Leaving Shades

by Leaving Shades (epub)

  Squaring herself, upping her determination, she waited for Christina to limp to the bench and settle herself down on it. Chaplin, the German Shepherd, followed her and sat at her side, a quiet, loyal, watchful companion. And then Beth moved, in long strides with her head up, but choosing a spot on the edge of the lawn where she could look down directly on Christina. Where she could submit her to a steady stream of cold stares – and unspoken accusations. It would do for now, until she picked the right time to let rip with exactly what was on her mind concerning all the years of terrible memories and taunting nightmares this woman was responsible for.

  There were moments of heavy, thought-filled silence.

  Christina wetted her bottom lip. ‘Well. Where do we start? Are… I… are you still living in Wiltshire, Beth? I was disappointed when you were taken out of the county all that time ago.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And are you still with your grandmother?’

  ‘Not for a while now.’

  ‘So you’ve struck out on your own? Good for you. I see you’re not wearing a wedding ring. Is there anyone special in your life?’

  ‘I didn’t come here to tell you things like that.’ Beth’s voice rose with acrimony. It was she who should be asking the questions. She should not have allowed Christina to dominate the situation. She must remember at all costs to fight. Fight for her rights. Keep on top. ‘Why be interested in me now?’

  Christina dropped her gaze but immediately looked back at Beth, with an uncertain smile. ‘I’ve never lost interest in you, Beth. I guess you don’t believe me and I don’t blame you. Look, I… I mean this is difficult for both of us, you more so than me, of course. You obviously have a particular reason for coming here today. Perhaps you’re curious about your old home. Perhaps you’re curious about me. I hope you are, oh I do hope you are, Beth. Please, ask me anything you like. I’ll answer any questions you put to me with total honesty, no matter how hard they might be.’

  Such a sweet, soothing voice you have now, Beth thought, irritated, suspicious, sickened. Questions? She had a thousand of them. She felt perspiration breaking out down her back and was grateful for the relief offered by the gentle breeze. This was suddenly like being invited to climb a hill which you knew, in truth, was a mountain, while knowing it must be scaled and conquered if you were to find peace of mind and a clear way forward. While knowing failure would mean being stuck for ever in the bloody awful past. Where to start? It was only after Grandma’s death, six months ago of cancer, that she had realized just how little she actually knew about the first seven years of her life. While Grandma had not covered up the weaknesses of her son-in-law, Beth’s father – irritability and some impatience on his part – she had sheltered Beth a little too well. A war had gone on in this place of conflicting interests and emotions, and she had been its innocent victim. Her wounds had not healed but had darkly festered. Now that she had come back, those lesions were rent wide open and she felt horribly exposed.

  She felt sick. It was a revolting writhing sensation of something clammy, juddering, energy-sapping and dizzy-making. It brought with it pain and anguish from a different source, of the tragedy she had recently undergone, of her unplanned pregnancy coming to a sudden end. She had been preparing to move from Wiltshire so no one would know her child was illegitimate, and she had been looking forward to doing the motherhood thing right by using all her resources. Her aching loss was the focal reason for her being here. She knew she must find the courage to face her past or she would never be able to cope with the future.

  But she was reefing with renewed pain and shock. She couldn’t make a start on that mountain yet. ‘This house must mean a lot to you. You haven’t left it despite the break-up with my father. Or your time incarcerated in a mental institution – Grandma told me about that. You’ve even stayed here since your subsequent marriage. You’re actually Mrs Vyvyan. I know that much about you and I want to know a great deal more, but not now. I’m leaving.’

  Christina blinked, as if she had received numerous little slaps across the face. She leaned forward, as if eagerly, sagely. ‘I understand your ill feelings towards me, Beth. It must have taken a lot of courage for you to come here today. I want you to know that whenever you’re ready you’ll be more than welcome to come back, at any time. You have the telephone number of course.’ Christina rose to walk Beth to the car. She gasped and shot a hand to her hip.

