Unexpected Blessings

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

Glynnis stiffened next to him. ‘What life? What do you mean?’

  He recognized that flash of jealousy he had been so familiar with in the past. ‘Oh God, no, Glynnis! I didn’t mean what you think! Not that kind of life, not other women. There are no women…just you. My one true love.’ He looked down at Glynnis. ‘She never interferes, gives me the freedom to pursue my politics.’

  ‘I’m glad she does. Because that’s what you always wanted. To be a politician, a Member of Parliament. I think you might even want to be Prime Minister one day.’

  ‘I want you, Glynnis,’ he shot back.

  ‘Oh Robin, darling, don’t. We’re both settled, married.’

  ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘I want you always in my arms. It’s such a relief to be with you. I can say anything I want to you, anything at all, and I can be myself. No pretence. I don’t feel that with anyone else but you.’

  ‘I feel the same. I know whatever I say, you won’t be shocked.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he suddenly asked.

  ‘No. You?’

  He shook his head. ‘Where’s…our son?’

  ‘My cousin Gwyneth took him to the Tower of London. He’s been longing to go, and thankfully she was free to take him…so I could come to you.’

  ‘I’m glad you did…come to me,’ he murmured. ‘I can hardly bear the thought that you have to leave, go back to the States.’

  There was no response from her.

  Robin said, ‘I want to see Owen again…can I, darling?’

  ‘I don’t think you should, Robin. But only because he’s such a little chatterbox. He might say something to Richard, mention your name. He’s sort of fallen for you.’

  This brought a smile to his face. He said, ‘But Richard knows you know me, we all knew each other when we used to go to my mother’s canteen for the troops. I know the boy’s my look-alike, but Richard might not put two and two together.’

  ‘He just might.’

  Robin smiled at her. ‘Yes, you’re right. I think it’s best to be careful. I want to see you tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after that. Every day whilst you’re here.’

  Glynnis looked stunned. ‘Robin, I don’t know–there’s Owen.’

  ‘Try to arrange it, my darling. Please. How long do we have today?’

  He sounded unexpectedly desperate, and she glanced at him. ‘Until six. I must get back by six-thirty. Gwyneth and her husband are coming to dinner with me tonight. She’ll go back to the hotel around five to wait for me. She has my room key.’

  ‘Talking of keys, please keep that latchkey for this house. It’ll make me feel better, knowing you have it.’

  ‘If you’re sure…I mean what–’

  ‘Oh I’m sure all right,’ he exclaimed. ‘Come to me. Let me hold you the way I used to.’ Robin wrapped his body around hers. ‘This is what I’ve missed all these years, being entwined with the only woman I’ve ever loved.’

  She smiled against his arm. ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘And I you, Glynnis.’ He touched her mouth with his fingertips, kissed her, closing his eyes as he did. A moment later he was fondling her breasts, and their lovemaking started all over again; and so it went for most of the afternoon.

  It was one of those lovely balmy evenings in the middle of June. The sky was a soft pale blue, filled with puffy white clouds scudding along the horizon. Although the sun had set some time ago the evening sky had a wonderful shimmering clarity, and the Thames reflected that light, had a glassy sheen to it as it flowed along.

  Robin Ainsley took in all this as he stood on the terrace of the House of Commons, staring down the river towards Big Ben. He often came to the terrace in the summer for tea with a colleague or special guests. But he loved it most at this time of day in the summer months. There was a feeling of tranquillity and peace out here. It was a view that he treasured, the ancient river going down to the sea. Seen from this great seat of power, it seemed so very special.

  Robin leaned against the balustrade, his mind awash with so many diverse thoughts: Glynnis. The woman he loved and wanted to keep forever in his life. Their son: Owen. A most blessed little boy, so very much like him, and even more so than his other son, Jonathan.

  More than anything else Robin wanted to spend time with Owen, a miniature replica of himself, but he could not. Glynnis would not permit it. There was nothing he could do: he knew he had relinquished any rights he had to the boy before he was even born.

