Memories of the Storm (11 page)

In Litten Terrace, Jonah and Lucy were sitting at
the table: Jonah at one end with Lucy at right
angles to him, facing out into the garden. Jerry
was having his afternoon's rest in bed and Lucy
had waited until now to talk to Jonah about his
visit to Bridge House. So it had often been, Jonah
reflected; this kind of mutual recognition between
them that certain subjects were best avoided until
they were alone together. His father had never
been able to enter easily into the world of the
imagination that Jonah had inhabited from a small
boy upwards. His mother, however, had always
related to his creative needs, taking him seriously,
encouraging him, whilst managing to prevent his
father from feeling excluded.

'So you liked Hester,' she was saying. 'She was
kind to you.'

Jonah watched her. There was a guarded quality
about her, though she clearly wanted to know what
had happened.

'She was brilliant,' he answered warmly. 'She
showed me a photograph of you and her together,
like those ones you've got in the attic.'

He'd decided to be perfectly open with her,
hiding nothing and hoping that this would allow
her to speak freely. Lucy nodded but made no
response, merely sipping her tea thoughtfully, so
he elaborated a little more.

'She was obviously terribly fond of you and of
Michael.' Since he'd been with Hester it seemed
more natural to call him Michael: this man he'd
never met and of whom he knew so little. 'She told
me how he used to stay with them when he was
at Cambridge with Edward. Do you remember
Edward?'

She set her mug down, biting her lips, and he was
aware of a brief reaction of fear.

'Yes,' she said after a moment. 'Yes, I remember
Edward but not terribly well. After all, Jonah, I was
very young, only four when Edward came back.'

Her voice held a note of pleading – as if she were
asking him not to press her too far – yet, at the
same time, he could see that she wanted to talk. It
was she who had introduced the subject, after all.
The creative force within him was always ready to
sacrifice finer feelings if there were a story that
needed to be told but he had no wish to hurt her.

'It's very young, isn't it?' he agreed reflectively. 'I
can't remember much about my life when I was that
age. Before starting school, just a bit, and one or
two people. It's impressions that you remember,
though, isn't it? The feel of things; atmosphere.
Memories of people are much more to do with
the reactions they engendered – fear or joy, for
instance – rather than what they looked like.'

'That's right,' she agreed eagerly. 'When I first
saw Hester I knew that she was what I called a "safe"
person, so was Patricia, but Edward was frightening.
I realized, ages afterwards, that he'd come back
very damaged from the prisoner-of-war camp but at
the time . . .' She shook her head, her eyes wide
with memories. 'His fits of temper were frightening
and his behaviour was extremely odd, although he
rarely took any notice of me. But there was a kind
of turbulence around him: an uncertainty of what
he might do or say. I was afraid of Edward. And of
Eleanor.'

She fell silent and Jonah waited. He didn't want
to disturb the flow of these revelations although he
was anxious to hear the story from her perspective.

'Eleanor,' she went on slowly, 'was rather like an
animal who works from instinct and has no thought
for any kind of human morality. I can see that now.
She was in love with your grandfather and she
wanted him. It didn't matter about Edward or me
or anyone.'

This time the silence was rather longer.

'But you were happy there to begin with?' Jonah
asked gently. 'At Bridge House with Hester and
Nanny and the boys?'

Lucy smiled. 'Nanny.' She repeated the name
affectionately, as if she'd forgotten her until this
moment. 'Nanny was very sensible. She treated me
as if I were a perfectly ordinary little girl who'd had
a bit of a misfortune but wouldn't be allowed to
milk it. She pointed out that the boys' father was at
sea and that they worried all the time that he might
be killed and, since we were all in the same boat, we
must simply get on with it. She was very good for
me. Normality is so important for children. Patricia
spoiled me terribly, she had such a soft heart, but
Nanny kept me straight. Nanny and Jack. Jack was
my friend. I had nightmares, you know. They put
me in a little room next to the boys and Jack used
to come in if I cried out.' She smiled again, rather
sadly. 'I was such a nervous child by then. I was
afraid that Daddy would be taken away too, you see.
I can remember that I was afraid of the dark and of
the old people behind the curtain.'

'What old people?' In his surprise he interrupted
her and she looked at him, her eyes clouded now
with anxiety.

'I'd forgotten so much,' she said rather desperately.
'And now it's beginning to come back to me.
Just lately I can't seem to prevent it but I still can't
decide if it's right to disinter the past or just a form
of self-indulgence.'

'I have this feeling that you think it might be
right,' he said carefully. 'That for some reason the
time has come to face what happened back then.'

