by Maria Savva
Cara instinctively reached up and held her granddaughter’s hand.
‘I’ll miss you, Nan. The boys will miss you too. As soon as all the legal stuff has been sorted out and we’re sure Dave can’t hurt us, I’ll be in touch, I promise.’
‘How long will that take?’
Penelope shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Nan. A few months, maybe. A year or so.’
‘There must be another way,’ Cara spoke as if in a trance.
‘There’s no other way,’ Penelope said sadly, her face hollow, eyes darker than ever as if all hope had been extinguished.
There was so much Cara wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. Nothing she could say would change the past.
‘I’m so sorry, Nan, but you’ll be all right, I’ve made sure of that.’ Penelope stood up.
Cara kept hold of her hand, not wanting to let go. ‘I love you, Penny,’ she said.
‘I know. Goodbye, Nan.’ Her hand slipped out of Cara’s.
‘Goodbye, dear. Take care.’
‘Boys, say goodbye to Nana, and come on.’
Andrew and Carl both kissed Cara and followed Penelope out of the door.
The sound of the door closing echoed in Cara’s head, and tears fell from her eyes in silent protest.
‘Don’t cry,’ said Catherine, putting an arm around her. ‘It’s so terrible about Penny and David! I was shocked when she told me what happened. I thought they were happy together. I had no idea. Why didn’t she say anything sooner? Did you know about the violence?’
‘No,’ said Cara, then wished she had not answered so abruptly, fearing that the immediacy of her denial would arouse suspicion. She avoided Catherine’s eyes. ‘I didn’t know. There were times I might have heard shouting, but all couples have a few arguments,’ she said mournfully, ‘and whenever I’d ask Penny she said they were fine.’ Cara heard the emptiness of her words.
‘Poor Penny,’ said Catherine. ‘I had a friend who had to go through the courts when she divorced because there was domestic violence involved, and her ex tried to get custody of the children. It took years to resolve.’
‘Years?’ said Cara. She felt a finality, an ending, as if she would never see Penelope or the children again.
‘I can’t take it in,’ said Catherine, peering out of the window. ‘Mum, we’d better go, in case David turns up.’
Brenda entered the room. ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.
‘Yes, we’re leaving now,’ said Catherine. ‘Thank you for letting Mum stay here.’
‘No bother at all; I’m just sad you can’t stay longer. Won’t you at least have a cup of tea before you go?’
‘I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry,’ said Catherine.
‘Well, you’re both welcome to come and visit anytime,’ she said, then looked at the coffee table, ‘Oh, you haven’t finished the biscuits; I’ll put them in a bag for you, and you can take them for your journey.’ Brenda took the plate of biscuits and hurried into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a plastic bag. ‘I’ve put some home-made bread in there too.’
‘Thank you,’ said Catherine.
She wheeled Cara out of the house and helped her into the car.
Brenda waved at them from her front door.
As they drove away from Furley Avenue, Cara took one last look at her bedroom window from the back of the car. It was hard to believe she might never see the house again. It had all happened so suddenly. She had been desperate to leave that place, but this was all wrong. Tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes, and she felt unable to tell whether they were tears of relief that she was leaving at last, or tears of sorrow at the way it had ended.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As they drove through Huddlesea town centre, Cara held back sentimental tears. It felt almost like taking a trip back in time, evoking in her a yearning to return to her youth. She recognised many of the old buildings. The solicitors’ office where she’d once worked was still there, although the name had changed. The Horse and Dragon public house, where she’d first met Frederick, still stood proud at the corner of Haymart Street: a ghost from the past.
They arrived at Gloria’s house at about midday. Catherine stopped the car outside the gate and turned to face Cara. ‘Here we are,’ she said, her forehead creased. ‘You’re not angry with me for arranging for you to come here, are you? You’ve hardly said a word since we left home this morning.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ replied Cara. ‘I’m just upset about Penny, that’s all.’
