The Memory Box

by Kathryn Hughes

  ‘Hold on a minute, I have to give you something first.’

  He reached behind his back and held out a package wrapped in brown paper and secured with a length of chunky pink wool.

  She fingered the bow, tugging gently to release it. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Open it,’ he beamed.

  She peeled off the paper and stared at the hand-crafted box.

  ‘I made it for you, Jenny,’ he said, eagerly. ‘It’s a jewellery box and one day I’m going to fill it with all the beautiful pieces you deserve.’

  She ran her fingers over the highly polished rosewood, as smooth as a slab of marble. A narrow inlaid border made from seashells framed the initial J carved out in relief.

  ‘Lorcan, it’s exquisite. It must have taken you forever.’

  ‘You’re worth it.’ He opened the box to reveal a red velvet interior with a cream satin-lined lid. ‘There’s a little drawer underneath too,’ he enthused. ‘For all your treasures.’

  ‘Thank you, Lorcan.’ She swallowed the unexpected tears. ‘It’s really special.’

  He jumped up and kissed the top of her head. ‘And so are you.’

  She clutched the jewellery box to her chest as he closed the door. His happiness was all-consuming. She could detect it in his eyes, feel it in the tenderness of his touch as he brushed her hair away from her face. All this lovely boy had ever wanted was to love and cherish her. Nico was gone forever. It could have been something magical, but it wasn’t to be. Even after more than two years she still thought about him every day. He had stirred something in her that Lorcan had never quite been able to manage. But Lorcan was a good man, dependable, loyal and devoted to her. She should count herself lucky. She would grow to love him in time, she was sure of it. Love should be the final goal of a marriage, not a prerequisite.

  The others had left for the chapel, leaving Jenny alone at the kitchen table, a steadying tot of whisky in her hands. The kitchen seemed hollow, as though its beating heart had been ripped out. Her eyes swept across the table, marvelling at the biblical-scale miracle the Evans family had managed to pull off. There were fish-paste finger sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs from their own chickens, and a gloriously rich rabbit and game stew thanks to Lorcan and Louis, who had spent the previous week out in the fields shooting anything that moved. Neighbours had pooled their food coupons, and the resulting wedding cake now took pride of place in the centre of the table. Admittedly, a decorative cover of white cardboard masqueraded as icing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  She could see Louis outside, giving the donkey a final brush as he adjusted the sprig of flowers he’d tucked into her headband. His cast-off suit and serious expression made him look much older than his seven years. He appeared at the kitchen door, his hands behind his back. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he ventured. ‘A present. I made it.’

  She smiled at his eager face, his ears reddening. ‘Bless you, Louis.’

  She held the carving in her hands, turning it over as she marvelled at the smoothly honed and polished wood. Lorcan was obviously a good teacher. ‘You’ve never made this, our Louis?’

  ‘I did,’ he beamed.

  ‘Is this me and you?’

  He nodded, taking the carving off her. ‘The big one is you and the little one is me.’

  Through her tears, she studied the two figures. The larger one had her head bowed and her arms outstretched but joined together at the hands so that they formed a circle into which the smaller figure slotted and nestled against her skirt.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s . . . absolutely . . . I don’t know what to say. You’re so clever.’

  ‘It’s like a jigsaw, but not a flat one. These two pieces can be pulled apart, see, but they’ll always stick back together. Just like us two.’ He demonstrated, holding the little boy carving aloft and leaving the girl with her arms empty.

  She took the carving back and slotted it together again. ‘I’ll treasure it forever, Lou-Lou.’ She held out her hand. ‘Come here.’ She hoisted him onto her knee, her tone serious. ‘I know you’re giving me away, but it doesn’t mean I’m actually going anywhere.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I made the carving. You can pull us apart but we’ll always find our way back to each other where we belong.’

  She pulled him close to her chest, squeezing him hard. ‘I love you, Louis.’ This time she meant every word of what she said.

  He wriggled free. ‘I can’t breathe, Jenny.’

  She blotted her face with her handkerchief. ‘How do I look?’

