Always I'Ll Remember

by Bradshaw, Rita

  She adjusted the collar of the cloak so it fell more closely round her upswept hair, pinched her cheeks one last time and then, stitching a smile on her face, she opened the door.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ike turned round to look at her when she entered the room and walked with Wilbert between the two sets of waiting families. The love shining out of his eyes carried her through the brief but pleasant ceremony and the reception at the hotel with every appearance of enjoyment.

  And she had enjoyed it in a way, she told herself later in the afternoon during a lull in the proceedings. It was the first time she’d had a moment to herself; everyone seemed to be in conversation or watching Ike doing a little impromptu ventriloquist act for his sister’s four young children with some puppets the youngsters had brought with them. As long as she didn’t let her mind veer off for a second and concentrated wholly on what she could see and hear, she was all right. Thinking, remembering, could come later. Much later.

  ‘He’ll be a natural when your bairns come along.’

  Abby hadn’t noticed Ivor come up behind her but now he sat down at the side of her, his eyes on Ike and the children. It was a full ten seconds before she said, ‘Yes, he will make a wonderful father.’ Her voice was stiff.

  ‘Meself, I was never much good with ours when they were little, couldn’t get on their wavelength I suppose, but he’s got ’em in the palm of his hand, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes he has.’

  ‘Audrey was like that with the lads. They thought the world of their mam, still do, but then she’s that sort of woman. Draws folk, always has done.’

  Oh, the hypocrisy of him. The hurt and pain she had been battling with all day rose up like a ball into her throat. She turned her head, staring into the face she had been trying to ignore. ‘I’m a little surprised you didn’t add “like her sister”,’ she said icily.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Ivor was looking at her but he did not speak again. Abby waited for a moment before she said, ‘You don’t deny it then?’

  ‘Deny what?’

  ‘That you went with my mother.’

  Saints alive! She knew. But then hadn’t he suspected it at the bottom of him? She’d been so reserved with him, so distant, and the way he’d caught her looking at him once or twice . . . Damn it, why hadn’t he stayed where he was instead of coming to sit beside her? ‘It . . .’ His voice broke and he had to clear his throat before he could say, ‘It isn’t like you think, Abby.’

  ‘You have no idea what I think.’ Her voice was low and controlled. ‘You couldn’t or you would have made some excuse to go home before now.’

  He straightened in his chair. For this to come out now, at her wedding. But maybe it was the best time at that. At least she was keeping her voice down. He glanced swiftly round the room. Audrey was in a far corner talking to someone or other from Ike’s side, with her back partially to them. He breathed in deeply, his voice little more than a whisper when he said, ‘Look, lass, let me explain. I got meself in a fix. Your mam, well, she tricked me—’

  ‘Time and time again over a period of years she tricked you?’ It was scathing but still quiet. ‘You’re easily duped then. Or stupid. Or both.’

  ‘Now look—’ He caught himself, lowering his voice again which now held a fawning quality. ‘I can understand how you feel and it’s only natural—’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about natural, not when you’ve gone with your own wife’s sister and given her three bairns into the bargain. But let me tell you something, my da might not have been my flesh-and-blood father but he was my da in every way that counted.’

  Ivor’s mouth dropped open. ‘Who told you that, about me being . . .’

  ‘My father? And Wilbert and Clara’s? The same person who told me about your affair. My mam, of course. And before you deny it, I know she wasn’t lying so save your breath.’

  Ivor wetted his lips, then dug his teeth tight into the flesh of the lower one and bent his head. Staring at his boots, he said, ‘I didn’t know. I swear to you, lass, I didn’t know, not afore this day.’

  ‘Because you didn’t want to know.’ It was a statement not a question. ‘My mam and da had been married years with no sign of a child and then you came along.’ It was bitter. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t wonder.’

  ‘No. Yes. I mean . . .’ He shook his head, his shoulders hunched. ‘She didn’t say. Your mam didn’t say.’

  ‘And you didn’t ask, but then you wouldn’t, would you? Why ruin the novelty of having your cake and eating it?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  Silence reigned for a moment, then Ivor said, ‘What are you going to do?’ When Abby didn’t answer, he turned his head slowly towards her. ‘Look, your aunt knows about me an’ your mam and we’ve put it behind us, all right? Made a new start like. But if you tell her . . .’ His lower jaw worked. ‘It’ll break her, you see that, don’t you? And what good would it do, eh? Tell me that. What good would it do?’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t care about that.’

  ‘You care about your Aunty Audrey, you always have done.’ When she did not deny this, he added, ‘You told Wilbert or Clara about this?’

  ‘If I had, Wilbert would have bashed your face in.’

  ‘Please, Abby,’ he pleaded. ‘Please let sleeping dogs lie. Your da was your da, I’d be the first to say it. Whether he actually . . .’ He paused before continuing, ‘It don’t matter, not that part. It’s the rest of it, the bringing up of bairns that counts.’

