The Last Dance

by Carolyn McCrae

  “Max must have known he had connived in cheating Charles and me out of our grandfather’s inheritance.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Carl, but I am sure he felt he had some responsibility.”

  Absolutely. This answered so many of the questions that had remained unanswered over the years. I had always wondered why Max had been so generous to the children of the Donaldsons. This was an explanation. Though from a lawyer’s point of view not a very good one.

  “I thought it was because he was in love with Alicia.”

  Now that was something I had not thought of.

  In all our talks Alicia had only mentioned Max briefly, a few meetings in London, some assistance when she was really low – but a ‘love affair’. I didn’t think so. I hoped not, though I did remember the electricity of their meeting when she had returned from Switzerland.

  There was a pause on the line. I thought perhaps he had hung up.

  After a while in a completely different voice, softer, gentler, “How are they?”

  I did not need to ask which ‘they’ he meant.

  I told him how Susannah had been very ill for some while after the events of last July and especially after the party, how she had been distraught that he had been there and not wanted to see her, how she still could not face her children, how she now lived with her mother and me at Millcourt. I told him how she was slowly coming to terms with events. How unhappy she was. How lonely. How guilty she felt at not being able to look after her children. How guilty she felt about bringing them into this world in the first place. How day after day we all tried to comfort her and keep her from walking out over the sands.

  “Yes, Carl, it really is that bad.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “No, of course you didn’t. How could you?”

  “She looked so happy at the birthday party. She had her arms around all of them and was laughing. She didn’t seem to need anything, anyone, else. Certainly not me.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever thought you to be selfish Carl. She was acting. It was so very difficult for her. She was being her mother’s daughter. It was so very difficult for her and you didn’t see. But now I know why you couldn’t go to her. You knew, didn’t you, but believe me I had no idea. No idea at all.”

  I continued swiftly, to cover our embarrassment. “She was just being very brave. But all that has taken it’s toll. She had her breakdown very soon after that. The Parrys threatened her with all sorts of legalities. They wanted all Joe’s money. Wanted to leave her with nothing. Wanted her committed. They kept opening up wounds, trying to get the police to re-open the case, to charge Monika and Susannah with murder – manslaughter at the very least. They were very vindictive until Max persuaded them to come to that agreement.”

  “Is it all settled now?”

  “Oh yes. Now they have property and income they are quite happy. The children are well looked after and Monika and Charles keep a very close eye on them.”

  “Goodbye then. Ted, I don’t mean to be so difficult. Thank you for forwarding the letter and for all the information.” He hesitated as if unsure whether to continue. “I could come up you know. I could come and see them. Nothing heavy. Just to show I care.”

  He seemed to want me to ask him up. He seemed to want me to make his decision for him but it was not my decision to take.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea at the moment. Susannah is far from pulling herself together. A shock like meeting you again might not be the best thing.”

  He was quiet for a while, then asked “Will you say I have been in touch?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Probably best if you don’t.”

  “Probably.”

  And so another opportunity to bring Carl back into the family was lost.

  Although I now understood more about the complexities of his situation I couldn’t help feeling I had, yet again, done the wrong thing.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Towards the end of that year I had a phone call from her solicitors in Keswick. Kathleen Donaldson had died. She had left our address as a point of contact for her next of kin, her only son Carl and her sister Maureen Shelton.

  She had lived the four years since Arnold’s death in virtual isolation in a cottage in the Lake District. She had given up the job at the school, she had given up practically all contact with anyone.

  I now believed I understood why.

  I told the Keswick solicitor that I would get back to him as soon as I had made contact with the son and phoned Carl to tell him the news. He showed no sign of emotion at all. He asked if he needed to do anything, anything he needed to sign. He asked when the funeral was and whether he should go.

  “Carl, there is no funeral organised. There is no one to organise it. Only you and Maureen, and Maureen is getting on you know. You must go up to the Lake District and sort it out – there is only you who can do that. You are her son, her only child. Just because you are estranged doesn’t mean that you have no responsibilities.”

  “I can’t just drop everything here.”

  “You must, and you will.” I sounded more certain than I felt and he was silent for a while.

  “OK then. Would you meet me there? Would you help me sort it out?”

  “Of course.”

  I got home that night and at dinner looked at the two women who lived in my flat and who were now so much a part of my life. What would the news mean to them?

  I sat in my chair by the fire, whisky in hand, not watching the inane comedy on the television – but as long as the voices and canned laughter filled the room my thoughts were my own and I didn’t have to make conversation. What they would feel if they knew the latest news, I had to tell them – but how? Alicia would probably be glad to hear of the end of Kathleen, the woman her husband had always been in love with since well before they had even met.

  Perhaps Kathleen was the woman Arnold should have married in the first place. Had she, even then, known that they couldn’t marry? Less attractive than Alicia, less vibrant and less dynamic – probably more intelligent, more steadfast and certainly healthier – yet she had died first. Just. What would Alicia think?

