Leaving Shades

by Leaving Shades (epub)

  ‘She said she’s looking forward to meeting Mrs Reseigh again; they were so close. I’ve told Beth that Mrs Reseigh’s son took over as gardener here three days a week and Mr Jewell passed away. Mark will be working here tomorrow but Beth said she’s not concerned about that. Beth says she’d like to look over the house and grounds. I think she’ll have a pleasant surprise or two. I’ve invited her friend too, if she wants to join us. Katherine Copeland seems very nice.

  ‘Joe’s promised to make the effort not to get ratty, as he calls it, with Beth, if she does happen to get a bit angry with me. Joe’s so brave, so grown up, bless him. I think he’s taken it on board that it’s understandable that she has a lot of problems to come to terms with. I am her mother. I was responsible for her and I let her down terribly. It would be so wonderful if it ends with her forgiving me and allowing me to build up a relationship, on whatever terms that suits her. Pray for me, darling, that this will happen. I love you for always. I hope I dream about you tonight.’

  Christina put the photograph back on the bedside table and draped the St Christopher medal over it. Snuggling up like a child, she closed her eyes and began to make plans for the next day, the meals she’d make for Beth, the flowers she’d give her from the garden… and more, until she fell asleep.

  Christina dreamed, but about the wrong husband. Phil Tresaile was stretched across the bed, his slim arms and legs swollen into heavy weights and so long they were hooked under the bedstead, his enormous bulk crushing her and pinning her down. She gasped to breathe and every breath was hard won, agony. His rugged, arrogant face was the same, his blacker-than-black hair and the trimmed moustache he wore to give him more swagger. Christina couldn’t speak, only plead inside her head to him to get off her, to stop tormenting her and leave her alone. ‘Please Phil, go away, don’t hurt me any more.’

  ‘I sent her.’ Tresaile blew stale breath into her mouth and eyes and up her nostrils. He was poisoning her. ‘She’ll never love you. She hates you, just like I did. And she’s a slut and a whore just like you are. Take her to that little grave, tell her what you put in the ground.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she wailed in her tortured mind. ‘I wasn’t strong enough.’

  ‘You killed him. No one else did it. Murderer!’ Phil Tresaile head-butted her in the chest and this time the pain was so intense she was able to scream. She screamed and yelled and shrieked and struggled.

  She woke with a sickening force, gulping for air and groping to sit up straight, quivering in fear and revulsion. Somehow she managed to push in the switch on the bedside lamp and thankfully this brought her eyes straight to stare into Francis’s gentle loving perpetual gaze. ‘O-oh, my God, darling, it was terrible.’

  Clutching the photograph to her body she edged herself up until she was solidly propped against the pillows and headboard. She cried, frantic tears of humiliation, but quietly so as not to disturb Joe. Thank God she didn’t scream aloud, or he would have run to her. She felt tainted. She didn’t want Joe looking at her and seeing her shame. She had felt tainted with Phil from their second secret meeting, when he had raped her. She had cried in pain and horror, and he had begged her to forgive him. ‘I’ll never hurt you again, Christina, I promise. I got carried away. I couldn’t help it. It was your fault. You can’t really blame me. You’re so beautiful and you flaunt your desirability.’

  So she had taken the blame. She shouldn’t have gone off somewhere alone with Phil. His brother Ken had tried to warn her. ‘You want to be careful of Phil,’ he’d whispered, taking her aside in the pub’s back yard; his father had been the landlord back then. ‘Phil flatters all the women. He’s only after what he can get from them. The minute you go back home he’ll forget all about you. He got someone in trouble back-along, told the poor unfortunate girl to get lost, only they weren’t the words he used. She ended up marrying someone else, an old bachelor, for security, and Phil put it all round the cove that the baby was her husband’s. Which is ridiculous, she’s the image of Phil, a Tresaile to the core.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?’ Phil had stormed outside to them.

