She got up early next morning and packed her case. When she came down, ready to leave, she was surprised to find Hilary already up and in the kitchen, making early morning tea.
‘I’m just off,’ she said. ‘Thank you for putting me up.’
‘That’s quite all right.’ Hilary flushed and pulled her dressing gown around her, one hand going self-consciously to her cheek. Her face was devoid of make-up, her hair soft and tousled. Leah sensed that she was feeling resentful. She hated to be caught like this. It made her feel vulnerable, which was a pity. If she only knew, she looked more human without the polished veneer she wore for the outside world.
‘I’ve arranged for Gran’s bungalow to be cleared the day after tomorrow.’ She handed Hilary the key. ‘If you wouldn’t mind opening up for them — and locking up again afterwards? And then maybe you would drop the key into Jane English’s office for me?’
‘Very well.’ Hilary took the key with a grudging nod, aware that she could hardly complain, having made it impossible for the girl to stay on herself.
‘And if you change your mind and decide there’s anything you’d like to have of Gran’s, I hope you’ll help yourself.’
‘Thank you. Very generous, I’m sure.’ Hilary’s tone was sharp and her eyes flashed as she applied herself to the tea tray she was preparing.
‘Well, I’ll go,’ Leah said, picking up her case. ‘Say goodbye to Dad for me, will you?’
‘I’ll tell him you’ve gone. Goodbye.’
Leah paused in the doorway. ‘Oh, by the way, he asked me not to tell anyone about Gran leaving everything to me. But I’d have thought it better for me to be seen to be selling out to Wonderbuys than him. It wouldn’t have looked good for him as chairman of the planning committee, would it?’
The look on Hilary’s face betrayed the fact that the Wonderbuys bid was news to her. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, I’m sure Dad will explain if you ask him.’ Leah closed the door behind her, realising as she did it that this was one door she would not be opening again.
She ate a breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee at the little cafe by the bus station, the one that catered for out of town folk who came in on the early bus for the market. It was hot and steamy, smelling of wet overcoats and burnt toast, but the food was good and the formica-topped tables clean. As soon as it was nine o’clock she went along to the solicitors’ office. Jane greeted her with a smile.
‘I’ve got the Wonderbuy contract all ready for you to sign,’ she said. ‘And I’ve also got some rather good news. Those shares you found … They were in a German pharmaceutical firm that was very new in 1938 when they were purchased. It seems that it prospered during the war, and since then the firm has gone from strength to strength.’
‘So the shares are worth something then?’
‘I’ll say they are.’ Jane smiled. ‘Not only that, the dividends have been building very substantially over the years. Your grandmother never bothered to have them transferred. She couldn’t have realised that she was sitting on a valuable source of income.’
Leah sighed. To think that Kate had a businessman for a son yet she hadn’t felt she could show him the shares and ask his advice.
‘You’re looking rather dazed,’ Jane said. ‘I take it you’d like me to sell the shares for you?’
‘Not yet,’ Leah said after a moment. ‘A steady income might come in useful, you never know. I’ll wait till I see how things go.’
‘I’ll have them transferred to your name then, shall I?’
‘Thank you.’
After completing the necessary formalities Leah walked out into the street again. The town was fully awake now and the air was crisp and clear. There was almost a hint of spring in it. She breathed deeply. In the space of a few days she had become an independent woman with money to invest and a readymade income. A woman of means. She tried the words experimentally inside her head. A woman with money. Money and no friends, a silent voice mocked in reply. No one who cares. Ironically, the one person who had truly cared in her own inimitable earthy way was gone for ever. But that was just one of the new things she was going to have to learn to adjust to. God only knew, she ought to be used to it by now.
