“He’s not ill, is he?” Mel voiced their fears.
“Not exactly.” Brenda took a deep breath and announced: “He’s gay, or at least he thinks he’s gay.”
The silence was audible. “And…?” coaxed Mel.
“Isn’t that enough?” Brenda retorted, the tears welling up behind her glasses. Apart from Brenda’s sobs the group remained speechless. They looked at one another, their eyes imploring no one to giggle. Brenda was obviously hurting badly. It needed someone to state the obvious.
Liz took the plunge. “But you knew that. Surely you did? You did, didn’t you? We all did.”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“No. Actually I didn’t. I had no idea my only son was a homosexual; not a clue. Are you telling me all of you knew? Some friends you are. Not one of you told me.” Brenda stared at them, incredulous. “How long have you known?”
Liz slipped her arm around Brenda’s shoulder. “I think I’ve always known. Maybe when he was about five or six… oh, I don’t know. Does it matter?” Liz was trying to give assurance, yet as she spoke she could feel Brenda’s body stiffening.
“What Liz means,” Mel said, coming to the rescue, “is that Robert is Robert. He’s a great guy. Gay or straight, he’s the same gorgeous creature.”
“That’s right, Brenda, you saw him today out there with my kids. They adore him. How many other guys of his age would be so patient and brilliant with those feral animals?”
“You’re not concerned with him being around your children then?” The desperation in Brenda’s voice was pitiful.
Mel threw back her head and laughed. “He’s gay, not a bloody paedophile!”
“It’s easy for you, isn’t it.” This was not a question. Brenda’s voice betrayed a depth of fear that demanded recognition as to the seriousness of the situation. “He’s going to meet all sorts of prejudice and be exposed to awful risks, you know what I mean.” She paused, then continued: “Maybe I’m selfish but I always assumed I’d be a grandmother someday. Then there’s his choice of career, his vocation. It hardly seems suitable.” She chewed at her thumbnail. “And there’s Donald. I’m not saying he’s homophobic, but, well… He doesn’t know yet and I don’t know how to tell him. And then there is the church.” She felt on shaky ground, unsure how much sympathy to expect. “Robert won’t go to Mass. He says he hates the church. I can’t tell you the awful rows we’ve had. It’s not so easy when you have to live with it!” The tears were flowing freely now. Her eyes were red and swollen and her nose was congested. Liz produced a roll of kitchen paper and the heavy silence was punctuated by the sounds of sniffing and blowing of noses.
The women decided that talking to Donald would not help matters. Mel agreed to have a chat with Robert; he would talk freely to her, whereas his mother felt too close emotionally. It was left like that for the present.
Christmas proceeded as planned and was deemed a huge success. David and Edward slotted back into their friendship; all cutting remarks made in the past were forgotten. The recital was hilarious. Robert’s dress was received with loud applause; even his father thought his son surpassed himself. Try as they might, the women could not tell if the men had realized the truth about Robert’s sexuality. It would save an awful lot of hard work if they were as perceptive as their wives. Some rather politically incorrect remarks were bandied about during Cringe and Racket’s performance, to Liz’s and Mel’s horror, but the sensitivity of the situation forced them to leave well alone and take their partners to task later in the privacy of their own bedrooms.
Eventually the Circus left, amid the usual parade and kerfuffle of farewells and kisses. For Brenda it had been a Christmas to remember. As she started the car she glanced back at her son, who was smiling at her from the rear seat. She blew him a kiss, sighed and started the engine. With a quick glance at her husband, another in her mirror and an even quicker one to the Almighty she drove off.
When later that night Liz told Edward about Robert she was relieved to find he had no problems. Challenging him about his bantering with Bob she realized his idea of being PC was different from hers. Much of it was about a pathetic need to be accepted as “one of the lads”, but she was confident she could knock it out of him. It was James’s reaction that worried her. He said the right things but she could tell he felt somewhat threatened. Jenny laughed and told her brother to grow up, which, Liz had to concede, was probably the right approach. He was, after all, only just coming to terms with his own sexuality, and the adult world could seem a minefield to an adolescent. A relaxed, positive attitude from his sister was exactly what he needed.
