Full Circle

by Connie Monk

  She had been in a deep sleep for about ten minutes when she was woken by someone touching her.

  ‘What …!’ Shock and fright left her speechless. Then, as she collected her wits and recognized who it was, ‘Get out! Don’t touch me.’ She was at a disadvantage, only regaining consciousness as Harold Carter knelt above her as she lay.

  ‘You’ve come back! They took me away. I knew you’d be here when I came home. Vi, Vi … Thank God. I’ve found you.’ He was beside himself, kneeling astride her prone body and getting increasingly excited as he slid the straps of her nightdress from her shoulder and then pushed the bedcovers down as far as his own body would allow so that his hands moved from her shoulders to just beneath the covers so that he could touch her breasts. With every ounce of her strength she tried to free herself but he was anchoring her with his full weight. ‘Together again, my love, my blessed love. Say something, Vi. I’ve been so frightened. Tried to get home to you but they watch me; they never let me free. Home again. Prayed I’d find you here. You’re so warm, real, alive. They lied to me – they said you’d gone. I wanted to die.’ He talked incessantly, seeming unaware that beneath his weight she was struggling to get free. His face was only inches from hers as, with his knees imprisoning her, he pulled her towards him. She could feel his hot breath and then his mouth on hers, moving as though he were eating her, then his tongue probing.

  ‘Get off me, blast you,’ she tried to say but it was hard to breathe, let alone shout. ‘Take your hands off me!’

  ‘Not that game,’ he panted, and she imagined she heard laughter in his voice as if he was remembering times when Violet’s playful mock-refusal had excited his passion and possibly hers too. ‘Tomorrow, that game, and all the others, eh? Can’t play games tonight, my angel, not tonight. Say something – say you’ve missed me. Tell me you were looking for me.’

  Louisa heard the change in his voice and suspected reality was coming through the mist of his troubled mind. But she was too revolted by what he was doing to feel pity for him.

  ‘Get off me now!’ and, pulling her hands free, she again tried to force him away from her.

  When he’d followed the beam of light shining from her window and hurried to the house, instinct had made him creep up the stairs. But with the sight of her lying asleep every other thought had gone from him. The young woman lying in the bed was the Violet he had fallen in love with so many years ago, so for him those years had ceased to exist. He had felt young, strong – joy and relief had pushed the last shadow of reason away. For him it had been as if the only thing that had kept him from the glory he and his beloved Violet had known was that he had been taken away, taken away and watched to make sure he couldn’t get back to her. Now, as Louisa struggled beneath him, his mind started to clear. Still confused, his paramount emotion was loss, almost immediately swallowed up by misery as a sob broke in his throat. Then the whole scene changed.

  He hadn’t closed the bedroom door and neither he nor Louisa had heard the second intruder mounting the stairs two at a time. Taken completely by surprise, he found himself lifted off her as if he’d been a rag doll.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Dad, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I thought … I thought …’

  ‘Well, you thought wrong. I told you I wouldn’t be out for long.’

  Louisa’s mind jumped back to the day she had met Bella and heard the wonders of the perfect Leo. Surely, though, she had said how close he was to his father. Well, this certainly wasn’t her idea of care and affection. And how dare he come marching into her bedroom as if he owned the place, treating her as though she didn’t exist. She heard the sound of Harold crying – not tears of anguish, but the almost silent weeping of helplessness. If she were dressed she would get up and try to comfort him, for with the advent of this arrogant intruder her initial anger towards poor, confused Harold had melted away.

  ‘Come along, it’s no use sitting there snivelling. The car’s outside.’ Then, as he ushered his father towards the door, he turned briefly to Louisa with the parting words, ‘I’ll get him home and make sure the door is locked and bolted. You’d better do the same when we’ve gone. He’ll be about the place tomorrow, so you should keep the bolt across.’

  ‘I shall speak to the locksmith first thing in the morning and enquire about new locks.’ It was most certainly Miss Louisa Harding who replied with not an ounce of emotion in her voice. Then, more kindly, ‘Goodnight, Mr Carter.’