  In his mind’s eye he saw them both…

  Glynnis, lithe, beautiful, the epitome of glamour, but without any personal vanity, soft and gentle. There was not one ounce of hardness in her. A warm and loving woman who loved him as much as he loved her. How easy it was to picture her in the blue dress, walking towards him, holding Owen’s hand, the boy in his short, grey trousers and white summer shirt, both of them smiling, so happy to see him.

  Oh God, what was he going to do about her? How could he ever let her go?

  And then there was Valerie: his wife. So devoted to him, a calm, caring woman who loved him, but was not in love with him, just as he was not in love with her. And yet she would be devastated if he left her and their small son, because her life revolved around him and his political career.

  Robin was riddled with guilt about Valerie: yet, oddly enough, not at all about his involvement with Glynnis. What Valerie didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, that was what he believed. His guilt sprang from the plans he was formulating in his head. Plans for a divorce. But then there was Richard Hughes. Would Glynnis agree to divorce Richard in order to come to him? He didn’t know the answer to that; he was on the horns of a dilemma.

  Who could he talk to? No one. Not his siblings, not even Edwina, to whom he was especially close. His mother? She would listen attentively and be sympathetic, but inevitably Emma would disapprove. Although she had lived with Paul McGill for sixteen years until his death, and he a married man, Paul had been separated from his wife long before he had ever met Emma. And there had been no divorce from Constance McGill because she was Roman Catholic. She had always refused to give Paul his freedom.

  Robin knew Emma so well, and he could hear her telling him that it was not possible to build one’s happiness on the unhappiness of another. That would be her attitude, and he knew she was right.

  Suddenly tears welled, and Robin brushed his eyes quickly, glanced around, relieved to see the terrace was empty but for himself. Quite suddenly, anger rushed through him. Here he was, a grown man of thirty, weeping about a woman! Here on the terrace of the House of Commons, the place of his dreams, the place where he belonged, the place that was his whole life.

  How ridiculous he was being. Grow up, he chastised himself, anger still flaring inside. You let her go in 1943. You should have married her then.

  Big Ben struck six, and he turned away, left the terrace, hurried to his office in the House.

  In an hour he would go to Edwina’s mews cottage in Belgravia, and wait for Glynnis. She had taken Owen to Wales for the past weekend, and was leaving him there so he could spend a few days with his grandparents…before they left for the States.

  His heart lifted. She would come to him soon, straight from the railway station. They had the whole evening ahead of them. They would be alone.

  Robin was in the kitchen making himself a drink when he heard the door close, and he hurried out, rushed to Glynnis. She stood in the doorway, her suitcase at her feet, a wide smile on her lovely face.

  ‘Darling,’ he exclaimed, his face lighting up. ‘You got here sooner than I expected.’

  ‘I took an earlier train,’ Glynnis replied, her smile widening. ‘I just had to get back to you, Robin.’

  ‘I’m irresistible, I’m fully aware of that,’ he laughed.

  ‘And so modest,’ she quipped, walking into his arms, holding onto him tightly, filled with such overwhelming happiness she thought she would burst.

  After a moment locked in their embrace,
they stood apart, linked arms and went into the kitchen. Robin fixed her a gin and tonic, and they returned to the living room, sat down on the sofa together.

  ‘Cheers, my sweet,’ he murmured, clinking his glass against hers, relieved she was here with him. He was brimming with love for her.

  ‘Cheers,’ she answered, and took a sip of her drink.

  ‘Tell me about your weekend in the Rhondda.’ Robin’s eyes were fixed on her face. ‘Did Owen enjoy himself?’

  Glynnis laughed, her bright blue eyes sparkling. ‘Yes, with his cousins, my brothers’ children. As I told you, Dylan has two sons, and Emlyn a girl. They’re all a bit rambunctious, I’m afraid, but a good time was had by all, to quote Tiny Tim.’

  Robin smiled, touched her arm lightly, lovingly. ‘That makes me happy, knowing he’s having a good time. And what did my darling girl do?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing much. Visited family, helped my mother with her chores, did the shopping for her, and thought about you. Constantly.’

