by Connie Monk
Feeling humiliated, Tessa faced what she couldn’t avoid: she had failed as a wife and she had failed as a mother. It was a relief to turn her thought to the jobs that were waiting for her in the almond grove. She kept the same two men working on the additional land on the other side of the road, and spent most of her days in the original five acres. Nowadays not only did Finca el Almendros have a telephone in the house, but there was an extension in the shed she had had built. It was no ordinary shed; it served as a place to pack the nuts and an office, too. Reason told her she ought to use Giles’ study, but she hadn’t the strength of will to move his things off the desk to make room for her ledgers. Like a shrine it remained as he had used it, typewriter, dictating machine, even his note pad still on the desk, while for her own use in the shed-cum-office she had bought a portable typewriter.
When she arrived back at the house she saw Timus’ van waiting. Immediately her mind jumped to Deirdre. ‘No sign of the baby yet?’ she called as she got out of the car.
‘Can you not see me looking different? I am a father most proud. My Deirdre had the pains most terrible at one o’clock this morning. The doctor’s telephone did not call; it was silent when I listened. But Madre, she has helped with birth times before, so she shut the door on us all. We waited. My poor Deirdre, so hard it must be when she can’t move like other women. But she was brave as – as, how you say – a tiger? I stood outside the door and listened. Tessa, I know now the worst sort of helplessness. But at seven o’clock this morning she gave me a daughter.’
‘And she’s all right?’
‘The child is beautiful and Deirdre, she is a goddess amongst women. So much against her but she has such courage.’
‘Fate knew what it was doing when it brought her here.’
‘You call it Fate; I call it God. And I thank him for her every hour of my life. I must go home. Madre is now having some sleep; Katrina is there but she has much work to do. I shall not work with the trees this day, oh no. For this is the day I have looked towards. I will care for Deirdre and our daughter. I have spoken by telephone to Señor and Señora Masters but, you and me, we are friends since the day you came, it was important I tell you with my person.’ It was proof of Deirdre’s determination to speak Spanish right from the start that his English flowed no more naturally now than when Tessa had met him more than five years before.
It was only minutes later, just as Tessa walked through the almond grove, that she heard the shrill ring of the telephone in the hut. ‘Finca el Almendros. Hola, buenas dias.’
‘Tessa, thank God it’s you. I thought you might have left, gone back to England, gone away somewhere . . . say something . . .’
She seemed incapable of speech.
Eleven
Leaning against the wooden side of the hut Tessa clutched the telephone receiver, her tight grip on it seeming to be her only hold on reality. Sometimes she had heard his voice in her dream, a dream that would merge with reality as she half woke. But this was morning this was no dream.
‘Tessa . . . are you there? Say something.’
She dropped to sit in the wooden chair, the only furniture in the hut except for a bench where she packed the nuts and which doubled as a desk. ‘Yes, it’s me. Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?’ How calm she sounded, cool and distant. He must have phoned to tell her a separation wasn’t enough – he wanted a divorce. She schooled herself to be ready for the words she dreaded.
‘You sound different. Tell me the truth: is there someone else in your life?’
‘You mean you want grounds for a divorce? Then I’m afraid I must disappoint you.’
‘Divorce? Christ, no.’ It was unlike Giles to sound emotional. ‘Tessa, sweet Tessa. Listen. Don’t say a word, just hear me out. When I left you it was because I knew that if I told you what I feared – no, I was convinced – you would want to stand by me. I couldn’t let that happen. It was as if Fate played into my hands, giving me a chance to come away.’
‘You lied to me. You said we needed a break from each other, but you knew you wanted it to be forever.’
