A Long Road Through The Night

by Rosemary Hodgson

  Sylvia did not know how to answer at first. To profess complete disinterest would be illogical, in view of how worked-up she had become over the matter. Yet admitting the depth of her feelings for him would be a huge step from which she could not draw back. Was it wise to commit herself so far? Eventually she replied, `I would`ve been disappointed because it would mean you hadn`t told me the truth.`

  `Is that all?` He sounded as if he had hoped for more, and she reproached herself for cowardice.

  `No, Ray. It`s not all. It would`ve upset me more than I can tell you. I wouldn`t want her to come back into your life, because then there would be no place for me.` She had done it now, made the leap of faith. How would he react?

  Eyes filled with wonder, he took her in his arms. `There`ll always be a place for you in my heart. In fact, if I have my way, there`ll be nobody else but you for the rest of our lives. Could you ever consider marrying me?`

  Inexplicably she began to cry, filled with love for him, and sorrow for Tom who must be dismissed from his central position in her affections before anyone else could replace him. `Oh, Ray! I don`t know what to say?`

  Anxiously he pressed the point. `I do understand. It`s not long since Tom, but I need to know if there`s any hope for me at all.`

  Biting her lip, she leaned against his shoulder to hide her face. `Yes, I think there might be, but I just feel as if it`s too soon. Would it be awful if I asked you to wait a while for me?`

  His expression now of relief, he hugged her gently. `If I can hope, I can wait. But please promise me you will think it over?`

  `I promise.`

  After he had gone home, she made a fresh brew of tea and sat by the fire to drink it, her mind consumed by the question to which she had promised an answer. During the long years with Tom, she had become used to a way of life that was pedestrian, mundane – and mind-numbingly dull, she dared to admit to herself, though not to anybody else.

  Ray was a steady man, but capable of acting on impulse. She looked back on their New Year`s Eve outing to "Cushie Butterfield`s", savouring again the sound of the band that had played "Unforgettable", and the thrill of their first kiss. The prospect of a future filled with such sweet surprises made her senses tingle, reminding her that at least one more important issue must be faced and considered.

  The erotic dreams preceding Tom`s funeral were rendered all the more bizarre because their lovemaking had never been exactly inspirational. With only the minimum of foreplay, he could satisfy himself in five minutes or less, using only the most basic of techniques, but Raymond`s needs might be very different. Things had changed a lot on the sexual side in the last thirty-five years. It`s not enough any more to just Lie Back and Think of England, she thought – lovemaking nowadays`s all oral sex and new positions – will Ray expect that sort of thing? -- I never liked French-kissing, even as a young lass, and I don`t fancy turning myself into an acrobat at my time of life. Yet if they could not get that side of their marriage right, what hope of a successful relationship could there be?

  Perhaps he would not be as demanding as she feared. Being of her own generation, he might not have acquired the taste for over-adventurous lovemaking. Perhaps I should sleep with him at least once before we do get married, just to make sure I dare, she decided -- it wouldn`t be fair to marry him, then find I can`t give him what he wants.

  Of course there were other factors too. Sexual harmony, though important, was not the only necessity for happy marriage -- We`ve got the same tastes in music, we like eating-out, we`re both family-minded, but is that enough? So often, rows could begin over trivially-annoying habits endlessly repeated to screaming-point. Would he keep leaving the toilet-seat up, or squashing the toothpaste-tube all out of shape? What if – like her grandfather – he poured milk into his soup, or tapped rhythmically on his teeth while thinking?

  In childhood, these things had made her cringe, but perhaps she was not so perfect either. Tom had once unexpectedly demanded to know whether it was strictly necessary for her to crunch boiled-sweets so loudly, and he had always hated to see washing drying on the radiators. Perhaps she and Raymond should make a list of each other`s pet-hates before trying to live together.

  Remembering that keeping her daughters in the dark about the closeness of her friendship with Ray had proved to be a mistake, she decided to take them into her confidence about the proposal. Patty would most likely be prepared to go along with whatever made her mother happy. Delia would be the difficult one to convince.