On Boxing night Robert returned with a friend. Liz was delighted when they asked if they could stay a few days. She showed them to the blue room, which had a king-size bed and an en-suite.
The following morning the breakfast table was abuzz with witty and youthful chatter. No one stood on ceremony. The toaster popped at will. Cupboards were raided for jams whose sell-by dates had long gone. By noon they were still sitting at table and they might have melted into the next meal had Jenny not declared it was time to go. The dishes were done at record speed, then Jenny, Robert and Mark donned warm coats and scarves and set off down the garden.
With the big red book under her arm Jenny led the way until they entered the privacy of the boathouse. Her burden was growing heavier and heavier. It was almost time for Robert to pass judgment on her work and then, if he thought it propitious, to confront Harriet with the consequences. The three of them poured over the contents for what seemed an age. Mark had heard all about Jenny’s friendship with Harriet and studied the book with a genuine interest. He was reading history and had done a considerable amount of research of his own but this was something else. It had a personal quality to it. There was a warmth and concern for the people who appeared within its pages. These were not mere names to be examined then tossed aside. They leapt out from the pages, full of life, with clear personalities of their own, warts and all.
When he had finished reading he closed the book gently and stroked the red cloth binding.
“Do you know, Jenny, if someone had made this for me I’d be so flattered, to think anyone cared that much to go to all this bother. It’s beautiful. It’s not just a work of art; it’s a work of love. This Harriet woman must have been tickled pink.”
Harriet was, of course, hovering at the back of the boathouse. Being made to feel churlish did not sit easily on her shoulders. She was pink with shame. Had she really been so dismissive and unkind? What was she thinking even to suspect that Jenny had acted out of anything but the deepest respect and, dare she say it, love? Her embarrassment was acute. There was no way she could face Jenny without preparing herself. First she had to gather her wits about her and decide on the appropriate response. In the meantime she must let the child know that she understood and that there was nothing to forgive.
With a finger to her lips she approached Robert. This was a secret disclosure, one she did not want Jenny to know about. Slipping her arm through his she drew him apart from the other two and proceeded to whisper in his ear. He smiled in agreement and the two conspirators parted, but not before they had arranged another rendezvous.
When Robert addressed Jenny his voice was assertive and authoritative: “Right, young lady, this is too worthy a publication to put back on a shelf. I know if it had been made for me my first reaction would be one of shock. This friend of yours is a very proper lady, not used to casual kindnesses, and would probably have found it extremely difficult to accept something of this value without being forewarned. I propose that we hold a second presentation. What do you say to the Fourth Room at five-fifteen… better make that five-sixteen, this evening? OK?”
With that, he led Mark off for a tour of the garden.
CHAPTER 25
At four that afternoon, Mel and Bob dropped in for tea, which posed a slight dilemma for the conspirators. Should they let Mel in on the presentation or keep it a private affair? Mark
decided for them, suggesting that it was better to have several points of view represented, especially if the hidden agenda was to prove the “existence” of Harriet to any sceptics. Mel could be a vital witness. At five-sixteen precisely, the four of them trooped through the wide oak door, on the pretext of listening to some new CDs.
Harriet was sitting in her chair with Google on her lap. She acknowledged the group, giving an audible “humph” as she spotted Mel among them. It was clear to Mel that Robert and Jenny could both see Harriet as plainly as they saw each other. Mark was happy to accept her presence, but claimed no psychic abilities of his own. Mel saw a chair and a small dog stretching lazily, having just woken from sleep. Her integrity would not let her pretend to a gift she did not possess, but it rankled that Harriet was not visible to her. Her reputation was on the line.