  Louis tilted his head, studying her blotchy face. ‘Mmm . . . you’ve looked better.’

  She laughed as she headed for the stairs. ‘Just give me five minutes to fix things, and then we’ll be off.’

  She remembered the first journey they’d taken in the donkey cart. Fresh from the evacuation hall, Louis clinging to her legs, snivelling all the way back to the farm and then refusing to jump down by himself. She looked at him now, sitting in the driving seat, his hands expertly working the reins, his voice strong and confident.

  He guided the donkey to a gentle halt outside the chapel. The slight breeze carried the organ music round the churchyard. She brought her bouquet up to her nose and inhaled the fruity warm smell of the honeysuckle. Del had grown the peach and cream-coloured shrub around the front door of Mynydd Farm because it was said to ward off evil spirits. It was also a sign of fidelity and would make the perfect bouquet, she said. The message had been received loud and clear.

  Louis gathered up her veil as she stepped off the cart, leaving her cane behind. She relied on it less and less these days and was determined it would be left out of the wedding pictures. A shortage of film meant they were only permitted to take two photographs of their special day, and she wanted them to be perfect.

  Louis busied himself tying up the donkey, patting her neck and telling her to be a good girl. He produced a carrot from his pocket by way of a bribe. Wiping his hands down his trousers, he turned to Jenny. ‘Ready?’

  She took a breath and nodded. ‘I think so, Louis.’ She crooked her elbow. ‘Here, take my arm.’

  They stood side by side, contemplating the tree-lined path leading to the entrance to the chapel. It was fashioned out of ancient moss-covered gravestones and in wet weather proved rather hazardous underfoot. But today, the September sun shone through the trees, lighting their way as effectively as a street lamp. The pipe organ began a shaky rendition of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.

  ‘Come on then, Louis. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.’

  She brought the veil over her face and took a hesitant step forward. A step further towards the man who loved her unconditionally, the man who would do anything for her.

  As they reached the church door, she felt the shift in atmosphere. From within came murmurs of excitement, a clearing of throats and feet shuffling on the gritty floor. ‘She’s here,’ somebody whispered.

  She looked down at Louis and smiled. ‘Ready?’

  He nodded vigorously, his wide smile confirming he was more than ready.

  Gripping her bouquet, she inhaled a calming breath. There was no turning back now. ‘I’m doing this for us, Lou, for our future.’ She smiled at his eager face. ‘There’ll always be a home for us here now.’

  ‘Will Lorcan be my proper brother then?’

  She gave it some thought, well aware she was stalling for time. ‘Technically he’ll be your brother-in-law, I suppose, but it doesn’t matter what you call him. He loves us both and he’ll take care of us for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘Now come on, they’re all waiting.’

  ‘Jennifer.’

  She froze at the sound of the once-familiar voice.

  ‘Jennifer,’ he said again. ‘Jennifer, it’s me.’

  Slowly she turned around, the blood rushing in her ears. It couldn’t be.

  A slender figure stumbled towards her, his cap clutched in his hands. ‘Jennifer. It’s
me, Nico. I came back . . . just like I promised.’

  36

  ‘Jenny, Jenny, come ON! Everybody’s waiting.’

  She shifted her gaze away from Nico and stared at her little brother, who stood with his hands on his hips, his expression pleading.

  ‘It’s my job to get you in there on time and now everybody’s going to think it’s my fault, but it isn’t my fault, it’s his.’ With as much venom as he could muster, he pointed at Nico.

  ‘Louis, please,’ she begged, her breathless words sounding hollow to her own ears. ‘I can’t go in there now.’

  ‘You have to.’ He jerked his thumb towards the chapel. ‘Lorcan’s waiting for you and you promised you would marry him.’

  ‘I know I did, Lou-Lou. Give me a moment. Everything’s changed now.’

  Nico touched his shoulder, but Louis shook him off. ‘Louis,’ he tried. ‘I did not come here to do this. Jennifer has made her decision to marry Lorcan and I respect that, but I had to come and see her for myself. Not to talk her out of it but to see that she was happy and to give her my blessing. I want her to marry the man she loves.’

