Full Circle

by Connie Monk

  ‘No, no, don’t hold me.’ By then all three had stopped, Louisa and Leo peering at Harold in the gloom.

  ‘Did those friends he met give him too much to drink?’ she whispered to Leo, believing Harold was unlikely to follow the question.

  ‘Didn’t you see her? Must be blind, the pair of you.’ He peered at them, first one and then the other, at the same time pulling his arms free of their hold. But it was fear, not anger she heard in his voice.

  ‘I didn’t see anyone, Mr Carter. Who did you think you saw?’

  ‘Think? Think? You believe I’m off my bloody head, don’t you? Just because you’re too wrapped up in your own tiny world to see. I tell you, I saw her.’

  ‘Who did you see?’ What was she asking it for? She knew who it was he believed he saw. But she had to ask it anyhow.

  ‘You wouldn’t know. You and your lot were no family to her. You spoilt her life, made her feel like she was a sinner. My precious Vi, my preci—’ His words were swallowed in a near silent sob.

  What a moment for Louisa’s thoughts to turn away from Harold and Violet and on to Leo and herself. Surely it was the same story repeating itself. If one day she were to be lost to him Leo would feel there was nothing left in his own life, just as Harold did. Was she being fanciful? She had such a strange feeling. It was as if for the first time she was conscious of overwhelming love between Leo and herself. Lovemaking was the way it manifested itself, lovemaking was wonderful and beautiful but it was only part of what held them together. She wished they were on their own instead of poor, broken Harold standing in between them, shaken and frightened. Was Leo thinking the same as she was? To what extent did he see their story as a repetition of his father’s with her aunt?

  ‘Leo?’ It was no more than a whisper but she felt he must hear her and understand all that one word conveyed.

  ‘Come on, Dad, we’ll soon be home. Or it might be a good idea if we stopped off at your place for a few minutes, Lou. Don’t take to heart what he said about your family – I guess he was bitter on her account. He’s been so good all evening.’

  Louisa shook her head, as if to warn him not to talk as though his father couldn’t hear.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Leo whispered, ‘he won’t be hearing a thing. When he gets like this you can’t get through to him. If he can come in to your place, see you there where she used to be and perhaps have a good strong coffee or something, that should help. He’d been so good all evening too,’ he said, just as he had a moment earlier. She felt he spoke out of love for his father, making sure that she didn’t condemn him for the change in his behaviour.

  For months Harold had been coming in and out of The Retreat with Bella and seemed to be quite used to it no longer being Violet’s home, but Louisa was less certain of him this evening, and couldn’t put that other evening out of her mind when he had looked at her and seen her aunt. Not that anything like that could happen tonight, and Leo could be right in thinking that it might lay the ghost to bring him in to the home that was no longer Violet’s.

  ‘Let’s all get in step and on we march,’ she said cheerfully, linking her arm through Harold’s. This time he didn’t pull away, but neither did he seem aware of his surroundings. With one each side of him he walked at their pace, a pace slowed down from the strides they would normally take. He didn’t speak and now all they could hear as they progressed along the quiet street was the effort he made at each intake of breath.

  Once in the sitting room, which had been such a familiar part of his life in happier days, he went straight to his usual chair, where he sat with his eyes closed. The other two looked at him, saying nothing but following their own thoughts.

  Louisa felt sorry for him, but reason got the upper hand. It wasn’t fair on Bella to expect her to look after him day after day. Either he ought to be sent to a nursing home – one which catered for people with dementia – or, failing that, they ought to engage a man to look after him, a strong man, for Harold still had plenty of fight in him.

