The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  The large black headlines of the paper on top of the pile seemed to leap up at her: Failed Businessman in Death Crash. Swiftly she read the opening sentence: ‘Ralph Evans, part owner of Evans Hotels died last night when his blazing car crashed over a cliff at Lulworth Cove, a Dorset beauty spot’. She looked at the man. ‘I — I’m sorry, but would you mind if I had that paper?’ she asked, pointing.

  Puzzled, he handed it to her. ‘O’course you can, love. Hey! he called, holding out her parcel as she hurriedly left the shop. ‘Don’t forget your fish.’

  In the warmth and seclusion of the car she unfolded the paper and looked at its date, horrified to find that it was more than a month old. She read the rest of the story about Ralph Evans’s death crash. Its reference to the failure of the hotel chain carried thinly veiled implications of suicide. Leah folded the paper and stared unseeingly out through the windscreen. How terrible for Marie. She’d lost her business and her husband and presumably her home — everything she’d built over the years out of the ruin that was her life. And it had all happened soon after the damning article Terry had sold the Recorder.

  All this could be because of me, she told herself with growing horror, remembering the abysmal failure of their one and only meeting. I might have brought all this disaster down on her. Why did I only think of myself when it happened? I should have got in touch — told her I was sorry and tried to help put things right.

  Over lunch she was quiet. Dick finished the last morsel and pushed away his plate with a sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘Aah, that was good. Nuthin’ like home-cooked fish ‘n’ chips. Good of you to think of it, love.’ He looked at her barely touched plate and pensive face. ‘Nuthin’ wrong, is there, my ’andsome? Not feelin’ poorly, are you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Dick. And you’re right. The fish is good. I’m just not very hungry.’ She gave up all pretence of eating and pushed her plate away, looking at him across the table. ‘Dick, I think I’m going to have to leave tomorrow.’

  He shrugged resignedly. ‘Well — can’t really say I’m surprised. I guessed it wouldn’t be long before you’d be itchin’ to be off again.’

  She reached out to touch one of his large brown hands. ‘You’ve been a wonderful help. Thanks for letting me stay and for everything,’ she said. ‘You’re a real friend.’

  He shook his head, grinning self-consciously. ‘G’on with you. It’s you what’s the friend. Look how you’ve worked. Shan’t need to cook meself nuthin’ for weeks to come now.’ He rose and began to clear the table, mainly to hide his embarrassment. ‘Always a room for you at The Mermaid, girl,’ he muttered. ‘Told you that a’fore, didn’ I? Long as I’m ’ere you’ll be more’n welcome.’

  He insisted on driving her into King’s Lynn next morning to catch the train. She was sharply reminded of the last time he had seen her off. It had been autumn then. Now it was almost spring. There was a gentler feel to the wind this morning and a honeyed scent to the air. Buds were bursting on the trees and the birds had begun to sing again. Perhaps it was an omen, she told herself hopefully.

  ‘Don’t wait, Dick,’ she told him as she got out of the car. ‘I hate railway station goodbyes. Anyway, you’ll be wanting to get back for opening time.’ But he insisted on carrying her case on to the platform for her and giving her a bear-like hug.

  ‘Just you look after yourself, girl,’ he said. ‘An’ don’t forget, you can come back any time. No need to write or phone.’

  ‘I’ll remember.’ She kissed his rough cheek. ‘Goodbye, Dick.’

  *

  The little sports car was standing outside when Dick arrived back at the Mermaid. Terry got out as soon as the Cortina came into view. Dick recognised him at once and guessed why he was here, ‘If you’re after Leah, she’s gone,’ he said before Terry could ask. ‘You’ve just missed her. Took her to Lynn station meself.’

  Terry sighed. ‘Oh no. It’s desperately important that I see her. Do you know where she was going?’

  Dick shook his head. ‘Never asked. Back to London, I s’pose.’

