by Connie Monk
When he told her he wanted her to come back to the nursery with him, she hesitated.
‘I can’t just drive away and leave the house like this,’ she protested. But neither could she sleep at The Retreat. He spoke to one of the firemen who came from his own village, and after a minute came back to her with the news that the fire wasn’t yet under control. As it spread so it burst into fresh life, something they couldn’t understand. The roof was in danger of collapsing.
‘They’ll be there for hours and they won’t let anyone inside, not even you. I told him I was trying to persuade you to come home to Mags and me for the night. It’s a really bad fire, Lou. Once it’s all over there’s going to have to be a lot of work done on it before it’s habitable. Come to us. We’ve got plenty of room and you can work from there. What if we go home and have something to eat, then I can leave you with Mags while I come back and see the situation? Tomorrow you can see what the damage is.’ Then, with that optimistic smile so much part of his character, ‘Tomorrow is another day and nothing looks as bad in the morning light.’
‘You’re a dear, Hamish, but I can’t do that. One night, yes, and I’m grateful, but then I must find somewhere to rent.’
The Retreat had been a symbol of her independence, the end of her days being ruled by the clock: nine in the morning arriving in the office; twelve thirty until one thirty a quick lunch in Millie’s Café, then back to the dingy office until six o’clock. Yet, driving towards McLaren’s Garden Centre she had the strangest feeling, almost as though she were lifted out of herself and could look down on each section of her life: childhood and working hard at school driven by determination to prove herself; years at the accountancy firm working always with that same determination; a taste of freedom in this most recent chapter – a short span of years in which she had learnt to be at peace with herself. It wasn’t simply because she had proved that she could make her own way without the backing of a male-dominated situation; that was but a small part of it. With Leo she had learnt the joy of being a woman. She thought of the expression ‘giving herself to a man’, and knew she had never ‘given herself’. Yes, they had both exalted in wonderful, glorious hours of lovemaking, lovemaking that had made her a whole person, the equal of any woman, married or single. From the start he had said his relationship with her would make no difference to his marriage, and she had determined that that would be the case. It hadn’t been a husband she had yearned for; it had been the hunger for something beyond her reach and understanding. With Leo she had found freedom; she had rejoiced in her womanhood and discovered joy beyond belief.
Yet, was she in love with him? Had she ever been in love with him? Driving the few miles to the nursery she dug into her heart honestly. Did she respect and admire him? As a lover, yes. But as a man? As a husband, even if that had been possible? They discussed articles they read in the newspaper, usually sharing the same views but occasionally sharpening their wits on each other when they saw things from different angles. She was never bored in his company. But, if he were free, would she want to spend her life with him? Had she fallen in love with love? And what about Leo? Honesty told her that there had been many women in his life and there would be others. None would make any difference to his marriage, even though what he felt for Bella was no more than affection and appreciation of the security she brought to his life.
Then there was Hamish, her very dear friend. Friendship would endure. Yes, they could grow closer with the years, of that she was sure. Except that marriage surely should be based on something far deeper than the affection she felt for Hamish.
Driving towards the nursery with these thoughts chasing each other through her head, she wondered that while the home she had been so proud of was burning her mind should be set on the future, a future that was a complete blank after the unexpected turn of events. The Retreat had come to her from out of the blue, changing her life; and now surely she had reached another milestone. Once the fire was out and the damage assessed, the work involved to make it habitable would be immense. She had never been an indecisive woman and in that moment she knew without a doubt that her time in Lexleigh was over. In the immediate future she would find somewhere to live while she finished the work she was already involved with. Then there was the question of the house, the insurance claim and a decision whether to sell it or rent it out once it had been restored. All that was for tomorrow; for tonight it was enough to know that ahead of her was another stage, another challenge.
So deep in thought had she been as she drove at a steady pace, not interested in being overtaken, that she was surprised on turning into the car park at the nursery to find Margaret waiting in the open doorway and Hamish coming out to meet her. Perhaps it was the emotion of the evening that had affected her more than she had let herself admit, for she saw them, her dear friends, through a haze of unshed tears.