*
In the days that followed Ralph’s accident the reception hall of ‘The Ocean’ was packed with newspaper reporters from morning till night. If Marie had hoped to keep the collapse of Evans Hotels secret it had been a forlorn hope. On the day after the accident the local papers and some of the nationals carried the headline: Failed Businessman in Death Crash. There followed the story of Ralph’s financial crisis, coupled with the renewal of Marie’s own recently published story. For Marie herself the whole thing was a living nightmare. Whenever she emerged to go out to the shops or for fresh air, they were waiting. And the questions relentlessly fired at her sickened her heart and made her head spin.
‘Was your husband aware of your past, Mrs Evans?’
‘Did he ever meet your daughters?’
‘Could the shock have been the final straw for him?’
‘Did it tip the balance of his mind, do you think?’
Whatever replies she made would be reported, twisted and distorted out of all recognition in the next day’s papers. Finally she was reduced to sneaking in and out by a rear door, disguised in dark glasses and a headscarf.
Hannah would have liked to stay with her but her own work demanded she return to London. She stayed as long as she could, supporting Marie through the daily police and press visits, the results of the forensic examination and the pathologist’s report. It seemed that the sea, which carried strong currents at that point of the coastline and was particularly turbulent at this time of year, had swept away most of what was left of the body. It was hoped that some identifiable matter would eventually be washed up. But — although the police declined to say how they were able to tell — there clearly had been a body in the car when it went over the cliff and that body was assumed to be Ralph’s. The verdict at the ensuing inquest was one of ‘death by misadventure’. Apart from Ralph’s financial troubles there was no proof that he had taken his own life; no suicide note — no life insurance.
Marie, on the other hand, was convinced of it. She kept silent about the row they had had over the newspaper story. Ralph’s last words echoed constantly in her mind and filled her with guilt. She could not rid herself of her firmly ingrained Catholic belief that suicide was a mortal sin from which there was no absolution. And the thought that she might have been the cause of it disturbed her deeply.
On the night of the inquest Marie had an unexpected visitor. Philip Hodges rang the bell at the rear of the hotel where the flat had its own entrance. Marie answered the entry-phone, her voice cautious and apprehensive.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Marie — Philip.’
Her heart quickening, Marie released the door lock and went out to wait by the service lift. When the doors opened and she saw him she caught her breath. ‘Philip, you shouldn’t have come. If any of those reporters were to see you …’
‘It’s all right. I made sure there were none about.’ He took her hands. ‘My dear, what must you have thought of me, letting you face all this alone?’
She shook her head. ‘You got my letter?’
‘I did. And I’m ashamed that I didn’t come to stand by you at once. I was away at a conference when the story broke.’
‘You mustn’t come here, Philip. You have your partners and the practice to consider. That’s why I wrote to you. You must go. Go now. It’s sweet of you to come but …’
‘I had hoped you might ask me in.’ He was smiling. ‘After all, I’m here now, aren’t I? It can’t make much difference if I stay a while.’
Marie smiled uneasily and opened the door, standing aside for him to enter. There was so much she wanted to say to him. She had no idea where to begin; no idea how much he knew. If he’d been away he migh
tn’t have read everything. It would be better — easier for her — if he were to go now, saving her the further trauma of having to see the horror and disappointment on his face when she told him.
It was after ten and David had gone to bed. In the living room Marie switched off the television and they faced each other across the silent room.
‘First, let me say that I’ve read everything that’s been in the papers,’ Philip said. ‘I don’t know how much truth there is in it, I daresay some of it has been twisted, but that doesn’t concern me. I want you to know that I’m so sorry, Marie. And if there’s anything I can do — anything at all …’
‘There’s nothing anyone can do,’ she said. ‘What’s past can’t be undone. Now Ralph is dead and the business is bankrupt. Nothing can alter that either.’ She looked up at him and saw the compassion in his eyes, and for the first time she felt the ice of her guilt and defeat begin to melt into tears. ‘I — I blame myself for all of it,’ she said quietly.
‘Yourself? But why?’