  ‘Likewise. You’re rarely out of my thoughts.’

  She nodded. ‘Did you go to Yorkshire?’

  ‘Yes, I went to Leeds. It’s important to get back to my constituency whenever I can.’ Putting his glass of scotch on the coffee table, he turned to her, took her drink from her, stood it next to his. And then he leaned closer, put his arms around her, kissed her passionately. She responded with equal passion, and after a moment, when they pulled away, he touched her face gently. He said in a low voice, ‘Let’s go upstairs. I want you so much.’

  ‘I know, and I want you, Robin. I feel exactly the same.’ She gave him a very direct look. ‘But I want to talk to you for a moment. Let’s talk first.’

  Her seriousness, the sudden severe expression striking her mouth, brought him up short. ‘This sounds like bad news…’

  ‘Not bad news, Robin. Just a little bit of reality.’ Taking his hand in hers, she said slowly, ‘I know that you know how much I love you, more than anyone else in the world except for our child. I’ve always loved you, and marrying Richard didn’t change that. You do know this, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, and for the last few weeks I’ve been telling you the same thing.’ His face changed, became sad. ‘I made the worst mistake of my life when I let you go…and now I want you back. For always.’

  ‘Listen to me. Because I do love you as much as I do, with all my heart, I’m not going to let you ruin your political career because of me.’

  ‘Getting a divorce is not going to ruin it. This is 1950, don’t forget that.’

  ‘I know what year it is, and perhaps you’re right. But what if there’s a scandal? What if I get dragged into it…by Valerie? I think she’d fight you, if you attempted to divorce her. I’m a woman, so I know women, and we can fight dirty if there’s a lot at stake. And what’s at stake for her is you, your lifestyle, and your money.’

  ‘How could you be brought into it?’ he protested instantly, fearful of where this conversation was leading. He couldn’t bear to lose her and he was determined to keep her. No matter at what cost.

  Glynnis was silent for a moment or two, and then she said softly, speaking with great care, ‘I know what being a Member of Parliament means to you. I’ve always known. And actually you married Valerie because you thought she would make a better political wife than me, a better wife for an ambitious politician like you.’

  ‘I won’t deny that entirely,’ Robin answered quickly. ‘But it’s not all true. Let’s not forget that we agreed to split up. We were both crazy, not only crazy in love, but crazy kids. We were too volatile together, Glynnis. Please don’t deny that.’

  ‘I don’t. You’re right. We would have been disaster together in those days.’

  ‘And now we’re older. We’re thirty years old. We’ve matured. We were stupid kids then, living through a world war. It could work now.’

  Ignoring his last comment, she said, ‘I know all this, we keep repeating it. Please let’s not quarrel about what happened when we were in our early twenties. That’s long gone, and–’

  ‘I can’t stand not being with you. I can’t face that, Glynnis. I simply cannot.’ An ineffable sorrow struck his handsome face, and his blue eyes turned bleak.

  ‘Neither can I. But I will not permit you to ruin your career for me. You’re a young, very go-ahead MP…Your constituents love you, you’re highly popular and successful. There’s serious talk that you could be Prime Minister one day. You have an important life ahead, a big life to live. I won’t let you change your life, Robin. I will not have that on my conscience.’

  ‘Glynnis, honestly–’

  She interrupted him. ‘I have an idea, a plan…’

  ‘Tell me.’

  She did.

  He listened, let her say everything that was on her mind, and when she had finally finished, he shook his head. ‘I don’t know…I don’t know if it could work…Anyway, that’s not what I want, darling, not what I want at all.’

  ‘Neither do I. It’s a compromise. But I haven’t been able to think of anything better. Not yet.’

  He did not answer her.

  She stood up, offered him her hand. ‘Come upstairs, Robin, let’s go and make love. Let’s seal our bargain with a kiss.’

  It seemed to Glynnis that tonight their lovemaking was not only more passionate than usual, but that it had a certain frenzy about it. And she knew that this was because she was leaving at the end of the week. Since they were both extremely conscious of her imminent departure, they were desperate to be together, and they clutched at each other more fervently than ever, devoured each other with a sexual need that was voracious.

