by Mary Grand
‘You need to let your mind stop running away with you. You are exhausted, you need to rest.’
His words seemed to match the rhythm of the waves below, soothing her, slowing her breathing. He stroked her hair and she looked up as he kissed her. The kiss became more intense, and the need she felt for him deepened. Without speaking, they stood up and went into the lodge.
Later that night, she lay in his bed. The lodge was very quiet and cosy inside. She was close to the bedside cabinet and reached out to touch the soft velvet of the red fish she’d given him. She crept out of bed and found her phone. It crossed her mind that her mother might wonder where she was, but it was too late to ring her. Instead, she sent a text to Mira.
I’m staying round a friend’s, if Mum is worried xx
Then she crept back into bed and curled up next to Gabriel and fell asleep.
23
Juliet woke early the next morning. Her head was heavy from the drink and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay any longer. She didn’t exactly regret the evening, but she worried things were moving too fast. Quietly, she got dressed and Gabriel was still asleep when she left the lodge.
She walked quickly through the site. The walk down the steep road was easy, and once she’d reached the main road, she crossed over to walk along the cliff top. She saw a single dog walker but no one else.
She tried to figure out how she felt about Gabriel. He was certainly attractive, and attentive; she’d appreciated the warmth and care he’d shown her and was sure he wanted more from their relationship. He seemed to be offering something safe, predictable, but it would all be about her fitting into his life, and was that what she wanted?
Juliet reached the car park at Brook and she felt a kind of dread at the thought of going in. It annoyed rather than frightened her. No, she would not let whoever had pushed her ruin one of the most important places in her life.
Resolutely she went into the car park, glanced at where she’d stood and then turned into the field where her car was parked. She went over and sat close to the cliff edge.
As it was still very early, the light was just breaking on a new day. The sky was shades of pale blue, with pink tufts nearer the horizon, the cliffs slowly emerging from the silhouettes. It was if the island was reminding her that despite everything that had happened it still held onto its magic.
Eventually she knew it was time to go home. As she left the field, she glanced at the top of the footpath down to the beach. The sea was sliding its way inland, not as bright blue as it had been, but there was a grey peacefulness there. She looked over to where she’d been pushed, and the fear started to return. There may be great beauty here, but people could still do ugly cruel things.
She hurried home.
It wasn’t until she reached the gate to the garden, that it dawned on her how early it still was – half past six in fact – and she had no house key.
She wandered over into the workshop and once more saw the comfy chair and sat down, closed her eyes.
Her phone pinged, and taking it out of her bag, she read a text from Gabriel.
You left?
* * *
Sorry, I needed to get back and didn’t want to wake you, thank you for a lovely evening.
* * *
Miss you.
Juliet paused then quickly typed back.
Miss you too x
She started to scroll through the photos on her phone as something to do while she waited until the house woke up. Soon she was at the ones she’d taken at Rosalind’s meal.
It was interesting to pick up on the faces of people at the edges of the snaps. She was shocked to see the look of anger on Mira’s face as she watched Rhys speak, and Juliet wondered where it had come from. Then there was one of her mother caught off guard, the anxiety showing through the mask that had slipped. However, it wasn’t the expression that caught Juliet’s eye, it was the earrings her mother was wearing – the moon-shaped earrings. As far as she knew, her mother hadn’t been up to the church since her father’s funeral.
The enormity of what she was looking at slowly sank in, a memory of her mother determinedly saying she would talk to Rhys, sort things out.
It could have been her leaving the house at half twelve; she’d have had time to get Juliet’s car, drive up to the church and wait. But, no, the earring meant she’d been inside the church. It was horrible to think about, but she had to try and face this. What did Rhys know that was such a threat to her mother?