  ‘I know that.’ Her eyes met his for a moment and he saw they were filled with pain. ‘I don’t need you to tell me that.’

  Clara danced up at this point and spent a few moments talking to them before Jed came and tapped her on the arm. The pair of them went to help themselves to the hot mince pies and steaming mugs of coffee and cocoa the hotel staff had just brought in as a conclusion to the proceedings.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ Ivor asked again. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’ll never forgive meself for what I’ve done, never as long as I live.’

  ‘It’s no consolation at all,’ Abby said, willing herself not to break down.

  Ike caught her eye from across the room. ‘You OK, hon?’ he mouthed, and she smiled, nodding and mouthing back, ‘I’m fine, Dr Wilmot,’ whereupon he grinned and continued the puppet show.

  Her throat was tight, too tight to swallow. What was it that made some men, men who had once been honourable and good and kind, men like Ivor and - here Abby found herself taking a long painful breath - James Benson, forget the women they were supposed to love and chase after someone else?

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t say more than that, can I? There’s nowt I can do to change things now but your aunty knowing this would, well, it’d turn the knife for her. Surely you can see that?’

  This elicited no response from Abby, and after a moment Ivor went on, ‘There’s Wilbert and Clara too. If they don’t know, what’s the point in upsetting them an’ all? It don’t make sense.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about sense, not you.’ She stood up. ‘I won’t say anything but only for Aunty Audrey’s sake. She’s had enough to put up with.’

  She left him without another word, meeting Ike halfway across the room.

  ‘That looked like a serious conversation to have with someone on your wedding day, Mrs Wilmot.’ His tone was light, even amused, but there was a question in the dark eyes.

  Abby chose to ignore it. She answered just as lightly, ‘Not jealous already, Dr Wilmot? I’ve heard of these men who turn into tyrants the minute they’re wed.’

  ‘Oh, this is just the start of it,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘It’s downhill all the way from now on.’

  ‘And here was me thinking I’d landed in clover.’ This was too near what Wilbert had said and now Abby dropped the bantering tone. ‘I love you, Ike, and we’re going to have a good marriage, aren’t we?’

  ‘The best.’ Recogni
sing something had upset her, he drew her closer, holding her against his chest. ‘I’m going to make you happy, Abby. More happy than you would have dreamed possible or my name isn’t Ike Marshall Wilmot.’

  ‘I believe you.’ She put up a hand and tenderly stroked his chin where the stubble was beginning to break through tanned skin. ‘And the same goes for me. I’ll be - what’s the word? - an exemplary wife. How about that?’

  His mouth went into a quirk. ‘Just one who loves me will do.’

  ‘You have that.’

  ‘Let’s say our goodbyes then and go up to our room.’ He had reserved the honeymoon suite for several days, and now, at the look in his eyes, Abby found herself turning pink. He lowered his head, whispering into the silk of her hair, ‘I love it that you can still blush. The way things are changing it’s becoming a lost art.’

  ‘Ike, don’t expect - I mean, I’m not experienced or anything and I don’t want you to be disappointed—’

  She had hinted at this concern of hers several times in the run-up to the wedding, and now he cut off her voice with a kiss that carried a wealth of love in it. When he drew away, she was pinker than ever, and in the moments before he let her go he murmured, ‘I’m experienced enough for both of us so don’t worry, OK?’ He didn’t add that from the first moment they had met, when he had felt the pull of her so strongly it had initially astounded and then deeply disturbed him, he had known he had to have her. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had had a hundred men before him or, as was the case, none, he had been ensnared and was completely hers. It had not been like that with Eleanor and if he hadn’t been able to make Abby love him, if he had been forced to walk away from her, he knew it wouldn’t be like it with anyone else. He would tell her all this later, once they had made love in the big four-poster bed the honeymoon suite boasted and were content in each other’s arms. For now it was enough that the time he had waited for was upon them, and he intended to make it as special for her as he could.

  So this was what marriage was all about, and yet no, no, it couldn’t be like this for everyone or else all the married women she knew would walk about with a great big smile stitched on their faces. Abby wriggled closer into Ike’s side and even in sleep his arm tightened instinctively around her.

  She had been so shy and nervous when the door of the honeymoon suite had closed behind them and they were alone, even though she knew she was being silly. She was a grown woman of twenty-four but suddenly she’d felt like a schoolgirl again. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of Ike or even of the act of love itself, it was just . . . the unknown. Winnie had sported with a number of fellows and Rowena had made no secret of the fact that she and Mario were intimate, but for some reason she hadn’t felt able to ask either of her friends exactly what the physical side of marriage entailed.

