The Legacy

by Lynda La Plante

  At bedtime Evelyne scrubbed her face, neck and arms, then spent a long time washing the face cloth so it wouldn’t look grey. She unfolded her mother’s old, greyish nightgown that had once been white and pulled it over her head, then folded all her clothes neatly, and unlocked the door.

  She tiptoed along the corridor and heard Doris below saying goodnight to her brother. About to enter her bedroom she caught sight of David’s half-open door opposite. She couldn’t help herself, she stared. David was sitting on the side of his bed wearing only his grey trousers and boots, nothing on the top at all. He was leaning forward, reading a book, and running his fingers through his hair. Evelyne knew she shouldn’t be standing there, but she couldn’t move, she wanted to touch his soft, clean white skin. She had never felt like this in her life before. She was used to seeing and touching male skin from bathing her menfolk, but this was somehow different, she didn’t know quite why, but she had a pain in the pit of her tummy, and her whole body felt hot.

  There were footsteps on the stairs, and she turned quickly, dropping a shoe. Mortified, she grabbed it and heard David’s door close as she scurried into her room. Oh, dear Lord, had he seen her watching him?

  Evelyne pretended she was asleep as Doris crept around the room and then slipped out to the bathroom. The darkness was lovely, lying between clean sheets with clean smells all around her. She snuggled down into the bed but couldn’t sleep, because David’s face kept floating in front of her eyes. Oh, she had so much to tell Lizzie-Ann!

  Evelyne did not see David again. Their visit had passed quickly, and they were about to depart for the railway station. Evelyne stood with clasped hands as Dr Collins handed Doris a parel, saying it contained a few things that had belonged to his wife that he would like her to have.

  As Dr Collins waved them on their way, David came down the stairs, yawned and asked if they had gone.

  ‘I think you should have made the effort to come down, not good enough, you know.’

  David shrugged, ‘I doubt if we’ll be seeing her again, and even if we do I hope she won’t bring that dreadful child with her. I mean, what on earth possessed her to bring the girl?’

  The Doctor studied his fob watch, ‘Doris was always one for picking up waifs and strays - look at that chap she married. Illiterate, you know, broke up the family. Now I must be off on my rounds, will you be home for supper?’

  David was always irritated by his father, the way his father referred to dinner as supper, it wasn’t done.

  ‘I’ll be dining out at the Carltons’.’

  ‘You know, son, it’s all very well you mixing with these chaps, but you must never forget your roots, don’t get above yourself.’

  David swiped the top off his egg so hard it shot across the table. ‘Don’t get above yourself…’ David had every intention of getting above himself, out of his dreadful house, away from his father’s penny-pinching ways.

  ‘Goodbye, Father, have an enjoyable day,’ he muttered.

  When they were on the tram, heading home across the mountains, Doris opened the small parcel. She sighed, knowing she would never wear the dead woman’s bits and pieces of jewellery. There were also a couple of woollen cardigans and a shawl.

  ‘You know, I never got on with my sister-in-law. Her name was Eleanor, and she was cruel to my dear husband, mocking him. I always said I would never visit while she was still alive, and now … well, did you enjoy it, Evelyne?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mrs Evans, I loved every single minute of it, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

  Rewrapping the parcel, Doris murmured that she would give the clothes to the poor. Evelyne half hoped that Doris would give them to her.

  ‘Could you make use of these ribbons?’

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you Mrs Evans, thank you very much.’

  Doris sighed and looked out of the window. The break had done her the world of good. She looked back at Evelyne who was carefully winding the ribbons round her finger.

  ‘We’ll make it a habit, I think, yes, I think it would be good for you to spend more time at the museums. Perhaps we can even go to the theatre.’

  Evelyne grabbed Doris’ hand and kissed it.

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Mrs Evans.’

  Her whole slender body trembled with pleasure. Just think, she would be going back to that palace of a house and, even better, she would see him again - she would see David.

  Evelyne knew there was something amiss the moment she let herself into the house. It was dark, cold and silent. The kitchen fire was almost out, and she stoked it quickly, disappointed to find no one at home, and worried.

  ‘Da, I’m home … Da?’

