by Laura Wood
The three of us sit in silence, a clock ticking sullenly in the background. I pour a cup of tea and warm my hands around the cup. It is another sunny day, but for some reason I can’t seem to stop shivering. The silence feels thick and oppressive, and I don’t know what to say to break it. I need to leave. I am going to leave.
It turns out that I don’t get a chance to. At that moment Charlie bursts into the room, dragging Caitlin behind him. Charlie’s handsome face is radiant; he is wearing a grin that stretches from ear to ear. The same cannot be said of Caitlin, whose face is pale and pinched. She is carefully avoiding my eye, and in other circumstances it might be funny how many of us in this small group are trying not to look at each other. Charlie, like an enthusiastic puppy, is oblivious to any tension.
“We have big news!” The words burst from him in a rush. “Caitlin and me … I’ve finally worn her down … we’re getting married!”
The teacup in my hand clatters back against its saucer as I almost drop it on to the table. I feel Robert and Laurie both looking at me. Caitlin’s eyes are still on the floor. Married. That word again that means so little here. Now Caitlin is going to marry Charlie? Of all people?
“Well, that’s wonderful, darlings.” Laurie breaks the silence, getting to her feet. She hugs her brother and then Caitlin. “Such a surprise, but really wonderful.”
Robert gets to his feet as well and shakes Charlie’s hand. “Congratulations,” he says quietly. His eyes meet mine and I feel a stab of pain as I see the concern there.
Plastering on a brilliant grin, I stand too. “Yes,” I say, and my voice feels too loud, as though it has suddenly outgrown me. I can’t bear to be complicit in this. I am acting a part in this scene and I know it’s all for show. “Congratulations, Charlie. That’s really … I’m so pleased for you. Now –” my voice is bright “– I’m sorry I can’t stay to celebrate, but this seems like a family occasion. I think I’d better be going.”
“I’ll take you home.” Robert is moving towards me, but I raise my hand.
“No, no,” I say, and I can feel a dangerous wobble in my voice that I try to control. “You stay here, celebrate.”
Laurie places a hand on Robert’s arm. “She’s right, Robert,” she says. “Lou can get home just fine. She knows the way.”
I flash her a grateful look, because I don’t think I can bear to be with Robert, with any of them any longer, and I feel tears starting in my eyes. “Of course I do,” I say. “So I’ll see you soon. And thanks again for the party.” I turn and leave the room with as much dignity as I can muster. I walk straight out of the house and stand on the gravel driveway taking deep, shuddering breaths of the fresh air.
Hearing a crunching sound behind me, I spin around to find that Caitlin has run out after me. She looks at me and her eyes are sad.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“You’re sorry?” I repeat, and my voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.
She nods. “I am. So sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask.
“Be-because I didn’t tell you, and because I know you like him, and now I…” she stammers.
“God, Caitlin!” I exclaim. “Don’t you understand? This isn’t anything to do with him. This is about you. Do you love Charlie?”
She stops, and her face is ashen. “I like him,” she says.
“Do you love him?” I ask again, and my voice is a needle.
“You know I don’t,” she whispers.
“Then what are you doing?” I cry. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand what’s going on here. You’ll be miserable, and he’ll be miserable because you are.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again. “I know you’re right, but I was so sad, and Charlie says that if we get married he’ll take me away, back to America, and I just want to leave it all behind and I just … I just said yes.” She holds her hands in front of her as if she is surrendering. I feel myself deflate as I take in her pale face, her slight frame shaking as she begins to cry. I move forward and put my arms around her.
“I understand,” I say. “But, Caitlin, what do you really want? Is it really worth this? Lying to everyone, to Charlie, to Robert? Are you going to build a marriage on a lie? You shouldn’t be doing this, Caitlin. You love Lucky.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Caitlin stiffens.
“I saw you together,” I say. “I saw his face. He loves you.”
“Don’t.” Caitlin pulls away. “Don’t talk about that.”
“Why not?” I’m frustrated. “Someone has to. You won’t talk about it, Caitlin, not to me, not to anyone. No one here talks to each other. There are so many secrets.”
Her hands are curled up by her side now, and she paces, agitated. “You have no right to bring Freddy into this.” She sways a little here; just saying his name seems to untether her. “You’re supposed to be my friend. Those things are private.”
“I am your friend,” I say, shocked that she is lashing out like this. “And you can talk to me about this, you should talk to me about this. You can trust me.”
“I can’t talk to you.” Caitlin’s face is empty now. “I can’t talk to anyone. Don’t you understand? I’m Lady Caitlin Cardew. I have to do everything perfectly. I have to look perfect and I have to be bright and gay and throw the perfect party. Those are my jobs. I have to do them perfectly because otherwise none of this means anything. My father died and Robert and I are all that’s left. We have to keep things going as he would want them. I cannot run away and live in some fantasy. I cannot create that kind of scandal.” She is standing taller now, but her voice is hoarse with unshed tears. It hurts just to look at her. “I cannot do that to his memory,” she finishes.
“Caitlin,” I say, and I reach out my hand.
