The Silent Tide

by Rachel Hore

  ‘He did love me,’ she said, ‘but in a different way to how he loved Isabel. I was determined to be strong and reliable, the sort of wife he needed. The woman behind the man. A helpmeet. Isabel was never that.’

  ‘Perhaps she would have been, if she had lived,’ Lorna persisted.

  ‘I doubt it. She was too selfish.’

  ‘You mean she wanted to be her own person, too? You’ve read what she wrote, how depressed she became, especially after having a baby. And as for Granny, Isabel makes her sound a real tyrant.’

  ‘Hugh’s mother never liked her, no. And of course Hugh always felt that Isabel should have called a doctor, the night that she died.’

  Joel cleared his throat. ‘I’ve written all about this, in my chapter about the marriage.’

  ‘Yes,’ Emily put in, ‘but from Hugh’s point of view. You don’t put Isabel’s feelings into it. Evidence from her account would give a more rounded picture.’

  ‘I’ve told you before. This book is about Hugh, not Isabel. It’s not surprising that I should write it that way. Hugh would not have your twenty-first-century perspective, Emily. Isabel was an unusual young woman for the times. Hugh was simply out of his depth with her.’

  ‘I don’t think she was that unusual,’ Emily countered. ‘She didn’t match up to society’s expectations of women, that’s for sure, but—’

  ‘Oh, all this is fiddle-faddle,’ Jacqueline interrupted. ‘None of you really understands. It’s all more personal than that.’ She looked sad now, sad and diminished, as though Lorna’s rebellion had breached every one of her defences. ‘I’m the one who lived through it, and I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday.’

  Emily was surprised to see her eyes shining with tears. Jacqueline’s haughty demeanour had worn thin, whether from age or grief, or both, and Emily at last glimpsed the vulnerability beneath.

  ‘I wish you would explain, Mother,’ Lorna said, her hands palm-upturned on the table. ‘Then we might all understand. I need so much to understand.’

  They all waited for Jacqueline’s answer.

  After she said, ‘I’ll tell you my side of the story if that satisfies you, but I will not have it all raked over in the book. I simply will not.’

  She glared at each of them. Joel, unnerved, started shuffling papers. Lorna rubbed her face tiredly. Only Emily looked directly back at her and nodded.

  Jacqueline closed her eyes and began to speak, hesitantly at first.

  ‘Hugh and I were happily married for fifty-eight years.’ She stopped for a moment, and her lips moved soundlessly, but then she gathered strength and went on. ‘I’d known him since I was a child, and there came a time when I must have known I loved him. I wasn’t a fool, though. Even as a teenager, I could see Hugh didn’t return my feelings, but this didn’t stop me hoping that he would change. I lost that hope for a time after he fell in love with Anne. He was different with her, so devoted. It was so painful for me, as though I was invisible to him. It was soon after this that I met Michael and he was so courteous and attentive that I was flattered. No one had treated me in that way before – you know, made me feel special. And so I married him. Too late, I saw the kind of man he was. There was nothing bad about him, don’t get me wrong, but he was not, shall we say, comfortable with intimacy. That side of things was, well, not successful. With Michael away at the war I had plenty of time to dwell on this and I came to the conclusion that he had married because he thought he ought to, that he had a position to keep up. I didn’t mind playing to that, and he was away so much that at first I didn’t find it a great strain. Until the end of the war, after Anne was killed in that air raid, and I saw more of Hugh again. Of course, I was married, and anyway I could see that his feelings towards me were unchanged. To him I was just a friend, but I thought I could be happy if I just saw him from time to time.’ She paused before saying, ‘And then he met Isabel.