Juliet looked over at the house. Her mother was in the kitchen in her dressing gown putting on the kettle. Juliet was cold, she needed to go in, but she dreaded it now. She couldn’t talk to her mother about any of this, not yet, she had to have time to think. To her annoyance, her phone had fallen down the side of the cushion and as she reached down to retrieve it, she noticed the usual accumulation of pens and biscuit crumbs. She wiped the phone clean with her hand and walked to the house.
Her mother looked over; her eyebrows shot up.
‘Oh, um, good morning…’ said Juliet and kept walking, desperate to get away.
Her mother, chin down, gave her a mock look of disapproval. ‘Mira told me you were at a friend’s.’
‘Sorry, I should have sent the text earlier. You didn’t wait up for me, did you?’
‘Oh no, I was reading. I can’t seem to sleep lately, and you know how I am with locking up now. I checked with Mira before I pulled the bolt across.’
Juliet swallowed, once again feeling very much the teenager, caught in her mother’s web. ‘I lost track of time…’
Her mother waited.
‘I had a meal with a friend and stayed over.’
‘And is this friend Gabriel? Are you and he—’
‘I don’t know, Mum.’
Her mother smiled. ‘I know everyone says it was Harry who was so like his father Clarence, but Gabriel reminds me of him in his loyalty to Maddie. Clarence was like that. He might not have understood what Maddie was doing up there, but he always supported her. He was a special man.’ Her mother looked dreamily out of the window and then, as if bringing herself back to the present stood up saying, ‘Well, I’ve made coffee.’ Her mother handed her a steaming mug and Juliet realised her mother had prepared this already and had probably seen her lurking in the workshop.
Juliet took her mug, sipped the hot coffee, but it was hard to swallow. Her mother said something inconsequential about the weather, but her voice seemed muffled, far away.
‘Mum.’ The word shot out of her mouth, too loud, too frantic.
‘What, Juliet, whatever is the matter?’
‘I have to ask you about something. Did you go up to see Rhys the night of his accident, was it you who left the house? Please, Mum, tell me the truth?’
Her mother reached over and gently placed her hand on Juliet’s cheek. ‘Oh, Juliet, of course not, you really need to stop worrying about all that. Tell me more about Gabriel.’
Juliet for a moment relished the warmth of her mother’s hand, but then something made her stomach lurch, it was the smell. She pulled her face away.
‘What’s that perfume?’ she asked, her voice shaking.
‘It’s that oil, the frankincense.’
Juliet stared at her mother. That was the perfume she’d smelt on the person who’d pushed her. Had it been her own mother? Of all the things she’d imagined her mother capable of, this somehow upset her more than anything. She paused. Hang on, it wasn’t only her mother who used this oil, Cassie had had it in her room as well.
She was aware her mother was talking. ‘It would be nice for you to settle down with someone like Gabriel, and what a wonderful place to live.’
Juliet stood up, holding the edge of the table to steady herself. ‘I need to go upstairs,’ she said quietly. ‘I need to think.’
Her mother looked at her quizzically but let her go.
Juliet was aiming straight for her own room. However, before got there, she heard a noise from Rosalind’s room. The door was ajar,
and Rosalind was not in bed. She was stood staring out of the window.
‘Morning,’ Juliet said.
Rosalind spun round and Juliet thought how pale and exhausted she looked.
‘Are you okay?’
Rosalind shook her head.
Juliet went into Rosalind’s bedroom. ‘I’m sorry about the row, I hope you’re not too upset with me. I shouldn’t have mentioned the letter.’
Rosalind shrugged. ‘I’d be a bit pissed off if I thought my car keys had been nicked and no one owned up.’ Rosalind frowned, looked her up and down. ‘You look like a woman who has been out all night.’
‘Maybe,’ Juliet replied, feeling herself blush.
‘Gabriel?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure it wasn’t a mistake.’
They stood in an awkward silence until Rosalind coughed, fiddled with her hair.
‘Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I think, you know, I should show you this letter. I keep going over and over it in my head, but I’m not getting anywhere.’
‘I’d like that, Rosalind. I’d like to help.’