‘You don’t understand . . .’ And so he told her. Starting from the meeting with Adrian Wilmott to the results of tests that had been carried out at a private clinic. ‘I can’t believe it, Tessa. I’m in the clear. It’s like being freed from a death sentence. It’s the middle of the night here and I meant to wait until morning to call you. But I couldn’t. You don’t know the things your mind can do to you. I had all the symptoms. I had no doubt, and not enough courage to get confirmation. Each week I became less sure of myself. I was irritable, withdrawn, watching the way I walked, listening to the way I spoke, so frightened that I ran away from what I was sure was the truth by doing the craziest thing and not caring if I lived or died.’ He paused. ‘Tessa, are you still there? Say something?’
‘Can’t,’ she gulped, the one word breaking her reserved.
‘You’re crying. Please don’t cry, Tessa. If it’s too late for us, don’t cry. I don’t deserve—’
‘It could never be too late,’ her uncontrolled voice blurted out. ‘Giles, all I want is for you to come home.’ Silence. ‘Giles?’
‘Sometimes I’ve come close to ditching my resolution not to spoil your life caring for the crock I would become. But now I’m free. I just want to come home to you.’
‘It’s like a dream.’ She gave up all attempt to hang on to her control as she told him, ‘I love you so much, Giles. You’re all there is, all there ever could be. I’m so happy.’
That’s when she heard him laugh. ‘What I hear doesn’t sound too happy.’ Her tears turned to laughter, too, perhaps with a touch of hysteria mixed in. There was so much to tell him, but neither of them could think beyond themselves and that the nightmare of the last year and a half was over.
He said he was leaving the clinic in the morning and as soon as he had tied up the odd ends of his self-imposed stay in California and arranged a flight home he would phone again and tell her when to expect him.
Almond trees had lost their appeal on that January morning. Instead of working she went back up the slope to the house and collected the car to drive to Casa Landera. She knew that Julian was on his half-yearly trip to England but she wanted to share her thankfulness with Naomi. When there was no answer to her ring on the doorbell she went round to the side of the house where, beyond the swimming pool, the land climbed steeply. Built as it was in the foothill of the mountain, the far end of the garden – for want of a better description for a plot so natural – was higher than the roof of the house, and it was there that she saw Naomi standing on the wooden bridge they had had erected to cross a stream that rushed down from the mountainside.
‘A surprise visit. That’s nice. Has our young lady gone to school?’
‘She’s fine,’ Tessa said with a laugh, ‘she marched off with determination. By now I expect she’s got them all sorted out. But that’s not why I came.’ And so she told her news.
‘Poor Giles. And now that he knows he’s in the clear he must wish he’d told you from the start and seen someone in London rather than running away. He must have been going through such hell and no one to share it with him.’
Tessa nodded. ‘What are you doing with those twigs in your hand?’
‘These?’ Naomi chuckled. ‘I was being childish. These are my Pooh sticks. Here, you have some. Just see the way they rush under the bridge; the stream moves so fast.’
Like children they threw their twigs on the upstream side of the bridge and then rushed to the other side to see them race with the fast flowing water. One got trapped by a piece of rock, the water battering it until it was sent on its way again.
‘Look at that,’ Naomi said, ‘it’s like life, isn’t it? Everything runs smoothly, you keep rollicking on, then it’s as if you’ll never move again, you’re stuck, numb. It must have been like that for Giles – but now, thank God, life is moving on again for both of you. Whatever happens, however low you sink, in
the end the life wins, just like the force of the water in the mountain stream.’
‘Is that how it is with you, Auntie?’
Naomi nodded. ‘Higher upstream must be different from down here where the land is gentler. Things change for all of us, but life goes on just like the Pooh sticks. The hideously relentless misery dims.’
‘And the memories?’ What was there about the isolation of this place that led them to speak with such open honesty?
‘Memories never fade, Tessa. In a strange way, love becomes more deeply a part of oneself. Does that sound crazy? It’s just the grief that pales.’
‘You and Julian always seem so happy.’
‘I love Julian dearly. Yes, we are happy. Every age is different. A bit like the stream, I expect. Higher up it rushes, full of hope and energy, but when it gets down to the lower level it ripples gently along. Gosh, hark at me! Come indoors and have a coffee.’