  Harold turned to look at her, and now that the struggle to throw him off her was over she was aware of how he’d altered since she’d last seen him. He looked lost.

  For a moment he resisted being pushed out of the door as he turned to her, shaking his head helplessly. ‘Louisa,’ he murmured. ‘I remember now. I’m sorry, so sorry.’

  ‘Try not to think about it,’ she answered. Then, with a conspiratorial smile, ‘Let’s both forget all about it.’

  ‘I thought—’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, do come on. Eva Johnson wants to get home but she won’t go until she knows you’re safely indoors.’

  She listened as they went down the stairs, then she heard the front door slam, the click of the latch on the gate, the slam of two doors on the car and then the motor, growing quieter. And here she lay in Violet’s bed, Violet who had loved him sufficiently to lose her family for him. Did Violet know what his misery was doing to him? And, if she did, couldn’t she find a way to bring him comfort and let him know she loved him still? Louisa had never given much thought to death or the emptiness of separation, but on that night it was brought very close. Surely there must be more to a relationship – a loving, united relationship – than something physical? Surely when two caring people talked and laughed together that must be a joining of spirits as surely as any bodily union? She didn’t know. How could she when she had never experienced that sort of love?

  Less than an hour before, she had been too sleepy to concentrate on her book. But what had happened between then and now had left her wide awake. Her fury at Harold had gone, swept away by the sight of his desolation and grief. Her thoughts moved to his son. She remembered Bella’s adoration of her so-perfect husband again and tried to connect all that she’d heard about him with the man who had bundled his father away with no consideration for the older man’s confusion. Perfect husband be damned, she thought, he’s a big-headed pig and, if it hadn’t been that I didn’t want to make things even harder for his poor, muddled father, I would have enjoyed telling him so. I bet if I walk over to the farm tomorrow Mr Carter won’t so much as remember what happened just now.

  But in the morning events took another turn. It was too early to make her planned visit to the farm so just before ten o’clock she decided to have an hour working on the garden’s transformation. She was a determined novice and only time would tell her whether the herbaceous plants she had put in would make healthy roots, but so far they hadn’t had time to give up the ghost and, at least in front of the house, the garden began to look cared for. Pushing a wheelbarrow bearing her tools she was just emerging from the shed when she heard the garden gate slam shut. Oh, no, not Harold Carter again! That was her immediate reaction, but it died even as it was born. The man coming towards her was a stranger, and yet there was something vaguely familiar about him.

  Three

  ‘Violet Harding’s niece? But, yes, I can see that you are.’

  ‘That’s right, Louisa Harding. Are you a neighbour?’ Her smile was welcoming as, leaving her wheelbarrow, she came towards him with her hand outstretched. Surely he couldn’t be from the village; even in a crowded town he would have stood out. Perhaps six foot tall, dark brown hair of the kind that wasn’t quite straight and yet neither was it wavy; it stayed happily as it had been combed without the aid of any hairdressing favoured by so many men. His moustache was well trimmed; his dark eyes seemed to tell her that he found life a very pleasant affair. But more than any of that, there was something in his bearin
g, his general appearance, which would have set him apart even without the obvious advantage of his good looks. Louisa had never been a regular cinemagoer but, looking at her handsome visitor, her mind took a leap and arrived at Errol Flynn. His answer to her question took her by surprise.

  ‘Yes and no,’ he said, taking her hand in a firm grasp. ‘I’m Leo Carter—’

  ‘Leo? But then who took Mr Carter home last night?’

  ‘It’s last night I wanted to speak to you about,’ he said, not answering her question. ‘I’m sorry about Dad. Are you desperately keen to garden or can we talk for a few minutes?’

  ‘The garden can wait. But I’d been told Mr Carter was staying with you and Bella, so I naturally assumed that was who took him home.’