  ‘I’ve told Christina you’re no good,’ Ken had hurled back. ‘And about your illegitimate child that you’ve refused to acknowledge and support. You should leave this girl alone, she’s very young and far too good for you.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Phil had seethed. ‘You’ve always been jealous of me. Being the old man’s favourite son isn’t good enough for you. You want what I’ve got but you’ll never have her. That’s what you’re out to get.’ He’d sniggered, laughed uproariously and made a lewd gesture. ‘You’re too bleddy late anyway. I’ve already dipped my wick in her.’

  Roaring with fury Ken had lashed out at his younger brother. There had been a vicious, prolonged fist fight, and on Phil’s part, kicks and spitting and dirty blows. The patio furniture and plant pots in the yard had been wrecked, and windows smashed. Phil had ended up battered and bruised. Ken had suffered a broken arm, broken ankle and cuts across his face. Christina’s mother had blamed her for the ugly incident, accusing her publicly of flirting with both brothers and playing them off against each other. Phil had brought so much strife and trouble to his parents’ door they had banished him from the family. Marion Frobisher, however, had felt sorry for him and had given him the money for a room in a lodging house, for the rest of the summer.

  ‘You’re a disgrace to me, Christina Frobisher,’ her mother had yelled at her at the scene and slapped her heavily across both cheeks. ‘You’ve always been a disappointment to me. You’re not clever or accomplished in anything. All you have is good looks and you’re using them to bring me down. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a child like you. Why can’t you be like your brother was, my darling Leslie? Why did he have to be the one to die? Just a dear little boy of three years, he was, when you passed on the whooping cough to him. He would have grown up to be a successful young man and made me very proud.’

  After her mother’s rants, Phil got it into his head that Christina had actually been flirting with Ken. He had never trusted her again, and once they were married and living at Owles House, he had forbidden Christina to go down to the cove without him.

  ‘I loved this old house the moment I stepped inside it,’ Christina had confided in Francis, at the beginning of their tentative romance, two months after she had finally been discharged from the hospital. ‘I didn’t care that my mother had sullied my name in Portcowl, that everyone thought I was a loose woman. I was content to make a home for Phil and our coming child. Things weren’t too bad. Then I gave birth. Elizabeth was born a healthy baby, then events took a tragic turn. I had been carrying two babies and didn’t know it. My little boy, Philip junior, only lived an hour. His lungs hadn’t formed properly. Phil blamed me, he said I should have known I was expecting twins and should have taken better care of myself. Everything went quickly from bad to worse. I couldn’t cope… I started to drink… the rest, well you know the rest.’

  Lifting Francis’s photograph, Christina kissed his image with trembling lips. ‘If it wasn’t for you, my darling, I would have died that night I wandered off in a drunken stupor and left poor Beth alone and terrified. That monster made me weak. He’d crushed me and tormented me. He won’t leave me alone even now, but I won’t allow him to haunt me. Beth’s come back to me, and I’ll make everything right. I’ll show her that it will be good for her to be part of my and Joe’s family. Watch over us, Francis. Help me with the strength to tell Beth the whole truth. Why her grandmother delighted in causing trouble for me over Phil. And how she had a twin brother who tragically only lived for such a short time.’

  Eight

  ‘I’m so proud of you, Beth,’ Kitty said gaily, driving in her carefree way to Owles House. A moment earlier she had been singing ‘Baby Face’. She had her window down and the breeze, so welcome on an already hot dry day, fluttered her fringe and pushed at her hat. ‘You’re a heroine, giving Christina this chance with
goodwill and making such an effort. I can’t wait to meet Joe again, properly this time. What a young character he seems to be. Has it sunk in yet that you have a brother?’

  ‘I suppose so. I’ve thought a lot about Joe,’ Beth replied, yawning. Having turned over in her mind, almost throughout the night, every moment spent at her old home the day before, she was tired and drained. ‘He’d make any mother happy to have him. Christina’s a good mother to him.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For saying that without a trace of envy or bitterness. The hurt is still just as raw for you though. You can’t hide that. Hopefully, some of it will soon be soothed away.’