  Leo’s thoughts weren’t so simple. As a child he had looked on his father as some sort of godlike creature, and had tried to emulate him in every way. Whereas David, two years his senior, had ignored Violet Harding’s presence, it had been very different for Leo. He had always been welcomed at The Retreat, sometimes with Harold and sometimes on his own. Remembering those days, even after so many years, he could recall the atmosphere in the house, the feeling of love, both the love of life and of each other. Remembering, he was ashamed, for to think as he did must suggest there was less love in their own home. His mother had never been a woman to show affection, yet there had been no doubt in their minds that they had been loved. Time had been her enemy; there had never been enough hours in the day for all she had to cram into them. Now, Dad – Dad had been different. Seeing the slight smile tug at the corners of Leo’s mouth, Louisa tried to guess where his thoughts had taken him. But guess all night and she could never have been right. Yes, Dad had been different. Leo let his mind slip back a quarter of a century: Dad had been full of fun, full of the joy of living, such good company. If there was an outing to be had, then sure enough Dad would be there. Poor old Mum – no chance of any outings for her. But then, she wouldn’t have enjoyed them; her interests were with the work in the fields or with the village. Not Dad, though, the old rascal. And now look at the poor old lad – never has anyone gone downhill so quickly. A good job Bella is there to look after him. She’s a good girl. Thank God for Louisa, though. There must be something about this house. Fate was kind in making Violet leave it to her. If she hadn’t come here and if we hadn’t met, what would our future have been?

  He realized she was watching him and half closed his eyes as their glances met, his expression telling her everything she wanted to know. She nodded her head slightly in answer to his silent message, as if to confirm that her thoughts had moved with his.

  ‘All right to walk home now, Dad?’ Leo said, realizing that Harold had opened his eyes and was watching them, his expression alert.

  ‘I’m all right on my own if you want to stay a bit longer.’ Harold’s thinking had cleared. Looking at the pair of them put him so much in mind of himself and Violet. By God, he would have stayed a bit longer, and if Leo was the man he thought he was, then that’s what he’d want to do too.

  ‘No,’ Leo told him. ‘We’ll walk together. Louisa has had a busy day and I expect she’s ready for bed.’

  ‘The young these days – they’ve got no stamina,’ Harold chuckled.

  Their goodnights said, the men started towards the garage and the double gates opening on to the track to the farm.

  ‘Just a second, Dad,’ Leo said, ‘I want a quick word with Louisa before she bolts the door.’ He hurried back just as Louisa started to close the door, so he didn’t see his father’s satisfied smile or guess the thoughts that filled his mind. The boy must think I was born yesterday. But it’s good to see history repeating itself; brings it all back. I don’t want to forget, but I’m getting so silly, can’t hang on to things for two minutes. Can you see it too, Violet, my lovely? If only it were us, you and me, young, dear God, but we had some good times. Youth, where does it go? What’s happening to me? I feel as strong as an ox one minute and the next … so frightened, don’t understand where I am, don’t know what to do … I’ll just hang on to thinking about young Leo and Louisa … your Louisa, my Leo … she and my boy … just like us again, eh?

  In the doorway, Leo was whispering urgently to Louisa. ‘I’ll see him safely indoors and then come back. You go on to bed. Just for an hour, Lou. Think of how it was for us this afternoon.’

  ‘No. You must go home. Bella’s waiting for you.’

  ‘It’s you I want. Please. I’ll tell her I’ve dropped my wallet, and that I think it must have fallen out because I took my jacket off here. She’ll not doubt it’s the truth.’

  Probably it was that last sentence that clinched Louisa’s reply. ‘She’ll not doubt it’s the truth.’ How tr
ue that was. Bella would believe him no matter what lie he invented. That one sentence had even wiped away some of the wonder of the afternoon. Louisa felt cheap, deceitful and unworthy of Bella’s trusting friendship.

  ‘Then let’s stick to the truth. Go home, Leo. Take care of your father – and tell Bella that I went with you to the Pig and Whistle. Be sure she’ll hear anyway and she’d be hurt and think we have something to hide.’

  After he’d gone she thought of her words and felt even worse than she had at Leo’s suggestion.

  Harold appeared to have recovered from his earlier confusion and was in what appeared to be good spirits when they got back to the house and found David’s car parked there.

  ‘We would have come earlier if we’d known you were coming,’ he told his elder son, accompanying his words with a welcoming smile and a kiss for Lily, David’s wife with whom he never felt entirely at ease, although he had never been heard to admit it. She was a thin woman, bony and angular. He could never understand how David had got any pleasure from bedding her, be damned if he could. Bony she may be, but strong. No, not for him, Harold thought as he planted a paternal kiss on her cheek; it would take a braver man than him to tumble her in bed. He wondered what Bella made of her, such a sweet child. So his rambling thoughts went as the others made conversation that went over his head.