  `How would you feel if I decided to get married again?`

  `Pardon?` Delia glanced up quickly, as if she was not sure she had heard correctly.

  `I wondered what you`d think about me getting married again.`

  `Married.` Now sure that her ears had not deceived her, Delia looked thoughtful. `Would this be the man we met when we called at your flat that night?`

  `Yes. In case you`ve forgotten, his name`s Raymond Hood.` Made nervous by her daughter`s stunned silence, Sylvia heard herself rambling on. `I know it isn`t even a year since your Dad died, but we`ve taken time to get to know each other, and it feels right. When he asked me to be the fourth Mrs. Hood, I didn`t know where to put myself.`

  She knew she had said the wrong thing instantly, from the scandalised look of Delia`s face. `Mum! Are you saying he`s been married three times already?`

  Sylvia exploded with laughter. `Of course not! I have to admit it threw me at first, till he explained. They`re his mother, his sister-in-law, and his daughter-in-law.`

  Though now able to appreciate the joke, Delia was not thrilled. `Being friends is all very well, Mum, but – marriage?`

  `What`s wrong with it? Would you rather I lived-in-sin?`

  Paul looked confused, searching for tactful words. `It`s just that – what makes him want to marry you?`

  The implication was hardly flattering. `You don`t see why anybody in their right mind would want to marry me?`

  Flapping his hand as if to erase the words from the air, her son-in-law tried again. `It`s not that, but . . .`

  She would not let him off the hook. `Maybe I`m past-it at my age, then?`

  Pitying his confusion, Delia sprang to his defence. `Please don`t be difficult, Mum. What I think Paul`s trying to say is, you should be careful about committing yourself as far as that.` Encouraged by a vigorous nod from her husband, she continued, `You could still be on the rebound from Dad, and you haven`t known this man long enough to be certain what his motives are.`

  Sylvia smiled sourly. `Well, we can be pretty sure of one thing - he`s not marrying me for my money.` They were forced to laugh at that, and the awkward moment passed. Afterwards she was glad she had been open about the situation – at least they were aware of the proposal, even if not overjoyed about it, and there was plenty of time for them to get used to the idea that she might accept it.

  As she had expected, Patty and Edgar were more supportive. `Do you think you`ll say Yes?` Patty asked eagerly, looking as if her mind had already set out for the shops to choose a wedding outfit.

  `I asked if he`d give me time to think it over. I`m a bit worried it might look funny, after only seven-months, but I am tempted. I don`t suppose it`ll be all plain sailing, but no marriage ever has been, or ever will be. So if I`m still of the same mind when Ray asks again, I most likely will accept.`

  `If it`s what you want, you gan for it,` Edgar advised, giving her one of his enormous bear-hugs. `Patty and me`s been hoping you might find somebody new one of these days. All right, so it`s a bit sooner than we expected, but life gans on and we got to take whatever chances of happiness we can get. It`s about time summick-nice happened to you, after the putting-up you`ve had this past year.` In light of reservations Delia and Paul had expressed, it felt good to find people willing to look forward with her to a future that might include Raymond Hood.

  The arrival of an envelope bearing French stamps came as a surprise. I don`t know anybody in France, she thought. But as it happened, she did.

  "
Dear Mrs. Brandon: I just wanted to let you know I`m coming back to England next week, and I wondered if we could meet one-another. There`s things we need to talk about, and I`d like the chance to tell you my side of the story. To save either of us having to make too long a journey, could we maybe meet at the motorway-services at Trowell? Please let my mother k now if you agree. Regards, Danny Franks."

  So at last she would be able to see him face-to-face, to judge for herself if there was anything of Tom about him. Though the meeting might not be easy for either of them to handle, curiosity made her accept his suggestion by return of post.

