The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  She asked for the little girls to be baptised and to be allowed to give them names and her request was granted. She called them Sarah and Leah. Good names from the Bible, but without the Catholic label. Because they must have their own lives — make their own choices. At least she could give them that much. She held them once only; Sarah, fair like her, and Leah, as dark as her father had been. Marie looked down at Leah’s furious little face and waving fists and wondered what life held in store for her daughters.

  By the time they were two days old they had gone out of her life for ever; like rosebuds picked for a bouquet, Marie told herself with an aching heart, the morning dew still on their innocent faces.

  *

  Hannah had been over-optimistic about the outcome of Marie’s trial. Charged with an act of terrorism, she stood trial six weeks after the birth of her babies. Liam had not come forward and could not be found.

  She was told that no such person existed. Her counsel said that he must have given her a false name, but the prosecution accused her of fabricating the whole story in order to shield someone else. The evidence was circumstantial. She was found guilty and sentenced to five years’ imprisonment.

  Life in prison was hard, but not so very much harder than she had known before. Hannah came to see her and urged her to study.

  ‘All right, you’ve lost your babies and that’s terrible,’ she said. ‘But you must try to put the past behind you. You still have a future, Marie. You can still survive. You must. You know you’re innocent and maybe one day you’ll get the chance to prove it. Make a firm decision to make up for all that you’ve missed out on. You’re bright, Marie. Why not finish your education — learn a skill?’

  But for the first weeks Marie was too despondent, too heartsore to bother. She worked at her allotted job in the prison laundry, ate and slept like an automaton. Looking neither forward nor back, speaking only when she was spoken to. The only future she could see gaped before her like a deep, dark chasm, filled to the brim with black despair.

  But Hannah never gave up. She visited Marie every week. She persisted in her encouragement and after a while Marie began to come out of her depression. She began to see that Hannah was right; the time would drag unless she took an interest in something. She’d always enjoyed and done well at her lessons at the convent, so in the months that followed she studied for and passed five ‘O’ levels. Encouraged, she went on and added two ‘A’ levels to her achievements. A correspondence course in business management was Hannah’s next suggestion. Marie had proved herself to be good at figures, and she found that the idea of ordered planning and organisation excited and fascinated her. As time passed life began to look just a little less bleak.

  She served a little over three-quarters of her sentence and on the day of her discharge Hannah was waiting for her at the prison gates. She was driving her eight-year-old red Mini and wearing a big smile as she opened the car’s passenger door.

  ‘Guess what. I think I’ve found you a job.’

  ‘Where?’ It was a bitterly cold January day with an icy north wind blowing sleet against the windscreen. As the car pulled out into the main road Marie looked out apprehensively at the traffic speeding frighteningly past. She was preoccupied with the thought that being on the outside was going to take some getting used to.

  ‘It’s at the seaside — a little place called Cromer. It’s on the east coast. You’ve always said you liked the sea, haven’t you?’

  As they drove Hannah told of the family guesthouse she and her parents had visited every summer when she was a child. ‘Mr and Mrs Evans were kindness itself, more like an aunt and uncle,’ she went on. ‘I used to think they were quite old but I don’t suppose they could have been more than thirty at the time. I don’t know why, but I had a yen to go down there and see them recently. I went for the weekend. Mr Evans was just the same, but his wife died a short while ago. He was saying that he didn’t want to give the place up, but didn’t know how he would manage without her. That was when I thought of you.’

  ‘Of me?’ Marie looked at Hannah, apprehension stirring in the pit of her stomach. For all her achievements, her self-confidence was still at a low ebb. Passing exams was one thing. Putting what she had learned into practice, quite another.

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘But I don’t know anything about the hotel business.’

  ‘Of course you do. You worked in a hotel, didn’t you?’

  ‘Only as a chambermaid.’

  ‘It’s still experience.’

  ‘I was hardly more than a child,’ Marie said. ‘It all seems a lifetime away — another world.’

  Hannah glanced at her and guessed at the thoughts that were going through her mind.

  ‘No reason why you shouldn’t use past experience to help you make a new start,’ she said brightly. ‘You’ve got a business management qualification under your belt now, and that’s what he needs — someone who can help him manage.’

  ‘A qualification on paper is one thing,’ Marie said. ‘How do I know that I can do it for real?’

  ‘You don’t ’till you try, and now’s your chance to find out.’ Hannah smiled encouragingly. ‘Anyway you can stay at my place tonight and we’ll drive up to Norfolk tomorrow, then you can see what you think. If you don’t fancy it, fair enough.’

  ‘Does he know?’ Marie looked warily at her friend. ‘Did you tell him — about me, I mean?’

  ‘Yes. I had to, Marie. You’d want to start with a clean slate, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘What did he say? Does he really want to employ a jailbird like me?’

  ‘He’s willing to give you a job, Marie,’ Hannah said. ‘The rest will be up to you.’