‘It’s just that I know you and Aunty Glor never really got on well; we didn’t make this decision lightly.’
Cara stared straight ahead out of the windscreen, not wanting to meet her daughter’s gaze in case she noticed the tears forming in her eyes. Feeling unwanted and abandoned, unhappy at the prospect of having to live with Gloria, she knew the decision was out of her hands. There must have been, she supposed, some family discussion about where she would stay, and they finally decided to send her to live with her sister. Her children were aware she didn’t keep in touch with Gloria, so she could not comprehend their decision.
‘I wanted you to stay with me and Tom,’ said Catherine, as though she’d read her mother’s mind. ‘It’s so difficult because we’re both working, and you saw how small the flat is. There’d be no one at home to look after you during the day.’
Cara thought back to the previous night. She’d only seen Tom very briefly. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Catherine had tried her best to keep her in a different room from him at all times. ‘Such a pity I didn’t get a chance to speak to Tom last night,’ she said.
Catherine coughed and then said. ‘I’m sure there’ll be other opportunities.’
‘You must visit soon. Bring Tom and the children,’ said Cara, staring out of the car window at the house she once knew so well. She felt almost fearful of venturing any closer to it.
‘I hope he’s remembered to make the children’s breakfast,’ said Catherine.
‘What do you mean? Surely he’d remember that.’
Catherine placed a hand over her mouth. ‘Um… oh dear, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.’ She laughed but seemed edgy. ‘Don’t mind me, I always worry too much about the children.’
‘The sign of a good mother,’ said Cara morosely, her own children’s rejection uppermost in her mind. ‘How’s Jamie?’
‘Um…’ Catherine looked at her for a second then turned away. ‘H-he’s fine.’
‘You don’t seem convinced,’ said Cara. ‘Is there anything I should know?’
Catherine appeared to be pondering whether or not she should tell her something. Finally, she spoke, ‘He might be leaving the country soon, that’s why he couldn’t offer you a room at his house: he’s been offered a job in South Africa and doesn’t know whether he’ll take it. I’m sure he’ll come and see you to explain everything. Anyway, maybe this is a chance for you and Aunty Glor to make up.’
Cara could not bear the idea of living with her sister, seeing her every day.
The sisters’ relationship had been strained ever since Beattie’s death. Thankfully, they’d only met up a few times over the years, mainly at family celebrations. In their youth they had made a few attempts to talk to each other whenever their paths crossed, but as they got older they mostly avoided one another, aware that any conversation would most likely end in an argument.
Cara resented being forced to call upon her estranged sister for help. She’d always hoped that it would be the other way round, that one day Gloria would need her help and have to apologise for all the pain she had caused in the past.
In Cara’s mind, Gloria was nothing but a vindictive, spiteful woman who enjoyed hurting people.
She thought back to the last time she and her sister said more than a few words to each other. It was many years ago, when they’d both attended their cousin Ada’s wedding. Cara’s children were still young at the time. Gloria was quite nice to he
r at first.
‘Cara, hello, how are you?’
Although Cara still felt betrayed by her sister, who now stood next to her smiling, she couldn’t help but wish, just for a second, that things could be different. She knew they’d never be friends but decided to be civil, at least for today. After all, they didn’t have to meet very often.
‘I’m fine, Gloria,’ she said. No thanks to you. She scowled inwardly, but told herself to stay cool and calm. She focussed on her three small children and her strong husband who loved her dearly, then she looked at Gloria: a lonely woman, unable to sustain a relationship because of her bitter heart.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Gloria cheerfully. ‘It’s so sad we don’t see each other anymore. We really should try to keep in touch.’
Cara forced a smile.
‘The children have grown.’ Gloria pointed at James and Catherine who were playing with some of the heart-shaped balloons decorating the hall.
‘Yes.’ Cara nodded. Then, noticing the children destroying the decorations, she saw an opportunity to end the brief meeting with her unsavoury sibling. ‘I’d better go and stop them ruining the decor!’ Cara gave a fake giggle and took hold of Benjamin’s hand, preparing to depart. ‘Come on, Ben.’
