Learning to Dance (19 page)

‘He was. He knew about the camps, just like the Hausmanns knew. But he didn’t let it ruin our lives. I was spoiled, Jude. I
was always his star, and if he’d known about Robert it would have killed him.’ More tears poured from her eyes. ‘If only it had been Nat. We would have got married as soon as we could. Everything would have been different.’ Sybil seized the rag and scrubbed at her own eyes fiercely. ‘But of course Nat would never have let it happen.’ She lay back, discarded the rag and closed her eyes. ‘I’m not going to let this spoil anything I’ve got now, Jude. I’ll drink my tea like a good girl, and then I’ll disappear. The bath, the candles, the nightie … may I still borrow your nightie? I’m going to work at this scenario like the Markhams are doing. Too late for babies, but as much time as we’ve got just to be wonderfully happy!’

Judith was taken aback yet again; it was all becoming much too complicated. She said, ‘I’ve got it here.’ She put the bag with the nightie in it next to Sybil, who clutched it to her as if for comfort. ‘Will you be all right?’ she went on. ‘I’ve never seen you like this. Should I come with you? What about Hausmann?’

‘You deal with him. You know the truth now. Hear what he has to say and pack him off to Irena. Let her look after him. He’s paying through the nose for his board and lodging, but that’s up to him.’ Sybil opened her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll be all right, Jude. But I don’t really want Nat knowing about this – is that unreasonable?’

‘Of course it’s not unreasonable. As I said, let it go. It’s the only way.’

‘You’re right.’ Sybil struggled into a sitting position. ‘Listen, I’ll go now. The sight of Robert might start me off again, and I need to compose myself before Nat arrives.’

‘But if Robert is here, then surely Nathaniel is, too?’

‘No. Apparently, Robert’s got his motorbike. He and Nat
used it last night to get to Porlock, and he took a taxi there from Taunton, drove it to the inn, walked to the castle, then went round the base and into the orangery.’

‘Thank goodness the Markhams weren’t there!’

‘It would have done him good. He thinks he owns the place.’

Judith nearly pointed out that in fact he did. She picked up the discarded rag and put it back on the newspaper. Sybil hoisted herself up, still clutching the bag.

‘Thanks, Jude. I’m so glad you turned up when you did. I’ll see you at dinner, OK?’

‘Of course. Good luck. Though you don’t need it, not now.’

Sybil smiled and tugged at the doors just as Hausmann pushed them from the other side. She rubbed her shoulder. ‘I think I need all the luck I can get,’ she called back, and passed Hausmann without a word.

He was carrying a tray of tea things and staggered down the gallery. Judith went to meet him and took the thermos jug off the tray. He stood there looking helpless. She put a hand beneath his elbow and shepherded him to the sofa. He was definitely trembling.

She said in her most matter-of-fact voice, ‘The tea was for Sybil, of course, and she has gone. She’s going to wait for Nathaniel. Everything will be all right, Robert. Sybil is not Esmée any longer. She has had nearly thirty years with a dynamic husband; whether you approved of him or not, you can see she adored him. Now she is facing the fact that she is in love again – probably always has been – with someone completely different. And the past comes up and hits her in the face.’ Judith made a little face at him. ‘Remember, she really
is
a widow! Half of her is still grieving.’

He had collapsed on to the sofa. He looked broken in some way. She busied herself with the thermos.

He spoke at last. ‘She was sixteen, Jude. And her father – she was everything to him – why didn’t he come after me and whip the hide off me?’

‘Because she never told him – and anyway you weren’t much older than Sybil.’ She held a mug of tea beneath his nose. ‘Breathe in. Close your eyes and breathe out slowly and let it all go. And again. Keep going.’ She moved the mug then put it back again. ‘You couldn’t really have married and settled down to what you thought was an idyllic way of life. You’re a painter with a mission, Robert Hausmann!’ She lowered the mug of tea. ‘Now drink the tea. Slowly. Another sip.’ He choked. ‘Hold the mug, Robert. I’m going to drown you!’

He took the mug from her, gave her the slightest of smiles, and sipped again. He was no longer trembling. She went to the tray, sat cross-legged, filled another cup, inhaled the steam and then drank.