‘Lovely. Aren’t you cold out here without a jacket on?’
Naomi laughed. ‘I’m tough as leather. Anyway, this is Spain. You forget I was used to all weathers on a Devon farm – mud and worse.’
Arm in arm they walked back towards the house.
Julian was due to fly out of Heathrow Airport on the Thursday of that same week so when Giles phoned saying that he was booking a flight to arrive at Heathrow early Thursday morning Tessa half expected they would travel home together. On Wednesday night sleep was impossible. Julian had left his car at the airport, and over and over in her imagination she saw the scene when he would drive up the slope to the finca bringing Giles home. She would rush out to open the door so that when he stepped out she would be there, close to him, held tightly while for both of them the time between would melt away.
Taking Millie to school she didn’t attempt to hide her excitement, hoping that some of it would rub off on the little girl. But from her advanced age of almost five, the time when she had been three was distant and only half remembered. Perhaps when he arrived memories would stir, but on that journey to school Millie’s thoughts were marching ahead of her and she was anxious to have time in the playground so that she could play with her new friends before lessons started.
The morning went by with neither a phone call from Heathrow telling her what time he expected to land so that she could be at the airport, nor any sign of Julian’s car. The day passed, she fetched Millie from school then hurried to take up position by the window again, her ears attuned for the sound of the phone. It had been dark for ages and Millie was eating her supper ready for bed when Tessa saw the beam of headlights from a car approaching the house. In seconds she was outside ready for the moment he stepped out. Yes, it was Julian’s car – but when she threw open the door expecting to live those seconds she dreamed of, it was Naomi who got out.
‘You’ve come to welcome Giles! But he hasn’t come yet – no message – nothing.’
‘We came as soon as we realized.’ Realized? Realized what? ‘It wasn’t until Julian opened his briefcase that he remembered he had bought a copy of the early edition of the evening paper.’
‘Evening paper?’ Tessa felt the first cold hand of fear. But that was ridiculous; what could the evening paper have to do with Giles’ reason for being late?
‘You haven’t been listening to the wireless,’ Julian said while fear tightened its grip on her. ‘A plane crash-landed. The morning flight from Heathrow was coming in to land and the wheels wouldn’t go down, so the pilot alerted the services he was going to crash-land. Poor chap was killed—’
‘Perhaps that’s made other planes late, perhaps Giles has been diverted,’ she heard herself say. But knew there was neither logic nor hope in what she said.
‘The Stop Press of the early edition says the plane burst into flames – only two people were pulled free. One isn’t named, the other is the international author Giles Lampton. They were both taken to the local hospital, which is only a couple of miles from the airport. My dear, I am so sorry. But thank God they pulled him free before the machine burst into flames. Get your coat; I’ll drive you while Naomi sees to Millie.’
‘I know the way. I’ll take myself.’ How could she speak so calmly when she felt as though she were made of cotton wool and her mouth full of sawdust? ‘I’ve seen the hospital lots of times; I know the way, Julian.’ She mustn’t panic, she must sound calm. ‘He was bound to have been taken in the ambulance; they’d have to check him over. But you said he was pulled free. If he rings, tell him I’m coming to collect him. I’ll get my coat.’ She forgot to thank Naomi for looking after Millie, just as she even forgot to say goodnight to the child.
Although she knew the road well, that night the journey seemed interminably long. But finally she arrived and was directed to the second floor. There she found a nurse and was taken straight to the doctor in charge. Listening to what he told her, she seemed to feel all life and hope drain from her. No, Giles hadn’t been burnt, but his injuries were extensive. That much she could understand. But although she could converse in Spanish naturally and easily in her everyday life, she had never encountered the words he used when he described Giles’ injuries. The elderly doctor was a kindly man; he hated to see that look of hope die in this pretty young girl’s eyes. For even though she couldn’t understand the detail, she knew lesiones internas could mean only one thing: Giles was injured internally. The gravity of the doctor’s voice and the way he shook his head told her what she was frightened to consider.