She shook her shoulders as though trying to free herself of some intolerable burden. ‘I should have stood up to Ralph years ago — refused to let him take the finances out of my hands — should have seen that he was letting things run away with him. I should have known that he wasn’t up to running a business of this size. I’m not sure that I would have been either — not alone. I should have told him about my past — the babies. When he read about it in the paper he was so angry.’ Her voice broke on the first of the sobs she had held back too long. ‘But I can’t believe it caused him to do such a terrible thing, Philip. I feel so guilty.’
He said nothing. Stepping forward, he took her into his arms and held her close, letting her cry out all the pent-up torment of the past.
‘I’m here now,’ he said softly against her hair. ‘If you’ll let me, I want to take care of you.’
She looked up at him. If only she could let him. It would be such a relief, such sheer luxury, to be able to give in and let someone else take all the strain, do all the worrying. But it wasn’t possible. ‘You have your career to think of, Philip,’ she said. ‘I’ve already made a mess of my own life and wrecked David’s and Ralph’s — not to mention the children I gave away.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m bad news, Philip. Sometimes I feel there must be some kind of curse on me.’
He shook her gently. ‘That’s superstitious nonsense. You’re tired and overwrought. You’ve had more than your share of bad luck, that’s all. But that’s going to change. To begin with, I think you should leave here. Why don’t you move into my cottage?’ She stared up at him, lost for words.
‘It’s tucked away in the New Forest,’ he went on. ‘No close neighbours. No one need know where you are, except your solicitor. You’d be free of the press — able to breathe again. And if you want something to do, you can plan the new decor for me. You promised to help me with that anyway.’
She shook her head, ‘I couldn’t. There’s David.’
‘He must come too, of course. I’m still his doctor, don’t forget. I’d be able to keep an eye on him there. It couldn’t be better.’
‘But — why should you do all this for us, Philip? Especially now that you know — about me.’
‘I knew you before all this, Marie,’ he said softly. ‘The important things about you, not some lurid story dredged up by a newspaper reporter who has never set eyes on you. I know that you’re caring and loyal and that you’re incapable — and always have been — of committing any act that might hurt innocent people. No, not even for a man you loved. I know that as surely as I know I’m standing here in this room with you now.’ He cupped her face with his hands and looked into her eyes. ‘And you ask, why am I here — why am I doing this? Because I love you, Marie. I feel free to say it now. It’s been true for a long time and nothing can change it.’ He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her, gently at first, then, as he felt her warm response, more deeply, wrapping her closely in his arms and holding her close. At last he released her and looked down into her misty eyes.
‘So — what do you say? Will you come to the cottage?’
She bit her lip in an agony of indecision. ‘Someone would be sure to find out, and what about your reputation — your standing as a doctor? If you lose the respect of your colleagues and patients …’
He was shaking his head. ‘I won’t. But even if I did it wouldn’t be nearly as disastrous to me as losing you. Marie, I know how unhappy you were with Ralph. I know how cruelly he treated you. How do you think I felt, standing helplessly by and letting it happen to you? I don’t intend to let anything hurt you again. Once all this is over I want to marry you.’ He paused, a rueful smile on his face. ‘If you’ll have me, that is.’
Her heart full, she wound her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, Philip. It all sounds so tempting, but I can’t run away. I must stay here and face it. And we mustn’t meet again until all this mess is sorted out. You know as well as I do that the press have ways of finding out even the best kept secrets and I don’t want anyone else dragged into all this. I don’t need anything else on my conscience.’
For a moment he looked as though he were about to argue, but common sense told him that she was right. ‘I’ll wait then, if you insist. It can’t take that long,’ he said. ‘Nothing lasts for ever. We’ll write letters — talk on the telephone,’ He took her hands. ‘And David is still my patient, so I have a perfectly valid excuse for visiting.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘As long as I know you love me, I can wait.’
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘Of course I love you, Philip. I thought I’d lost you too, but now that I know I haven’t I can face anything.’
*
Leah caught the bus to King’s Lynn and then took a taxi to Cleybourn. It seemed terribly extravagant and she had to keep reminding herself that she could afford it now. Jane English had arranged for her to have some money from Gran’s estate to tide her over until probate was granted.
