by Maria Savva
‘I’m so sorry, Cara.’
‘You said you loved me. You said—’
‘I know. It was all true, everything. I do love you.’
‘Well, why…?’ She blinked away her tears.
‘I’m already married.’
A gasp left her lips before she could fully digest the sentence. Already married? She tried to respond, but her question stuck in her throat and no sound came out.
Frederick fidgeted in his seat. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away as if scalded.
His eyes were wide as he pleaded with her. ‘Please, listen… My marriage isn’t working, but I have two small children; I can’t leave them. I have to stay with my family. But I do love you. I would like to carry on seeing you.’
A stray tear fell onto her hand. She wiped it immediately, not wanting him to see. ‘A-a-all this time… w-why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I’m sorry, Cara. I never meant to hurt you.’
Her mind screamed. How could someone who had been her whole world have done this? Recollections of his lies, so easily told, taunted her. All her dreams of their future together were gone in an instant. He had changed. Everything had changed. I hate you, Freddie Johnson! She couldn’t say it out loud, as much as she wanted to, didn’t want him to know he had clawed his way so deeply into her heart.
She pushed frantically at the car door and it sprang open suddenly, almost flying off its hinges. Pausing before getting out of the car, maybe in the hope that he would say something… anything… to change the situation, Cara felt her heart beating so hard she thought it might burst. As she had expected, Frederick didn’t protest… didn’t plead for her to stay. I have been such a fool!
She jumped out of the car and began to run.
After running for what felt like an age, she saw the sea beckoning. A strong wind blew as she walked nearer to the cliff edge. The gusts behind her were urging her forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the rain lashed against her face. She walked steadily onwards and remained standing for a while at the extreme edge of Stoneleigh Cliffs, staring down into the sea, which in the fading light of dusk appeared agitated and malevolent, reflecting and magnifying her mood.
She took one more step.
Landing in the sea with such force she struggled to breathe, Cara was battered by the waves.
Cara’s pregnancy was confirmed by her doctor in January 1953.
By then, she had been married to Billy for two months. She’d never had any actual proof that she was pregnant before she met him; she kept telling herself that and pushed all thoughts of Frederick as far away as possible.
Cara caught her breath at first sight of her newborn son; there was no mistaking his full head of black hair, just like Frederick’s.
When Billy, with his shock of ginger hair, came to visit her and the baby at the hospital, Cara searched his face for any signs of suspicion but could only see a proud father gazing at his newborn son. A sense of shame caused her to tense up, and she found herself willing him to leave in case he commented on the child’s features. However, to her surprise and relief, he said, ‘He’s got lovely dark hair, just like my mother’s.’
‘He’s beautiful,’ she agreed, feeling able to breathe again.
As the months and years went by, she convinced herself that Benjamin could just as easily be Billy’s son. The links in her mind became more and more disjointed until at long last she was able to look at Benjamin without automatically remembering Frederick.
CHAPTER FIVE
Benjamin’s violent tendencies were evident at a young age, as early as when he was at primary school.
At the age of about ten or eleven years old, he came home from school one day with a bloody nose. The front door opened and closed quietly as he entered the house.
Cara had been looking out through the front window and saw him walk up the path covering his nose with a blood-soaked tissue.
‘Ben! What’s happened?’ She waited for an answer, standing at the entrance to the living room, gaping at her eldest son who remained by the front door, his back to her.
Without warning, he turned around quickly and ran past her through the hallway and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
Cara rushed after him and tried her best to open the door, but Benjamin was pushing against it from the inside.
‘Ben,’ she said softly. ‘Please tell me what’s happened. Have you been in a fight?’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘Go away.’
Not long afterwards, Billy arrived home from work.
‘Hello, love,’ he said, kissing her.
Cara did not respond, her eyes still fixed on the closed door.
Billy raised an eyebrow and took a step backwards. ‘What’s wrong?’
She let out a sigh. ‘It’s Ben; I think he’s been in a fight at school. He won’t talk to me about it. Maybe you’ll have more luck.’ She pointed at the kitchen door.
Billy shrugged, and tried the door handle. ‘Ben, open up,’ he demanded.
The sound of shuffling feet could be heard from the other side of the door.
Billy tried the handle a second time and it opened.
Cara felt envious of how Benjamin always listened to Billy.
She chewed her fingernails as she waited for her husband and son to emerge from the kitchen, unable to hear what they were saying from behind the closed door.
After a few minutes, Benjamin exited the kitchen holding a tissue over his nose.
Billy followed him.
Benjamin nodded awkwardly at Cara and ran upstairs before she had a chance to talk to him.
‘It was a nosebleed, love,’ said Billy in his usual nonchalant way.
‘So why didn’t he tell me?’
‘He was probably afraid you’d think he was acting like a girl if he made a fuss.’ Billy chuckled. ‘Our boy’s growing into a man.’
His reply didn’t satisfy Cara.
That Sunday, as they sat around the kitchen table at lunchtime, seven-year-old James asked a question. ‘How come Ben’s got black hair when we’ve all got ginger?’
Billy’s eyes met Cara’s for an instant and she held her breath, fearing his response, but he just smiled at her.