  ‘We’ll see. It’s strange, but after all that time nursing my resentments and feeling the pain of rejection, I’m almost resigned to accept the outcome of my next meetings with Christina. I suppose Joe has levelled things out. After he harangued me, I saw things from a different perspective. I’ve learned that it’s better I reserve my final judgements until I’ve found out all I possibly can. Joe was quite nice to me soon after being so angry. I have to remember that it must have been hard for him to be suddenly faced with the sister he’d known about but never thought he’d actually meet, and although he’s very grown up he’s still a child.’

  ‘Well, if at the end you feel it’s not possible for you to be reconciled with Christina, but you come away accepting the situation, that’ll be really good.’

  Stifling another yawn, Beth stretched her arms up as far as the Ford Sedan’s roof allowed, then she eyed Kitty with affection. Kitty’s smile was as bright as the sun and her green eyes sparkled like the sea. ‘You’ll certainly enjoy some of the day, you old optimist, you. But don’t expect to come across any handsome fishermen.’

  ‘I’m not expecting to,’ Kitty laughed. ‘And what would I have in common with one anyway?’

  The women found Joe sitting with Chaplin on the bottom doorstep, a quietly serious reception team. Joe stood up as they got out of the motor car. Chaplin fell in beside him. ‘Good morning,’ he called down to them. He was wearing an immaculate short-sleeved white shirt and long shorts, smart socks and white plimsolls. His dark hair was combed neatly.

  ‘Hello Joe,’ Beth called back, glad she had also made an effort with her appearance. Her dress was one worn only once before, with handkerchief points.

  Kitty waved to him cheerily. She was in a blouse and leisure trousers.

  ‘Would you ladies follow us round this way.’ Joe spread his long arm to indicate the side of the house. ‘Mum is out by the summer house waiting for you both. I’ll bring some drinks. Would you like something hot or cold?’

  ‘Cold please,’ Beth and Kitty said in unison.

  He quickly disappeared inside and the women followed his instruction. ‘I agree with what you said, he really is so grown up,’ Kitty commented.

  ‘Yes, and a little awe-inspiring and strong-willed and no sufferer of fools, I’d say. He is determined to protect Christina at all costs. Admirable, of course, but I’m not going to get very far with her if he doesn’t allow me to spend time with her alone.’

  ‘It’s a good thing I’m here. I’ll try my best to get him away somewhere. I’m quite prepared to take a long walk with him and the gorgeous Chaplin. I’ll try a spot of probing and hopefully I’ll glean something about the current situation from him, and later you and I will be able to compare notes.’

  * * *

  ‘What do you want to know exactly?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Joe’s blunt question brought Kitty’s long easy strides to an abrupt halt a few hundred yards along the cliff path and tore her eyes away from the sea thirty feet below. It was the second such breath-stopper he had given out today. He had carried out the drinks tray and placed it on the picnic table, poured out four tumblers of iced lemonade, his head held high. He had seated himself fluidly next to his mother, who was shaded by a large parasol, on a firm cushioned patio sofa, and then he had looked straight at Beth. ‘After this, I shall invite Miss Copeland to join me to take a walk somewhere of her choice, and we’ll take our time, to give you and Mum plenty of time for a heart-to-heart. I’m sure none of us want an emotional, drawn-out time while past events are brought to light. Mum couldn’t stand it and I won’t allow it.’

  Christina had choked on a swallow of lemonade and patted her chest to help get the liquid down. Clearing her throat, she had shot a worried glance at Beth. ‘Joe, you’re sounding rude.’

  ‘I’m only being sensible, Mum.’

  You’re sensible and intuitive but confrontational and you always throw in a warning, Kitty thought now. Joe might be young but he was already a force to be reckoned with. Joe, the man, was going to be dynamic. Kitty knew from information given to her by Beth yesterday that Francis Vyvyan had been a parish councillor. Joe seemed to have the intelligence and drive to reach endless heights, and the way he loved and protected his fragile mother made him compassionate, bold and steadfast. ‘OK Joe, I’m glad you’ve got straight to the point. I’m sure Beth would be interested to learn about the spot where your father found your mother after she disappeared that night. Do you know where it was?’

