Tapestry

by Fiona McIntosh

  He stared back at her and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I am too,’ she said gently, clearing her throat before she stood and kissed him lightly on the forehead as one might a child. ‘Be well, Will. I’ll send in your parents.’

  He caught her hand. ‘Jane?’

  She raised her gaze to meet his.

  ‘You said something about ley lines. I’m really interested in them. In fact, I’m sure I’m interested in Earth vortices.’

  ‘I know you are,’ she said, stroking his hand. ‘You’re also quite a well-known geophysicist and geologist.’ He stared at her with a slight hint of amazement in his eyes. His expression was warming now that they were off the sticky subject of not knowing her from the hospital cleaner. ‘You have a quirky take on earth formations.’ Jane smiled. ‘I think you’ve always seriously wanted to explore the spiritual connection that exists between the old straight tracks and the great Earth vortices.’

  ‘I do,’ he said, letting out his breath with a sigh. ‘At least I think I do.’ He chuckled and they swapped a glance of regret. ‘I read about the ley lines in a National Geographic when I was a child. I think I’ve always wanted to accept that they held a sort of … magic, but no one else would believe me.’

  ‘I would,’ Jane said, and, without wondering whether to do so or not, bent down and let her lips brush his tenderly. ‘Goodbye, Will.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you for understanding, Jane. Maybe in the future …?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t feel bad. It’s changed both of us.’

  Ellen was back with Will’s parents in tow and Diane was already leaking tears; perhaps the nurse had told her of the disastrous reunion. John gave her a look of sorrow.

  ‘He needs time,’ he murmured to Jane as they passed each other. She nodded, putting on a brave smile.

  In the anteroom her parents opened their arms again to hug her and commiserate. She knew her soul-searching was only just beginning.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jane’s parents returned to Wales for the week, promising to come back the next weekend, but both their daughters remained in London. Jane insisted on checking back into the hotel where she and Will had been staying, but she surprised everyone by making no effort to go to the hospital, instead giving Will the space that Dr Evans felt might be wise. She spent the days following that terrible afternoon of realisation being shuffled around by Juliette.

  Her sister planned peaceful day trips to galleries, museums, Kew Gardens … anything that would distract Jane, but not allow London to crowd her. They avoided the Underground, took taxis everywhere, ate picnics in the park and went to bed early, drifting off to reruns of old sitcoms. They ate in unpopular restaurants, frequented out-of-the-way cafés, and roamed the top floors of Liberty and Hamleys, John Lewis and Selfridges. But the girls were not buying, just killing time.

  Killing time. Is this how it’s going to be? Jane wondered, as she watched Juliette choose the food for a picnic lunch from the fridges of Marks & Spencer.

  ‘Ham and salad roll?’ Juliette held it up.

  Jane shrugged. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Okay, let’s find some non-alcoholic cider to go with it,’ her sister said, leading the way to the beverage section.

  Jane followed dutifully, killing time … killing her thoughts … killing her chance.

  She blinked as Juliette considered the soft drinks.

  What chance?

  ‘No apple fizz,’ Jane heard her sister mutter. ‘How about boring mineral water?’ She didn’t wait for Jane’s response, but put a bottle in the basket and pointed to the biscuit aisle. ‘Chocolate biscuits — a must.’

  Jane didn’t answer. She’d have preferred fruit, but really it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more. That was the real problem for her. She was numb and she didn’t care about anything. Not even making Will love her.

  Hadn’t she really come home to prove to herself she didn’t love him? Yet he’d beaten her to it and reversed the situation. It was a relief, but it also hurt. Now what?

  As they queued, she fixed Juliette with a stare. ‘I can’t make him love me again,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ Juliette pursed her lips as she understood. ‘Jane, it’s barely been a week. Give him a chance.’

  ‘Why? Why force what’s not there?’

  ‘You don’t know it’s not there.’

  ‘There’s a saying I heard in Australia: not knowing someone from a bar of soap. I’m the bar of soap, Juliette. And he doesn’t even know which brand! He likes the nurse, Ellen, more than me. I don’t blame him or her, I’m just saying …’

  ‘Two pounds forty, please,’ said the girl behind the counter.

  Juliette handed over a five-pound note and the girl passed her the change and gave Jane a plastic bag with their lunch inside.

  Juliette bundled Jane out of the store. ‘You’ve got to stop this.’

  ‘Stop what? It’s everyone else who has to stop. Will doesn’t know me. I’m a stranger. And frankly, I get it. He feels like a stranger to me too.’

  ‘Jane, don’t go there. You haven’t given him a fair chance.’

  ‘To remember me?’

  ‘Of course to remember you.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Now Juliette looked at her as though she were dim.

  ‘Do you think we just slip back into being Will and Jane?’ she continued.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not going to be like that, Jules. Damage has been done. Even I don’t feel the same. And if Will came back to me now, I would be the one hesitating.’

  ‘You were always the one hesitating!’ Juliette accused.

  Jane looked around but no one seemed to care about the two women arguing softly in Covent Garden.

  ‘Listen,’ Jane began, ‘I haven’t told you or Mum and Dad yet, but I spoke to John Maxwell on the phone last night.’ Juliette’s gaze narrowed. ‘Will wants to go back to America. Ellen is going with them as his private nurse for a while.’