  She ran up the stairs, bursting to tell her news, pushed open the door.

  ‘Oh, Da, I had such a time, such a wonderful time.’

  Hugh was lying on the bed, holding Davey’s small, well-chewed teddy bear. He raised himself on to his elbow. He looked ill, his eyes were red-rimmed, but he was sober.

  ‘Has Lizzie-Ann not been looking after you?’ Evelyne asked, ‘I dunno, I leave you for no more than two days … does Mrs Pugh have little Davey, I’ll go and pick him up, I’ve built up the fire …’

  Hugh moaned and lay down, put his arm across his face, and his body shook.

  ‘What is it? Has something happened? Da?’ He gripped the small toy and his face crumpled. He sobbed.

  ‘Aw, Christ, gel, I was drunk, I was drunk … he was up here, an’ I heard his hollerin’ and I went to bring him down, down to the fire … he was in my arms … halfway down I fell.’

  Evelyne was on the bed, pulling at his arm, ‘Where is he, Da? Where is he? I’ll go to him, I’ll go to him.’

  Hugh reached out and pulled her down to lie beside him.

  ‘I fell, Evie, I fell … I fell on the little chap, and God help me, I’ve killed him.’

  She moved away, staring, her eyes bright with tears. ‘Ah, no, you didn’t… you didn’t… Davey, Davey!’ Hugh couldn’t stop her, he sobbed as he heard her running through the rooms calling out the little boy’s name. She gripped the side of his empty cot and called for him, all she could remember was his funny, fuzzy head, his drooling, soft mouth … and he was always so happy …

  Lizzie-Ann, her belly even bigger, stood at the door. ‘Oh, lizzie, Lizzie, poor little Davey.’ Lizzie-Ann’s face puckered, a child carrying a child herself, ‘Maybe it was God’s doin’, he wasn’t right in the head.’

  Evelyne wiped her tears with the back of her hand. All her stories, all the things she’d wanted to tell Lizzie-Ann meant nothing now. She could even detect the envy, see it in the puffy, pretty face, the huge, searching pansy eyes. Little Davey was far from her thoughts. ‘You have a good time?’

  ‘No, not really … I brought you back some ribbons, they’re on the kitchen table.’

  Lizzie-Ann whooped and rushed to the kitchen, leaving Evelyne standing by the empty cot. She touched the chewed, sucked sides, and thought it could be put to use for Lizzie-Ann’s baby.

  Later that night Hugh was heard thudding up the stairs. He was drunk as he had been on the night he had fallen and killed his little boy. He was struggling out of his filthy old working jacket, stumbling against the bed. Evelyne slipped into the room and he straightened up while she took his clothes off him. The bed smelt terrible, the sheets and pillows stained with beer and vomit. The huge man was so broken, so pitiful … he held out his massive, gnarled hand to her, she slipped her own into it, although she didn’t want to stay in the squalid room. Poor little Davey, his whole life just a few silly words, Da da-da-daaaa …

  The next Sunday they buried Davey. Only a few villagers turned out to follow the sad, small family to the churchyard. They couldn’t even afford a hearse. Hugh was sober, and he carried the tiny coffin in his arms as if it was a precious box of eggs that would smash if he jolted it.

  Over the tiny grave Hugh swore he would never touch another drop, so help him, and as the rain started the big man went down on
his knees and wept. There were no cornflowers this time, as it was winter.

  Evelyne was drained, but she knew her Da depended on her and didn’t give in. She stood, straightbacked, her arm ready for Hugh to lean on. Will wouldn’t meet her gaze, he was ashamed, like his father. The little boy who had been left in their care now lay alongside their Ma and the baby with no name.

  Chapter 5

  THE BIRTH of Lizzie-Ann’s daughter was a noisy affair. Red-faced, bawling her lungs out from the very beginning, she started as she meant to go on. She was christened Rosie.

  They now had two lodgers, and Evelyne worked part-time in the bakery. They paid her a proportion of her wages in bread. Will still worked in the mines. It was 1916, and the fear of conscription hung over every household. Every day saw another boy leave for the Front, and lorry-loads of workers were brought to the mines, which caused ill-feeling and fights among the men. Uniformed soldiers were a common sight, some on leave and some new recruits. The village was being torn apart.

