Til Morning Comes

by Lisa Ann Harper

  * * *

  Time did work its healing magic and in just over a week Jellie was virtually her old self. She never spoke of her breakdown as daily she became more out-going, until eventually an interval came when Mal felt she could broach the subject of the inheritance.

  It was a quiet evening when Deszree was working late. Although the unit had central heating, to keep the bills down they both wore cosy sweaters above fleece-lined track pants. Mal was at the sink washing up and listening to Jellie telling her about her day at the library.

  “You’re doing so well now Jells, it’s probably the stage when you could give serious thought to what you would like to do … you know … with your life.” She twisted round from the dishes, rubber gloves still holding the mop and plate. A smile spread slowly from her eyes to her mouth and Jellie noticed how it banished the lines of weariness from her features. Mal had been working so hard lately; such long hours. “You know you don’t have to stay here forever,” she pointed out.

  Jellie’s response was one of immediate alarm. “Mal, I wouldn’t leave here. I don’t want to go anywhere on my own.”

  “No Babycakes, I’m not saying you have to go anywhere alone. I’m just reminding you that you can have a nice place of your own to live in. The Trustees can release funds for you and you can choose whatever you like, wherever you like.” She turned back to the sink. She wanted to give her time to absorb this information without feeling pressured and made herself busy with the pans, whistling softly, intent on her work.

  Jellie said nothing for some time. Indeed, she was playing around with this suggestion, trying to get a handle on all the implications. What do I want? Mal said I’m good with computers … but I’m nervous around people. She got up and joined her at the sink, leaning back against the bench. Sliding her hands into her pants’ pockets she asked: “Do you think I should still take that computer literacy course?”

  “Jells it’s up to you. I remember you said once you were interested in teaching. Is that still a possibility?”

  “Oh yes. I wanted to study with Madame Montessori, too long ago for that now.”

  “For Madame Montessori yes, but we do have schools that follow her philosophies.” She finished drying the last of the pots and Jellie helped put them away. They each grabbed a soft drink and moved over to the easy chairs in the living area. As usual the TV was on, but not loud enough to penetrate their thoughts.

  “I do still like children,” Jellie asserted, “but I’m not confident enough. People can come out with such extraordinary things then I’m at a loss for words.”

  Mal’s rippling laughter filled the air. “You’re not Robinson Crusoe there Jells. People can throw me too. So what about becoming a Kindergarten teacher?”

  “I’m thinking that really, I’d like to move back to the country.”

  “Country life, now there’s an idea. I can see how that would appeal,” Mal agreed.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I am getting used to city living, but truly, I think my heart is in the country.” They regarded each other for a moment, remembering Guilfoyle Park and all its splendour. Mal said nothing and waited. “The problem is can one do computer work in the country?” Jellie’s green eyes grew large with doubt as she looked to her mentor for support. For a moment, Mal saw vividly that sixteen year old girl when she had been thrown from her horse; those same viridian pupils in glazed eyes looking up at her, full of bewilderment and entreaty.

  “Of course it’s possible, but then usually it’s a case of people working from home, in their own business.”

  “Well that would be no good. I don’t have a business.” Her features registered total dejection at the lost hope, when the idea of being once more surrounded by the beauty of nature rather than suburban brick houses had appealed so much.

  Mal got up from her chair and crossed to the couch to sit beside her. She took both of Jellie’s hands in hers and turned her around. “Jells, how would you like to run agistment stables … even combined with a riding school for children?” She looked deep into her eyes, compelling her with the power of her own, to recognise how perfect this could be.

  A long, deep sigh of wonder escaped the red lips. The corners of the small mouth tilted in elation. “Mal,” she squealed in glee: “That’s it! Papa always said I was born to be soul-mates with horses and this could …” Abruptly she cut herself off. Mal saw the rapture leave her face and a penetrating sorrow return to her eyes.

  “Jellie don’t do this. If every time you remember your Mama and Papa you beat yourself up, you’ll only go making yourself worse.” Mal’s voice was shaky. The tears she had been trying to keep at bay broke free. “I can’t bear to see what this does to you. It tears me apart!” Dropping the hands she had been holding, she leaned back in the seat to rest her head, bringing her own hands to cover her face. She tried to steady her breathing, willing the return of self-control.

  Jellie was filled with remorse. She did not want to bring distress to the woman she loved – this woman she loved more than her own life. It broke her in two, to see Mal so upset and all because of her guilty secret. Mal was right. She had to get over it. She had to move on. She could not keep dragging her down. She twisted to face her and leaned forward.

  “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms tightly about the slumped body and began showering the hands that covered the face with soft, fleeting kisses; then the ears, the neck; any part her lips could reach. At each break in the tumult of kisses she continued her murmuring: “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry … so, so sorry.” Mal took her hands away and returned Jellie’s embrace. She did not return the kisses, only bent her head to lean against Jellie’s brow and breathed soothingly: “It’s all right dearest, I’m just over-tired. Let’s sit quiet for a while.”