  Jenny covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. ‘I don’t love him, though,’ she breathed.

  ‘What did you say?’ Lorcan was silhouetted in the church doorway, his expression darkening as he stepped into the sunlight.

  ‘Lorcan,’ Jenny began. ‘I’m so, so sorry . . .’

  Lorcan pushed up the sleeves of his suit as he strode towards them. ‘Is that . . . is that you, Nico?’

  Nico held his palms up. ‘Yes, but I come in peace, I never wanted any of this.’

  ‘I thought you were dead. Where’ve you been all this time – and why show up today, of all days?’ He lurched towards Nico, grabbing his lapel, breathing into his face. ‘Go away. You’re not welcome here. Get lost.’ He shoved him so hard he stumbled backwards and landed on the grass, then stood over him. ‘Go on. Get out of here.’

  Louis stared from one man to the other, his eyes widening at the unfolding drama. ‘Jenny won’t go into the church, Lorcan. Tell her,’ he implored. ‘Tell her she’s got to marry you.’

  Lorcan unclenched his fists, his rage dissipating only to be replaced by disbelief. ‘Jenny? Is it true? You don’t love me?’

  Words were redundant. The tears sliding down her cheeks said it all. She merely nodded and stared at the ground.

  ‘Why?’ he said incredulously. ‘Because of him?’ He spat out the last word.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lorcan,’ she said again. ‘Believe me, you’ll never know how sorry I am. As long as I live, I’ll always regret the hurt this has caused you, but it would be wrong to marry you when I’m in love with someone else.’

  He brought his palms together as though in prayer. ‘Please, please, Jenny. Don’t do this to me. You love me, you said so.’

  ‘I do love you, Lorcan, in my own way.’ She paused, the pain in his eyes making it difficult for her to carry on. ‘But it’s not enough and it never will be.’

  He collapsed onto his knees. ‘No! How could you do this to me, Jenny? I can’t believe you could be so cruel.’ He looked up, his face twisted with grief. ‘It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life . . . of both our lives.’

  She crouched down beside him, laying her arm across his shoulders. ‘It wouldn’t be right to marry you. I was wrong to think it could work.’

  He shrugged her off, staring at the ground as a teardrop plopped off the tip of his nose. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he whispered. ‘This was supposed to be the beginning of something magical.’ He took hold of her hand. ‘Please,’ he implored. ‘Please don’t do this to me. You will grow to love me in time. I know you will.’

  ‘Come on, Jennifer,’ Nico said. ‘I think perhaps we should go now. Let things settle down.’

  Lorcan struggled to his feet, bunching his fists. ‘Oh, that’s right, run away, typical Eyetie.’

  ‘All right,’ Nico said calmly. ‘I’m going to forgive you for that because I can see you are upset.’ His tone was measured as he pointed his finger in Lorcan’s face. ‘But if you disrespect me or my fellow countrymen again, I promise you, you will regret it.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Lorcan raised his fist, halting it in mid-air as Louis screamed.

  ‘Stop it, stop it now.’ He turned to his sister. ‘This is all your fault. I hate you. I never want to see you again.’ He fled towards the chapel, almost tripping in his haste to get away.

  Lorcan stared at Jenny. ‘I’ll go after him. I can’t bear to be anywhere near you at the moment.’ He made a fist and clamped it to his chest. ‘You may as well have ripped my heart out.’ He stared after Louis’s retreating figure. ‘And there’s no telling whether that little lad will ever forgive you.’

  37

  2019

  I can see Candice is having trouble comprehending my actions. I sometimes find it hard to believe myself what I did.

  ‘But why did you agree to marry someone you didn’t love?’

  ‘I wanted security for our Louis, and I did love Lorcan in a way. But there was no spark, no rush of blood when he entered a room, no shivers when his fingers found mine. He was good-hearted and dependable, though, and he loved me far more than I deserved. He would do anything for us and I knew that if I married him, we’d be cared for and secure for the rest of our lives. I know that sounds selfish now.’ I wait for her to disagree, but she’s still baffled by my actions and doesn’t seem ready to take my side just yet.