  Beth stared at her. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, it’s only common old arthritis.’ Christina gave a self-deprecating little smile. After a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her eyes. ‘I suppose you’d expected to find me suffering from something else by now, like liver disease. I’ve been dry since I left the institution, Beth.’

  ‘Are you proud of that?’ The question emerged steeped in more bitterness than Beth had intended. She wouldn’t get anywhere if she put Christina on the defensive.

  ‘Yes, actually I am, Beth. I hope you’ll believe that, and also believe I have a great many regrets about the past and especially how you suffered. I’d do absolutely anything to – well, never mind about what I want. I know this isn’t about me. I’ll leave you to make up your mind what you want to do next.’ Christina raised a hand as if to emphasize something she was about to say, changed her mind and dropped it, and hung her head a little. ‘I really hope you keep in touch, Beth. There’s something I’d like you to know.’

  ‘Really?’ Beth shrugged coolly. ‘Don’t bother to see me off. If you’re in pain why not go inside?’

  ‘Yes, I think I will. Thank you for coming, Beth. Please return, it’s meant so much to me to see you again after so long apart.’ Christina gave a smile that was a little watery and then limped away, favouring her bad leg.

  Kitty rejoined a motionless Beth. ‘Where’s she gone?’

  Beth explained.

  ‘All in all it seemed to be a good first meeting. She didn’t seem to be trying to put any pressure on you.’

  ‘Oh, yes she was. She’s clever. Grandma used to say she was a cunning piece and that it was something I should never forget.’

  Beth sniffed the air. Could she pick up some sort of vibration from the past? She concentrated. Was there a feeling, an atmosphere she could absorb? She took in all she could see in a sweep of her eyes. The fountain, the greenhouse, the many steps and paths all leading off to interesting nooks or dead ends; places where she used to take refuge when the atmosphere was hostile. The summer house had been another of her former sanctuaries, the time spent exclusively with Cleo for she had never had other children to play with. The summer house peeped out now like a familiar face from its shelter of beech trees. Everything seemed more or less the same. She supposed that round the back of the house the kitchen garden, the former stable block and dovecote remained unaltered.

  ‘What is it?’ Kitty prodded her.

  ‘It’s not this actual place I need fear, Kitty, only that while I’m here I get hurt again and end up feeling worse than before. Of being taken in by that woman, my mother, that clever woman who failed me.’ She took another quick look round. ‘But something is different here. Something is out of place.’

  ‘It’s been years since you’ve been here. There’s bound to have been changes.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s… Something more is here.’

  Kitty glanced here and there and then shrugged. ‘Could be your imagination.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I didn’t imagine the neglect I suffered here, Kitty. Both of us must keep that firmly in mind. I was right to come back. I know that more than anything. If I have the chance to have more children one day I need to learn everything about my past life here to be able to give them my best.’

  ‘To learn everything about Christina, you mean? The reason for her drinking?’

  ‘Yes. Certainly that. But also why she and my father hated each other so much.’

  Beth’s whole body jerked as Christina called out to her. ‘Beth, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me whe
re you’re staying?’

  ‘Not for now, I’ll ring you,’ Beth shot over her shoulder. ‘See, Kitty? She’s insistent already.’

  ‘Beth, when?’

  Beth went to the car before answering. She had come here partly for revenge. Some revenge, like keeping Christina hanging on, would be damned wonderful, although it might prove unproductive and perhaps it was even childish to play mind games with a woman who she recalled was an expert at the very thing. Beth mouthed to her mother, ‘Didn’t you hear me? I said I’ll ring.’

  Three

  A taxicab pulled up in the back yard of Owles House. A child got out.

  Christina hurried out of the kitchen, followed by Chaplin, to wave a thank you to the driver and to embrace the young passenger. ‘How did everything go at athletics club, darling?’ She smoothed the boy’s close-cropped dark hair, still damp from his exertions, which he endured with a patient smile. ‘I’m preparing your favourites. Grilled prawns, ham and apricot skewers, and hot buttered corn. I thought we could eat it out by the summer house.’