  `Ray, would you be able to do me a favour?` she asked when he came to call for her the following day. `I need to go somewhere next week and, since I gave up the car, I`ve got to depend on public transport. But this time that`s really not convenient.`

  `You`d rather I drove you there? Of course I will. I`ve got a day`s holiday still to take, so it`s not a problem,` he promised, apparently taking note of the tension in her face. `Is it more stuff to do with Tom`s estate?`

  She brought him up to date about her efforts to trace Daniel, and their agreement to meet on neutral ground. `I`m so afraid I`ll get upset, and not be fit to travel home on my own.`

  Raymond put a protective arm round her. `I wouldn`t like to think of you even trying to go through with this alone. Of course I`ll come. You can see him by yourself, if you`d rather, but at least you`ll know I`m around to get you home safe afterwards.`

  His thoughtfulness touched a chord of guilt in her. `I feel such a nuisance. Are you sure it`s not inconvenient?`

  He smiled down at her. `I`m serious about wanting us to spend the rest of our lives together, so any time you need help, I`ll be there for you. Where did you agree to meet?`

  `That`s why I need you. I think he must have his own transport, because he suggested the motorway-services at Trowell. Is it a problem, it being so far away?` she enquired anxiously, and he shrugged.

  `One place is as good as another, I guess.`

  The following day, around lunchtime, a knock at the door of Sylvia`s flat introduced an unexpected visitor. `Dave! Long time, no see. Come in. How`s the museum doing? Has it fallen down yet?`

  Laughing he seated himself alongside the dining-table as she made coffee for them. `I`ve brought something for you.`

  `For me?` Brow furrowed, she took the large Kraft envelope he held out. `What`s this`

  `Haven`t a clue. We just got it through the post.` She glanced at the envelope, and saw that it was indeed addressed to Tom`s former workplace. `The folks that sent it put a note in to say they found something with the museum`s address and Tom`s name on it among these papers, and wrote to us to see if we knew whose they were.`

  `What folks?` Sylvia turned the package over and over in her hands. `How did they get hold of any of Tom`s papers? I thought I had them all.` Was this another aspect of her husband`s life that had not been an open book?

  This time the explanation was simple. `They apparently bought your old caravan from a young couple who`d got it given as a present, but they`re emigrating and can`t keep it. The folks that bought it off them decided to modernise it, and stripped out most of the old fittings. While they were doing it, they found this lot in one of the bed-lockers.` Sylvia remembered the box that had spilled when she hurt her leg and how, enraged with pain, she had flung the scattered papers carelessly aside – it felt like a lifetime ago. The documents now in her hands must have been hidden under the groundsheet that fell into the locker at the same time.

  After Dave had returned to work, she opened the envelope, eager to see what was inside. With the benefit of hindsight she recalled seeing the folder on top of the box before it overturned. Most likely the envelope held only more rubbish, but it was worth looking through before binning.

  Yet more exercise-books containing additional material for "Fresh Aspects of Egyptology." What, more of it, for God`s sake! -- if he ever had managed to write that book, it would`ve been longer than "War and Peace", she thought. In glancing through the manuscript hastily to ensure nothing of interest was interleaved between the pages, she caught sight of her own name and sniggered. Fancy putting me in a book about Egyptology – what am I, then? -- one of the ancient Mummies?

  Then laughter died as she realised what she was looking at. The page, disfigured by a multitude of crossings-out, was a draft of a note Tom had apparently never finished, dated for the day before his death. Transfixed, she read the deleted passages as well as what remained of the message. "My dearest Sylvia, I`ve been a complete fool. Part of the text had been scribbled over and replaced by "... the biggest fool in Christendom. When you hear” – altered to "understand what I`ve done, and the provisions in my will, you`ll be glad I`m dead, before you got the chance to do it for me. If only I had been honest with you from the start."

  The truth was exactly as Sylvia and Mr. Holmes had surmised. "I gave up my own dreams for your sake, thinking I`d be able to go on an expedition again later in life, but it never happened. Then I found out about Daniel. Letting him fulfil his dreams seemed like a way to make things right. When he told me he had graduated, I tried to get in touch with the administrator to activate the Venture fund, but he`d moved and there wasn`t a forwarding address. My letter was passed on to Eleanor at some nursing-home she`s been admitted to, and she wrote back straight away, telling me how untrustworthy he was." Tom`s attempts to establish contact with the fund-manager had ended in failure, and the realisation that he had been comprehensively duped. "He`s got away with all that money, and now I know I`ll never get it back. I have to leave the rest of my estate to Danny, to make sure he gets the chance in life that I promised him."