  ‘So you thought you’d settle for second best?’

  Her tone is accusatory and yet bewildered at the same time.

  ‘I thought I would learn to love him, but it was like squeezing my feet into shoes that were a size too small. I could just about manage it and the shoes would look and feel good for a time, but by the end of the day my feet were sore and begging for release. Loving someone shouldn’t feel that hard.’

  She ponders this. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘I knew the second I saw Nico in that churchyard that I wasn’t going to go through with my wedding to Lorcan. Nico was a changed person. He seemed vulnerable and worn down. He’d been detained for two years in a camp in Australia even though he’d done nothing wrong. He had no idea that we’d all been told he was missing, presumed drowned. Once he was released, he came back to Penlan, only to find that Lena and Enzo had returned to Italy. He’d written to me several times, but the letters never arrived.’

  Candice shakes her head but says nothing, so I press on, trying to justify myself to her even though I’m not sure why I need to. ‘When I fell into Nico’s arms, he squeezed me so tightly that I knew I was safe and back where I belonged. Back in a place I was always meant to be. Nico was my happy-ever-after, not Lorcan.’

  Candice blows out a gentle breath as realisation dawns. ‘Has this got anything to do with why you’re going to Italy?’

  I take hold of her hand, smooth and unblemished next to my gnarled, liver-spotted one. If only it were possible to live as long as I have without getting old. ‘This’ll be the last trip I ever make, Candice. I’ve put it off for long enough, but there are some things I need to reconcile if I’m to die in peace.’

  ‘I get the feeling it’s more than just a little holiday.’

  I pat her hand. ‘Much more, Candice. Much more.’

  38

  ‘Wow, you look amazing, babe. You sure you’re only going off to work?’

  She turned away from the mirror and looked at Beau sprawled on the bed, his naked body tangled up in the duvet, his eyeliner smudged beneath his eyes. ‘You know I am; stop trying to pick a fight.’

  ‘I’m only joking, Candice. Jeez, you’re so sensitive.’

  She ignored his remark. ‘I’d like to go on the bus if you don’t mind. I don’t want to arrive for my first day all sweaty and out of breath.’

  He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out his wallet. ‘Sure, babe. How much do you need?’

  ‘Erm
, a tenner should do it. I’ll have to get myself some lunch too.’

  ‘Lunch? Christ, Candice, we’re supposed to be saving. Not sure you should be splashing out on lunch.’

  She finished applying her lipstick, taking her time to answer. ‘I need to eat, and it’s hardly splashing out. I’ll probably just get some Cup-a-Soups and a packet of Hobnobs. Should see me through the week.’ She held her arms out. ‘How do I look?’

  He regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘Like a proper beauty therapist. That uniforms suits you.’

  They’d spent ages online going through salon wear before settling on a dusky-pink asymmetrical tunic with navy piping. She would have preferred to make the selection without Beau breathing down her neck, ruling out anything too revealing or too expensive, but at least he was happy with the choice. It was an end-of-line too and a bargain at only fifteen quid, which especially pleased him.

  ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a ten-pound note. ‘Are you sure that’s enough? You don’t need to buy anything else?’

  ‘Really? Do you mean it, because I could do with a new pair of shoes. Look.’ She removed her black slip-on pumps and showed him the holes in both heels. ‘Don’t look very professional, do they? I’d really like to get some more if that’s okay with you. They’re not expensive ones.’

  He took hold of one shoe and prodded at the hole with his finger. ‘You’ve been walking round in these, have you? Don’t your feet get wet in the rain?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I thought—’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something before?’ He laid the shoe down on the bed and took hold of both her hands. ‘It’s your money too, don’t forget. I only look after it because you’re so bad with it, but this . . .’ he picked up the shoe again, ‘this breaks my heart, babe.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Beau.’

  ‘Sorry? What are you sorry for?’

  ‘I . . . um . . . I don’t know really.’

  He squeezed her hands harder. ‘Candice, you need to toughen up. Assert yourself a bit more. If you need more money, just ask for it. I don’t want people thinking I keep you in poverty.’