As Jenny approached, Harriet rose to greet her. She kissed her on the cheek and inclined her head to the two boys. She merely glanced at Mel, who was trying to induce a state of trance so she could at least feel the presence in the room. Harriet knew exactly what Mel was doing and mischievously moved about the room, hoping to block any energy that poor Mel might tune into. Sensing a possible clash of wills Jenny stepped forward and thrust the book into Harriet’s hands. “Please don’t take offence. I did this because I love you and it seemed a good idea at the time. But I do understand if it startled you.”
Harriet placed the book on the table and gently passed her hand over the cover. The warmth that spilled out of it made the old woman smile. She closed her eyes. She had no need to scan the pages to know what they contained. Each photograph, every newspaper clipping, the certificates, the sketch of her sampler and the many and varied painstakingly hand-copied music manuscripts and poems Jenny had composed filled her inner eye. She studied the individual pages carefully. When, after an hour or so, she took her hand from the book, tears were flowing from her closed eyes. On opening them, it came as a surprise to find where she was. She had been on a long journey back through the life that was contained in such detail here beneath her hand.
“Well, Jenny, I don’t know what to say. That is quite an accomplishment, and a considerable compliment. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I apologize for hurting you earlier. I never meant to. But seeing the indisputable details of my death and the deaths of my family laid out so graphically was a shock, to put it mildly. Now I shall share something with you, something about me you did not know. I did not know I was dead until very recently. It is not an easy thing to come to terms with, but I am trying.”
She paused and pointed at Mel, who felt a surge enter her as though she had been poked with a cattle prod. “I know you tried to tell me ages ago. I didn’t believe you. However, before you offer to ‘point me to the light’ again I have to tell you this. I am here for a purpose. My destiny is not fulfilled. I don’t know exactly what it is but it concerns you, my dear.” Harriet reached out and took Jenny’s hand. For a brief moment she could not speak. Her eyes had filled again and her throat tightened. She swallowed hard then continued.
“At first I believed my task was complete when I saved you and your brother from the lake. It made sense to perform an act that would purge my memory of my brother’s death. But now, thanks to your efforts, I have read the coroner’s verdict, I accept that he was dead long before I stabbed him with the boat hook. What else is there for me to do? Teach. That is my destiny. You have a rare gift, a voice that will be spoken of until the next millennium, and I have been selected to train it. Don’t worry, my dear, you will be guided over the coming years by many teachers far more competent than me. My task is to instil a permanent love of music in your heart. Your next years will be full of music, special schools, then colleges, in this country and abroad, all there for your benefit. And I shall always be here at Beckmans for you when you come home; as you said, Jenny, there will be many homecomings. I am tired now. I must rest. Tomorrow at the boathouse we have that Pastourelle to master. It is a difficult piece, perfect for your voice.”
With that, she was gone. The book lay on the table unopened to those without imagination. The room was full of her presence even after she had gone. Where did she go? Had things changed for her now she was aware of being dead? Jenny had so many questions she needed answered. Sitting down in the armchair, Jenny thought back over her relationship with Harriet. It had begun when she first entered this house as a baby. That lovely voice that sang her to sleep each night, the soft light that came into her room when she was afraid of the unseen monsters of the dark, the comforting awareness that she was never alone, this was what Harriet meant to her. Even when The Pote had died, it was Harriet who had stopped his fear. It was her existence that brought the comfort of knowing he was well and happy. What had Harriet told her about pain? She could not become a great singer without touching pain. She had known its vicious touch when she thought she had lost her brother. She had hurt when Aunty Mel was threatened by cancer. Now she knew what she must do with all this and any future pain. She would pour it into her singing. If Harriet had stayed behind for her, she would not let her down. Her music would become her life and she would make her teacher proud of her.