  ‘Oh, that’s just John —’

  ‘No, it’s not just John. This was Will’s decision. John and Diane are as distraught as our parents over it all, but obviously they want to do what’s best for their son. I think it’s the right decision.’

  ‘So you’re just going to let him go?’ her sister asked, incredulous.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Fight for him.’

  She shook her head, knowing how much she already had fought to keep Will alive — not that anyone in this life would ever understand. ‘He doesn’t know me. And Juliette, he never knew that I didn’t love him enough.’

  Juliette’s mouth opened like a fish ripped from its pond and struggling for air. ‘You’re crazy. Crazy with grief, Jane. You’re not making sense.’

  ‘I am. I’m seeing everything so clearly. It was Will’s love that kept us together. I’d never known what it is to be made breathless by someone, until …’

  ‘Until …?’

  Jane panicked. ‘I mean, until now I didn’t realise that he never did make my heart pound, or my breath catch.’

  ‘Jane, stop this. Will is such a gorgeous guy. Everyone loves him.’

  ‘Everyone, but me. I love him, but not in the way I should. Not in the way that makes me want to give my life for him.’

  ‘Now you’re being dramatic. No one gives their lives for —’

  ‘They do. There are women who would risk their lives for the man they love.’

  ‘Only in movies and books.’

  Jane shrugged. She knew better. ‘Nevertheless, that’s the love I want. I want his kiss to make me see stars, I want to never be apart, I want to know that I have so much love for him that I can’t live without him. I don’t have that with Will, Juliette; I never did. But because I was lonely, or insecure, or just bored with not having someone special, or fearful of being left on the shelf, I thought his devotion was enough. Will, bless him, loved me
just as I’ve described … but now he has nothing to give and we have nowhere to hide. Don’t you see? Will deserves better than me for a wife — he deserves to be adored. He’s brilliant and funny and ridiculously handsome. The stars have fortuitously aligned to give me a chance not to make a big mistake. To save us both from me.’

  Juliette threw her hands in the air. ‘You really did go bonkers while you were in Australia! You’re making me angry listening to you.’

  Jane smiled sadly. ‘I’ve always made you angry.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to Scotland.’

  ‘Oh, come on. Jane —’

  She handed her sister the picnic supplies. ‘I’ll ring Mum and Dad from King’s Cross Station.’

  ‘But why are you going?’

  ‘There’s someone I have to see.’

  ‘Jane, please …’

  But she’d already moved away. She blew a kiss to Juliette before turning and disappearing into the throng of Covent Garden, without giving herself a chance to consider the madness of this spontaneous decision.

  She ended up ringing her family from a pub in Perthshire and tried to explain, over the tears of her mother, that she was searching for something important.

  ‘But what, darling?’

  ‘I can’t explain it, Mum. But I know when I find it, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘Oh, Jane. I don’t know what happened to you on that Australian rock and I don’t know why this has happened to Will, but I wish you would come home and just let us look after you.’ Catelyn had dissolved into a flood of tears and Hugh, who had been listening in on the other phone, took up the conversation.

  ‘Jane, it’s Dad.’

  ‘Dad, please try to understand. I have to do this.’

  ‘What, though? We don’t know what it is that you’ve gone off to do.’

  ‘I’m searching history,’ she said bluntly. ‘It’s a project I’m doing. There’s someone I have to hunt down.’

  ‘Oh? Well, why didn’t you say so.’ He turned away to address her mother. ‘She’s doing a research project.’ Jane heard muffled voices. ‘I don’t know,’ her father answered distantly. ‘Probably an extension of her degree. She spoke a while back about doing some more study.’ He returned to her. ‘So you’re studying in Scotland, is that right?’

  ‘Sort of. I’m starting here, at least.’

  ‘Well, how long will you be gone?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dad.’

  ‘All right. That sounds vague, but so long as you’re keeping occupied. I’d hate to think you were lonely or depressed.’

  ‘The opposite, Dad. It’s giving me purpose.’

  ‘Well, good. Let us know what you need.’

  ‘Is Juliette there?’

  ‘Yes, hang on.’

  ‘Mum, are you there?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Let me talk to Juliette alone.’

  Her sister’s voice finally arrived. ‘Jane?’

  ‘Are they both off the phone?’

  ‘Yes. What the hell is going on?’

  She fed the phone with another pile of coins she’d had ready in a neat stack. ‘Jules, I’m going away for a while. Listen … I know this sounds crazy, but can you remember a name for me?’

  ‘Which name?’

  ‘Sackville. Julius Sackville. Born 1680. Look him up sometime.’

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. Just remember the name. And if you get curious, look him up.’

  ‘You know, you’re making very little sense. In fact, we’re worried for you all over again.’ She knew the tone in her sister’s voice, knew Juliette wanted to accuse her of being unfair, seeking attention.

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘Julian —’

  ‘Julius!’

  ‘Julius Sackville. All right! Got it. 1680. I’ve written it down. Satisfied? When will we hear from you?’