  Locked in each others’ arms, they let their racing hearts calm and their laboured breathing settle. They drew comfort from each other. This moment of peace provided time for dreams of the future to be absorbed into the deepest recesses of their consciousness. Once there the visions, like tenderly cultivated seedlings, could be nourished by hope. This would be a new start to the rest of their lives. This time it would be real living, properly established in the real world; a life both productive and fulfilling for each of them.

  BOOK THREE

  CHAPTER ONE

  For the past three weeks Mallory and Nigella had been diligently combing the real estate pages of the Warwickshire County Gazette. After several disappointments they somehow felt this weekend could be the one. There was just something special about this property. The problem had been time of year. With Christmas fast approaching the rural listings were getting shorter and consequently their choice more limited.

  Mal turned onto the winding gravel driveway of a 20 hectare estate called Driftwood Acres, located on the west side of Knowle. They were descending gently and around the last bend lay a low-set residence – ranch style. They could see, off to one side, a cluster of outbuildings probably the stables. Driving slower, it became obvious the extensive garden around the house had been let go and was now grossly over-grown. It gave a run-down appearance to the property, but the house itself although an older vintage, looked to be in good repair. A stone chimney rose from its centre. Jellie liked this feature and determined not to be put off by the initial, negative impression.

  The real estate agent’s station wagon was parked out front so Mal pulled up beside it. She answered the door to the summons of the iron bell-pull and ushered them in. There was no hallway they were immediately in the living room. Mal appreciated its size and thought probably people used an informal entrance out back. Three walls were wood paneled and hung with an interesting assortment of pictures, mostly horses, in ebony frames. She could see Jellie being happy in a house like this. The front of the house was all windows.

  Jellie responded to the warmth of the surroundings, including the large fireplace in the centre of the opposite wall with its large, sandstone over-mantel. It was beyond
her why someone would want to give up such a lovely house. From a side room, or maybe it was a passageway, a man came towards them in a wheel-chair. Johdi, the agent, introduced them to Gerald Dearing the owner. Now she had an inkling as to the reason.

  “Johdi will show you around and I’ll be happy to answer any questions regarding the business side of things, when you return.” He could only have been in his early fifties. Jellie felt very sorry for him.

  “We can go in my car. I’ll introduce you to the extent of the acreage first.”

  November’s bleakness showed off the landscape with a stark frankness. However, the undulating contours were truthfully revealed as the shadows of the clouds moved swiftly across and led them to a fast flowing stream, running between two scrub meadows. Although there were no horses in sight, the gusting air still carried a slight whiff of dung. The agistment section consisted of several private paddocks, they discovered later there were twelve in total, which could be sectioned off to board either a single horse, or two together if they were stable mates. Each one was furnished with its own shelter, providing a private tack and feed-storage area. These paddocks had been developed over time, so they were now partitioned by long lengths of railing fence. Unfortunately, they looked to be in need of serious mending, not to mention a good coat of paint, but when freshened up, Jellie thought they’d be just right.

  Now and again they stopped to take a lean on one of these rails, then they were to direct their attention to some specific aspect Johdi wanted them to notice. “The property abounds with rural charm,” she would inform them. On these occasions they exchanged glances, but on the whole the vibes between them were positive. It must have taken over half an hour to do the full tour, but they were determined to see everything.

  On their return they entered through the large kitchen-cum-dining room and were shown over a small study-cum-office. Jellie’s attention was diverted to more horsey pictures which she soon realised were coloured photographs. A computer monitor had centre position on the desk beside which stood a tall, metal filing cabinet with a stack of archive boxes piled up on the floor next to it.

  The bedrooms, there were two, lay on the other side of the house, which they reached through a passage behind the fireplace. Its masonry made an interesting stone feature in the wall. Mal liked the fact that each bedroom had its own en-suite, although the one attached to the second, had two doors and did service as the general washroom. She inquired about laundry facilities. Johdi took them out again, via a side exit to one of the out-buildings. It was spacious and airy, with extensive table surface, but she guessed not so convenient on a cold day in January. Perhaps the owners had felt there was only so much renovating they could do – or afford. The remaining buildings were concerned with agistment needs, housing heavy machinery and assorted equipment. The stables were the other way, dilapidated and deserted. She noticed nice, high raftered ceilings and the wood partitions were of good quality and well preserved. Johdi led them back to Mr. Dearing who offered everyone tea. She excused herself to work on her laptop. “Just give me a ‘hoi’ when you’re done.”

  Mal did most of the questioning, although Jellie was interested in the number of horses they would look after, on average. Mr. Dearing hedged on this, equivocating that much depended on the season and people’s holiday plans, but it was rare for them not to have a few on hand. Fair enough, thought Mal.