‘We’ve talked about this before,’ said Billy to James. ‘My mother had lovely dark hair. Ben’s taken after his grandmother.’ He regarded Benjamin proudly.
Benjamin never allowed his face to betray his true feelings, especially sensitive emotions, but his expression softened as he looked at Billy then.
‘Our teacher said if both parents have ginger hair the child will most likely have ginger hair too,’ piped up nine-year-old Catherine, who, with her round spectacles and her hair tied back in a tight ponytail, exuded an authoritative air. She sounded like a young scientist lecturing on an important fact.
Benjamin appeared embarrassed and carried on eating his meal in silence.
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Cara, trying not to sound overly critical as images of Frederick flashed through her mind. ‘We have living proof it’s not true.’ She laughed and hoped to bring that particular discussion to a close. ‘Cathy, pass me the salt, please, dear.’
‘Yes, but my teacher told me the gene for ginger hair is quite strong,’ persisted Catherine.
‘It is,’ said Billy. ‘I’ve read about it. But just because both parents have the gene for ginger hair, it doesn’t necessarily follow their child will be born with ginger hair.’
Cara shifted in her seat. Why had Billy been reading about this? Had he been suspicious?
‘Why are we talking about jeans?’ asked James. ‘What have trousers got to do with hair?’
‘Not those types of jeans, silly,’ said Catherine, laughing.
James shrugged and carried on eating.
Cara prayed they would change the subject.
‘Edward King said Ben must’ve been adopted,’ said James, breaking the silence.
‘Yeah, and Ben punched him!’ Catherine l
aughed.
‘Shut up you two!’ Benjamin scowled at his brother and sister.
Cara wanted to tell him to behave, but she also wished Catherine and James would stop going on about his hair.
‘When did all this happen?’ asked Billy, stern-faced.
Cara braced herself, concerned about how much longer she could hold her composure.
‘Last week,’ explained Catherine. ‘Me, Ben, and Jamie met up after school to go home, and Edward King—who’s the school bully—followed us. He started picking on Ben because he’s got black hair and we’ve got ginger. They had a fight.’
‘We didn’t have a fight!’ said Benjamin, red-faced.
‘Yes you did,’ chorused James and Catherine.
‘Children can be cruel,’ interjected Billy. ‘Being adopted is no reason to pick on someone.’ He glanced at Cara.
She felt the colour rush to her cheeks and, faking a cough, picked up her glass of water.
‘This Edward King sounds silly; he obviously hasn’t been brought up with any manners,’ added Billy.
‘He just looks for anything he can use to pick fights,’ said Benjamin.
‘Hmm… Well, you know it’s no good to fight, Ben, don’t you?’ said Billy, softly.
‘He started it,’ said Benjamin, standing up. ‘I’m not hungry, anyway.’ He stormed out of the room.
‘Ben’s always getting into fights,’ said Catherine.
‘Yeah, everyone picks on him,’ said James. He laughed and carried on eating.
CHAPTER SIX
Penelope’s mother, Margaret, had been opposed to her relationship with David. She thought Penelope far too young to be getting so serious with a man, and she told Cara that David reminded her too much of Benjamin.
‘He’s already started telling her what she can and cannot do,’ Margaret confided one evening, as she, Cara, and Billy were watching television together. David and Penelope had left for a night out at the cinema. ‘That’s how Ben started, then he tried to control everything I did,’ she added.
‘He loves Penny, it’s plain to see. He only wants what’s best for her,’ argued Billy.
‘He told her to take off her make-up and she did,’ said Margaret. ‘Am I the only one who thinks that’s wrong?’ She looked at Cara as she spoke, as if seeking an ally now that Billy had made his opinion known.
‘She was wearing quite a lot of make-up, dear,’ replied Cara gently.
‘She only wanted to look nice.’ Margaret’s green eyes welled with tears. ‘She was so happy with her make-up before he came round. She showed it to me,’ she said in a shaky voice.
‘Don’t upset yourself, Maggie,’ said Billy. ‘They’re only young. He doesn’t mean any harm.’
‘But have you noticed how he never talks about himself? They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months and we haven’t met his family yet.’
‘Well, we know his family don’t live locally, so it’s not surprising we haven’t met them yet,’ said Cara.
‘Yes.’ Billy nodded his agreement.
‘I don’t like him, there’s something not quite right.’ Margaret shook her head.
Cara and Billy didn’t read anything deep into David’s behaviour. If he came across as a little reticent at times he was probably just shy, they reasoned. After all, he was young and they’d only recently met him. They were not analysing anything. The more Margaret criticised him, the more they defended him, attempting to convince her that not all men were the same as Benjamin. Their words were not getting through, however. Margaret could not be swayed.
Penelope left home and moved in with David not long after they’d first started dating, much against her mother’s wishes. Cara remembered Margaret saying he had “stolen her away”.
Margaret would use every opportunity when speaking to her daughter to tell her she should leave him.
That Christmas, when the whole family were gathered at Cara and Billy’s house, seated around the kitchen table for dinner, Penelope and David announced they were planning to marry.