A wonderful silence settled over the gallery, as soft as a blanket. She lifted her gaze and looked at the painting facing her. It was one of the Hausmann pastoral landscapes: a shallow river winding through fields of buttercups, a low bridge, a herd of cows being taken in for the evening milking. It was as different from the river of gold tumbling from the watershed of Exmoor as chalk and cheese, yet it rang just as true. And it was familiar. She had seen that wide shallow river before, running so gently along the flat lands of … somewhere. She looked over her shoulder to ask Hausmann. He was asleep, completely relaxed – sprawled – across the sofa, the mug, luckily empty, dangling from one finger.

She smiled, uncrossed her legs and crawled over to the
saucers of paint on that day’s copy of the
Magnet
. She tidied everything on to the tray without disturbing the wonderful silence. Then she crawled to the end of the sofa and used it as a back-rest. She closed her eyes. She had told Hausmann to ‘let it go’, and Jack had very much said the same to her. It might well have been a plea to let him – her dear Jack – go. Could she ever do that?

She must have slept, simply because she woke when Hausmann gave a loud grunt and sat up. He said, ‘Jude – where are you? Oh, there you are. Time we were going.’

She was still relaxed; there was no more lightning, though an almost constant rumbling echoed through the sound of the wind and had to be thunder somewhere.

The sofa seemed to be moving at her back as Hausmann made terrific efforts to get out of it. She tried to get up herself, and, momentarily stuck, looked up and saw the painting again.

‘It’s the River Leadon. Of course it is! On the edge of the Forest of Dean.’ She was filled with sudden joy. ‘We went there. With the boys … they paddled … they loved it. Jack had an uncle living nearby … dead now.’ She twisted her body and smiled up at Hausmann. ‘Jack’s not dead. Nobody else is dead. And you and Nathaniel rescued your friends, and you are heroes!’

He actually chuckled, then he leaned forward and ruffled her hair. ‘You are so like he described. Yet he said he couldn’t get you on paper.’

She struggled to stand up. ‘Are you talking about Jack now? He didn’t describe me, did he? That’s the trouble, Hausmann. The woman he described was the one he loved. That’s the nub of it all, the heart of the matter, the—’

‘Have you been drinking, Jude?’

‘Tea. Lots and lots of tea.’

‘And you haven’t told anyone else about your dream?’

‘I’d almost forgotten about the dream. But I realized afterwards that Len would have let me know if Jack was ill … or worse.’ She sighed. ‘Nobody knows.’

‘I gathered as much. You’ve made rather a hit with my sister-in-law on the strength of your widowhood.’ He tried to grin, but could not quite make it.

She picked up the loaded tray and balanced it on her hip. ‘Never mind that. Tell me what happened last night. I know you’ve got a cottage on Lundy, and that you let two friends have it – both artists, I gather – and one of them became ill, and you and Nathaniel went over before the storm hit and rescued them. You might as well tell me. You’re going to be pestered with questions throughout dinner.’

‘No one knows I’m here, except you and Esmée. I’m driving back to Taunton now.’ He leaned forward and stood up with some difficulty. ‘It’s just … I’m hoping you will come back to Taunton with me, Jude.’ He sighed deeply. ‘It’s such a mess. It was going to be the best project I’d ever launched. And it went wrong.’ He took the tray from her and put it on the sofa, then straightened again; it looked difficult, but at least he was no longer shaking. ‘When Jack phoned me on Friday, I should have told him to go straight to one of the Bristol hospitals. But I’d met you on Thursday night – well, the early hours of Friday morning, I suppose – and it seemed as if … as if … it was all being planned somehow. And then there was Lundy.’

He paused and looked at her. She was staring at him, her level of concentration hitting a peak.

She whispered, ‘What do you mean? Jack? Lundy? What are you saying?’

He moved to the window, opaque with rain, and she could see him breathing deeply again.

He said, ‘I bought a stable on Lundy about ten years ago. I have made it into a home. Unconventional, but a home nevertheless. I’d been there often and always felt well. Because of the Gulf Stream it has a milder climate than on the mainland and a reputation for curing breathing problems – hay fever, asthma, bronchitis – that’s what Jack thought he had, bronchitis. It has helped me …’ He glanced round at her. ‘Though Irena would tell you nothing will help until I give up smoking!’ He registered her agonized expression and turned away quickly. ‘When Jack phoned me he said he had a bad chest, and was the cottage empty? He and Matt were at home in Bristol, but you weren’t there, and he had no idea where you were.’

He paused again, and Judith breathed, ‘It was Jack. I knew it was him. He’s the only one who would have a key to the house.’