  Doris had taken Evelyne to Cardiff three times. She treasured these trips, but she rarely discussed them at home as she knew Lizzie-Ann was secretly jealous. Fussing with the baby, she would make snide remarks, ‘Oh, off again, are we? Well it’s all right fer some, others have more important things to be doing than traipsin’ to Cardiff. What ya do there that’s so special?’

  Evelyne would quietly continue with the housework.

  ‘We just go round the museums, spend time in the library.’

  ‘Very borin’ if you ask me. Are there nice young men there? You should be thinking of looking, you know, being so tall you won’t find it easy.’

  Evelyne never mentioned David, but then she had not seen him since her first visit, and it was not until her fourth trip that she saw him again. He strode into the lounge. He was now a captain in the Artillery, and wore his gold-buttoned uniform with dashing flair, his greatcoat slung round his shoulders and his riding boots highly polished. ‘Well, my dear aunt, oh, and your little friend, well, what a surprise.’

  If David was aware of her infatuation he gave no sign, and spoke to her as if she was a child. Alone with his father he was less than enthusiastic.

  ‘Good God Pa, I’ve only got a few weeks at home and they’re here. That girl positively reeks of carbolic’

  David was enjoying his new status, as he had his time in France. He had not as yet seen any fighting, but the social life was exhilarating, and he did cut an exceptionally elegant figure. He was determined to flirt with all and sundry, setting about it like a military campaign, and was extremely annoyed when his father suggested he give Evelyne a tour of Cardiff.

  ‘All right, Pa, but then I’ve done my bit, I am on leave, you know.’

  Evelyne gasped as David carefully tucked the blanket around her knees. She had never been in a private motorcar before, only in a taxi and on a tram, and here she was in David’s sports car. He wore goggles and drove carefully, but to Evelyne it seemed very fast, nearly thirty miles an hour. Whenever anyone got in the way, David would hoot at them. He even let Evelyne squeeze the large, squashy rubber bulb of the trumpet-shaped horn, it was wonderful. Evelyne was like a child. The wind had brought a lovely colour to her cheeks and her hairpins had slipped out as usual. She wore no scarf, and her hair tumbled down, blowing in the wind. At first she held on to it, but then she laughed and let it fly free. In spite of himself, David enjoyed the little trip, and found ‘Carbolic’, as he called her, quite sweet in her gawky way. Occasionally he pointed out features of the city to Evelyne.

  When they arrived home David removed the blanket from around Evelyne’s knees, folded it and helped her out of the car. Her face was flushed, and she smiled, it had been the happiest day of her life. His gentle grip on her elbow thrilled her right through and made her head buzz. She wasn’t sure why he felt he had to help her through doors and up stairs - she wasn’t frail or anything - but she liked it.

  ‘Care for a glass of sherry?’ He handed it to her with a flourish, ‘Drive did you the world of good, got some colour into your cheeks.’

  Evelyne was so nervous that she spilt her sherry. The thimble-shaped glass was so small and she had difficulty in raising it to her lips.

  ‘Here, allow me.’ He handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed at her mouth. ‘If you will excuse me, I must bathe and change.’

  David swept out, leaving Evelyne to finish her sherry and look forward to dinner when she would see him again, but the sight of the two places set at the table made her heart drop like a stone. David was dining out, murmured the Doctor, who then spent the remainder of the meal reading the Cardiff Gazette.

  Later, Evelyne slipped in between the cool sheets and lay listening to the night sounds. From beneath the pillow she drew out the handkerchief with his initials, the one he had given her when she spilt her sherry. She would keep it as a memento, a keepsake of her love.

  At breakfast David fairly glowed. He stood up smartly when Evelyne entered, sat down again and whacked the top off his egg. Doris was too ill to come down, in fact she felt so bad she had decided she couldn’t return to the valley until the following day. Evelyne wanted to sing with joy, another whole day here with her love. David noticed that she was wearing exactly the same clothes as on the previous day, and there was a piece of newspaper sticking up from her shoes.

