Memories of the Storm (21 page)

It was Lucy who persuaded Jonah to reconsider his
decision about Lizzie's film event.

'You can't let Lizzie down,' she said firmly, when
he mentioned it on the telephone one evening.
'You simply can't, Jonah. I had no idea you were
contemplating it. It isn't fair to her.'

At the other end of the telephone Jonah sat
slumped on his old sofa, surrounded by sheets of
typescript, newspapers and a plate of half-eaten
pasta.

'It's not just a question of the event,' he said
half irritably. 'It will be very difficult to be at
Michaelgarth without the problem of Hester
coming up.'

'I've been thinking about that,' his mother said. 'I
think that you'll have to go and see her.'

Jonah was silent. The prospect of seeing Hester
filled him with fearfulness. He'd imagined the
scene already – after all, he
was
a scriptwriter – and
had heard her say lightly, 'Well, yes, I suppose
Michael did kill Edward but it was unintentional
and it was all such a long time ago.'

He was appalled by the possibility of having to
witness a detached indifference to his grandfather's
crimes: adultery, murder, cowardice. His mother's
outburst that evening had horrified him, especially
when reviewed in the light of Hester's description
of the fight, and he'd been unable to see any way
forward. He felt that Hester had let him down, that
she wasn't the person he'd grown so fond of, and
the fact that Lucy seemed to be managing better
than he was only made him more wretched. He had
brought this upon her, forced her to open the
terrible wounds and revisit the past, and now he was
ashamed that she was more able to come to terms
with it than he was.

'Jonah?' His mother's voice in his ear was warm
and understanding. 'The point is that we can't just
leave it here. I know how you're feeling but it wasn't
your fault that we started this. I felt the time was
right somehow; the past was forcing itself back into
my consciousness. Oh, I know that I was very upset
that evening when you came here straight from
Hester but some of that was to do with Jerry being
ill and going into hospital. Now that he's back
home and we're coping again I see things slightly
differently.'

'How?' he asked bleakly.

'Well, at the very least we can't pretend that it
hasn't happened. You've been to Bridge House and
met Hester and she's told you stories about your
grandfather and her family. The big stumbling
block is Hester herself. We both feel the same about
her, don't we? We loved her and trusted her, she
got right under our skins, and now we feel that she
betrayed us. Well, OK. Perhaps it's time she knew
how we both feel. I couldn't do much about it sixty
years ago but we can now. I really thought that I
couldn't bear it when you arrived that night and we
talked. And then Jerry being so ill has put doing
anything about it right out of court.' A little pause.
'I know it sounds odd, Jonah, but that original
feeling has come back a bit. The conviction that if I
could only sort out how I feel about the past then
I might have a chance to deal with what Jerry and I
have to face in the future. Poor old Jerry. He's
got excruciating joint and muscle pains and he's
suffering withdrawal symptoms from the extra
steroid treatment but he's being so brave about it.
God, I hate this bloody disease.'

'I'm sorry, Mum. It's hell, isn't it? OK. I'll phone
Lizzie and tell her that I'll do the event. She's got
one of her get-togethers coming up soon; you know
the sort of thing I went to before? All the tutors are
going to Michaelgarth to discuss the shape of the
film event and what they'd like to contribute. I'll go
down and take it from there.'

'Don't think I'm avoiding my own responsibility
here, Jonah.' Lucy's voice was firm. 'The odd thing
was that while Jerry was in such a bad way I was
seized with a terrible anger, a kind of absolute
determination not to give in – or let him give in
either. And, when he was getting better, that anger
remained but it was deflected back towards the past
and I decided then that as soon as Jerry can be left
I shall go down and see Hester.'

Jonah was taken aback. 'Well, if you think you can
handle it . . .'

'I think I have to. If I don't it will haunt me for
ever. Worse than that, it's had such a crippling
effect in certain areas of my life that I'm tired of it.
I can't afford it any more. That anger I felt, watching
Jerry suffering so much, seemed to burn away
all my fear and helplessness. I just want to deal with
it. I can't leave him yet and he's got follow-up
appointments for a few weeks but I don't believe I
shall feel differently when the time comes.'

'And if I should see Hester while I'm at Michaelgarth?'

'Then you must tell her the truth. It won't deflect
me from what I have to do. Put it this way, Jonah: I
feel strongly that this will work out as it should.
I told you I just have some kind of premonition that
it'll be OK. I lost my confidence in it for a while
when things were very black but now I believe that
it's the right thing to do. I know that sounds fey and
weird but I hope you can accept it.'