It was later that evening, while Hamish was making a last check that all was well in the nursery and Margaret was putting out the milk bottles ready for the early morning delivery, that Louisa casually turned the pages of the newspaper. She wasn’t concentrating on the columns of news, and yet there was one that caught her eye and held her attention. Surely Fate must have led her to it. She read it twice, knowing immediately that it had come to her notice for a purpose. Her future was suddenly clear.
At Ridgeway Farm Bella was just finishing clearing up after the supper, which had been kept waiting long after its time, when there was a knock at the front door.
‘Will you answer it, Dad?’ she said, trying to sound friendlier towards him than she felt.
Without a word he went and a minute later she heard the sound of voices in the hall. Perhaps Leo had heard the knock and come down from his workroom where he had retreated as soon as he’d eaten. She opened the kitchen door just enough for her to hear, but she didn’t recognize the voice of the visitor.
‘I felt I should come. Gossip can be very cruel and certainly not always correct. I’m sure whoever you spoke to, Mr Carter, must have misconstrued your meaning. But there is word going around that you were in some way responsible for the fire in Miss Harding’s house.’
‘Go back to Bella in the kitchen, Dad. I’ll talk to Reverend Gilbert.’ Then, impatiently, when Harold made no attempt to move way, ‘Go along. Do as I say.’
But Harold was deaf to his orders. ‘You won’t like it when she’s not there waiting for you. I told you, I had to get rid of her, her and the house too. That house belonged to Vi and me, not to her with the prim, touch-me-not manner while all the time she was begging for it.’
‘Get back in the kitchen and stop talking drivel.’
Bella could stand and listen no longer. ‘I’m sorry, Reverend Gilbert.’ Coming to join them she spoke with quiet dignity, a far cry from the girl Leo had brought to introduce to his parents not three years earlier. ‘Dad gets confused; the last weeks have been very hard on him – very hard on all of us.’
She seemed to have touched the right note.
‘My dear Mrs Carter, at a time like this the last thing I want is that unnecessary trouble be brought to your doorstep. That’s why I have come to warn you that something he said to one of the ladies of the parish started the gossip and you know how it can snowball. In a quiet village such as Lexleigh everything is magnified in the chatter. They mean no harm, I’m sure, but there are always those who want to add colour to a dreary life. I wanted you to have the opportunity of letting it be known how things are with him and his imagination.’
Before Bella joined them, from her vantage point just inside the slightly opened kitchen door she had seen how, as the vicar had talked, Harold had become more and more agitated. She knew that, although he sometimes spoke wildly and needed constant care and attention, there were times when he was as capable of understanding as the next person. This seemed to be one of those moments.
‘Imagination be damned,’ he said angrily, glaring at well-meaning Reverend Gilbert. ‘You think I’m off my rocker, don’t
you? Let me tell you, I know what I know. That woman thinks that because she looks like Vi she can queen it there in the house that was ours. Serve her right if she got trapped in it, locked in. Ah, that would be the thing. Locked in that room she likes to call her office. That was Vi’s sewing room. Office be damned, yes, be damned to her and all she is. Is? Was? Perhaps she’s gone.’ He gave a laugh that made Bella shudder. Then, glaring straight at the vicar, he said, ‘You and your lot, I expect you think the fire was just breaking her in ready for what was waiting for her.’
Bella could think of no way to interrupt his tirade, but the vicar seemed unperturbed by his ranting. Turning slightly away so that Harold wouldn’t see, he mouthed to Leo, ‘Phone the doctor.’
Without a word Leo left the room to do the vicar’s bidding but was back almost immediately, nodding to indicate everything was under control. Although Dr Saunders used a room adjacent to the butcher’s shop on one morning a week to hold a local surgery he lived some four miles away. Leo had phoned his home where Mrs Saunders had informed him that by chance her husband had made a rare evening visit to Lexleigh and she would call him there straight away and explain the urgency. It seemed that Fate had the whole matter in hand, for in less than five minutes the village policeman had shifted the crowd who were waiting expectantly for the roof of The Retreat to cave in, so that the doctor’s car could get by and he arrived at Ridgeway.