She shakes her head. “You think it’s so easy, Lou,” she says quietly. “You watch us and you write about us in your notebooks and you judge us, but we’re just doing the best we can.”
“Is that what you really think?” I feel a sob rising in my own throat. “I care about you, Caitlin. I care about what is happening to you. I just want you to be happy.”
“I told you once,” Caitlin says, “people can be unhappy anywhere. Now you know it’s really true.” With that she folds her arms around her waist and turns, walking back to the house.
I watch her go for a moment, and my heart is breaking. I feel small and brittle, as though a sturdy breeze could be enough to blow me away, splintered like dandelion seeds on the air. Finally, I turn and walk out on to the causeway. It is time to return to my real life.
This time, I don’t look back.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
After I leave the Cardew House in a daze I find my legs carrying me straight to Alice. She opens the door, clearly ready for round two of our fight, but after one look at my face she sends Jack packing instead and puts the kettle on. I fall into her arms and she holds me while I cry, terrible, hacking, red-faced tears, soothing me and stroking my hair away from my face. I tell her everything, all of it, even about leaving the dress on the beach while I swam (and there is a sharp intake of breath at this point), and she listens calmly, without interrupting, without judging. I tell her about Robert, about the way that he makes me feel, about the kiss, about the way that he looks at me sometimes. I tell her that I don’t understand the choices he is making, that I’m scared that he may not be the person I thought. That I feel like that house is running on some secret set of rules that I don’t understand.
I tell her about the way this summer swept me away into something new and exciting. I talk about my feeling of being adrift, of not knowing what I want to do. I confess to her all of my petty, jealous thoughts and how difficult I found it when she left. I tell her that I know I’m selfish, a monster, but that I don’t think her life is small … not at all. It’s my own life that feels mean and aimless and I don’t know what to do abo
ut it.
At the end of all of this Alice sits quietly, sipping her tea. “Well,” she says finally, “I wish you had talked to me about all of this sooner. I know it’s difficult now, but I think you have to realize that something good has come out of this whole experience.”
“Oh, really?” I sniffle. “And what’s that?”
“You saw something, Lou,” she says, leaning forward and squeezing my hand. “You saw something different this summer. Another way. You met people, you went out into the world. You didn’t just watch, you didn’t just follow. You were part of something.”
“I suppose,” I say, wrapping my arms tightly around my stomach as I sit in one of the battered armchairs.
“You went to London,” Alice says, “and you saw all those people, living their lives. You said yourself that the world is a lot bigger than Penlyn. Why are you so intent on keeping yourself here, on shrinking down trying to fit in when you can go anywhere you want?”
“You mean leave?” I say, dazed, and I let Alice’s words sink in. They feel like a balm. Could I ever be brave enough to do such a thing? To make my own way like that? To break away from everything and everyone I know?
“People move to London all the time.” Alice’s voice is soft.
“Not from Penlyn they don’t,” I point out hesitantly. “Especially not girls on their own.”
“No,” she says, and then that familiar dimple appears. “But there’s a first time for everything.”
“But what about Midge and Pa?” I ask. “What about you?”
“Lou, you have to stop worrying. You and I want different things. And that’s OK. They’re all good things, they’re just … different. There’s no one way to be. I’m not the mould you need to fit into. You have to live your own life, and I don’t understand why you would think that I don’t want that for you.”
I launch myself at her, throwing myself into her chair and hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so, so sorry. I am an idiot.”
“You are,” she says simply. “Now stop squishing the baby.”
“Oh!” I leap back, but Alice is laughing. “Hey,” I say. “This is no laughing matter, that’s my little niece or nephew in there.”
“Niece, definitely.” Alice grins.
“I don’t know,” I muse. “That bump looks like a boy to me.”
“There is a bump, isn’t there?” She pats her stomach. “Jack says you can’t tell yet, but I think you can.”
“You can definitely tell,” I agree, curling back up in my chair.
Alice looks at me and clears her throat, her face earnest. “Well, now that we’re friends again, can we talk about something important?” she asks solemnly, leaning forward and clasping her hands together.
I shift anxiously in my seat and nod.
“I love your hair,” she says. “Do you think mine would look good like that?”
When I leave Alice’s house I feel a lot better. Still sad and hurting, but full of some new sense of purpose.
I am trying hard not to think about Robert. This is made much more difficult by the fact that he is waiting for me when I arrive home.
My heart twists at the sight of him sitting on the doorstep, his elbows on his knees, his dark, curly head resting in his hands. When he looks up and sees me he jumps to his feet. He looks dishevelled, much less pristine than usual.
“Hello,” he says in a low voice. “I was worried about you.”
“I was at Alice’s,” I reply, coming to a stop in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
“You always seem to be asking me that,” he says with a faint smile. He rubs a hand across his jaw.
I remain silent, glued to the spot. There has been so much to take in, I feel hollow, wrung out.
“I thought we should talk,” he says. “After last night.”
“Right,” I murmur. He’s come to apologize, I realize. He’s come to apologize for that kiss that meant so much to me, and to clear things up between us. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to hear his careful explanation, to have him let me down gently in that same practical voice that Laurie used. I won’t let him. “I’m sorry about that,” I say, as lightly as I can manage.