Gloria turned her attention to Benjamin. ‘Hello, Ben. You don’t remember me, do you?’ she asked, ruffling his hair.
He flattened his hair where she’d touched it. ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied, wrinkling his nose.
‘I’m your mum’s sister.’ She leaned closer to him: ‘Listen, Ben, promise me you won’t take after your mum and that you’ll keep in touch with your brother and sister when you grow up.’ She sneered at Cara. ‘Your mum’s terrible at keeping in touch, aren’t you, Cara?’ Gloria laughed, flicking back her long auburn hair.
Cara raised her eyebrows. ‘You haven’t exactly tried to keep in touch with me.’
‘You’re the one who should be making the effort.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Ever since that incident with Beattie Rogers, you’ve blanked me as if I’m the wicked witch.’ She took a sip of her champagne.
‘You’re unbelievable,’ said Cara.
‘You still blame me after all these years, don’t you?’ Gloria’s piercing blue eyes stared directly into Cara’s. ‘How sad, Cara. I’m your sister; your only sister.’
‘What you did was unforgivable.’
‘We’re grown-ups, not young girls anymore. You should learn to forgive. You can’t go around cutting people out of your life because they make a mistake. You’d have no one left.’
‘A mistake?’ Cara nearly retched. ‘I think I have a right to feel angry with you, and I have a right to cut you out of my life after what happened to Bea.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘If it wasn’t for you—’
‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘No, but you might as well have.’
‘Oh, Cara! You’re still so melodramatic. I’m surprised you’ve got children of your own, you’re behaving like one yourself.’
Noticing a couple whispering and pointing in her direction, Cara looked at the floor and mumbled, ‘I think we’ve said all we have to say.’ She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and began to steer Benjamin towards the other children.
Gloria followed her. ‘It’s funny little Ben doesn’t look like the other two, isn’t it, Cara?’
Cara glared at her sister.
‘What?’ said Gloria, shrugging. ‘It’s only a comment, unless you have something to hide. Weren’t you courting a tall, dark, handsome man not long before you married Billy?’
Cara was eager to get Benjamin away. ‘You’re drunk,’ she said, nodding at the champagne glass in her sister’s hand.
‘Not at all. Is that why you stick up for your trollop of a friend over your own sister? Because you’re one yourself?’
Cara’s eyes widened. ‘You’re an evil, acid-tongued gossip, Gloria Hughes, and I’m ashamed to call you my sister!’
‘Huh! The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’ Gloria slurred, taking another sip of champagne and flicking back her long red hair.
Gloria’s eyes were wild and glazed and she appeared to look right through Cara.
Scanning the room, Cara was relieved to see Billy in the far corner chatting with her uncle Ted: out of earshot.
Gloria smiled at Benjamin and leaned down so she was closer to his height. ‘You’re going to grow up tall, dark, and handsome, just like your father. What was his name, Cara? Freddie? Yes. Freddie. Tall, dark, handsome Freddie.’
‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying, darling,’ said Cara, as she hurried Benjamin away from Gloria.
A bemused eight-year-old Benjamin shrugged. ‘Dad’s name is Billy, isn’t it, Mum?’
‘Yes, dear, ignore her, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
Cara had last seen Gloria ten years before, at Billy’s funeral. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other on that occasion, and the only communication they’d had since was over the phone a few times—never by choice but when there was some family news that had to be conveyed.
‘Aunty Glor is your sister,’ said Catherine, interrupting her thoughts. ‘You’re both getting older. Wouldn’t you prefer to patch it up before… Well, you know, before it’s too late?’
Cara nodded while inside she wished she was miles away.
‘I mean,’ added Catherine, ‘I bet you can’t even remember what you were both so annoyed about now anyway, can you?’
‘No,’ Cara lied, knowing she would never forget.