  ‘Damn. Oh, well …’ Terry flexed his long back and winced a little at the stiffness in his spine. ‘I’ve been driving all night,’ he told Dick. ‘All the way down from Manchester. I’d appreciate a bit of a rest before I start out for London again. Not much point in hurrying now. I suppose you couldn’t rustle up a bit of lunch?’ He looked at Dick hopefully and the inn keeper chuckled.

  ‘I can’t, but Leah can.’ Seeing Terry’s puzzled expression he explained: ‘She stocked up my freezer for me while she was ’ere. Homemade steak and kidney pie do you?’

  Terry grinned. ‘Would it? Just try me. No rush now that I know where she is.’

  It was evening by the time he arrived at Melbury Street. He found Bill in the kitchen eating fish and chips out of their newspaper wrapping. By the chill in the place it was clear that he had let the Aga go out. He sat huddled in his leather jacket, with what looked like two days’ stubble darkening his jowls. When Terry walked in he looked up without enthusiasm. ‘Oh, it’s you. More time off?’

  Terry looked around at the squalor with distaste. ‘Not really. I’m supposed to be working. I drove down to Norfolk to look for Leah. Set out in the small hours. I should be back in Manchester by now. I feel like I’ve been driving for about a week.’

  ‘More fool you,’ Bill said. ‘Obviously she wasn’t there.’

  Terry nodded. ‘Got there to find I’d just missed her. The paper’s sending me to Sarajevo and I wanted to put things straight about this Recorder thing. I’m off first thing in the morning.’

  Bill whistled softly. ‘Yugoslavia, eh? Hot stuff. Well done.’

  ‘I know. I’m looking forward to my first big assignment, but I wanted to see Leah before I went.’

  Bill shook his head. ‘Sorry, old son. Unfortunately you’ve just missed her here too.’ He pushed the last of the chips into his mouth, screwed up the newspaper wrapping and threw it at the Aga. Pushing a note across the table to where Terry sat, he said: ‘Found this when I came in just now. Seems she came in while I was at work. By the time I got home she’d packed and gone. She left her door key and a month’s rent in lieu of notice — but no forwarding address.’ He watched Terry’s crestfallen face as he read the hurriedly scribbled note. ‘Sorry you’ve had a wild goose chase, mate. Let it be a lesson to you. Women are all the same.’ He glanced round the cold, neglected kitchen. ‘Let you get used to them, then bugger off without so much as a goodbye. D’you know what? I found out today that Janet is back here in London permanently. Been here freelancing since Christmas and didn’t have the decency to tell me, blast her. I tell you — they’re all the bloody same.’

  *

  The house had been built in the early nineteen hundreds and had originally been intended as a comfortable family home for some wealthy businessman. It had been converted into three apartments soon after the war. Marie and David occupied the ground-floor flat, which consisted of a sitting room, two bedrooms, a small bathroom and a kitchen. Half of the small back garden went with it too, where David liked to potter whilst Marie was at work.

  She’d found the job easily enough. There was always plenty of domestic work in the off-season. Most of the small hotels and guest houses were spring cleaning just now and glad of a good worker.

  ‘La Mer’ was one of a row of modest guest houses in a tree-lined road which advertised itself as being ‘five minutes walk from the sea and shops’. It reminded Marie nostalgically of ‘Homeleigh’, the small private hotel in Cromer where she had first gone to work for David. It was ironic that fate had deposited her unceremoniously back where she had started. She seemed to have come full circle. Philip had begged her to let him help financially, but she wouldn’t hear of it. With David’s pension and what she earned, they could just about manage. She still believed that the bankruptcy was partly her fault. Now it was up to her to make reparation to David in whatever way she could.

  John and M
ary Weaver, the couple who owned ‘La Mer’, had realised who Marie was soon after they had employed her, but they decided not to mention it to her. She was a hard worker and a nice person. It was obvious that she was down on her luck and they saw no reason to make things even worse for her.