The vicar took his leave, feeling he had done his best to help the family who surely had seen enough tragedy. Harold’s interest in the whole affair had gone, the sight of yet another visitor seemed to him to be making a fuss about nothing. It was over and done with; Louisa Harding would be gone. Smiling to himself, he wandered back into the kitchen without so much as a ‘good evening’ to the doctor.
‘It was the vicar’s idea to send for you,’ Leo was explaining. ‘You and I both know about my father’s delicate mental state and, of course, losing Alicia has been a great blow to him. This afternoon he and I went walking, something he always enjoys. We ended up in the lower part of the wood here and that’s when we noticed smoke and went to investigate. Louisa Harding is a friend of my wife’s and I thought we could bring her back to the farm. You know what people are like if there’s a fire – they come out of the woodwork in droves and there was quite a crowd outside the house. Somehow we got separated and I suspect that’s when the excitement threw him. It seems he started a rumour that he was responsible for the blaze. Poor Dad. He was always a hero to me and I hate to see this happening to him. I can vouch that he and I were together all the afternoon. Earlier Louisa Harding had been out with Bella, although they were home by that time. She’s the only one who will know what caused it. Some materials are dangerously inflammable. I’m told it started in her bedroom, so perhaps she lit a cigarette up there when she was putting her coat away. A match not quite out – it’s easily done. But it’s Dad we’re talking about. The vicar was very concerned because word is spreading that Dad started it. We both know it’s a figment of his imagination. In an emotional state, seeing the house destroyed would have unhinged him.’
Bella had been watching Leo. Without a word she turned and left them. How could he lie like that? He knew as well as she did that Harold had been wandering on his own while Louisa was out, and yet he lied, and lied with that same charm that had made her believe herself to be in love with him. And how could he imply that Louisa was to blame? Even as the thought came to her, bringing with it contempt and rage such as she had never felt, she surprised herself how defensive she felt on Louisa’s account. That her friend and her husband were lovers she had accepted, not with jealousy or anger but with a sense of being a lesser person than either of them. The long shadow of her tolerated but unloved childhood had clung to her.
Harold was busy at the cutlery drawer, making sure that the spoons and forks were in neat piles. It was one of his regular pastimes, and one that irritated her. Every day after she dried the cutlery she would throw the knives into the knife section, the forks into the fork section and so on. He would watch her and then go to the drawer, take them out section by section and replace them neatly stacked.
‘Dad,’ she made sure her voice sounded interested but not accusing, ‘I don’t see how you could have got into that house. I have your key for it on my key ring.’
His soft laugh made her blood run cold. ‘Silly girl,’ he said, turning to her with a smile that held triumph but no humour, ‘you think I don’t go in there without asking that woman? The door doesn’t need a key. You can turn that lock with a sixpence. Vi and I both knew, but she made sure I had a key just the same. Our house, our place. I locked her in, that creature you think so much of. Locked her in Vi’s sewing room.’
‘You’re wicked and you’re stupid too. Anyone could climb out of that window.’
At that moment Leo came back from seeing the doctor out. It struck Bella that he looked strained, tense. She knew she ought to care, but all she felt was mild interest, that and dislike for everything about the place. Haunting her as it did a thousand times a day came the acknowledgement that without Ali there was nothing. She no longer cared about anything at Ridgeway.
‘It’s bedtime, Dad,’ Leo said. ‘Do you feel like a bath?’
Harold didn’t recognize the forced cheerfulness in Leo’s voice. Like an obedient child, he let himself be led away.
It was when Leo and Bella were in bed that she learnt the outcome of Dr Saunders’ visit. She was on her back, trying to leave a good space between them. Then, in the darkness, she heard a strange, muffled sound.