Margaret, who had by then regained her ability to walk, rose from her chair, red-faced, and said: ‘Over my dead body!’ With that, she left the room.
Penelope felt embarrassed and tried to talk to her mother about it, but Margaret refused to discuss it. She would only say, ‘If you marry him, I’ll never speak to you again.’
Over the next few months, as the wedding arrangements were being made, Margaret’s attitude caused great tension in the house. She would ignore David and Penelope when they came to visit, and she pleaded with Cara and Billy to stop the wedding.
Cara last saw Margaret the night before Penelope’s wedding. She had not seen her for most of the day, being busy with the preparations. At about nine o’clock, she knocked on Margaret’s bedroom door.
‘Maggie, are you in there?’
Cara listened at the door, sure she’d heard a shuffling noise and the sound of Margaret blowing her nose. She opened the door slowly and saw her standing next to the bed, packing clothes into a suitcase.
‘Maggie? What are you doing?’
She turned to face Cara; her eyes were red and puffy from crying. ‘I’m leaving. I have to go.’
‘Go where?’
‘I’m taking Jemima and we’re going to Jersey to my parents’ house for a while, and then… Who knows?’ Margaret resumed packing.
‘But you can’t leave, not now.’
‘You’ve made it more than clear that I’ve outstayed my welcome.’
‘That’s not true!’ said Cara. ‘I want you to stay here.’
‘Please, don’t try to pretend you care,’ sneered Margaret, twisting around to face her.
Cara placed a hand over her heart. She knew Margaret opposed Penelope’s marriage plans, but she hadn’t complained in the past few days. Cara had dared to hope she’d finally accepted, albeit reluctantly, that the marriage would go ahead with or without her approval.
‘Y-you are going to the wedding, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I’m not!’ snapped Margaret, turning back to zip up her suitcase. ‘That’s the reason I’m leaving… As if you didn’t already know.’
‘But Penny will be devastated if you’re not there!’ Cara put a hand on Margaret’s arm.
‘She knows I won’t be there. I won’t watch her throw her life away.’
‘But… But you’re her mother; you have to be there! She doesn’t have a father to give her away. Stay for the wedding at least. If you still want to leave afterwards, I won’t stop you.’
Margaret picked up her suitcase and placed it on the floor at her feet before facing Cara, arms folded. ‘If I go, it will be like saying I’m giving her my blessing, and she’ll blame me when it all goes wrong.’
‘How are you so sure it will go wrong? Can’t you give David a chance? You’ve never tried to get to know him; he’s not that bad—’
‘I’ve made up my mind.’ Margaret picked up her suitcase.
‘Wait!’ Cara held out a hand to stop her. ‘This is your eldest child and it’s one of the most important days of her—’
‘Maybe this will make her think twice,’ said Margaret, talking over Cara. ‘She knows where I’m going. I’ve told her she can come and stay with me when she sees sense and leaves him, but as long as she’s with him I’ve washed my hands of her.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? Do you want her to think that you don’t love her? She’ll never forgive you for not going to the wedding. She’ll hate you.’
‘Perhaps.’ Margaret looked thoughtful. ‘But I’d rather she hates me for not going to the wedding than hate me for letting David Truman ruin her life.’
‘But Maggie, you won’t stop her getting married by not attending. She’ll still marry him. You know how much Penny loves David.’
‘What about me?’ Margaret’s shoulders dropped. Sitting on the bed, she placed the suitcase next to her feet and blinked away a tear. ‘Doesn’t she love me?’
‘O
f course she does.’ Cara sat next to her and put an arm around her.
‘I’ve been through so much to make sure my girls have everything they need,’ she sobbed. ‘This is the gratitude I get.’
‘Please don’t cry.’
‘I expected more from you,’ she said, glaring at Cara.
‘W-what could I have done?’
‘You never backed me up when I talked to Penny about David, about what he’s really like. You and Billy… you treat me like a fool.’ She stood up. ‘That’s why the wedding is going ahead.’
‘No, you’re wrong. The wedding is going ahead because Penny loves David.’
Margaret turned on her heel and practically screamed the words, ‘Yes, and I loved Ben once!’
‘You can’t live someone else’s life for them, Maggie. Everyone has to make their own mistakes.’
‘And you’re willing to sit back and watch it happen?’ Margaret flung an arm out in front of her. ‘Well, I’m not!’ Bending down, she picked up the suitcase again. ‘I’ve booked a taxi for me and Jemima.’
‘Please don’t go, Maggie.’
Anger coloured Margaret’s cheeks, and tears fell that she did not bother to wipe away. ‘I’m sorry it had to end this way. I used to think of you and Billy as my second set of parents, but now I feel so betrayed. You could have helped me to stop this wedding and save my little girl, but you didn’t even try.’ With that, she departed.
Cara felt torn in two. She hated to see Margaret leave this way, but how could she destroy Penelope’s wedding day? As much as she loved Margaret, she couldn’t leave Penelope with no one to support her.
Cara wrote to Margaret a couple of months after the wedding, hopeful that by then she would have thought everything over and forgiven her. The letter came back in the post a few days later, marked: “Return to sender”.
CHAPTER SEVEN