  And Susannah? What of her thoughts of her step-mother, the mother of the boy she loved – she did not know the man, but she still loved the boy. Did she hate Kathleen for what she had done to their lives? Did she despise her? Resent her? What would she feel that Kathleen was dead?

  I had to tell them and face the consequences, but, as ever, I tried to avoid the issue.

  Susannah and I would join Alicia in her room at the end of each evening, she was now too ill to get out of her bed which had been moved so she could always see out of the window. We would sit companionably and drink cocoa – or at least there would be cups of cocoa to be drunk – Alicia never touched hers.

  That night I interrupted the quiet. “I have to go to the Lake District tomorrow. I will be away for a few days. Will you both be alright while I am away?”

  “Of course. We’ll be fine.” Susannah now spoke for them both.

  “Business or pleasure?” asked Alicia.

  “Business.”

  “It’s Kathleen isn’t it?” Susannah somehow had understood my feelings of not wanting to tell them any more than I had to. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

  “What? Who’s dead?” Alicia had missed threads of the conversation.

  Susannah continued “Kathleen is dead isn’t she? There’s absolutely no other reason for you to go to the Lakes. She is the only contact you have there. She is the only one you would feel you had to up sticks and go to. Perhaps she’s not dead yet and you’ve got to go and see her. But it’s Kathleen isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure....”

  “It is Kathleen isn’t it” she was going to persevere.

  “Yes, it’s Kathleen. I heard today that she has died. I have to go to sort some things out, arrange the funeral, that sort of thing. There is no one else.” />
  “Do you have to?” Alicia asked. “Please don’t.”

  Perhaps she knew that her time was drawing to a close. Perhaps she thought it was disloyal of me to go to Kathleen when she, Alicia, needed me so much. I was thinking of that rather than what I said next.

  “I have to go, I’m afraid. I am meeting them there, Carl and “

  I stopped, realising what I had said and looking at Susannah who was staring at me open eyed. “You know where he is? You’ve been in touch with him? Why do you always keep him away from me?” Her voice rose with every question, she was getting increasingly hysterical.

  “I’m coming with you. I’m coming to meet him. I’ve got to see him. You’ve got to take me with you. I must see him. He’ll need me.”

  “Susie.” Her mother tried to be calming but using the name that Carl always called her only made things more difficult. Susannah stood up, as if ready to leave that very moment.

  Alicia’s voice was thin and tired, “Please, I need you here.”

  But Susannah had gone.

  I was so angry with myself. A momentary lapse had ruined all the care and attention of the past months. I regret so much what happened then and I will for the rest of my life.

  “Now that’s not the real reason is it Alicia? Is it you think she’ll be hurt? Or do you think they’ll get together again or you are jealous and want her hanging onto you every minute of the day?”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Yes, Alicia, I know. But this has all gone on long enough. You know that I will be with you every moment I can. But you cannot demand that of Susannah. She has her own life to lead. Good God look at the time she’s had of it! Haven’t all your talks proved to you how much she loves the boy? Don’t you think she deserves some happiness?”

  “And she’ll get that from him? You think she’ll find happiness with their son?” She asked the question hesitatingly but with venom.

  I was firm in my reply. “She won’t be happy without him.”

  She changed tack “Do you hate me that much?”

  “Stop that now. Do not try one of those making everyone feel sorry for you. Do not try to make me feel guilty. Whatever I do for Carl is not for Kathleen or against you. It isn’t a competition. Can’t you see that?”

  “No.”

  “Well I’m going to help Carl. I will leave after breakfast and be back late.”

  “You hate me.” She was crying, looking at me with her overlarge eyes – the illness having removed any softness from her face.

  “You know I could never hate you and you won’t get round me like this.”

  “You want to help her, you don’t care what happens to me.” She was childlike in her attempt at emotional blackmail but very much the old Alicia in her attempts at manipulation.

  I’m afraid I had had enough.

  “Do you want to know what I really think Alicia? Are you interested?”

  I carried on without waiting for an answer.

  “You have always known I could never hate you. I have loved you so very very much, you have always known that since the earliest days. It is something you have taken for granted. But the fact that I love you, and will always love you, doesn’t mean to say I always have to like you. And now I don’t like you very much. Think of Susannah. Don’t think of yourself. Think of Susannah’s life, Susannah’s future – not yours. Your daughter has always loved Carl. They were probably, as far as anyone ever is, “made for each other”. She has made her mistakes; he, no doubt, has made his. Sure as hell their parents did.”

  I wondered if she had taken any of this lecture to heart. She had, and I had made her cry and I felt dreadful.

  I had to be conciliatory.

  “If you are ever to make recompense for your lies and deceits then now is the time. They have a chance to get together. They have a chance at least to find out if they have a future together; you, we, must not take that away from them.”

  We were quiet for a few moments. She changed the subject. Perhaps she had not really been listening to anything I had said.

  Later I had reason to hope she hadn’t.

  “You said you were meeting ‘them’. You never said who the other one was.”