  ‘That was David, my brother. He collected my father from our place yesterday evening and brought him back to the farm. I ought not to have let him come. David stayed the night at the farm and phoned me indecently early this morning. I should have realized that being back here would unsettle my father, but he’d seemed so much better that I honestly thought his mind had adjusted to all that had happened.’

  ‘Come inside. I see my opposite neighbour has found her casement window needs her attention.’

  Leo Carter laughed, turning to wave a greeting towards the woman opposite who was making pretence of rectifying a fault in the latch of her window. Now, pretending not to notice him, she quickly closed it and moved behind the curtain.

  ‘Nothing changes,’ Leo said with a chuckle. ‘Yes, let’s go indoors. I’ll give her half an hour and there won’t be a person on the High Street who hasn’t heard that I’ve come a’calling.’ Then, more seriously, ‘Will you mind?’

  ‘Not in the least, if they have nothing better to think about.’

  She had left the front door propped open and as they reached it he looked back at the middle cottage of the three on the opposite side of the lane and gave a cheery wave.

  ‘You’ve not changed things much in here,’ he observed as she led the way to the sitting room. ‘No wonder the old boy thought he’d stepped back in time last night. I always liked coming here when I was a kid. She was a pretty special person, your Aunt Violet.’

  ‘I wish I’d known her properly. I remember her just as a bright light in my early childhood. She was shunned by my family.’

  ‘And by you, too? Bright lights have a way of holding your attention? Or did your views coincide with those of your family?’

  She felt she ought to have been annoyed by his hint of criticism. Why should she explain herself to this stranger? Whatever the reason, that was exactly what she found herself wanting to do.

  ‘Apparently she didn’t hold your silence against you,’ he said, the movement of his handsome head indicating that he was referring to the home he’d quickly realized Louisa had inherited.

  ‘I feel ashamed to think that while I was concentrating on myself, she remembered me.’

  ‘Don’t waste time on regrets for something that can’t be altered. Violet Harding was a woman of intense understanding and compassion. If she’d felt any bitterness on account of your neglect you would hardly be entertaining me this morning in what used to be her home.’ Then, with a smile that could only be described as mischievously flirtatious, ‘So let’s just enjoy where Fate has brought us on this lovely Sunday morning.’ Taking a cigarette case from his jacket pocket, he opened it and offered it to her. ‘Only one thing is missing: a good strong cup of coffee.’ Then, with a smile that started in his eyes and must have helped him to get his own way all through life, ‘No milk, thank you, and no sugar.’

  The Miss Harding her colleagues had been sure was treading the path to spinsterhood nudged her and whispered silently that he was a conceited bore. But she was caught up in the unexpected delight of his manner.

  ‘An excellent idea.’ She couldn’t have held back her smile even if she’d wanted to. ‘I’ll accept that cigarette when I’ve made it. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Better, I’ll come and give my manly advice. Don’t you find men are at their best in an advisory capacity?’

  ‘I’d be the last to know. I’m not in the habit of seeking advice.’ She was enjoying herself. ‘If you’re coming with me you might as well be useful. You’ll find cups and saucers in—’

  ‘I know exactly where they are. This kitchen has always seemed special. When I was on school holiday this was often my place of escape.’

  ‘Escape from what?’ For he certainly didn’t strike her as the type to hide away out of fear.

  He chuckled, following the journey his memories were taking him back through the years. ‘A variety of things, depending on the season. My bête noire was following the digger and picking up the potatoes. The coffee smells good. Where shall we go? Indoors or out?’

  ‘Out, on a morning like this. Why didn’t Bella come with you to see me? Or is she keeping Mr Carter company?’