  ‘That’s great, Mum, but you shouldn’t go to so much trouble. You’re shuffling. Don’t tell me you’ve taken Chaplin for a really long walk.’ Joseph Vyvyan was sturdy in limbs and had the stride of a confident young man. Although it was towards the beginning of the long summer school holiday he was wearing the sports kit of the athletics club at his St Austell private school, and he was trailing his sports bag. He gently disentangled himself from his mother’s clutches then dropped to his knees to hug Chaplin and receive in return an enthusiastic licking. ‘I hope you haven’t dragged the things out of the summer house. I’ll do that.’

  ‘I’ve managed fine, and I’ve been sensible and left the lifting for you to do. You don’t have to worry about me, Joe.’ A shadow clouded Christina’s indulgent expression as her thoughts shot back to the abrupt appearance and leavetaking of her other child, just hours ago. ‘You do know, darling, that I’d take and collect you from school and your club if this hip allowed me to drive. I’d love to watch you run but I know Mr Matthews only allows parents to main events.’

  ‘Of course, Mum. Anyway, I’d look an absolute dope if you were hanging round the sports field. I managed two whole seconds off the eight hundred metres today.’ Joe grinned up at her. ‘Richard said I flew along the track like I had a torpedo up my backside.’

  ‘Richard Opie would.’ Christina would have gushed something to express again her pride in Joe, but Beth’s sudden presence had hewn off a large chunk of her confidence. Besides, Joe preferred quiet encouragement. ‘Well, Mr Matthews says you’re the best boy he’s ever had at the athletics club, and that you should easily win everything this season for the inter-school under-thirteens. But never mind the school’s expectations, Joe, you do it for yourself.’

  ‘I will, Mum, but most of all I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘Bless you, Joe.’ Her son often said such touching things and each time warm tears of pride gathered in Christina’s eyes, but today those tears were tinged with sadness. If only Phil Tresaile had been like Joe’s father, Francis Vyvyan, then perhaps she would not have let Elizabeth down so horribly. Beth had known about her second marriage but she didn’t, apparently, know that Christina was a widow, that Francis, the man she had adored, who had helped her to turn her life around after years of terrible guilt and loneliness, had died three years ago, tragically drowned out in the bay after a boating accident. A Portcowl man, Francis had known the full facts about the daughter taken away from Christina. Christina had told Joe, as soon as he’d been old enough to understand, that he had a half-sister, had explained why she did not live at Owles House. But he’d shrugged it off and had never asked about her. Now Christina would have to tell him that Beth had been here and planned to return.

  Leaving Chaplin, Joe glanced to see if the plump, pure white cat Charlie was dozing in his usual spot on the low wall there. Then, linking his arm through Christina’s, Joe walked her back inside. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Mum?’

  Christina returned to the food she was skewering for the grill. ‘Why do you say that, darling?’

  Joe helped himself to fresh lemonade from the cold cupboard. ‘You seem a little jumpy. Has the pain been getting you down?’

  The edginess in Christina’s smile had nothing to do with her reply. ‘Yes, I admit, it’s a little sharp today. If it doesn’t ease off in a couple of days I’ll pop along and see Dr Powell.’

  Joe leaned his head to the side in the endearing way that was his. ‘You’re not worrying about me, are you?’

  ‘Course not.’ She playfully tossed a dish towel at him. ‘Why should I worry about a big boy like you? You’re already as tall as the cliff. Time you went up and changed. Be a dear and put your kit in the laundry basket. Poor Mrs Reseigh keeps remarking that it’s like she has to clear up after a dozen messy boys. Food will be ready to start cooking in ten minutes.’