  ‘From the first time I saw her, at a party Hugh held in his new flat, I knew she was wrong for him. She was too interested in talking to the men. Had nothing to say to the ladies there and hardly a word for me. I couldn’t say anything to him, though, he was obviously smitten by her. I thought she was one of those bright, pretty sorts who have no thought for anyone but themselves. I’m sorry, Lorna, but there it is. I suppose I was seeing her in a jealous light, because I liked her better once I got to know her, and after they were married I came to see she was unhappy stuck in Stone House with Hugh’s mother glowering at her all the time. What was difficult was that Isabel kept me at arm’s length. She knew she needed my help with you, Lorna, but she wasn’t grateful, oh no. Poor Hugh. All he wanted was a peaceful household so he could get on with his work, but peace was the last thing she gave him.

  ‘I did my best to help. If I was in London and Hugh was up for a few days, we might do something together, just for company – go out to dinner or to the theatre. It didn’t do any harm, though some people had nasty minds. Again, I can assure you that nothing untoward went on.

  ‘Emily wasn’t sure she believed her.’

  ‘I wasn’t unhappy with this situation. I could tell that Hugh was starting to rely on me – oh, in all sorts of ways – and I liked that feeling. On a practical level, you see, I kept the household going for him. My being there settled old Mrs Morton, too. I knew how to stay calm, and they appreciated that very much. Especially when Isabel took to her bed, which she sometimes did, and wouldn’t get up to deal with Lorna. Poor Lorna, there were times, dear, I found you red in the face and exhausted from all your crying.’

  ‘I don’t think Isabel could help it,’ Emily murmured. She was shocked by Jacqueline’s resentful tone, her jealousy of Isabel after so many years, but there was no stopping the woman now. It was as though she’d forgotten she had an audience.

  There did come a time when I became terribly sorry for her. Her mother was ill and Hugh was so angry with her about his own mother’s death. He simply wouldn’t see reason about that – it was the grief, you see. But nothing could forgive what Isabel did next. Her aunt was partly to blame, of course. Sowing ideas in Isabel’s head, I’d say, vicious ideas, particularly about me and Hugh. It was Penelope who helped her leave. She had this holiday house on the coast. We used to take you to the beach there, Lorna, until Isabel died. Anyway, we were originally told that they’d spend the night there, and that Penelope would bring her back the next day, but when the time came she telephoned from somewhere in the town to say she wasn’t coming home. And that’s the last we heard of her for nearly a fortnight. You were quite distraught, Lorna, I have to say. You kept asking for Mama and I had no idea what to tell you.’

  ‘I wish I could remember,’ Lorna whispered, ‘but I don’t. I used to look at the photographs in Daddy’s album and think that I did remember her, but now I realise that the photographs became my memories.’

  ‘What do we remember of people we’ve lost?’ Joel suddenly said, so sadly that Emily wondered whether there was a whole side of him she’d never even begun to know. ‘Today we’re surrounded by photographs and videos to remind us of everything that happens, but it’s still hard accessing our actual memories of how people we loved looked and sounded and felt.’

  Emily’s thoughts flew to Matthew. She had a very clear picture in her mind of him sitting in his dressing gown, his hair sticking up, waving a piece of toast about as he explained a point. The memory made her immeasurably sad and she almost missed what Joel said next.

  ‘But you heard from Isabel again, didn’t you?’ to meet you, then e McKinnon

  ‘Once more,’ Jacqueline agreed. ‘It was ten days later.’

  ‘The thirty-first of January nineteen fifty-three. The night she died,’ Joel said and she nodded.

  ‘What happened?’ Emily whispered.

  Jacqueline fiddled with the papers in front of her, then she closed her eyes and continued.

  ‘I was staying here because after she’d left there was no one to look after Lorna, and of course I was the fi
rst person Hugh turned to. Anyway, early evening the telephone rang and it was her. Hugh answered the phone. I . . . I couldn’t help hearing their conversation. It seemed as though she’d decided to come home and she wanted Hugh to drop everything and leave that moment to get her. We hadn’t eaten yet, and the weather was atrocious, so this made me angry. Why should he be at her beck and call all the time? I could tell that he was prepared to go out at once, but I didn’t see why she couldn’t wait until the next morning, so I interrupted him and said so. I still think it was completely reasonable under the circumstances, and in the end, that’s what was agreed. He told her that he’d fetch her as soon as seemed sensible the next morning and ended the call. It was the last time he ever spoke to her.’