  ‘Not sure. And Jules …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not going mad. I’m not depressed or suicidal. Quite the reverse. And I love you.’

  ‘Wow … are you taking drugs?’

  Jane laughed. ‘Love is a drug,’ she said.

  The quip immediately eased the tension and she heard Juliette laugh. ‘Call us.’

  Jane put the phone down, smiling. She felt better in this moment than she had expected to, but maybe that was because only she knew it was goodbye.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Jane stood in Traquair House, and although it had changed over almost three centuries, it still felt familiar. Her pulse had begun to race with fresh hope as she’d slipped out of the tour group and come back to the chamber where she had first slept as Winifred. She had fully expected the door to be locked, but the knob had turned and the door had given at her gentle push; obviously, today’s owners didn’t expect the public to ignore their sign asking visitors not to walk down this end of the house.

  The room was still a bedchamber, only modernised. However, old pieces remained, including the exquisite French dressing table and its mirror, which she remembered using to study her reflection as Winifred. Now Jane Granger looked back at her — or was it the ghost of Jane Granger? She certainly looked wan. She could see the ribbed shape of her breastbones in the ‘v’ of her T-shirt and her arms looked vaguely skeletal. Her cheekbones, of which she’d been proud when she’d first returned to London, now protruded a fraction too sharply, and she could trace the outline of her skull because it was fleshed too thinly these days.

  She heard laughter from the front of the house, where her fellow tourists were probably making their way back down the driveway. How long would it take before she was noticed as missing from the group? When they did the head count on the minibus? She had maybe half an hour at most, probably less.

  Robyn was not here. Why had Jane thought she would be?

  Desperation, guilt, shame, hope. Everything had coalesced to plague her over these last haunting weeks of searching herself for answers. Jane knew she’d made the right decision not to pursue Will, but her internal longing confused her. Nevertheless, she’d made a fateful move the day before yesterday, striding away from Juliette, and that had led her on the long railway journey and today’s tour of stately homes in Perth. She’d had to walk through two others before they’d arrived at Traquair House and all the familiar sights and names had stirred her longing again. She felt anger at herself for reaching for the past so desperately, and yes, inescapably, anger — despite her best intentions — at Will for letting her down after she’d gone through so much.

  It would have been so easy if she’d fallen into his arms as he woke up and they’d both whispered words of relief to one another and their families had sighed happily. She might have waived the pomp and ceremony and married him the next day, because then she wouldn’t have had to confront this.

  ‘This what?’ asked a familiar voice, and she swung around, seeing no one.

  ‘Robin?’ She couldn’t hide the tension in her voice, or the excitement that exploded within.

  ‘Anger serves no purpose.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I warned you that magic always demands a price,’ he said, and she followed his voice to the mirror, where she could see him clearly reflected. ‘Your price for using the magic to restore Will was having to give him up.’

  ‘I saved his life,’ she said, not knowing what else to say. ‘I wish that he had saved mine.’

  ‘He did, Jane, by not recognising you.’

  ‘Will he ever remember me?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. But I cannot tell if he would have fallen in love with you all over again. That would have been up to you.’

  ‘Robin, I’m lost.’

  He nodded. ‘And you’ve come searching for an answer?’

  She took a breath. ‘Yes. I want to be like Winifred and William. I have experienced that love now and I know Will and I never had that.’

  ‘Why have you retur
ned here?’

  ‘Don’t make me say it.’

  ‘Oh, but I must.’

  She blushed. ‘Because of the letter.’

  ‘From Julius Sackville.’

  She sat on the stool in front of the dressing table and stared at her curious companion. ‘He said he would visit Terregles at the end of autumn. By then he believed I would know my husband’s fate.’ She knew the exact words by heart: By then you may know your future.

  ‘And what do you think he meant by those carefully chosen words?’

  ‘I suppose that if we were still married, still happy, he would never trouble me again.’

  ‘And if not?’

  ‘He did not say.’

  ‘Well, it’s academic, Jane, because in 1716 Winifred and William are still married.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Blissfully happy in Rome.’

  She swallowed. ‘And the child?’

  Suddenly, for the first time since she’d left Winifred’s body, Jane understood the second reason for her unhappiness, her sense of dislocation, her inability to integrate back into her old life and particularly her sense of loss. She’d allowed people to think it was connected with Will; privately, she’d believed it to be about Julius. But only now in uttering that question did Jane realise that it was also about the child she and Julius had created.

  Robin gazed back at her and hesitated …

  ‘Winifred had suffered many unsuccessful pregnancies before you met her. She miscarried again on the rough voyage to Belgium, where she was heading to see her sister, Lucy, who was by then Mother Prioress at the convent.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, unsure of whether she felt relief or hopelessness.

  ‘It was for the best,’ Robin said with a stern look. ‘Rather complicated otherwise.’

  She nodded, her cheeks burning afresh. And now, the question she was desperate to ask. ‘Robin, can I go back?’

  He hesitated again.

  ‘I accept that there will be a price,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light-hearted, but Robin didn’t return her levity. ‘Julius spoke about the tapestry of life — as you did once. In the letter …’ She took a slow breath. ‘Well, he hoped the threads of that tapestry that bound us might cross once again.’