  ‘Bella told us where you’d gone,’ Lily was saying, ‘so we drove down to look for you. When she said you’d walked, we thought we’d give you a lift home. In the bar they said you’d been gone half an hour or so.’

  ‘Ah,’ Harold brought his mind back from where it had slipped and sensed trouble, ‘my fault you missed us. I wanted us to collect Louisa. Living alone I doubt if she goes out much in the evening. After we’d had a drink we dropped her back home and stayed talking a while.’ He caught Bella’s eye and his smile dropped. He suddenly looked crushed. ‘We drop in there a lot, don’t we?’

  ‘That’s right, Dad. Mostly we call when we go into the village. Louisa is a very good friend.’ There was a defiant note in Bella’s voice.

  ‘I was telling Bella,’ David said to Leo, ‘that I saw your car today outside a cottage, yours and another one. I’d driven to collect Lily from staying with a friend.’

  ‘I’d been in the ATS with her,’ Lily interrupted. ‘All through the war we were together and then lost touch. Quite by chance from an acquaintance I heard where she was and got in touch with her again. I had two days there, two days to catch up on about thirteen years. It was so nice. But, sorry David, I cut in on what you were saying.’

  ‘That’s all right. I was simply saying I was surprised when I saw your car, Leo. I understood you were going to meet with George Middleton. And Bella was telling us you got a big order. Is that where he lives? That’s a long way from the firm in Shropshire.’

  ‘The firm is in Shropshire,’ Leo answered coolly, ‘and I’ve no idea where he lives. You must have seen me parked outside Gerald Sinclair’s weekend cottage. You must remember him.’

  ‘You mean that was his car parked by yours? If I’d known that I would have banged on the door. Lily’s friend is walking distance from there; in fact, we were walking when we passed the cottage. I couldn’t make it out. The blinds were drawn and yet both cars were there.’

  ‘You missed your vocation,’ Leo laughed, ‘you ought to have been a detective. I expect he leaves the blinds drawn while he’s away during the week. He’s in London all the week but gets home Friday afternoon. I caught sight of him shopping in town and had a word, then followed him home. I can’t say I went inside – we walked straight round to the back garden and sat and nattered for a while. It’s very isolated there. You say your friend lives nearby, Lily? Surprising. It’s a real hideaway, just what he likes after a week in London.’

  ‘I must ask her if she knows him. I expect she must do in an isolated place like that. What a small world it is.’

  Leo and Louisa’s glory days at the cottage had been spoilt after David reported seeing his car parked there next to another. They had gone a few more times, both leaving their cars in a public car park about a mile’s walk away, but nothing had been the same. Most of their time spent together was at The Retreat, usually when he knew Bella was busy at home, for with a large house, a young child and a father-in-law who needed constant watching, she had very little spare time and mostly only called to see Louisa when she was shopping in the village.

  But on the morning following David’s unexpected visit to Ridgeway, Louisa knew nothing about his having recognized Leo’s car at the cottage, and the previous afternoon was clear and bright in her mind.

  She saw that almost half of the hedge had been trimmed before the fading light had cut short the work. It was a comforting thought that Hamish would come back and finish the job as soon as the nursery closed. He must have known it was more than one evening’s work even with the electric cutters, but no arrangements had yet been made. She was certain he would come and found herself looking forward to it. At the weekend she never saw Leo or Bella either. At the farm Sundays had always been set apart from the rest of the week, not for religious reasons, but because Sunday was family time; and especially for Bella, for whom being part of a family was something she’d always dreamt of, so it was a rule she approved of wholeheartedly. If Louisa were honest with herself, she would have admitted that was the reason it had become natural over the months to spend her weekend time with Hamish and Margaret.

  Looking back at her years in Reading after Jess had gone to Australia, she never let her mind dwell on the weekends. Living alone through a busy week she liked the orderliness of her flat, but at the weekend her footsteps had seemed to echo – every sound of passers-by emphasized her solitude as the years ahead mocked her. A successful professional woman? Or a lonely spinster?