  She was silent again, gathering her thoughts.

  Emily eventually asked, ‘How did you feel, about her coming back, I mean?’

  ‘How did I feel? What did that matter? I could see that Hugh had mixed feelings, for he wouldn’t settle all evening. He was relieved that she wanted to come back, he confided in me, but worried, too. Worried about how she’d be. When we went to bed that night, we had no idea of what terror would await us in the morning.’

  She paused and Joel took up the tale. ‘Let me explain. Several natural phenomena came together that awful night. Powerful northerly winds caused a tremendous surge of seawater funnelling round from Scotland into the North Sea. This heavy sea, followed by an unusually high spring tide, caused devastating floods along the east coast. Several hundred people were killed. It was declared a national disaster.’

  ‘As I say’ Jacqueline went on, ‘the weather had been dreadful all day. I lay awake for what seemed like hours, listening to the wind buffeting the house, rattling the windows. In the end I must have sleppt, for when I next woke it was getting light. The wind had lessened, but there were other sounds, animal cries, and I got up to look out. I'll never forget the sight that met my eyes. Half the garden and the marshes beyond were underwater. One of the donkeys was braying, but I couldn't see it. I put on my dressing gown and went to wake Hugh, who got dressed and went out to see if he could rescue the wretched beast. He shouted up to say the scullery was flooded so I came down, too. I turned on the kitchen tap to fill the kettle and the water came out foul and salty, then Hugh came back to say that the poor beasts were marooned on the muck heap but that the water was retreating.

  'At seven o'clock, we switched on the wireless. It was only then we learned something of the extent of the tragedy that was unfolding and Hugh went to the garage in a panic to see if he could start the car up. He could, and set off at once. I did not see him again until the evening.'

  Lorna made a little noise of despair, but Jacqueline carried on. Her eyes were closed again and Emily was of the impression that she was reliving that day nearly sixty years ago.

  'When he returned, he had an awful wild look about him. His shoes were encrusted with mud, and his clothes were in a dreadful state. It took me quite some while to calm him down enough to find out what had happened.

  'The town, he said, had virtually become an island. The sea had come up over the marshes and, although the worst was over, everywhere was impassable. The main road was flooded and they were turning vehicles back all over the place just to get emergency services through. It was complete chaos, he said. No one knew what was going on or what to do about it. There were awful stories circulating about all the poor people who'd been drowned or were missing or whose homes had been washed away, but no proper information- and since no one was being let through, it was impossible to find out.

  'It wasn't until the afternoon that he managed to hitch a lift on a tractor and found the hall where the survivors had been taken. Then he went to the hospital- oh, I don't like to think what he saw there- but there was no sign of her anywhere. The lane down to the house was completely cut off and the buildings all destroyed. He could tell by the way people looked at him that there wasn't much hope and there was simply nothing he could do. It was getting dark so he thought he'd better come home and go back again in the morning.'

  There was complete silence in the room. Jacqueline opened her eyes, but she looked distant, still lost in the past.

  'He was distraught. There was nothing I could do to comfort him. He kept saying over and over again that it was his fault. If only he'd gone to fetch her the night before, if only he hadn't listened to me. I tried to reason with him, but it was no good, no good at all.

  'He went back again in the morning. I begged to go with him, but he simply wouldn't let me near him. It was the most terrible day, waiting for news. And there was none. The search for survivors had become a search for bodies. There were ever so many people missing or unaccounted for, and every day the paper had news of some who'd died and others who'd been found safely staying with relatives, unaware that they'd been feared drowned. But we knew Isabel had remained in the house that night and as time dragged on I simply hoped that they'd find her soon so that we could put her to rest. They never did, though. There were others, too, who were lost and who were never found. The sea can be terribly cruel.

  'I tried my best to support Hugh through this and we grew closer. The following year The Silent Tide was published and he and I were married'

  Jacqueline leaned back in her chair, her story finished. All that could be heard in the room was the clock ticking on the mantlepiece.