  Marie liked the Weavers. They were young and as enthusiastic as she had once been. Looking round the flourishing small hotel she envied them a little, and longed to warn them not to overreach themselves. She hoped they’d have better luck than she’d had. Her work was hard and tiring but she enjoyed it. And though it was a step backwards, Marie tried stoically to see it in a more positive way. At least it helped to take her mind off her present position and all that had happened. It stopped her wondering about the future too. She could not expect Philip to wait for ever, yet she was determined that when she agreed to marry him it would be on an equal footing. No one, least of all Philip himself, must ever feel that she was opting for marriage as a last resort.

  Ralph’s funeral had taken place soon after the inquest. The enquiries seemed to have dragged on for weeks and she was relieved when at last the body was released for burial. She still shuddered when she thought about it, trying not to imagine what had been in the coffin. The police had already told her that there was very little left after the explosion. She was just grateful and relieved to have the whole thing over and done with, more for David’s sake than her own. The trauma had aged him considerably and Philip was keeping him carefully monitored on his weekly visits to them.

  Now the receivers had taken over, Evans Hotels had come under the auctioneer’s hammer along with everything else they had worked for. Two hotels had already been sold and ‘The Ocean’ with all its contents was to be auctioned next. Marie secretly dreaded seeing the place she had loved as both her home and her career for the past eight years pass out of her life for ever.

  One afternoon she arrived home to find that David was entertaining a visitor. She could hear voices in the sitting room. Sighing wearily, she slipped into the bedroom to change and put on some lipstick. Whoever it was, she hoped they wouldn’t stay long. Philip was coming for dinner this evening and she wanted time to cook a special meal.

  In the sitting room she found her father-in-law giving tea to a young woman. She was smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt. The briefcase at her feet suggested she was some kind of sales person and Marie felt slightly irritated. A double glazing rep’ perhaps? David should have known better than to ask her in, let alone give her tea. He knew very well that they couldn’t afford to buy anything.

  The young woman was slim and attractive, her shining dark hair cut in a short, gamin style which accentuated her shapely head. She had high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes. Marie frowned. Surely they’d met before? There was something familiar about the way she held her head and the timbre of her voice. As she stood in the doorway the girl looked up.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ She stood up and turned towards her, holding out her hand tentatively. ‘How are you — Marie?’

  She checked, peering uncertainly at the girl, ‘It’s — Leah, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you like this.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Marie’s heart quickened with shock. She'd told herself after their first meeting that it was most unlikely they would ever meet again. She opened her mouth to ask ‘Why are you here?’ but bit back the question. It sounded abrupt and unfriendly. Instead she asked: ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘Hannah gave me your address,’ She saw Marie’s expression and held up her hand. ‘Oh, but not until after I’d spent ages talking her into it. I did have a good reason, you see.’

  ‘I see.’ Marie licked her dry lips, apprehension making her wary. ‘Is — is there some kind of problem?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. Please don’t worry. As a matter of fact I’ve come to talk business with you.’

  ‘Business?’ Marie shook her head, watching as Leah unzipped her briefcase and took out a folder. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I don’t think …’

  ‘Please — it’s very important that I talk to you.’ Seeing Marie’s hesitation she said: ‘Of course, if it’s inconvenient I could come back …’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Marie made up her mind. She couldn’t imagine how she could be of help but she was touched that the girl had come to her for advice. ‘Stay to dinner,’ she said impulsively. ‘We’re expecting a friend. He’s a very close friend and I’m sure he can offer you far better advice that I could.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m hardly the ideal person to advise anyone on business matters. I only wish I could offer to put you up …’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ve booked into a hotel,’ Leah interrupted. ‘Look, I think I should explain, Marie, it isn’t just advice I need, it’s you. You see, I’m here for the sale.’ She opened the folder and took out the estate agent’s brochure. ‘I want to buy “The Ocean” and if I get it I’d like you to help me run it. In fact everything hinges on what you say. If your answer is no the deal is off, so you can see how important it is to me. You see, I know nothing about the hotel business except the catering side.’

  *

  On her return to London Leah had gone to see Hannah. She’d told her about the money Kate Dobson had left her and what she intended to do with it. Then she asked Hannah to tell her the truth behind the newspaper story — about Marie’s bankruptcy and the death of her husband. At last, in confidence, Hannah had told her everything — about Marie’s early struggle and her unhappy marriage. She added, at the risk of appearing callous, that Ralph’s death was perhaps the best thing that could have happened for Marie.