  Letting the letter fall to the table, Sylvia rested her cheek against the paper, weeping bitter tears for the husband whose pride had been too great for his own good. Poor Tom – he realised the money was lost, and couldn`t face having to tell me or Danny how he had let us down – what a fool he must`ve felt -- Oh, Tom, why couldn`t you trust me?-- I would`ve been upset, of course, but I would`ve got over it and tried to understand.

  Needing comfort, she found herself with nowhere to turn. Delia and Paul were on holiday, Edgar at work, Patty at the hospital visiting little Cathy after her tonsilectomy. Jenny would have listened and sympathised, but it was one of her days for working at the Hospice. There`s Ray, she thought, but I can`t bring him into this -- it wouldn`t be right – it`s far too personal. Every distressfully-scrawled word, every alteration, every crossing-out was a message to her directly from her husband`s soul, too intimate to share with the man who sought to take Tom`s place in her heart.

  The intense pain of her discovery sucked her into a downward spiral of misery reminding her chillingly of how she had once thought about ending her life. At the moment there seemed a great deal to recommend finishing the job she had started. Her brave new future, her hopes of happiness again with Raymond Hood could be clearly seen for the hollow sham they were. How could she ever be happy again, knowing Tom loved her so much that he preferred to die, rather die than have to admit he`d failed her? What point was there in going on? She might just as well find another supply of tablets, and follow Tom into the darkness..

  At that juncture, her sombre musings were incongruously interrupted by an explosion of rock-music from above her head, accompanied by a discordant female voice belting-out the words: "Like a bat out of Hell, I`ll be gone when the morning comes..." Last time the black mood hit her, it had been Miranda who stepped in and held her back from the abyss until the knife-point of pain went away. That day there had seemed no reason for going on, but now there was Raymond`s claim on her. I can`t leave him like this – I don`t want to die but, like that old woman at Seahouses said, Tom`s trying to pull me down into his grave with him.

  In the grip of desperation, Sylvia grabbed the floor-brush and raised it aloft to bang on the ceiling. At once the singing stopped and the level of the music decreased to a dull roar. Oh God, Sylvia thought, she thinks I`m complaining ab
out the noise! Knowing she must not be alone with her anguish, she recommenced battering the ceiling till plaster-dust cascaded down, at the same time screaming wildly, `Randa! Randa! Come quick!

  The sound of running footsteps on the stairs, and a thunderous knocking and rattling at the door when it was not answered instantly, showed that her neighbour had grasped that something serious was amiss. `Sylv! Sylv! Where are you? Open the door, it`s me.`

  Dropping the broom, Sylvia stumbled across the room to let her visitor in. One glance at Sylvia`s distraught face was enough to warn Miranda the situation was desperate. `Eeh, man! Come here and sit down before you fall down,` Sturdy arms enfolded Sylvia, enveloping her in the aroma of cheap perfume and cigarette-smoke. `Whatever`s the matter?`

  `Randa, help me, or I might do something daft.`

  Guiding her to the sofa, Miranda sat her down and perched next to her, grasping her hand tightly. `Howway, spit it out - what in God`s name`s happened now?`

  `Somebody came from the museum. He brought me some papers that`s been found. I started to read them and . . .` She could hardly force out the words. `I`ve found Tom`s suicide note.`

  `You what?` Miranda flinched, then regained control. `What did he say?`

  Unable to trust her voice further, Sylvia thrust the exercise-book at her. `There.` She stabbed at the page with one shaking finger.

  Face contorted with the effort of reading, Miranda uttered spasmodic wincing sounds as Tom`s final message unfolded before her. `By! He must`ve been in a right state when he wrote this.`

  `It was the day before he killed himself.` Still shaking, Sylvia fought vainly to pull herself together. `If he really loved me so much that he couldn`t face admitting what he`d done... it`s not fair of me to go on living and being happy when he`s dead.`