'It's to do with your father,' she said at last. 'I feel
frightened when I think of the responsibilities I'm
having to shoulder. I'm not talking about silly
things like paying the bills and remembering the
MOT, but being strong and tough enough to keep
him going through his pain and despair. I panic
easily, especially at three in the morning when I
can't sleep, and I'm beginning to feel that need to
understand myself better so as to be able to cope
with whatever is ahead. It would be easy to say,
"This is me. Don't expect too much," but Jerry
needs a great deal of support and I
want
to give
it to him. All these dreadful drugs are making it
impossible for him simply to grit his teeth and bear
it bravely. There's the terrible depression, for one
thing, which is so unlike him. You can see his fear,
Jonah – you've remarked on it yourself. I don't
want to worry you or to be a burden – you do what
you can for us – but I need to find some extra
strength from somewhere and I have this feeling
that if I could control my own fear then I could help
Jerry more. Fear is such a stupid, disabling emotion
but it comes before you can prepare for it and then
you feel guilty for being unable to conquer it. For a
little while now I've been thinking that if I can't
change myself then I might not be able to help
Jerry when things get really bad. I want to know
why I am instinctively afraid of certain things and I
began to wonder if it's to do with what happened
when I was a child. Then you phoned and said you
were going down to Exmoor and it seemed as if I
were being shown that I was right to be thinking
about the past after all the years of denying it. Even
so, it's not easy to change: perhaps it's not possible.'

Jonah was silent. He was beginning to be anxious
that he was opening Pandora's box and he might
not know how to handle the results. He had an
unshakeable belief, however, that communication
must be a good thing. Lucy was already beginning
to face up to things she'd kept hidden. At least
he could assist her to confront them. Not for her,
though, Hester's methodical, scholarly way of
approach: she needed to be drawn gently along the
path of remembering, exploring byways on the
journey.

'Tell me about the old people behind the
curtain,' he suggested at last. 'Were these people in
your imagination?'

To his relief, she laughed. 'It was the shoes, you
see. There was an alcove in the corner of the room
with a hanging rail and a curtain pulled across to
hide the clothes. Some shoes stood below it so that
it looked as if a row of people were hiding behind
the curtain. I knew there was nobody there, of
course, but when it grew dark I imagined them
standing there, listening. I was afraid that if I made
a noise they'd come out.'

'Did you tell the boys? Jack and Robin, wasn't it?'

'That's right. They were sweet to me when I first
arrived, on their best behaviour because they knew
about Mummy being killed. Hester was there . . .'
She put her elbows on the table, cradling her mug,
looking back almost eagerly into the past, and
suddenly Jonah was able to relax. All was well here,
and, as she talked, describing odd related incidents
and sensations, he could weave Hester's version of
the story with her own as he listened.

'You'll be quite safe here,' Daddy tells Lucy
when they arrive at Bridge House on that sunny
September day in 1944 – and the first person she
sees is Hester. Hester does not immediately rush to
take her in her arms, as Patricia does later on. No,
Hester looks at her steadily and then goes down on
one knee to be at Lucy's own level. She says, 'Hello,
Lucy,' and stretches out her hand to touch Rabbit's
grey ear, smiling at Lucy, so that Lucy suddenly lets
go of Daddy's hand and holds out Rabbit to Hester,
knowing that what her father says is true and that
she feels safe.

Hester takes Rabbit and strokes his soft, plush
ear and says, 'Do you know the Little Grey Rabbit
books?' which surprises Lucy out of her shyness and
fear. She loves Grey Rabbit and Squirrel and Hare,
all living together in their little house.

'Jack and Robin love Little Grey Rabbit too,'
Hester tells her. 'They'll show you their books if you
ask them. Oh, and here they are.'

And two little boys come into the room looking
rather shy and awkward. Lucy is beginning to get
used to the fact that grown-up people behave
differently to her since Mummy died in the bombing.
They speak with hushed voices and say, 'Poor
little mite,' and their children are told to be kind to
her. She hates it: it makes her feel singled out and
even more frightened. So when Nanny comes in
and says matter-of-factly, 'Oh, you've arrived, have
you? That's good. We're just going to have tea but
Jack and Robbie can show you your room first,' she
feels a huge sense of relief: no hushed voice or long
face – just good down-to-earth normality.

'You're in the room next to us,' the bigger boy
says, clattering up the stairs in front of her. 'It's very
small but I like it the best because it's right at the
end of the house. I'm lending you my teddy just for
tonight to make you feel at home but Robbie
wouldn't let you have his. I tried to make him but
he cried and Nanny said it was because he's young
yet.'

Along a corridor, past their bedroom – 'We're in
here but you can look later' – and then she is here
in what is to be her own little room with its narrow
bed and small painted chest. A teddy sits on the
quilt and Jack bounces on the bed, seizing the
teddy and rolling over with him.

She watches him cautiously whilst Robin stares at
her, thumb in mouth, and she feels a sudden,
terrible longing for her mother. The room is cold
and bare, and nothing like her own bedroom at
home in London; even the loan of Jack's teddy
doesn't help to make it seem less strange. Before
she can cry, or run back down the stairs to find her
father, Nanny arrives carrying Lucy's little case.

'Now then,' she says briskly. 'Who will help me
unpack?' and very quickly, helped by both boys,
Lucy's own things are put about the little room. The
pretty frame, with a photograph of Mummy and
Daddy in it, is stood upon the chest along with
Lucy's brush and some little china animals. Her
nightgown is laid on the bed, her few books put on
the shelf and her clothes in the drawers of the
chest.