‘May I see him? He’ll want me with him.’
‘He may not be aware enough to recognize you. He has been in the operating theatre and, although he has come round from the anaesthetic, he is barely awake.’
‘Please.’ She could trust her voice to say no more.
The doctor took her along the corridor to a room that was no more than a cubicle where Giles was propped on pillows, his eyes half closed. His arm was plastered, his shoulder strapped and his chest bare except for bandages. A cradle held the bed covers away from his body.
The doctor looked at him sorrowfully. Such a lovely young wife to leave behind. There were times when he would have preferred any calling but his own. Turning, he left them, closing the door behind him.
‘Giles, darling Giles. Can you hear me?’ She leant forward and laid her mouth gently on his. Still he gazed unseeingly into space. ‘We’ll soon be home again, Finca el Almendros . . . home. Hold my hand, oh, but you feel so cold. Darling Giles, please hear me, please God make him hear me. Make him know I’m here.’ Her fingers caressed his, trying to warm him as again she bent forward so that her face was in front of his. His eyes were open, so surely he could see her.
Where his mind was she couldn’t know, whether he recognized that she was there or whether he felt he was dreaming.
‘Tes . . .’ Hardly even a whisper but she sent up a prayer of thankfulness. ‘Tessa, my sweet Tessa . . . home . . . loved you . . . always . . .’
Dreaming or aware, either way a sentence was beyond him. But what he whispered wiped away the misery of their time apart.
‘Yes darling, as soon as you are well enough we’ll go home. We have the rest of our lives. Giles, Giles, hear me, Giles, stay with me, you’re all there is . . . love you so much . . .’ Talking through the tears she couldn’t hold back she laid her face on the pillow close against his.
‘Tess . . .’ Then, his voice suddenly stronger, he said her name again and, raising her head so that she could see his face, she realized that he was smiling. ‘Te . . .’ But his strength ebbed as suddenly as it had come. Something was different. She was gripped by fear. Touching his mouth with hers there was no response; and worse, she could feel no breath. Help, she must get help. Frantically she opened the door and looked along the corridor just at the same moment as a nurse appeared, hurrying towards them.
Tessa tried to believe it couldn’t be happening; he must have lost his slim hold on consciousness. But in her heart she knew. She watched the nurse feel for his pulse; she saw the expression o
n her face and even felt sympathy for her that she had to be the one to take away the last strand of hope. Listening to the stark sentence, Tessa nodded.
‘Please,’ she begged, ‘let me just be with him – just one minute more.’ Consciously she bit hard on the corners of her mouth and held her chin high. She seemed to be standing on the edge of a black abyss. If she lost control even for a minute she was frightened she would tip over the edge and be lost. She must be strong. Yet did it matter? What did anything matter?
That was the moment when she remembered the drive home from Deremouth Hospital after Richard’s death. Hang on to that, remember Naomi’s impenetrable calm.
The nurse went out of the room, pulling the door up behind her. Moving to the bed, Tessa sat on the edge and, just as she had before, rested her head on the pillow rubbing her face against his. If only just once more he could say those words that had taken away all the pain of their separation, ‘loved you . . . always . . . sweet Tessa’. And that was all she was to have of him; for the rest of her days that had to be enough to give her courage to face a life without him. But he hadn’t gone away because he was tired of her; he had gone because he cared about her future more than he cared about himself.
The nurse was back in the room and a second later the kindly elderly doctor and another younger man followed her. ‘If you go along to the waiting room, I’ll come and speak to you when the doctors have done,’ the nurse said quietly.
‘Go?’ Go and leave him. She heard the door close behind her and walked down the long corridor to a small waiting room. It wasn’t visiting time, so she was thankful no one would be there. But she was wrong. There was one man and he stood up as she appeared in the doorway.