  Grim faced, he volunteered he had expected to recover fully from a tractor accident, but now knew it would be impossible to carry on the business. He could not leave it all to his wife so this was a down time. She was welcome to see the books. Another half hour and they were through. They promised Johdi not to take too long to get back to her. They needed time to discuss the proposition with their solicitor. She understood.

  Driving back, Jellie was exhilarated. It had been a long time since Mal had seen her so fired up. This was good. She positively bubbled with excited observations.

  “Let’s stop at a coffee shop and talk things over, then I won’t be trying to do two things at once,” Mal suggested. Jellie readily agreed and soon they were enjoying a skinny latté each, seated at a corner table in a country café. It was now mid-afternoon and they had the place to themselves. It provided a cheerful ambience with green-checked table clothes. A posy of flowers at each centre added a note of colour – only artificial Jellie discovered later. In the central heating they needed to remove their padded jackets. Jellie was finally at ease when garbed in jeans and bulky sweaters. Mal had assured her that casual clothes were a perfectly acceptable form of dress for inspecting country properties.

  Since the set up of her annuity, Jellie had bought quite an extensive wardrobe, but had not gone mad. These outings had been fun times, but for her money and clothes had always been in plentiful supply, so this new development didn’t see her leap over the top. Mal pushed up her sleeves. “So what do you think Jells?”

  “I think it would need a lot of work …” she took a sip of coffee: “… but I do see potential.” Putting down her glass she enquired: “What do you think?”

  “Do you mean work for the agistment component, or the riding school?”

  “I have to say Mal, I’m most interested in the riding side, but I can see that to get there we’d have to start with the stabling, so I guess the answer is both.”

  “Mm…m…”

  “Between the two of us we should be able to manage.” She looked deep into the azure eyes and felt a warm surge of love sweep through to her core. Together they could accomplish anything. What a marvelous future!

  “I could help out on weekends, but I still have my job in the city,” Mal reminded her. “I would love to live out there Jells, but I also need to work you know.” What she wasn’t telling her was that their living together was getting too much for her. The strain of holding her feelings in check was getting harder to bear. She felt at any time, in a vulnerable moment, and she was experiencing so many of them lately, her control over her emotions could weaken. She needed to put some space between them. How can I not let her see my true feelings? She could hate me if she knew. She would view it as a perversion. She’s from another time, a time when such a love was considered an abomination. But I do so want her in my life.

  “Don’t I have enough money for us both?” A feeling of uneasiness was beginning to replace her joy, finally flaring into a full-blown misgiving which tightened her chest.

  Mal had to smile despite her personal worries. “Jells, you have more than enough. With your investments, your income will continue to grow. But that’s not the point. I must be my own person. I couldn’t live a life dependent on you, for me that would be no life at all.”

  Dejection closed about her as she digested these words. Not only was Mal not sharing her enthusiasm, she was nowhere near the same dream. Yet she felt they had been growing so close. She had thought it would be the most natural thing for them to continue in everything together. But she was making it plain their lives were not so entwined. A sudden comprehension illuminated how dreams could be precarious, no more than fleeting fantasies.

  An acerbic twist curved her sensuous mouth. “I see … so if I take this on, I take it on alone.” This time the voice was flat.

  “Not alone Jells, I’d help you every step of the way, but you would be hiring people to work for you: the general manager, operations manager, riding instructors you know … stable managers, grooms …” Mal didn’t notice the change in her companion, too wrapped up in her own concerns, concealing as much as she was telling. She was anxious to appear practical and constructive; to make Jellie’s self-reliance more positive and their separation more feasible – a smooth transition.

  Jellie lapsed into silence totally deflated. She had not thought of all those people. She had pictured herself and Mal, just the two of them, enjoying the horses, teaching the children; in their new home which they would make so perfect together. The silence lengthened excruciatingly, until Mal could not help but feel its full force.


  “Don’t be scared by that Jells, it won’t happen all at once,” she hastened to ameliorate the situation, eager to rectify any damage she might have done. “They’d be nice people whom you’d be happy to be with.”

  Unfortunately these words brought back the times she had heard her mother complain to Mrs. Aldred about the difficulties with domestic staff. Her face grew taut from the effort to suppress emotions that for an instant, just beneath the surface, threatened to cripple her. Hold on Nigella, she willed herself, but suddenly was overcome by a feeling of exhaustion, too much even for her to think. Mal watched the struggle and came to realise that indeed Jellie’s bubble had burst.

  “Come Possum, we don’t have to decide right now. Let’s make tracks and give ourselves time to talk everything over properly.” She would have to work something out.

  The return ride was very subdued. Even the day had turned gloomy. The sun was hazy in a restless sky as it fought its way through banks of grey, November cloud which now had amassed and thickened. Jellie did not know what to think and Mal knew that here was a serious problem. Jellie liked the property, she was sure of that. She was not afraid of hard work, she knew that too. She doesn’t want to hire employees? She doesn’t want to do it alone? They were turning onto the M1. A straight stretch of highway and she could talk. “Jells … is something about this plan bothering you? Are you changing your mind?”