‘It’s like wars,’ mused Catherine. ‘I’m sure there’s usually some reason why everyone’s angry at the beginning and they see war as the only answer, but then when they go on for years there are people out there fighting and not even knowing why or what they’re fighting for, I’m sure. People need to learn to forgive more. The world would be a better place.’
Catherine helped her into the wheelchair.
‘If you do find it difficult living with Aunty Glor, you can phone me and we’ll try to make alternative arrangements,’ she said in a half-whisper.
As they approached the house, Cara wanted to beg Catherine to stop and turn back. Tears pricked her eyes. None of her children knew why she and Gloria had fallen out.
It had been a hot summer, that much Cara could remember. Most of the detail remained misty in her mind, as if to remember the whole story would be to admit a deadly sin. It happened in 1950. In those days, Cara always looked up to her sister, Gloria, six years her senior. They were never really the best of friends, but Cara put it down to the age gap. To her, Gloria was beautiful, popular, and had an air of wisdom about her.
Cara spent most of her time with Beattie Rogers, her best friend. They shared all their secrets and grew up together almost like sisters.
That summer, at the age of sixteen, Beattie started a relationship with an older boy, Robert Jones. Young and naive, she fell head over heels in love, and it wasn’t long before she fell pregnant…
‘Cara, what am I going to do?’ Tears streamed down Beattie’s face as she stood in front of Cara in the tree house they’d discovered in the woods. She appeared tired and her eyes were red-raw, as though she’d been crying for days. Her brown shoulder-length hair, usually so shiny and neatly groomed, was unkempt. ‘If my parents find out, they’ll kill me.’
Wrinkling her brow, Cara asked, ‘How did you find out you’re pregnant? Is that even possible?’
‘Possible?’
‘You’re too young. I thought only older married people got pregnant.’
‘Well, you thought wrong.’
‘Do you know for sure?’ Cara was still trying to make sense of it.
‘Yes, of course.’ Beattie rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve missed my period. You mustn’t tell anyone,’ she pleaded. ‘I haven’t even told Robert.’ She sat down on the log, which served as a chair in the tree house, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress lea
ving dark stains on the green velvet fabric.
‘Here, Bea, use this.’ Cara handed her a handkerchief from her handbag.
‘Thanks.’ Beattie sniffed. Her hands trembled as she took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes and nose.
Cara wanted things to remain as they were. Beattie was her oldest friend, with whom she shared years of memories. If she had a baby it would create a chasm between them, her friend stepping over into a whole new life of marriage and motherhood, leaving her behind.
‘What should I do, Cara?’ Beattie appeared desolate.
Cara felt a rush of panic, sensing Beattie waiting for her to come up with the solution.
‘I’m not sure.’ Cara sat down next to her and held her hand.
‘Do you think Glor might know what to do?’ asked Beattie. ‘She’s older…’ Standing up, she walked to the other side of the tree house.
‘Do you want me to ask Glor?’
Beattie did not reply but slowly turned to face Cara, worry lines set deep into her brow. ‘No, it’s probably best if we don’t tell anyone yet. I need time to think.’
Cara walked over to where Beattie stood. A squirrel scurried along one of the tree’s branches. ‘Look Bea, a squirrel!’ she said, in an effort to cheer up her friend. Usually Beattie tried to lure the squirrels into the tree house when she saw them, but now she didn’t blink an eye.
‘Maybe you should tell your mum,’ suggested Cara.
Beattie looked at her, open-mouthed. ‘My mum?’
Cara considered Mrs Rogers a kind, gentle woman. She found it easy to talk to her. ‘She’ll be able to help you, Bea.’
‘Mum would send me to Aunty Beryl’s until I have the baby and then she’d make me give it up for adoption. She’d be too ashamed about all the gossip in town.’
‘What do you want to do?’
Beattie smiled through her tears. ‘I want to marry Robert.’
Cara saw a spark of hope in Beattie’s apple-green eyes. ‘Are you going to tell Robert?’ she asked, intrigued.