  But it was all very different at Lexleigh. Even before she had become acquainted with the couple from the garden centre she had never been lonely at the weekends. So what was the difference? Perhaps it had to do with having a front door that led to the big outside, a place where (even before the advent of Hamish) plants and weeds could grow. It was a living place. She would sit on her garden bench, in those days freshly painted by Ted Johnson, and know herself to be part of the living world. Then change had come in the form of the McLaren twins and friendship had developed so naturally she accepted it without conscious thought. Sometimes she would spend Saturday at the nursery, helping to prick out seedlings, even serving in the shop, sharing the makeshift snack which replaced lunch on what was the busiest day of the week. An easy friendship had developed and she was frightened that Hamish’s proposal and her refusal might have changed their relationship. But it mustn’t. She wouldn’t even let herself imagine the gap there would be in her life without the McLarens.

  So on that Saturday morning she dressed in a well cut but simple skirt and tailored blouse – the best she could muster for casual wear – made up her face and did her hair with the usual precision, then slipped her stockinged feet into a pair of her habitual high-heeled court shoes. She would go over and offer her services. If Margaret was too busy to leave the shop she would offer to sort something out for a snack lunch. She felt entirely content with her lot. She let her mind slip back to the previous afternoon, half smiling at the memory. Last night she had fallen asleep almost as her head had touched the pillow. How different it had been from the nights that had gone before. Yesterday with Leo she had been like a starving man at a banquet, greedy for every morsel. And afterwards, her hunger sated, she was content, a sentiment still with her as she drove towards the nursery.

  That summer set the pattern for the months ahead. Of all of them the biggest changes were in Alicia: from taking her first tentative step and then landing back on her bottom to becoming a toddler firm on her feet was a steady progress, as steady as the changes in the seasons – autumn, winter, spring and then into the beginning of another summer.

  Lexleigh was a village set in its ways and happy with itself. It
wouldn’t be true to say there were no teenagers there but their numbers were few, and if they wanted to kick their heels up they had little opportunity for it in the village. They tried to emulate their contemporaries in town, but the nearest they managed to get to being part of the new teenage world was a monthly dance in the village hall with no licence for alcohol. Soon they would be old enough to spread their wings and so they dreamed as they danced to music on a record player, the traditional quickstep giving way to the twist as they imagined themselves to be part of the modern age.

  At the farm, Harold lived in his own private world. Physically he appeared less frustrated by his lapses than in the early days, for the further he withdrew into a world of his own the less he experienced the misery and humiliation of realizing what was happening to him. Bella looked after him almost as if he were a dependent child, always seeing he was as careful about how he was turned out as he had been all his life. She shaved him each morning, knotted his tie for him, tied his shoelaces, all the time talking to him as she would have in the days he had been capable of holding a conversation. She was quite touched to see a side of Leo’s nature she hadn’t known, for it was he who helped his father in and out of the bath and into his pyjamas each night. But there were nights when Leo wasn’t there, and on those he had to skip a bath and Bella made sure he was snug in bed. He felt loved and protected. While they took care of him he slipped into a kind of contented stupor, forgetting his inner misery or, if not forgetting it, letting it lie dormant at the back of his mind. There was just one person who gave him real pleasure, which had nothing to do with his own personal comfort, and that person was Alicia. At two years old she was enchantingly pretty, something that appealed to Harold whatever the age, but more than her physical appearance what held him spellbound was the way she followed him like a shadow. Sometimes they would play with a ball together on the small grassy patch they called the garden; at other times he would carry her on his shoulders to find the men working in the fields for, despite his mental deterioration, physically he was still strong. Everyone loved Ali and she responded by being her most delightful. At two years old she knew without being taught how to use her eyes to advantage, whether her expression was one of shyness and she lowered her gaze in a demure way, or whether she opened her mouth, showing two rows of pearly white perfect teeth, threw back her head and laughed. To make her laugh the men would stop working amongst the rows of produce and come to speak to her as she sat high on either her father’s shoulders or her grandfather’s. She would enter into the spirit and laugh uproariously as they performed any antic, be it hopping, singing a snatch of a song accompanied by pulling a funny face – anything that would bring peals of mirth. Jo Marsh, a seasonal worker who spent his days gathering fruit or vegetables according to where he was needed, considered himself something of a comedian. He was Alicia’s star turn and she would chuckle with anticipation and delight when he approached.