“You’re sorry?” he asks, and it sounds like a loaded question.
“Yes.” The word sounds small. “It was all my fault. I didn’t know it was you. If I had known obviously I wouldn’t have…” I lift my hand, feebly, trailing off here.
“I see.” His voice is cool. “I see,” he says again.
“Laurie … explained some things to me this morning,” I exhale finally.
There is silence. “Lou,” Robert says, and his voice is gentle. “I wish you would look at me.”
It takes an enormous effort to lift my gaze to meet his. I feel as though my whole heart is in my eyes, as if he’ll be able to see right into me, to see every single thing I feel for him.
“Come and sit down,” he says, gesturing to the step that he has recently vacated. “Talk to me.”
We both sit. I fiddle nervously with the hem of my dress.
“What did Laurie say to you?” Robert asks.
“She explained a bit,” I say. “About your arrangement. About the – um – openness.” I feel my face turn red at that. “And about the money.” I definitely can’t look at him now.
There is a long silence, and we sit side by side. The warmth from his body is intoxicating. It’s all I can do not to lean against him.
Robert lets out a long breath. “I need to tell you something,” he says. “I need to explain. To help you see why this –” he waves his hand in the air as though gesturing to the whole world around us “– has happened.” He puts his head in his hands again, his fingers pulling at his hair. I can’t help it, I reach out and put the palm of my hand against his arm. He reaches over and puts his own hand on top of it, squeezing my fingers.
“I suppose it all starts with my father’s death.” Robert’s voice is tight, and I can tell that the words are difficult for him. “I don’t know how much you know?” He looks at me.
“Not very much,” I say carefully. “An accident at the house in Derbyshire.”
“Mmm.” Robert makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Our father was a good man,” he says. “But when he came back from the war he was … different.”
I nod encouragingly. I have a little experience with this.
“He was sad, terribly sad. And angry.” He is talking faster. “We tried to help him, but there was just nothing we could do. We weren’t enough; we couldn’t be what he needed. It took me a while to understand, but in a lot of ways he was still fighting. And then he was … lost.” There is a tiny pause, and I find I am holding my breath as something big and terrible seems to fill the air. Robert steels himself for the words, and then, finally, they come. “It wasn’t in Derbyshire, and it wasn’t an accident. He killed himself.”
“Oh, Robert.” My hand is in his now, and I bring it to my cheek.
He smiles a grim sort of smile. “It’s OK,” he says. “Well, it’s not OK, obviously. Frankly, it’s the absolute opposite of OK.” His voice is hollow. “Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. It turned out that he had made some fairly catastrophic financial decisions, and things were left in a real mess. Suddenly I was supposed to be Lord Cardew and to find a way to manage the whole failing estate while keeping all the gory details of his death out of the wretched press, who were hovering like vultures. We struggled on for a while … it took about a year for me to find out the full extent of the damage. Meanwhile –” he closes his eyes here “– Caitlin was falling completely to pieces. It was worse for her, much worse than it was for me.” He turns and looks me straight in the eye. “She was the one who found him, you see. In the house in London.”
“Oh, God.” I shudder, burying my face in my hands.
“I don’t know what happened between you two this morning,” he says quietly, “but you should know what she’s been through. I know she
should be the one to tell you, but I honestly don’t think she knows how.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“After that Caitlin was ill, very ill. She couldn’t sleep, she hardly ate, she was anxious all the time and her behaviour was erratic.” My heart hurts at the vulnerability in his voice. Doesn’t he see that Caitlin is still like that?
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, reading my expression at once. “But she was worse, much worse than she is now. I had to have her … she had to stay in a hospital for a while.” His voice is tight with emotion as he says this, and I feel my own heart stutter as that piece of the puzzle falls into place. I can only imagine how difficult it has been for both of them. “Afterwards she seemed to be getting better, and we came to Cornwall to get away from London and all the bad memories. We had already closed the big house in town. Neither of us have been there since the … incident; that’s why you didn’t stay there when you went to London with Caitlin. But I thought in Cornwall we could have a real break from it all.” He smiles ruefully. “It was our mother’s favourite place, you see, but we haven’t spent much time there. It’s not so haunted by memories. I think it helped at first, but recently she seems to be getting worse again, and there’s just nothing I can do…” He trails off here, and the look on his face is one of total helplessness.
I think about my friend, about all the pain she carries with her, about her brittleness. She’s putting so much energy into convincing people who don’t care a bit about her that she’s all right, simply for the sake of appearances. She’s burning herself out, just as Lucky said. Ash and bone. I want to put my head in my hands and weep.
“When I met Laurie,” Robert continues in a low voice, “a practical arrangement seemed like a good option. Laurie shared some of the weight, made me feel less alone. Most of all I wanted to protect Caitlin, from scandal, from any further upset, from going without any of the things that are important to her.” He pauses here. “And I care a great deal about Laurie. She and I are real friends, and I have her to thank for keeping this whole show running. Caitlin doesn’t know the financial situation, and Laurie has helped me to keep it that way. I will never be able to repay her kindnesses to us both.” He stops, and a silence falls over us.