Juliet held her breath. At last she was going to see the letter. She sat down on the bed as Rosalind went to her drawer. She took out the photograph of Rosalind as a baby that had been on the side of the musical box and with it she held a very creased piece of paper that had been folded many times.
Rosalind thrust the letter towards Juliet.
Juliet carefully flattened the piece of paper and started to read the letter.
My darling Rosalind,
I slipped this in behind the photo of me and you because I wanted to put in writing how much you mean to me. The day you came home was one of the best, happiest days of my life. I know, now we have talked, you will have lots of questions, but hold onto this note. You were always loved, always wanted. Your mother is a beautiful woman, and you must love her and forgive her.
As for your father, I am genuinely sorry you never got to know him. It is tragic he died. You sometimes remind me of him. You have his charm and good looks. He would have been so proud of you.
Remember this, if you had been my own, I could not have loved you any more.
With all my love,
Dad
Juliet put the letter on her lap, stunned, then picked it up and read it again.
Eventually she said, ‘This is incredible. Did Dad really write this?’
‘Of course he did. You must recognise his awful writing.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. Goodness, what a letter, Rosalind, it means… oh it must mean… oh I don’t know.’ Juliet found herself gabbling, her eyes wide in disbelief.
‘It means Dad was not my father,’ said Rosalind. Her voice was white hot with rage and hurt. She spat out the next words. ‘He says to forgive Mum; you do realise what that means, don’t you? He’s saying our mother had an affair.’
The words came crashing over Juliet like a giant wave. This had to be what her mother had been so frantic to keep secret. Her father had wanted Rosalind to know, but something had made him change his mind. He must have told Rhys and now Juliet knew her mother had been to talk to Rhys the night he died. It was as if piecing together a picture of her mother but someone very different was emerging, someone she hardly recognised.
Juliet was aware of Rosalind watching her. ‘I’m so sorry Rosalind, I don’t know what to say. I never dreamed of such a thing. You do know, whatever the truth of this, it makes no difference to the way I feel about you. You are, and always will be, my sister.’
Rosalind started to shake; she lifted her knees to her body, making herself as small as she could. Deeply moved, Juliet reached out and put her arms around her, stroked her hair.
‘We need to speak to Mum,’ she said quietly.
Rosalind shook her head. ‘How can I? I’ll have to accuse her of having an affair; I don’t want to do that. I mean, we know Mum would never have done anything like this without a reason. What had Dad done to make her so desperate to find someone else? Maybe it was the drink problem. Maybe Mum has been covering up all this time… maybe he was abusive, and we never knew… she might have had a terrible life with him—’
Juliet sat back. ‘No, stop, no. Dad was never anything but loving to Mum.’
‘We don’t know that… It can’t have been Mum’s fault. I know her, she’s my mum.’
Juliet guessed that Rosalind’s attempts to blame her father were a kind of self-preservation. She still had her mother and she desperately needed someone who she could still trust.
They sat, both breathing heavily as if they’d been climbing a steep hill.
‘I can’t believe Dad treated her so badly that she chose to have an affair or a fling, or whatever it was,’ Juliet said gently to Rosalind, ‘but marriages go through difficult patches, it might have been the briefest of flings.’
‘Maybe,’ spat out Rosalind, ‘but why?’
‘You need to speak to Mum, you need to know the truth about this, Rosalind, you deserve to know,’ said Juliet and, in her heart, she knew now she needed to know the truth as well.
‘I can’t say anything to Mum; I don’t want to ruin my relationship with her.’
‘But you can’t unknow something, you can’t block it out.’
‘I can. I’m good at that, acting a part.’
Juliet put her arms around her sister, and Rosalind sobbed quietly.
‘It’s not fair, it’s not fair, I want to be normal. I want to be like you,’ shouted Rosalind suddenly.
‘But you are, Rosalind.’
‘No, I’m not, I’m some dirty little secret.’