  ‘But how could she let him treat her like that?’ Leah asked, horrified. ‘No woman has to put up with treatment like that in this day and age. Why didn’t she leave him years ago?’

  ‘It was a little more complicated than it might seem,’ Hannah explained. ‘Marie felt trapped — by her religious beliefs and also by her loyalty to David, to whom she owed so much. Ralph recognised both these facts and exploited them to the full, holding them over her head to get his own way.’ She smiled wryly. ‘It’s a piece of cruel irony that she and David are in the position now that they would have been if she’d divorced Ralph years ago.’

  ‘So it’s all been for nothing?’

  ‘One would have thought that at least she had peace of mind now,’ Hannah said. ‘But the last time I spoke to her she was blaming herself for the whole disaster.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s Marie for you. Being a victim at an early age seems to leave a deeply ingrained mark.’

  Leah was appalled. At their one meeting she’d seen her mother as smug and complacent. A woman who’d worked hard to get what she wanted from life and was now determined to hang on to it. ‘It was weeks after the accident and bankruptcy before I saw the newspaper story,’ she told Hannah. ‘I saw an old copy of the paper quite by accident. It was soon after that that I got this idea. I’d been thinking of buying a restaurant,’ she said. ‘But I know that with Marie’s help I could make a go of a hotel. After all, “The Ocean” already has a good reputation behind it. How can we fail — if she agrees, that is?’

  Hannah looked doubtful. ‘You realise that you might have to sink everything you’ve inherited into it and maybe borrow more?’ she said. ‘It’s an enormous risk for someone your age. If you invested the money wisely you’d be sitting pretty.’

  ‘But I don't want to sit pretty,’ Leah said vehemently. ‘All my life till now I’ve been drifting. If I do this I’ll be making something of myself — a real career. I’ll be someone who counts, Hannah. Granny Dobson would have wanted me to do it. I know she would.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ve taken enough advice — thought it through carefully enough? Marie is bankrupt, remember. She could make no contribution herself.’

  ‘But she could. All her experience, her contacts and the knowledge she’s built up over the years. That’s the most valuable contribution of all.’

 
Hannah looked at the earnest young face and made up her mind. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you her address. But I warn you, she’s a very independent woman. Don’t be surprised if she refuses.’

  *

  But Marie did not refuse. Over dinner that evening the four of them discussed the idea. Philip and David patiently pointed out all the pitfalls, but even they had to agree that the business would have a good chance of success with Leah’s money and Marie as advisor.

  ‘All the same, I’d hate to think of you risking your entire capital,’ Philip said, echoing Hannah’s fears.

  But Leah’s face wore a look of determination. ‘I had nothing before. If I lose, which I’ve no intention of doing, I can’t be any worse off than I was, and at least I would have tried. I could always get another job in a restaurant. I want to do it. I’d already decided to start some kind of business with the money anyway. Surely there couldn’t be anything better than this?’

  Philip smiled. ‘I can see that you’ve made up your mind. It looks as though there’s nothing more for me to say than to wish the two of you good luck.’

  He promised to go along to the auction with Leah, to lend his support and help her bid.

  ‘I have to admit that I’m almost as excited as you,’ he admitted as he drove Leah back to her hotel later that evening. ‘And although she may not show it, I know Marie is too. She deserves a lucky break. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed.’

  ‘I haven’t said anything to anyone about it, but I’m hoping to offer my sister a job too,’ Leah confided. ‘I had a letter from her recently. She’s looking for a job so that she can support herself and her baby son.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you see, a lot depends on my getting “The Ocean”.’

  *

  The hotel was being auctioned as a whole, complete with furniture, equipment and other effects. Leah had already been to view it and had loved the place the moment she walked in through the glass entrance doors. It was just right to be run as a family concern; larger and more up-market than a guesthouse, yet small enough to give personal service and retain an informal, relaxed atmosphere.