I picked you up. I was so tired, so lonely. And I waited to love you, to feel what everyone said I would, but it didn’t happen. It ruined my life to be forced into marriage and motherhood then, just like it’ll ruined yours. After that, everything I did was about this house, or your dad or you. Never about me. I didn’t want a baby, it wasn’t the right time for me, like it’s not the right time for you. I didn’t want you, Trudy, don’t you see that? I didn’t want you, and I couldn’t love you and you’ve grown up hating me because I couldn’t be the mother you needed.’

  I didn’t say anything, I didn’t have to. I’d grabbed my bag, taken the keys out of my pocket and dropped them on top of the tulips. And I’d left. I’d walked out of the front door and hadn’t stopped walking until a few minutes later when Abe had pulled up in the car he’d rented and I’d gotten in. It had started raining as Ma had hammered on the car window, but I hadn’t heard anything she’d said.

  There weren’t any words spoken for maybe twenty minutes; we’d driven though Haworth and were on our way to Leeds when Abe’s hand had reached over to hold mine.

  ‘I love you, Tru,’ he’d said. ‘Your mum, she’s a very unhappy woman, but I’m sure she didn’t mean what she said. If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t have been trying to stop you from leaving, would she?’

  ‘She meant it, all right,’ I’d told him, keeping my eyes focused ahead.

  ‘Well, I love you. I love you and I swear to God that I will never stop loving you, not for one single second. Not until the day I die – no, not even then. You will always have my love, hear me?’

  I hadn’t needed to say anything in return, not out loud. I’d squeezed his fingers and watched the countryside slip behind me into the past.

  I’d made up my mind I was done with her. That I wouldn’t go back to Ponden until she was gone. It was another sixteen years until I saw Ma again.

  Sixteen years between then and the day my husband’s plane went down.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Somehow Ma knows; she is standing waiting for us in the middle of the track, holding a candle in a lantern. For a moment, I see her dark figure there, cut out against the last of the twilight, and catch my breath, expecting Greybeard, but then the flame flickers against the shadows of her face and all I see is worry.

  ‘You’re late, what happened?’ she asks as we tramp up the last few feet to Ponden.

  Exhausted, Will walks past her, still wrapped in my coat, and into the house.

  ‘Well?’ Ma asks again, looking at me as Will disappears inside. Downstairs, every light is blazing, casting squares and rectangle-shaped beams of light into the dark. I see my little boy collapse onto the sofa, and Mab climbing on top of him. He buries his face in her ears and he winds his arms around her shoulders as she leans into him. I thought I had lost him, and the thought hasn’t gone yet; it still nags at me, fraying my edges like a nightmare I haven’t woken up from yet. My heart can’t quite believe what my eyes are telling me; I can’t quite believe that he’s safe.

  ‘Mum, we need to get a phone line in, as soon we can. He was gone, and no one could reach me. That’s not OK.’

  ‘Fancied bunking off, did he?’ Ma asks, ignoring my demands, and for the first time I really look at her, standing in the square of electric light. Despite her tone she looks gaunt with worry.

  ‘He ran away. Lost and homesick, and I let him down, Ma. I failed him, I didn’t bring his dad home and I wasn’t there when he needed me.’

  I almost say, ‘Like you were never there for me’ but I see her reddened eyes and bite my tongue.

  ‘He’s safe, and that’s all that matters,’ Ma says. ‘You’ve got second chances, lass. You’ve got time to make it right.’

  ‘I don’t know … Oh Ma, I’m so sad.’ I stand there, hot tears on cold skin, my shoulders shaking, and Ma stands firm in front of me. She doesn’t make a move to touch me, but she doesn’t leave either.

  ‘Come in, lass,’ she says not unkindly. ‘You’re making a show of yourself. Come in and we’ll make a nice cup of tea, hey?’

  Taking my shoulders, Ma guides me into the kitchen.

  ‘I want to be with Will,’ I tell her, but she guides me into a chair.

  ‘I think he just needs a minute to sort himself out,’ she says. ‘Mab’s got her eye on him.’

  Feeling useless, I fold down on a rickety chair and stare into the dark outside the window.

  ‘Feels like the end of the world, I expect.’ Ma fills the kettle from the tap, the rush of water pinging against the copper.

  ‘It is the end of the world, Ma,’ I tell her. ‘It has been since that phone call telling me Abe’s plane went down. I never used to think what it would be like to just get through a single day without being terrified. And now that’s what it’s always like, all the time, and there’s no fix. I can’t fix it for him, and that’s the worst of it.’

  ‘No quick fix,’ Ma says. ‘But one day you will make it right for him. And you’re in the right place for it. Ponden will heal you. For a little while, when me and your dad were first married …’ She smiles as she looks around the room. ‘This place was always full of love and light. And now you’re home, you’ll make it shine again, both you and the lad will.’

  ‘Ma, what happened to you and Dad?’ I ask slowly. ‘Why did you stop being happy?’

  ‘It’s hard to be happy when the man you love don’t love you back,’ Ma says. She doesn’t flinch; she never does when it comes to the truth. ‘You and the boy will find a way through this. It will take time, but you will; I have faith in you, Trudy.’

  ‘Do you?’ I look up at her. ‘Why? Why now?’

  ‘Because you are like your dad; he weren’t one to stay down for long. Because I was wrong, wrong about you and Abe, and about me. And how much I loved you, girl. And I’m sorry.’

  I don’t look at her. I’m afraid to say anything in case I somehow startle this moment and chase it away. I don’t know how to answer, so instead I just talk, because talking to my mum is the one thing I haven’t been able to do in such a long time and I’m hungry for it.

  ‘I’m terrified that one day my son will wake up and see how much I let him down. He’s already so angry with me.’

  ‘I know.’ Ma touches her hand to my shoulder. ‘Give him time. I’ve been a stubborn woman my whole life,
but these days … these days, I don’t believe there is a rift that love cannot mend with enough time and patience. There isn’t a mistake, or a hurt, that cannot be healed simply by saying you’re sorry and meaning it.’

  I look up at her.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  ‘I hope for it,’ she says. ‘Have you tried it yet, saying sorry to the boy?’

  I shake my head. I haven’t said sorry for failing him. Because I made him a promise that I knew in my heart I couldn’t keep. I promised to bring his dad home. The day after the news came through, I booked a flight. I looked my son in the eye and I told him I would find his father. And I failed. I lost faith, I lost hope. I stopped looking. I lost his father.

  And maybe he will never forgive me for that.

  1658

  Calamity has befallen me. I am far from Robert and know not if he lives or dies. Thank The Lord that I do still have some of my precious paper and a little ink that I borrowed from the good Reverend of Haworth, though he does not know yet that it is lent.

  This is how it came about. Robert and I were so joyous happy in our love and our union that we took every secret minute that we could to be together and fulfil our vows and promises of love.

  Perhaps our smiles were too glad, our eyes too full of longing, and flushed cheeks and crumpled skirts did little to hide our regard for each other. Even that being so, I know the house servants, especially dear Betty, would not have betrayed us to Casson. But someone did.

  Robert had been sent out to the tenant farmers to collect the rents and hear complaints. When night drew in I awaited his return, watching for his lantern along the long road that leads up to the Hall. As I saw that small sun glowing in the gloom, I knew it was my love come home. Though it was perilous cold I concealed myself in the garden gateway, pressed dark into the shadows, and waited while the horses were stabled and the carts put away. Then Robert came past as I knew he would, and I held fast to him and pulled him to me, so that he yelped like a maid.