‘Hey, you’re not that, you are our beautiful Rosalind who we all love very much, this doesn’t change anything, you will always be my little sister.’
‘Your half-sister.’
‘No half. Look, biology and all that doesn’t matter, you are my sister. Full stop.’ And as Juliet spoke, she knew she meant it. No one, no act by her mother, would spoil her relationship with her sister. ‘Promise me you will never call yourself that again.’
Rosalind nodded, sniffed.
‘I am here, I will look after you.’
‘I do feel a bit better now I’ve told someone. I can see why Rhys said it should have been talked about before now.’
‘Yes, I agree, but we still don’t know what changed Dad’s mind about telling you.’
‘The big question of course is who is my real father?’ said Rosalind. ‘Dad says he was good-looking, charming… but he’s dead.’
A thought came to Juliet. She grabbed the letter, read it again. A picture came into her mind, her mother at that barbeque smiling up at Maddie’s husband. ‘Women were always attracted to him – your mother seemed quite sweet on him.’ Maddie had given her a knowing grin. And, of course, he’d died, around the Christmas before Rosalind had been born.
‘What is it, Juliet, what have you thought of?’ asked Rosalind.
Juliet realised how frantic Rosalind was, but she held back. What if she was wrong? She needed to talk to their mother. They all had the right to know the truth.
24
After leaving Rosalind, Juliet had to go and rest; she was exhausted and the revelations about Rosalind and her mother felt overwhelming. She also remembered that she had been planning to follow Anwen that afternoon.
She was very tempted to leave it, the fear from Friday night hadn’t left her. Like the night before with Gabriel, she had this horrible feeling someone was watching her.
She shook herself; she couldn’t let herself be scared off. In any case, it was broad daylight, she would be among lots of people. It would be good to get out.
Juliet drove into Newport, arrived at the Travelodge at about half past one. It was down a side street off the high street. The town itself was small and not particularly pretty. There were some smaller independent shops but mainly it was phone and charity shops, and less and less brand-name chain stores each year. There were, however, plenty of coffee shops.
>
Juliet parked her car and then stood on the corner, watching the hotel, not knowing what else to do. Before long though she started to feel rather foolish as she watched everyone going about their normal business, shopping, dashing out for a sandwich for lunch. What was she doing here, waiting to follow someone? What on earth had got into her?
She was close to the point of leaving when she saw Anwen’s car pull up outside the hotel and a small dark-haired woman in an old-fashioned floral summer dress and cardigan, who Juliet assumed was Jean, come out of the hotel and get into the car. Juliet ran back to her car, jumped in and was just about fast enough to be able to follow. She had no idea where they were going. They were soon on the dual carriageway, heading in the direction of Cowes until they abruptly turned off. They were at the hospital.
Juliet managed to park not far from them and followed as discreetly as she could. She had a moment of panic when she thought they may get into the lift. She could not get in with them… but, no, they went up the stairs. She followed them at a safe distance and then paused. They were going into a ward, what was she going to do now?
Juliet stood at the end of the corridor and watched as they went into a side room.
Glancing over her shoulder, she tried to walk in a way that looked like she should be there and slowed as she passed the room they had just entered.
Anwen was sat by Jean, and they were both looking at a man lying very still, machines all around him. Suddenly, Juliet was taken back to her last visit, sitting next to her father. The smell, the haze of cleaning products, the stuffy air. On the walls were cheerful pictures of the countryside, but none of it took away from the fact that this was a place where people were ill, many very ill.
Certainly, the man lying in the bed, presumably the Euan that Jean had referred to in the letter, looked extremely unwell, his eyes closed, arms motionless next to his body. Jean started to cry, but Juliet found herself staring at Anwen’s face. It was the first time she had seen her with no mask, no exaggerated expression. Her eyes were wide, her lips thin, pressed together, her whole body rigid. Then Juliet saw noticed someone sitting on this side of the bed.