  Marie looked at Hannah. She was a sturdily built young woman in her early thirties. Her long brown hair was scraped back and fastened with an elastic band, making no concessions to current fashion. She had a rosy, open face and clear blue eyes that always looked directly into those of the person she was talking to. She was the kindest, most honest person Marie had ever known, yet she realised suddenly that although they had known each other for years she knew hardly anything about Hannah at all, whereas Hannah knew almost everything there was to know about her.

  ‘You mentioned your parents just now,’ she said. ‘You’ve never spoken of them before.’

  ‘They were killed in a plane crash six years ago,’ Hannah told her. ‘On their way out to Australia to see Dad’s sister. They’d been saving for the trip for years.’

  ‘Oh, God. I’m sorry.’

  Hannah’s eyes were on the road as she said: ‘Having troubles of your own sometimes helps in my job. I believe in looking on the positive side. Everything has one if only you look for it.’

  ‘Is that why you’ve always been so good to me?’ Marie asked quietly.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why then?’

  ‘Because I believe in you,’ Hannah said simply. She turned with her characteristic grin. ‘So you’d better be sure not to let me down, eh?’

  *

  ‘Homeleigh’ stood in a quiet tree-lined road not far from the seafront at Cromer in Norfolk. The brochure boasted that it was five minutes’ walk from the beach, had separate tables in the dining room and wash-hand basins in all bedrooms.

  Being the off-season David Evans was busy decorating. He answered the door to them, a white painter’s apron tied around his stocky figure. He wore an old cardigan with darned elbows and his greying hair was liberally spattered with flecks of emulsion paint. His kindly face lit with pleasure when he opened the door.

  ‘Hannah, my love. Come along in. And this must be the friend you told me about.’ He held out a hand to Marie. ‘How do you do, my dear? Welcome to Homeleigh. I’ll put the kettle on. Excuse the mess, won’t you?’ He led the way through a wide hallway draped with dustsheets, to the private regions at the rear of the house. Here Marie found the kind of kitchen she loved, cosy with the warmth from the Aga sitting in its tiled recess. One wall was almost f
illed with a huge dresser, its shelves filled with blue and white willow pattern plates. In the centre stood a large table.

  ‘Sit you down, both of you,’ David said. ‘I’ll have tea made in no time at all.’

  ‘I hope we’re not interrupting your work,’ Hannah said.

  He turned to grin at her. ‘Any excuse to stop for a cuppa. You know me, Hannah, love. At least, you should do by now.’ He smiled at Marie. ‘When this young lady first came to stay with us she was knee high to a grasshopper,’ he said proudly. ‘That was our first year. Megan and I had just opened this place. Such plans we had.’ He paused thoughtfully as he took a tin of biscuits from the dresser cupboard. ‘Thinking about it, I suppose that means it’s time I considered retiring,’ he said pensively. ‘But, do you know, I feel almost as young as I did then.’

  ‘And you don’t look a day older,’ Hannah said. ‘Why should you retire when you obviously enjoy your job?’

  ‘Precisely. Have a biscuit.’

  After tea David showed them over the house. There were fourteen bedrooms on the two floors above, a large lounge and a spacious dining room on the ground floor, as well as the kitchen and breakfast room and another tiny room which David used as an office. On the very top floor were three attic bedrooms.

  ‘These are what I call our summer quarters,’ he explained. ‘Not good enough to let so we’ve always used them ourselves in the high season. Megan and I used the big one and the other two are for staff.’ Marie peeped into the quaint little rooms with their sloping ceilings and dormer windows. A bedroom like this of her very own would be sheer luxury to her. Even the smallest was bigger than the room she had at the hotel back home. She loved the house with its air of faded Edwardian grandeur, and David Evans was so kind, just the kind of man she had always fondly imagined her father might have been.

  Hannah was looking at her. ‘Well, what do you think? Will you take the job?’

  Marie blushed. ‘That’s for Mr Evans to say.’

  He laughed. ‘If you’ll come and work for me I’ll be delighted,’ he said. ‘I can’t pay you a great deal, but you’ll have your own room and I’m not a bad cook, though I do say it myself.’

  ‘I’ll vouch for that,’ Hannah said with a smile.

  ‘You can have the use of the car too, if you drive of course,’ David went on. ‘But before you decide anything I think you’d better look at the mess I’ve made of the books first.’

  As it turned out David Evans was right. The one year he’d run the place on his own seemed to have been pretty chaotic. On her first evening at ‘Homeleigh’ Marie went through the books carefully, reflecting that it was no wonder he found himself unable to retire. In the whole of the previous year he’d made hardly any profit at all.

  ‘You don’t charge much, do you?’ she observed.

  David laughed. ‘Wouldn’t be much point. I’d find the place empty if I put up the charges.’ He sighed. ‘You see, people have started to expect much more than they used to when they go on holiday. The newer hotels have extras like private bathrooms, or at least en-suite showers.’ He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. ‘People bathe much more often than they used to, you know. The weekly tub is a thing of the past. They don’t want to queue up for a communal bathroom any more. Anyway, if they did it would take too long. We’d never get them down to breakfast. When you’re running with a small staff time and routine are important.’

  Marie took in all that David told her. She didn’t say anything at the time, but she stored it all up to think about later as she lay in her snug little room under the eaves.