  ‘I do. Follow me. You’ll see precisely how hard it was for Mum to be found quickly. And how if it wasn’t for my father she might not have been found until it was too late and would have died.’

  * * *

  ‘What would you like to do first, Beth?’ Christina smiled shyly. Please, please, let this go right. Her insides were being gradually raided of stability. She was frightened that the slightest thing, a single wrong word, a sudden bad memory would reopen the wounds in Beth and she’d rail against her and leave for good, vowing never to get in touch again. Christina chewed a thumbnail. ‘You can ask me anything you like. I’m sure you have a long list of questions. You’re welcome to look anywhere over the house and grounds. Mrs Reseigh is here. She’s really excited to know you’re here today. I was going to cook a special lunch but she’s insisted on doing it for us.’

  Beth was struck by how childlike and vulnerable Christina seemed. Her mother had looked something like this on that enjoyable day long ago when she had taken Beth to Mor Penty’s little beach.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Mrs Reseigh again too,’ Beth said, surprised she was actually feeling relaxed but remembering the summer house had been a haven to her in the old days, where she’d played make-believe, and dolls and teddy-bear tea parties, with dear Cleo. ‘How old was Cleo when she died? Was she buried in the grounds?’

  Christina’s eyes misted over as she was visited by fond memories. ‘Cleo had a long life. She inevitably slowed up and got a bit achy. The last few weeks she grew wearier and wearier and wanted only to sleep. Francis and I sensed when she was reaching the end. We were both with her when she passed away in her sleep. Cleo used to lie down on the summer-house veranda for ages or wander about as if she was searching for something.’ Christina bit hard on her lip. ‘I think she was looking for you, Beth. Anyway, Francis buried her in another of her favourite spots, one she used to share with you. Shall I take you there now?’

  ‘Yes please, I’d like that.’ Beth passed Christina her walking stick and reached out to help her up, the act of care coming naturally to her. Grandma had weakened rapidly as the cancer had done its worst and Beth had helped to nurse her at home right to the end. The doctor and district nurse had said she would make a good nurse. Not me, Beth had thought at the time, but Kitty would. I don’t have a calling to care for the sick or the frail or champion the underdog. Yet she was doing it right now. Christina was frail, and even though Beth didn’t really want to acknowledge it, her mother had been an underdog all her time on this property until Francis Vyvyan had saved her and loved her. There was a strength and purpose in Christina that had been missing when she had first been a wife and mother. Could Beth go so far as to see her as a victim, as she herself had been?

  ‘Thank you, Beth,’ Christina said
, when she was firmly up on her feet. ‘It’s very kind of you.’

  I’m not a particularly kind person, Beth reflected as a simple statement and with conviction. I’m not a sacrificing sort. I’m quite selfish. She had arrived at that conclusion after much soul-searching following her miscarriage. From the time she had gone to live with her grandmother, while loving her, and establishing a devoted friendship with Kitty, she had mostly cared about her own needs. Survival instinct perhaps, but she maintained she was selfish nonetheless. She could have and should have walked away from her attraction to Stuart Copeland instead of blatantly acting upon it. She had fallen deeply in love with him. Stuart had been content with his wife and family, his job and his home. He had been an active member of the local church. Beth’s subtle flirting, followed by deliberate acts of playing the helpless female and getting Stuart too often alone with her, had been a selfish, shallow operation. She had not given a thought to Stuart’s undeserving wife and two young children, how if the affair became known it would devastate their lives. Stuart himself would have lost his job and the respect of his colleagues and the church. Losing her baby had been Beth’s just punishment. She also knew the uncomfortable truth that it had been something of a relief to Stuart that there would be no baby. He may have loved her but he hadn’t really wanted to leave his family and lose everything else. Dear, wonderful Kitty might have ended up hating the two people she said she trusted with her life, her brother and her best friend.

  What and who had made Beth do such a wanton, potentially destructive thing? She had always blamed her faults and weaknesses on her mother’s neglect, but as her astute young stepbrother had pointed out, it wasn’t as easy as that. And one should always take responsibility for what one chose to do once an adult.