  “I meant Carl and Maureen.”

  “Maureen? Who’s Maureen?”

  “Maureen Shelton”

  “Why would Maureen go, she didn’t know Kathleen.”

  I knew it would be a blow. I knew it would hurt her.

  “She did. She was her sister.”

  Perhaps I was too cruel.

  She had never known how close her best friend was to the woman she had considered her enemy for much of her life.

  She was absolutely silent for some minutes.

  “Go then Ted, I don’t think I can cope with anything else. No more surprises.”

  I couldn’t tell her. I had to leave her knowing she was crushed, wishing I hadn’t said anything – but I was tired of lying for this family. All I can say is that I always tried to do what was right – or what seemed to be right – at the time. Had I always known? I say No. I can only say in my defence that I had always tried not to get in position where I should have to talk about Kathleen and Maureen’s true relationship to Arnold. I had been so angry with Alicia’s selfishness and so sad knowing I was going to lose her soon but at least I hadn’t been that angry.

  I went along the corridor to Susannah’s room. I knocked and a small voice said I could go in.

  She was not lying on her bed, head down as I supposed she would be. She was standing looking out of her window across the golf course towards Sandhey.

  “You know, Uncle Ted, this room was part of the old nursery when this was one house. I used to sit here with the boys and nag and nag them to tell me all the ins and outs of the rules of golf. On other days, when they didn’t want a girl hanging round, I used to look out of this window and watch them playing with the dogs on the lawn. Now Charles is living over there” she nodded her head in the direction of Sandhey “and God knows what his life is like. He writes, I know and he’s doing so well at that and I am so pleased for him. Monika looks after him, I know. Is he gay? I wonder.” She carried on, not waiting for answers to any of her questions “If he is, he doesn’t seem to do anything about it. He seems happy though, so does Monika. Max is good to them and seems to like having them around. But they never come to see us do they Uncle Ted? It’s as if we aren’t family to them. Charles doesn’t seem to care that his mother is dying. There can’t be much more time. But Charles doesn’t seem to care – if he does he doesn’t show it. He is so wrapped up in himself. Do you think he hurts that much?”

  “I think you have got it in one there Susannah. I think he hurts a great deal. He’s never learnt how to get on with other people – he inherited that from his father – Arnold never knew how to get on with people – Arnold never gave anyone credit for being anything other than supporting actors in his life story.” I hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. I was still upset with myself for arguing with Alicia..

  “Is that how you think he saw you?”

  I didn’t answer immediately, I simply walked closer to her and took her right hand in both mine, kissed it and gave it back to her. We stood close together looking out over the darkness of the golf course towards the lights of Sandhey and the other houses stringing out along the road to Red Rocks.

  We stood there for a while before I answered.

  “Yes. Yes Susannah, that is what I believe I have been – a sort of walk on part in the lives of your entire family. But don’t let that make you think I’m bitter, I care for you all in an odd sort of way and I will always be here to pick up the pieces and help you if ever you need it. You must know that.”

  “That’s what mother used to say – I’ll always be there to pick up the pieces’ as though she didn’t trust us to manage on our own. We haven’t really though have we? But she hasn’t been there either.”

  We stood there for some while, before she plucked up the courage t
o ask me the question she had had in mind for some time.

  “How is he?” There was such sadness in her voice. “I know he’s my brother and I can’t do anything about that, but I do love him. I have always loved him, and I do need to know that he is alright and happy.”

  Alicia had not told her.

  She had lied, again. In all their talks and discussions she had not told Susannah the truth. Of all the people who knew of the events of that Christmas 1945 no one had ever seen fit to tell Susannah. We had got so close that morning of Joe’s death but we had never told her.

  What was I to do?

  Either I lied and continued this web of deceit that had started that so long ago or I told her the truth, telling her that the people she loved had lied to her for years. She would never trust any of us again even if she would know the truth. But I had just told a truth to Alicia and that had gained nothing other than hurt. Why had I said all those things? I had achieved nothing.

  I remembered what Maureen had said about her conversation with Carl, when he had argued that at least if he knew the truth he would know what he was going to do with it. Now finding myself in that same position I found I couldn’t lie any longer. I was getting too old.

  “Yes, Susannah. He is doing very well. He is an academic; Oxford now, History.”

  “Just like Father.”

  “Just like your father.”

  Susannah didn’t pick up on the ambiguity in my words so I repeated myself with different emphasis “Just like your father.”

  Did I want her to know the truth? Yes. Did I want to be the one to tell her? No. I wanted her to guess. I didn’t want to lie any more – but neither did I have the courage to tell the truth and go against what Alicia had asked – “Over my dead body” she had said on Susannah’s wedding day. It wasn’t going to be many weeks, days perhaps. I wanted Susannah to guess, before it was too late, I wanted her to talk to Alicia, to find out what had really happened from her Mother, she was, after all, the only one who could really tell her.

  But she didn’t pick up on it and my courage failed.

  “How is he?”