  ‘She was still in bed when I left home this morning. Having had a call from Big Brother, I was up with the larks. David spent last night at the farm to make sure Dad stayed in his own bed like a good lad, but he had to be back home and on the golf course by half past nine; that’s his sacred ritual for Sunday morning. A man of habit is Brother David, so I promised to get up here by eight o’clock. A social visit from him to Bella and me is rare, but he said he had to pass the door yesterday so he looked in. Dad behaved perfectly, not a sign that his mind is getting muddled. How is it that people have a new cunning when the situation demands? Anyway, he and David talked about the business – I left them to it. I have enough Monday to Friday without a second helping at the weekend. Then David informed me he was taking Dad home to the farm. He said Bella and I were making a fuss about nothing, and all the old boy needed was to be back in his own surroundings. And like a fool I wanted to believe him. Of course, I hadn’t bargained for someone to be living in Violet’s house yet.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid he will have to get used to it,’ Louisa told him with a sharp edge to her voice.

  By that time she had erected a small garden table by the newly painted seat while he followed, carrying the tray.

  ‘He will,’ Leo answered. ‘Bella will see to that. She is incredibly good to him. I believe she genuinely cares about him.’ Then, as if he’d just become aware of where the conversation had brought them, ‘And so she should. He’s a damned nice guy. When I was younger I used to look up to him and want to be just like him. Rotten the tricks life can play on a man.’

  ‘Or a man on a woman,’ replied staid Miss Harding, who managed for a moment to gain the upper hand and spare a thought for the unknown Alice Carter.

  ‘Ah, that too.’ Then, with a change of tone as if he wanted to steer them away from a topic he’d rather avoid, ‘Good coffee. Now we can have that cigarette and enjoy the glorious Sunday morning sleepiness of the countryside. You like it here?’

  ‘Like isn’t quite the word. I feel as if I’m a different person – at least most of the time. The country had little to do with my past, but I certainly have no wish to go back to all I left behind. What you were saying just now about retreating here during the school holidays rather than helping on the farm – that surprised me. Bella had given me the impression that your heart was in the land and not in the industrial world.’

  ‘My heart? It’s certainly not in that wretched factory where I spend so much of my time. But working on the farm? Oh, no. Being on the farm, living there, that’s one thing, but actually getting up at the crack of dawn, working in all weathers, that’s quite another. You know, there are plenty of men who think there can be no better life.’

  He surprised her more by the minute. She had been brought up to expect that strangers no more than skimmed the surface of conversation and yet here they were digging deep and getting to know one another without the peripheral niceties of new acquaintances.

  ‘I learnt a lesson from Aunt Violet, or rather from Aunt Violet’s will,’ she told him. ‘When I came to see the
solicitor I had no expectations that a spinster aunt would have anything but perhaps a few pounds in the bank – or even a few debts to be paid. When the solicitor put me in the picture I meant to sell the house. Then I came here – do you remember about Saul on the road to Damascus? It was like that, as if I suddenly saw my future clearly, as if I had found a new freedom, a new appreciation. I don’t mean I was like Saul in a religious sense.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ His words surprised her. ‘I’m not some Holy Jo, but if life gives you anything to hang on to surely it’s to be found in the country. In any benighted town the only thing one knows of the change in the seasons is that it’s warmer or colder, or that the shop windows have their lights on earlier. It’s the country that is meaningful.’

  Louisa looked at him with more interest, surprised by the sincerity of his sudden outburst and even more surprised that a man of such obvious self-confidence should be embarrassed by his show of honesty. She thought of Bella and her adoration of him.

  ‘Bella put it well,’ she said. ‘When she knew I had decided to leave my job and start a new life here, she was frightened for me. She told me the place had thrown fairy dust in my eyes.’

  ‘And had it?’

  ‘After just a few summer weeks I can’t answer that. If we meet again in six months ask me then and I’ll give you my answer.’ Then, changing the subject and with a feeling of guilt that she was harbouring Bella’s adored husband when he ought to be at the farm reassuring himself that his father was fit to be left: ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t bring Bella with you. She must be getting near to having the baby? I remember how proud she was about it but I forget when it’s due.’

  ‘In a few weeks’ time, I believe. If that business hadn’t happened last night I think my father would have been able to be left on his own. The Johnsons have lived in one of the farm cottages almost forever and they would have kept an eye on him. Of course, I hadn’t realized this house was now lived in. He saw the lights … and forgot everything else.’