  David ate ravenously, and more and more toast was brought in in a silver toast rack. He swamped it with thick butter and marmalade, and Evelyne couldn’t believe her eyes. He took so much that sometimes he even left some on the edge of his plate. He poured tea, munched and chatted, then laughed as he noticed that Evelyne could eat just as fast as he could. In fact he reckoned she had wolfed down two more slices than he had, and joked that she must have been at the Front along with his men. Evelyne flushed with embarrassment, making a mental note not to eat so fast.

  David excused himself and walked out to the hall, and Evelyne heard him pick up the telephone. He caught her staring and closed the dining room door, but she could hear the low murmur of his voice and then his laugh. The door swung open and he lolled against the jamb, smiling. ‘Care for another little drive?’

  All Evelyne could do to stop herself bursting into song was to pinch herself. She had never known such delight, and being tucked up in the motor, feeling his hand brush her thigh even though it was covered by at least three or four layers, made her shiver. David smiled into her upturned face, then cupped her chin in his immaculate, white-gloved hand.

  ‘Comfortable? Think we’ll have a spin in the country.’

  David had arranged to meet a friend, Captain Ridgely, at a small country inn. The inn was frequented by officers on leave, and a number of rooms had been set aside for their private use. Captain Ridgely had assured David he would enjoy himself, and that he had two exquisite creatures for him to meet. Desperate to ingratiate himself with the social set,. David accepted, believing he would be meeting acquaintances of Ridgely’s. Evelyne, of course, had no idea she was being used to cover any potential gossip.

  David drove Evelyne out past the casde and into the country, and they had to shout above the roar of the engine. They passed the railway station, leaving the town behind them, and headed along narrow lanes between the fields.

  Evelyne sat smiling, taking sidelong glances at her beloved’s beautiful face. Eventually they drew up at an inn with small tables covered with checkered cloths under the shade of a huge oak tree. Again he helped her out, and guided her to a secluded table. He snapped his fingers at a rotund man wearing a big white apron, turned to Evelyne, ‘Sherry? Or would you prefer something else?’

  Evelyne sat with her sherry under the tree. David excused himself and entered the inn; just like the men from her village, they always left their womenfolk outside. Making sure she would be able to see David if he came out, Evelyne went for a short stroll.

  The fields smelt wonderful, the sun was warm and lovely … she sniffed, stretched, twirled, and up bubbled a laugh of perfect h
appiness. It took her by surprise and she wanted to shout out. Why was it she never had anyone near when she had things to tell them? She walked on across the fields then turned to stroll behind the inn. It was part of a farm complex and she could see the cows being led into the milking sheds. How little Davey would have liked to see these cows, big fat ones, browns and blacks …

  A car similar to David’s roared through the farmyard at the back of the inn. Evelyne stared down the hill as a uniformed officer, accompanied by two women, entered the inn. The women were laughing and clinging to the soldier’s arm. Evelyne was so busy watching the car that she didn’t see the big cow pat right in front of her. Splosh! In went her shoe, and it was such a shock that she slid forwards, lost her balance and slithered down the embankment. Evelyne had cow dung on her skirt, her knees, and her left hand - and her right shoe, the one with the newspaper inside, was covered in it. The silk scarf had slipped from her hair and was mucky too. Almost in tears she squelched towards the brook that circled the field. She took off her skirt and, dipping the hem into the icy water, rinsed it out. Then she put the whole of her shoe in. It was stinking so she picked up a stick and scraped the muck off. She smelt her hands, noticed that the cuffs of her blouse, the one Doris had given her, were covered too, so off it came … she was trying to clean her shoe, her skirt and blouse all at the same time, and it was disastrous. The next thing she knew she had toppled over and was sitting waist-deep in the brook.

  David had already downed half a bottle of wine, and was growing impatient. The room was stuffy and smelt of stale beer and cigarettes. He was about to leave when the door opened and there stood Ridgely, with a wicked smile and a blonde on either arm. ‘Now, gels, I want you to meet a very dear friend, and more than that, I want you to make him feel very special - after all, he is on leave, so let’s not waste any time, eh?’