'Well done,' says Nanny. 'All ship-shape. Now we
shall have some tea. Shall Rabbit sit with Teddy on
your bed, Lucy?' But Lucy shakes her head, staring
up at Nanny pleadingly with Rabbit clutched to her
chest. 'No? Very well, he can come down to tea
today.'

Immediately Jack seizes the teddy bear. 'Teddy
wants some tea,' he shouts. 'He wants to have tea
with Rabbit.' And he races ahead with Teddy, down
the stairs, whilst the others follow more slowly. As
they pass the boys' room, Robin unplugs his thumb
and announces that his teddy would like some tea
too, and Nanny says, 'Very well, just this once, to
welcome Lucy.' She smiles at Lucy as she says it,
and quite suddenly Lucy feels that it might be
possible to be happy here after all, even after
Daddy has gone back to London.

'Can we show Daddy my room?' she asks – and
Nanny says, 'Yes, of course,' but by the time they
get back downstairs there is another person with
her father – not Hester but a dark woman who is
tall, as tall as Daddy, and who smiles widely with a
bright red mouth. Her eyes dart quickly at Lucy
and then back again to Daddy. She looks greedy,
Lucy thinks, rather like a witch who might gobble
her father up. She pats Lucy on the head, as if she
is a dog, and dismisses her.

'That's Aunt Eleanor,' says Jack, dancing Teddy
upon the dining-room table, pretending that he is
drinking Robin's milk. 'She lives with us now that
Uncle Edward is away.'

And, just for a moment, Lucy feels frightened
again: she does not like Eleanor. When Patricia
arrives, however, carrying a plate of bread and
butter, Lucy knows that she has found another safe
person. Patricia puts the plate down quickly and
hurries round the table to give Lucy a hug. For one
terrible moment Lucy fears that Patricia might say
something about Mummy but she doesn't, though
Lucy can see that there are tears in her eyes.
Instinctively, her own eyes begin to fill but Nanny is
at hand, pouring Lucy's milk into a mug with
rabbits on it whilst Jack is shouting to his mother to
look at Rabbit and the teddies having tea together,
and the moment passes.

The other grown-ups come into the dining-room
but even though her father smiles at Lucy and
waggles his fingers at her she can see that he is
much more aware of Eleanor, who hovers close
beside him. Watching him over the rim of her mug,
Lucy feels that he is in some strange way afraid of
Eleanor, yet how can he be? He's a soldier: brave
and strong and fearless. Some instinct forces her
to distract him – to demand his attention – and
she joins with Jack in a noisy game with the toys
whilst Robin laughs and laughs until he chokes and
Nanny has to speak severely to them.

Jack spills his milk over Robin's teddy and, whilst
Robin screams and everyone is mopping up and
talking at once, Daddy comes over to Lucy to
crouch beside her chair and asks if all is well.

She nods. 'Will you come and see my bedroom?'
she asks. 'Jack says it's the best one.' She puts her
arms round his neck possessively, as if in some way
she is protecting him – or herself – from Eleanor's
dark stare, and he strokes her long thick brown hair
and holds her tightly.

'You'll be safe here,' he mutters fiercely, almost
as if he is begging her to agree and not to make a
fuss. 'And I shall come to see you often. You'll be
happier here than with Aunt Mary, won't you?'

And Lucy nods vehemently. It is much better
here, with Jack and Hester and Nanny, than with
Aunt Mary, who is very old and who lives in a house
where things called V-2s are falling and there are so
many things she, Lucy, is not allowed to touch. Yet
she knows that soon her father must go away and a
now-familiar terror seizes her: suppose a bomb kills
him too? Her arms tighten about his neck but
before she can begin to cry, Nanny is saying that
they may all get down and go into the garden where
there is a surprise for Lucy.

With the tears drying on her cheeks she
scrambles down and they all go out together into
the garden. With the river flowing by and the
expanse of green grass it is almost as if she is back
in the park in London but her attention is riveted
by the sight of a little red and cream pram standing
all by itself on the lawn. It is not new but it has been
repainted and polished. Inside, tucked up tidily
under a miniature blanket, is a rag doll.

Lucy stares at it, silent with delight, transfixed by
the attention to detail. It is exactly like a real pram.
Jack is already showing how the hood is raised and
kept in place, and how the brake works, and Robin
has brought Rabbit with him and now tucks him in
beside the dolly. Her father gives Lucy a tiny push.
'Go and try it,' he says, smiling, and she lets go of
his hand and runs across the grass.

'Nanny says that we may take it for a walk along
the river path if you want to,' Jack says. He watches
her eagerly, delighted with her pleasure. 'It used to
be Mummy's when she was little but it's yours now
for keeps. Shall we put the teddies in too? They can
go for a walk as well.'

And when her father comes to kiss her she hardly
notices because she is so busy taking off the fitted
cover so as to put the teddies in at the foot of the
pram; and finally the children with Hester and
Nanny set off along the path between the trees,
headed by Jack on his tricycle.

By the time they arrive back at the house her
father is gone.