  She told it movingly, Emily thought, and clearly believed her version of events, but it was a version of the truth, just as Isabel's was. There were parts she'd understandably skated over, such as how intimate her relationship with Hugh had been while Isabel was alive; Emily felt that Isabel had been right in her suspicions, but it was hardly possible to ask Jacqueline that one. Did she know what Penelope had told Isabel, that had made Isabel remain at the beach house so long? Possibly she did now, but presumably, she didn't then, and it certainly hadn't stopped her believing still that Isabel was selfish and had abandoned her husband and daughter. The tides of resentment had washed away her ability to reason about Isabel.

  Emily wondered what other secrets remained untold. It would be a hard task negotiating with the old lady about presenting Isabel's side of the story. She would just have to do her best.

  Chapter 39

  Emily

  So much had happened in a single year, Emily reflected two weeks later. After all the upheavals of recent months, it was her turn to fill crates with books and scripts, to empty her desk drawers. Her filing cabinet, her lamp and her computer were festooned with fluorescent labels telling the removal men where they were to go. Everything was coated in a layer of fine dust from an ancient Jiffy bag that had exploded during the packing.

  ‘You won’t know what to do with all the space in your new place,’ Sarah said as she helped Emily drag the heavy bag to the door to join two others for collection.

  Emily wasn’t moving very far, just to the other side of the floor – to George’s old office, in fact. An office of her own – she still couldn’t believe it – and it was nice to hear, too, that George had recently secured a job at her old firm.

  Shortly after her visit to Suffolk, Gillian had taken Emily out for the much-feared lunch, and over a glass of wine had offered her a new job in the department. They were starting up a new imprint, fiction and non-fiction, and she wanted Emily to run it. It took Emily ten seconds to decide she’d accept, but she forced herself to be cool, to ask a lot of questions and ascertain the salary before she told Gillian her decision. She was already sketching out ideas in her head.

  ‘Everybody’s impressed by the projects you’ve taken on,’ Gillian told her, and named several of her new authors. ‘The buzz is building about Tobias’s novel, and Joel Richards looks as though he’ll be a real star. Are you happy to go on working with him? It’s no shame if you’d rather hand him on to someone else.’

  After recovering from this second shock, Emily saw that Gillian was trying to be helpful. Why was she so surprised that her boss knew that she’d beco
me close to Joel? She coloured up.

  ‘I’ve been there myself,’ Gillian confided, and Emily suddenly glimpsed a different view of this striking, stern and powerful woman. Perhaps Gillian had a soft centre, after all.

  The series The Silent Tide was being broadcast at a prime time over Christmas. An edition of the novel with a huge picture of Zara and her co-star Jasper on the front was piled on bookshops’ front tables. Publication of Catching the Tide: A Life of Hugh Morton had been brought forward to the spring. The publicity machine was already starting up.

  Since it was a Friday today, and the move would take place over the weekend, Emily couldn’t go home till everything was packed up. And she had work to finish.

  At seven o’clock she was still there, all on her own, everyone gone home. It was dark outside. She finished writing a last email, switched off the computer and found a place in a crate for one last file. Beyond the window, the square was busy text-indent: 0; margin-left: ’ w,’ he said with people and traffic, and she watched for a while, struck by a memory. It had been a year ago that she’d sat here looking out into the night as she waited for Matthew. That was the night that she’d found the copy of Coming Home in her pigeonhole, the book that had started the search for Isabel.

  Coming Home had been given back to Lydia and the old Morton files returned to the archive, no longer needed. In the end, Jacqueline, astonishingly, had agreed that the chapters about Isabel might be expanded. Joel had quoted selectively from Isabel’s memoir, though not the more jealous assertions about Jacqueline – those would be left for some biographer in the far future to make of what they would. Hugh’s papers were to be archived at Duke’s College – Joel had arranged this for Jacqueline. Lorna had insisted on keeping Isabel’s memoir for the moment, but eventually it would join the archive, too.