  Joe took a swig of lemonade, pounced on the model aeroplane he had abandoned before going to athletics practice then pounded up the stairs, making loud engine and stuttering dogfight noises.

  Christina shook her head over the forgotten kitbag. It amused her how Joe became mysteriously forgetful the instant his attention turned to something entertaining. Her hands were clumsy while grilling the food and getting the trays ready to be carried outside, for her mind wasn’t on the task.

  She never took Joe’s presence in her life for granted. She never grumbled about his behaviour, as was the inclination of many a parent, and Joe could be every bit as wilful, stubborn, noisy, messy and downright disobedient as any other child. Instead she felt it a privilege to have given birth to him, to be raising him. Joe was a blessing to her in every way. He was fun loving, caring and conscientious in his lessons. He was popular at school and in the village. Just like his father had been. Francis had given Christina everything a woman could desire. He had been a wonderful loving husband and father. His brave war record and dedication as a parish councillor had seen him much admired and respected and his untimely death had been greatly mourned. After the first couple of years of their marriage many people had gradually forgotten Christina’s sordid past and had begun to show her the same consideration.

  ‘I didn’t deserve you, Francis.’ Her hollow tone was seamed with tears and sounded like a mournful lap of waves on some unreachable distant shore. Francis was on some distant shore now. She tried every day to see where his tragic death had taken him – a fantastic place, a golden paradise, where one day she would, God willing, be worthy to join him. ‘Nor did I deserve you, Joe.’

  Oh God, I should have asked Elizabeth to write to me.

  What if Joe answered the telephone before she could reach it and Beth was on the line and asked to speak to her mother?

  But I couldn’t just send you away, Beth. I wanted you to know how wonderful it was to see you again after such a long separation, how important it is to me that we keep in touch. You were taken away from me. There was no other choice at the time. I don’t want you to keep on hating me.

  Christina relaxed her tense shoulders. ‘Stop panicking. Take deep breaths. Beth is bound to be cautious, a little overwhelmed at first, and she wouldn’t have come all this way just to cause trouble, surely?’ She prayed that Beth, remote and confrontational, with so much understandable hurt, bewilderment and anger entrenched inside her, would allow her to explain about all that had happened. The universal opinion was that a mother was the most important influence in a person’s life, one of life’s strongest, most enduring links to love, nurture and stability. If only it had been so for Beth. It might have been like that for Beth if certain people hadn’t kept interfering in her marriage, had not been so cruel!

  Christina’s mind drifted back to her meeting with Beth in the garden. But she imagined a different scene, her desperate wish for how it should have been, with Beth presenting a soft, interested expression on her lovely bold face, eager to reach out to her mother and to be reached out to.

/>   ‘I hope you don’t hate me too much, Beth. It’s probably too late for us to be mother and daughter, for you to allow me to be the mother to you that I should have been, but we could be friends. We could try…’

  ‘Mum, why are you talking to yourself?’

  Flames of old guilt coupled with new guilt flooded all the way up Christina’s neck to her hairline. She was forced to draw on her hard-won awareness of self-worth and determination to stay on top of things. ‘Was I, Joe?’

  ‘It’s one of those times when you’ve got something important to tell me, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t fool you, can I? You go ahead with the drinks tray, darling, and get the things out of the summer house, and I’ll bring out the food. Then while we’re eating we’ll have a serious chat.’

  As always, when faced with a difficult situation, Christina’s confidence roller-coasted in gut-wrenching waves. She needed the heat of the sun to thaw her chilled bones, the air to clear the confusion from her mind, and the sight of the brilliant waters of the bay to inspire her, if she was even to begin to tell Joe his half-sister had suddenly turned up today.

  Looking at him now, as they sat outside the summer house, Joe piling his plate with food, Christina regretted not sending Elizabeth away, telling her to get out of her life and never come back. She couldn’t bear to see even a little of the shine wiped out of her son’s trusting smile. To have his noble need to protect her undermined; he saw himself as the man of the house now.