  She clung to him tightly, her hands moving down his back, up into his thick dark hair and the nape of his neck as she murmured his name, her voice urgent with her desire and her need for him. And she moved with him rhythmically, her legs high around him, her head thrown back in pleasure, and when he convulsed, coming to a climax, so did she.

  As if never to let him go she held him in her arms until the light in the room dimmed and all went black.

  Much later, as they lay together, their urgent need for each other slaked for the present, Glynnis flung one arm over his body and lay her head on his chest. His hand moved into her hair, but they said nothing, just lay there together, lost in their own myriad thoughts.

  She contemplated their conversation of a short while before, and she was aware she had averted disaster, stopped him in his tracks, had at least delayed the idea of him leaving his wife, getting a divorce.

  Sudden tears slid down her cheeks, fell onto his chest, and he moved at once, sat up, filled with alarm.

  ‘Darling, what is it? What’s wrong?’ Worry ringed his face.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, smiling at him through her tears.

  ‘Why are you crying then?’

  ‘I’m missing you already,’ she whispered.

  ‘But it’s just au revoir.’ She was silent.

  ‘You are coming back to me, aren’t you?’ Robin asked in a low, concerned voice. ‘Promise me, Glynnis.’

  ‘I promise,’ she answered, wondering if she would have to break it.

  PART THREE

  Angels Singing

  Winter 2001

  The world in solemn stillness lay

  To hear the angels sing.

  ‘That Glorious Song of Old’:

  EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS (1850)

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  It was Saturday, December the first, and in a short while Linnet O’Neill would go to the church in the village of Pennistone Royal, on the arm of her father Shane. And it was there she would marry her childhood sweetheart, Julian Kallinski. And with their nuptials the three clans of the Hartes, the O’Neills and the Kallinskis would finally be fully united in marriage.

  Now, Linnet stood in the middle of her bedroom at Pennistone Royal, wearing her wedding gown. She thought it was the most wonderful creation, made of cream-coloured heavy Duchesse satin, cr
eam-coloured Guipure lace, and thousands and thousands of tiny pearls and crystal beads.

  Evan had designed the gown, and she stood staring at Linnet. Her head was on one side, and she was studying the gown intently, her eyes taking in every detail, looking for last-minute flaws, tiny things she might have missed earlier in the week, when the dress had finally arrived from the seamstresses. But she could find nothing amiss, and after a few more seconds of intensive scrutiny she finally announced: ‘There’s not a thing wrong! It’s just perfection on you, Linnet, even though I do say so myself. You look like a dream in it.’

  Linnet’s sister, Emsie, who was also in the bedroom, exclaimed, ‘Evan’s right, Linny. I’ve never seen you look like this. Not ever. Julian’s going to fall in love with you all over again.’

  ‘He’d better,’ Linnet said with a chuckle. ‘Thank you both for your compliments. And Evan, thanks for designing my gown. And the bridesmaids’ dresses, and for everything else you’ve created for the wedding. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’

  ‘You’re welcome, it’s been my pleasure,’ Evan replied. Moving across the floor, she took hold of Linnet’s hand, and carefully led her over to the cheval mirror in the corner near the window. ‘There! Just look at yourself.’

  Linnet stepped in front of the mirror and caught her breath. She’d never seen herself looking so…fantastic. It was the gown, of course. Evan had adapted the Tudor style to suit her, and how well it worked. Although Linnet was of medium height, the gown made her look taller, and very elegant. Yet there was a youthfulness to it, because of the cut, the tight bodice, the sheer romance of it.

  The dress had a square medieval neckline that cleverly came right to the middle of her shoulders, so that they were shown to advantage. The sleeves started narrow but became very wide bells, almost like kimono sleeves, while the skirt was also bell-shaped and fell into a longish train at the back. The bodice above was extremely tight, moulded to Linnet’s slender figure, so that it gave her a very narrow waist.