‘Leo?’ Her kind nature got the upper hand. ‘What’s wrong, Leo?’
‘Saunders is making arrangements for him to go into a home. Dad … in a mental home.’ His voice was tight and unfamiliar. Could Leo be crying?
Much of Bella’s anger at him evaporated. ‘Is he bad enough for that?’ She tried to sound encouraging, but her effort failed.
‘Damn it, can’t you see why he’s doing it? Already the village will have made its mind up that Dad started it. The insurers aren’t going to pay out without an enquiry. Dad’ll be implicated. I’ll swear on oath if necessary that he was with me all afternoon.’
‘But that’s not true. You know very well that he was wandering on his own. The men working here will know it’s not true just as well as we do.’
‘Do you imagine they’d let him down? Dr Saunders didn’t doubt my word. He’s known Dad for years and understands. He’s arranging for him to go into a private nursing home for the mentally impaired. He knows as well as I do that if I refuse consent then he will be charged. It must be seen as accidental, although how it could have happened if Louisa was out all the afternoon God knows. You’ll have to say you were home earlier than you were if anyone takes seriously the yarn he has been spreading.’
Bella’s sympathy vanished. How dare he, how dare he try to throw suspicion on Louisa. ‘The truth is the truth,’ she said, not even trying to keep the anger out of her voice, ‘and if you want to lie, then it’s for you to sort out your conscience. A fine sort of love you must have for Louisa if you want me to accuse her of something she didn’t do just so that you can keep the man who was responsible for our losing Ali safe and comfortable. If Dr Saunders says he should be in a mental home, then that’s where he should be.’ Disappointment and hurt added a new hardness to her tone.
‘He’s not your father,’ Leo pleaded.
‘And the man he is today is not your father either.’
For a moment he said nothing, then, yet again, ‘You really have changed, Bella.’
‘Life teaches us lessons.’
Another silence until he broke it in a voice as cold and distant as hers. ‘I don’t see you’ve had anything to complain about. You fell on your feet when you came here to a better home than you’d ever had.’
This time the silence lengthened, each pretending to be asleep. Then it was Bella who spoke. She sounded calm. In truth, she felt that all emotion had been drained
out of her.
‘It’s no use, is it, you and me.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘We can’t pretend our marriage was based on anything but necessity, but I did the right thing by you and, to be fair, you keep house well enough. But never mind all that, what’s done is done. It’s this business with Dad I can’t … can’t bear it. Saunders says he will arrange for me to take him in tomorrow afternoon. This is his last night here and he doesn’t even know what’s going to happen to him.’
‘I don’t expect Louisa is any too happy about her future either,’ came Bella’s sharp reply.
‘Oh, she’s hard-nosed. She’ll pick herself up all right – her sort always do.’
Bella turned her back on him, plumped her pillows, telling him as clearly as any words that she was not prepared to argue. She longed just to escape into sleep, but it was impossible. She felt him turning her way and prayed with all the fervour she could muster that he would be fooled by her purposely deep breathing and think she was asleep. Surely tonight of all nights he couldn’t expect to find exhaustion that way. He turned away and lay with his back to her.
She tried to look into the future, to imagine their life together, but she could see nothing. How wrong she had been in believing he was truly in love with Louisa, but perhaps he wasn’t capable of loving any woman for life. Yet he had genuinely loved Ali, of that Bella was certain. If only she hadn’t been lost to them perhaps there might have been some hope for their future. But now there was nothing. Ought she to go away, and let him divorce her for deserting him? But still she could see nothing but a thick, dark mist ahead of her, no light and no hope. Louisa had been her first and only real friend, but how could she stay in Lexleigh now that her home had gone? Perhaps she would have repair work done but that would take ages, and if Leo wasn’t in love with her why would she want to stay here? There was Hamish McLaren, but Bella was sure Louisa didn’t care for him in that way. So Louisa would go. If only Ali were still here – someone to love, someone to want to live for.