Mel picked up the book. This was the first time she had seen it. Slowly she turned the pages, absorbed by the astonishing wealth of material. During the “presentation” Mel had been aware of a strong female presence in the room: a woman of a certain age, someone who knew the house intimately. Mel could not see her but she felt her to be tall and distinguished, a woman not to be messed with, someone who had known great sorrow and loss, a very determined person, tenaciously loyal, a woman with a mission. When Mel put this to Jenny she laughed. Mel had summed up Harriet’s character pretty accurately. The child’s account of what had taken place paralleled Mel’s version of events although she was only working on feelings and shadowy glimpses, which were subject to misinterpretation. Poor Mel had the uncomfortable feeling that this ghost was playing with her. A gauntlet had been thrown down and she was not about to be called a coward or a charlatan. She too could be stubborn to a terrifying degree. Well, if this spirit wanted to challenge her professional reputation she had met her match. Let battle commence.
Mel’s first challenge was her promise to Brenda, so when later that evening she found Robert alone rifling through some music, she came straight out with it. Robert was amused rather than annoyed. He had been waiting for some reaction from the Circus. Liz had been splendid, as had Jenny. Edward was reticent, not hostile, and he did not expect an adverse reaction from Bob or Mel. He was certainly not expecting their advice that he should address his parents’ feelings.
After a friendly and frank exchange, Mel was assured that both his mother and father were aware of their son’s sexual persuasion and had accepted it, albeit with reservation. What was not obvious was exactly where the animosity was coming from; there was no denying there had been quite violent clashes, especially between mother and son.
Eventually all became clear. The remaining stumbling-block was the church. Robert had been brought up Catholic, and like all good Catholic boys had served as an altar boy and chorister. He had always loved music, especially sacred music, which had kept him close to the church long after he began to doubt the Creed and the antiquated beliefs the clergy adhered to. As he grew older his sexuality was no longer a question for him, but it began to be seen as an issue by everyone else. Never had Robert considered his own God-given orientation to be anything other than natural; certainly not an “issue”. But the Church in its infinite wisdom saw differently. His mother told him to keep quiet. It was nobody else’s business. He could not help feeling she was praying he would see sense and, in time, become a “normal” heterosexual.
He was not wrong. Brenda’s indoctrination was deeply entrenched. She believed that to be gay was a choice and an evil one at that. Knowing her son was in no way an evil person led her to the conclusion that he had made a few unfortunate choices along the way, which he should reverse as soon as po
ssible. This simple application of a truly evil doctrine was a pretty fair description of the Church’s attitude to homosexuality. It will all come out in the wash.
Robert could tolerate this attitude in his mother, but when lifted to the level of a dictate that ostensibly banned him from his own faith, he could not keep quiet, hence the rows. Donald had tried to keep his head down and adopt a low profile, but had exposed himself as weak. He tried to placate his son, also advising that he keep a low profile, which merely confirmed Robert’s beliefs that his father was at heart a coward and homophobic. In his personal life he accepted his parents’ stance. They were of the old school and were trying to be tolerant. Robert did not ask for tolerance. He wanted acceptance, equality and respect.
As he poured his heart out to Mel, Robert was at times tearful. His dignity and determination impressed Mel. He knew he had offended his mother by lashing out against her church, accusing it of gross hypocrisy, citing as evidence the many cases of child abuse and predatory priests. He had hated causing her such pain by turning his back on all she held so dear. She had pleaded on her knees that he come back to the fold for fear of eternal damnation, but Robert was quite prepared to chance his luck and accept his absolution elsewhere.
Mel agreed to report back to Brenda, suggesting gently at Robert’s request that she should look to her own actions if she hoped to heal the rift between the two of them. With this rather unpleasant resolution made Mel switched subjects and pumped Robert for information about Harriet and they were soon engrossed in matters of a more metaphysical nature. It transpired that Robert had always had the gift of clairvoyance. He was convinced that we all have the same ability if we choose to use it. It came as a surprise to hear that Mel could not see Harriet, so calling Mark in as a rational, relatively impartial witness and Jenny, because there was no way she was going to be left out, they sat up late into the night discussing the various manifestations of the spirit world they had become aware of or been informed of. Mel and Bob stayed that night, which meant that the next day the four seekers were free to settle themselves in the Fourth Room to explore this fascinating realm even further.
The Haunting of Harriet Page 26