  But it had been . . . She couldn’t find a word to express how she felt. Not just the lovemaking but the things he’d whispered and the promises he’d made. She had expected it to be a quick thing, this physical union, but once he had undressed her and encouraged her to undress him, the urgency she had sensed in him at the reception had gone. They had touched and tasted and done things which still had her face burning when she thought of them. But it had been wonderful, and even the brief pain when he had finally entered her had changed into something pleasurable.

  And then in the rosy afterglow he had held her in his arms and talked of the future, a future rich with children and grandchildren, of travel, new experiences. She hadn’t thought of James then, she hadn’t thought of him until Ike had fallen asleep and she had lain in the darkness with a sweet warm throbbing between her legs which had reminded her she was a woman in every sense of the word at last.

  She didn’t understand why James had betrayed her, nor how he could have fallen in love with someone else knowing she was still alive and waiting for him, but that was all part of her old life and she had to let it - and him - go. She had never seen it so clearly. She had been given a second chance of happiness with Ike and he was such a special, dear man. Her da had always said you played life with the cards you’d been dealt, not the ones you would have liked, and it was true; she couldn’t honestly have said she would have willingly given up the chance of meeting Ike. Of course if she had still been engaged to James or even known he was still alive things would have been different, but she hadn’t and they weren’t.

  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and scrubbed at them angrily. She wasn’t going to cry, not tonight, not when she had been given the most precious gift in the man lying beside her. He had embraced a new life in a new country for her, and not only that, he had taken on her friends and her sister as though they were his nearest and dearest. Clara was happy and content here and there was no reason for them to ever return to Sunderland and their mother. All ties were cut and they would remain so. Wilbert and his lass would always be welcome and after today she suspected if Audrey visited it would be by herself, which was just fine. This was a new beginning . . .

  Within a few minutes Abby was sleeping peacefully, her forehead and Ike’s touching and their arms round each other.

  When she next awoke it was to the realisation that the nightmare which had gripped her wasn’t quite gone, in spite of Ike’s arms holding her tight and his calming tone as he said, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, love. You’re safe. You’re with me. Open your eyes. It’s over.’

  ‘She . . . she won’t let up, she’ll keep on. She’s after me.’

  ‘Who, love? Who’s after you?’ He clicked on the bedside lamp, drawing her against his bare chest and stroking the hair from her damp face. ‘It was a dream, hon, that’s all. No one can hurt you now.’

  The light banished the last of the horror but the memory of her mother’s twisted face as she had come at her with an axe was still vivid. Abby lay stiff and taut, her voice a whisper as she said, ‘It was my mam. She was after me.’

  ‘She can’t hurt you, honeypie. The only power she has is what you give her.’ Even as he spoke the words, Ike wondered what on earth had made her scream out like that. She’d told him her mother had mistreated her when she was young, knocking her about a bit and neglecting her, and that she had been the same with Clara which is why Abby had taken her sister under her wing, but there had been sheer terror in her voice before he had managed to wake her up. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked softly.

  ‘No.’ She turned in to him, seeking the warmth and strength of his big male frame. ‘I don’t want to give her that much importance in my life.’

  It was bitter and the doctor in him recognised a wound which was still raw. Nevertheless he did not press her, gathering her up and soothing her with gentle words and caresses until her breathing steadied and she relaxed against him. But for a long time after she slept he lay awake and wondered if it was his imagination that made him feel there was much more that Abby didn’t feel able to tell him.

  She was right, he’d lied to her. She’d known there was more to Wilbert’s visit than a Christmas reunion. Nora sat on the edge of her son’s bed, the letter she had found hidden on top of the wardrobe crumpled in her fingers. So Abby was marrying a GI, was she, and a fancy one at that. A doctor no less. By, she knew when she was on to a good thing, always had. Nora ground her teeth, the sound loud in the silence. And Wilbert going along with it all and fooling his own mam. She’d give him what for when he slunk back in. Leaving her all alone at Christmas and gallivanting off at Abby’s beck and call, the sneaky little runt.

  She opened the letter and reread the words which had filled her with such fury, pacing the room, her face dark at the thought of a smiling Abby on the arm of a rich GI.

  She had the urge to rip the letter to pieces and fling it about the room, but then she stopped herself. No. She had to think this out before she did anything hasty. On second thoughts it might be as well to let Wilbert think he’d fooled her. That way she had one up on him.

  She walked over to the wardrobe and replaced the lett
er exactly where she had found it. Then she began to remove any evidence of her search, systematically going over the room until it was exactly as it had been when she entered it.

  Nora stood for a moment at Wilbert’s window, looking down into the dark street. Christmas Eve had passed into Christmas Day an hour ago and the rest of the world was asleep, apart from her. Self-pity and resentment pulled her mouth into a thin line. Not a card or a gift in the house, and she’d be eating Christmas dinner alone. She just wished that daughter of hers was a bairn again so she could thrash her within an inch of her life like she’d used to: that’d teach her to turn everyone against her.