  For the first two weeks she helped David finish the decorating and spring cleaning. They got along well and worked together harmoniously. David found Marie hard-working and willing to turn her hand to anything; she in her turn found him easy-going and pleasant. He made no mention of her past and it wasn’t until she’d been there a week that she was able to steel herself to bring it up herself. They’d just finished their evening meal when she finally found the courage.

  ‘Hannah told you about me — what happened?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If there’s anything you want to ask me about it, please do. You’ve a right to know,’ Marie said.

  David shook his head. ‘Hannah told me that she’s never doubted your innocence. If that’s what she believes, it’s good enough for me.’

  ‘You’re very kind.’ Marie’s throat thickened. ‘She told you about — about the babies too?’

  ‘Yes, love. She told me. And I’m very sorry. It seems so cruel. He must have been a very wicked man to do that to you. You little more than a child at the time too.’

  Marie got up from the table, afraid that she might cry and make a fool of herself. ‘It’s over. I have to put it behind me — make a new start. I just wanted you to feel free to ask me about it, that’s all. I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’

  ‘You should go out,’ David told her thoughtfully. ‘Make some friends of your own age. You shouldn’t be around an old man all the time.’

  Marie laughed. ‘You’re not old.’

  ‘I’ve got a son a good ten years older than you.’

  Marie looked at him in surprise. ‘A son? Hannah never mentioned him.’

  ‘She wouldn’t. I don’t think she ever met him. I was married twice, you see. Very young the first time. Ralph was only three when the marriage broke up. He stayed with his mother, of course. Meg and I never had any family.’

  ‘So where is your son now? Do you see him?’

  ‘He’s in the regular army,’ David told her. ‘I used to see him now and again when he was younger, but since he went into the service we’ve lost touch a bit. His mother died five years ago. I haven’t seen him at all since then.’

  ‘I daresay you’d have liked him to join you here in the business?’

  David shook his head. ‘This is no life for a young man. The army now …’ He smiled reminiscently. ‘I was in the army, you know. The war was on then. I went in almost straight from school.’ He smiled. ‘That was where I learned to cook.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘When I came out after the war I decided to make a career of it. Army cooking was pretty basic, as you can imagine, so I had to train. I’ve worked under some of the best chefs in the country in my time.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You’re certainly a super cook.’ Marie stirred her tea thoughtfully. ‘David, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You said the summer bookings would soon start to come in. We’re into March now and they aren’t coming very fast.’

  ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I’m very much afraid this might be the last season for “Homeleigh”. People have been going abroad for holidays these last few years — standards have been going up. They expect more now, and they can pay for it. Places like “Homeleigh” just aren’t posh enough any more. After this summer I might have to sell up.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think you’re wrong.’ Marie leaned forward, suddenly confident. ‘I’ve worked in a big hotel and I’m sure there are lots of people who like to stay in a small, friendly place like this, where they can get personal service. They’d have to go a long way to find a friendly atmosphere and food as good as you provide here. Even if you charged twice as much you’d still be cheaper than the hotels on the seafront.’

  David was amused; pleased too that the girl should take such an interest in the business after such a short time. ‘But we’re not on the front, are we? And let’s face it, we can’t give them the same services, however much we might want to.’

  ‘We could go more than halfway towards it.’ David’s eyebrows rose. Marie, usually so shy and diffident, was suddenly animated and alive. There was a glint in her eyes and her pale cheeks glowed with sudden colour as she leaned eagerly towards him across the table.

  ‘So what would you suggest?’ he invited.

  ‘Well, you’re probably thinking I’ve got a cheek, talking to you like this, but
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a cheek at all. Please go on,’ David prompted.

  ‘Well …’ She leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Some of the bedrooms on the first floor are huge. Much larger than necessary. Why not have part of each made into a bathroom? Then, on the second floor, there are three doubles and three singles. Turn the singles into bathrooms. I know it would mean fewer rooms to let,’ she went on, anticipating his next question, ‘but you could charge more for rooms with private bathrooms.’

  ‘I daresay, but where is the money to come from for all this work?’

  ‘Maybe the bank would lend you some,’ Marie suggested tentatively.

  ‘Maybe it would.’

  ‘And you needn’t do it all at once. Do the first floor and see how it goes.’

  ‘Any more ideas?’

  ‘Well, yes. I’ve been looking round the town — finding out what the big hotels charge and what they give their customers for the money.’ She fetched her handbag and took out several brochures. ‘Look, most of them do half board nowadays. You do lunch and dinner. If you did breakfast and a good meal in the evening — maybe with a couple of choices on the menu — you’d save quite a bit both in time and money. People with children probably like to stay on the beach all day anyway.’

  ‘Point taken. Anything else?’

  Marie bit her lip. Was she overstepping the mark? ‘Well, there are all sorts of things. Morning tea, for instance. If you put tea-making machines in the rooms you wouldn’t have to toil up the stairs with trays of morning tea. Then eventually you could put in TV sets.’

  David’s lips were twitching. ‘Anything else?’