It was just after lunch when she arrived at the Mermaid and Dick had just called ‘time’. He was just about to lock up for the afternoon when she walked into the bar.
He stared at her in surprised. ‘Well, well. Look what the tide’s washed up. How are you, m’love?’ He lifted the bar flap and came through to hug her. ‘What brings you down ’ere at this time o’ the year?’
‘I’m fine, Dick. And I’d like to stay if you can put me up for a while.’
He scratched his head. ‘Well, now, I don’t know about that. Rooms ain’t aired. How long did you reckon to stay?’
‘Don’t know really,’ she said with a shrug. ‘A few days — a week or two. I’ll give you a hand in the bar — and I’ll pay, of course.’
He chuckled, ‘An’ what about my reputation, eh? An old man and a smashin’ young girl like you, all alone together?’
She winked at him. ‘Do your reputation no harm at all, I’d have thought. Come on, Dick, I’ve come all this way, and I really need a quiet place to stay for a while.’
He peered at her. ‘Not in any kind of trouble, lass, are you?’
‘You mean you haven’t read about me in the papers?’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t have a lot of time for readin’ papers, an’ as you know, I got no telly. I has the wireless on, but the feller on there never mentioned you.’ He grinned and nudged her arm. ‘’Ere — you’re ’avin’ me on, aren’t you?’
‘No. But I’ll tell you all about it later. I haven’t done anything wrong, though, so don’t worry about that. Well, do I get to stay or don’t I?’
‘Have to make up the bed and dust the room yourself,’ he said. ‘Better put a couple of ’ot water bottles in the bed too, ’less you want pneumonia.’
She grinned, ‘I’ll see to it right away, Dick, then how about a cup of your famous tea? I’m parched.’
Over the tea and a doorstep cheese and pickle sandwich, Leah told Dick about her mother and sister and how the story had broken in the Record
er about Marie’s conviction and prison sentence. He listened patiently, nodding from time to time. When she had finished he said: ‘I reckon the way we come into this world don’t matter, girl. It’s what we do with the life we’ve been given once we’m got it. Thass the important thing. It’s how we proves we’ve got the right to be ’ere, if you asks me.’
Leah nodded. Dick’s philosophy might be earthy and homespun but it was right on the button for her money.
Chapter 23
With a baby in the house Mavis was in her element. Caring for an infant again after so long seemed to have taken years off her. In spite of his precarious beginning, little James had developed into an easy, contented baby. He took his feeds eagerly, slept soundly and put on weight almost before their eyes. Under Mavis’s loving care and Ken’s smiling indulgence he flourished visibly. At six weeks old he was already smiling, seeming to recognise the proud faces that bent over his cot. His little arms and legs grew firm and rounded and his cheeks glowed with rosy colour. When Mavis wheeled him out in the shiny new pram that Ken had bought him, she positively beamed with pride.
To their relief, the Paynes had managed to get Sally and baby James away from London before the press could get on to them. Ken had sworn the hospital staff to secrecy, making them promise not to reveal Sally’s whereabouts to anyone. And when the story of Ralph Evans’ death had appeared in the papers he and Mavis had decided to keep the news from her. The less the girl had to do with her natural mother’s shady affairs, the better in their opinion. Sally had promised them that she would remain at home until the doctor pronounced her fully recovered and fit to go back to work, and they were determined to shield her from any more traumas for as long as she remained with them.
In the early days when she still felt weak after James’s birth and her illness, it was bliss for Sally, being pampered again; not to have to worry about getting up in the morning, struggling to work on the overcrowded bus or planning what she would have to eat when she got home in the evenings. But as her strength returned the inactivity began to pall and she soon felt the reawakening of the restlessness that had once made her rebel. Life was very different now. She was a girl no longer, but a woman. A woman with a purpose to her life. It was time she took control of her own life once again.
The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family Page 43