Hausmann nodded. ‘I think it was Matthew who telephoned. He asked me for the number when we were in touch.’ He straightened, pulled back his shoulders. ‘I couldn’t fetch them on that Friday – we were all meeting in the gallery. But you and Esmée were going off to Lynmouth the next day, and the next tour wasn’t until the afternoon, so I drove Bart’s car and picked them up, came back to Porlock, took the two of them over to the cottage, and asked the farmer’s wife – Kitty Davies – to keep an eye. Got back late for the Saturday tour, and you know the rest.’

She cried out then, ‘You knew! All the time you knew he wasn’t dead … you could have told me … oh my God! I thought we were friends! I trusted you!’

‘I know … I know. I’m sorry, Jude. I was going to tell you
that Friday. I tried to get you to talk to me then. But I had second thoughts. I had to be sure you felt something for him, and then he asked me not to tell you he was on Lundy. What could I do?’

She stared at him, remembered his change of mood. But her voice was still angry. ‘All right. But part of it was this confrontational thing, wasn’t it? Letting me think he’s gone for ever: no Jack in this world. And then, when I discovered he was alive, everything would fall into place. Was that the cunning plan?’

He said, ‘I didn’t know what the hell to do, frankly. I felt that the sheer coincidence of you and Jack being in such close proximity, must mean … something. The trouble with coincidence is that you’re not really in charge any more. Jack’s condition worsened during that Sunday, and by the time we got back from our trek I found half-a-dozen messages on my phone. And the weather forecasts were all dire.’

He sighed sharply and turned his back on the window. ‘I know about Lundy. Sometimes it is cut off from the mainland in spite of all our wonderful rescue services. Landing from the sea can be impossible. And if there’s rain being driven by that wind, helicopters would be blown out of the sky. I waited until everyone had gone to bed, then told Nat the whole story.’ He spread his arms, as if in surrender. ‘I didn’t ask him to come – he insisted. I haven’t lied to you, Jude, whatever Sybil says. Nat knew I would not be able to manage the boat without a crew, and in the end I agreed. He could have drowned. Jack and Matthew, too. But if I hadn’t gone, Jude, Jack would be dead now. And he’s going to be all right. He looks pretty ghastly, but the doctor assured us that he will recover very quickly.’ He stayed where he was, waiting.

She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘I don’t want your thanks, Jude. I want … I need … your forgiveness. I should have told Matthew to take Jack to the hospital … it’s so obvious now.’

She could not look at him. ‘I forgive you for trying to … repair things.’

‘Well, then …’

She raised her head and looked at him. He opened his arms. And she went into them, put her own arms around him, and hung on as if the wind could somehow destroy the castle walls and tear them into the drumming rain.

He held her close, so that the suppressed tears came to nothing. After a while he put his face against the top of her head and said, ‘Why did you tell Esmée I was gay? Were you trying to keep me safe from her? Or was it the other way round?’

‘You said you loved Jack. You said it three times, I think.’ Her face was pressed against his oiled wool sweater; it muffled her voice.

‘You think that men cannot love each other unless they are gay?’

She sobbed just once. ‘I don’t know anything any more.’

‘Neither do I. We’re lost at sea, Jude. We’re going to a mooring now. Perhaps we’ll find an anchorage.’

She lifted her head. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked fearfully.

He kissed her, slowly and carefully. Then he smiled and said, ‘Jack keeps asking for you. My bike is in the car park. I’m here to take you to Musgrove Park Hospital. In Taunton.’

She said foolishly, ‘Everyone thinks I’m a widow.’

‘Nat will explain.’

She pushed at his sweater gently and stood free. ‘I must tell them. Sybil. And Irena. It’s the least I can do.’ She made a
face and felt her chin quiver. ‘I thought Sybil and I … never mind.’

‘You’ll have Jack. He needs you, Jude.’ He went to the sofa and pulled a bag from behind one of the cushions. ‘He said if you refused to see him, would I bring this back with me.’ He shook the bag and her nightdress fell on to the sofa.

She stared at it. ‘You told him about that first night? When I locked myself out of my room and you were sick?’

‘I told him. I had to tell him, Jude. I love him. Remember? And you – well – I love you, too. It started then. That bloody nightie has got a lot to answer for.’

She picked it up and rolled it back into the bag. ‘I’ll take it. I’ll pack a few things, stay with Jack.’ She tucked it under her arm, and picked up the tray. ‘You can come back here and take charge – it’s your castle, Robert.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Give me ten minutes to talk to Sybil. All right?’