Jonah was silent, remembering his arrival at
Bridge House and the vision of his grandfather
rushing out into the wild night.

'Yes,' he said, 'yes, I can go with that.'

'Thanks,' she said gratefully. 'And thanks for
being around so much for the last few months.
You've been such a comfort and a help, and we
both truly appreciate it. I'm sorry you've got a lot of
work to catch up on but you mustn't abandon
Lizzie.'

'I know. I was just being cowardly, really, suspecting
that the whole thing might flare up again and
not knowing how to handle it. It's OK now you've
told me how you're feeling about it and I think
you're right. We need to lay a few ghosts. I'll
telephone her now.'

Despite this new confidence he was glad to hear
Piers' voice answering the telephone and saying
that Lizzie was in the shower.

'Could you give her a message? Tell her I'll be
able to manage that meeting after all. I'll phone
later to confirm travel details.'

'She'll be very pleased to hear that.'

Jonah thought he could detect a note of amusement
in Piers' voice but, manlike, neither of them
found it necessary to prolong the conversation.

Jonah went to the fridge and opened a can of
beer. Relieved that the right decision had been
taken, putting aside the prospect of actually seeing
Hester again, he settled back on the sofa, pulled
the pages of script towards him and began to
work.

'But what did he
say
?' cried Lizzie. She'd come
downstairs from her shower, her hair bundled into
a towel, and now stood beside the Aga, holding a
glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Lying on his back in
the old dog basket, all four paws in the air, Lion
stirred at the sound of her voice. She stretched out
her foot, poking his tummy with her toes, and his
tail beat once or twice before he subsided back into
a deep sleep.

'I've told you what he said. That he'd be coming
down to your meeting and that he'd phone nearer
the time to confirm travel details.'

Piers, who was cooking a risotto, stirred the
contents of the pan and then sat down at the table
and picked up his own glass.

'But you could have asked him,' said Lizzie discontentedly.
'You know, why he's changed his mind
and things like that.'

'I thought that you'd probably question him in
due course; give him the third degree. Anyway, I
imagine that it was one of your messages that did
the trick.'

'But I'd hardly started, sweetie.' Lizzie sounded
almost regretful. 'I'd left a message on his answerphone
telling him that I thought he was a miserable
bastard for letting me down, something like that.
And I'd texted something short but to the point.
"Ring me, you rat," I think it was. But the campaign
was hardly under way.'

'Well, he obviously didn't need too much
coercion.'

'Mmm. I'd thought up one or two rather stinging
and offensive remarks,' Lizzie said thoughtfully. 'I
rehearsed them to Clio but she was a bit shocked,
I could tell.'

'She doesn't work in the theatre,' observed Piers.
'The poor girl simply doesn't have the same gift for
invective. She hasn't had your opportunities.'

Lizzie grinned at him. 'True. I'm thrilled really. I
do love Jonah, you know. And now Clio will be able
to find out why he's avoiding Hester. I can't tell you
how glad I am that I've got hold of Clio. There's
more to this film weekend than I'd imagined. She's
fantastic! She thinks of every tiny detail.' She gave a
little sigh. 'I wonder what she'll do, Piers? D'you
think she'll go back to London?'

Piers hesitated for a moment. 'It's odd you
should ask that. I was thinking about her today at
the Rotary lunch. Do you remember Mark Allen,
the lawyer? He was talking about some clients
of his. They're an elderly couple from Norfolk
who've won the lottery and bought a big house in
the Brendon Hills and they're rather out of their
depth. As far as I can gather they're the "if you've
got it flaunt it" sort, but haven't quite got the
confidence to go about fitting out this rather grand
house. What they really need is someone who
could organize decorators and curtains and all
those things but also generally keep an eye on
things until they've sold their bungalow and can
move down. Mark said that they want to give a big
house-warming party and I remember thinking,
They need our Clio. They've asked him if he can
recommend someone who isn't too intimidating to
help them out and I was wondering if it's an area
she ought to explore. After all, there are loads of
people out there who don't have time for the things
they need to get done: organizing events, sourcing
furnishings for hotels, walking dogs, fetching
people from trains, buying presents. You'd think
that Clio would be run off her feet if she just let
it be known that she could provide services like
that.'

'But that's an amazing idea.' Lizzie was gazing at
him, her eyes wide with visions. 'Clio could run her
own business – she'd be brilliant at it. But how do
you start that kind of thing? How does it actually
work? You can't just go round asking people in the
supermarket if they need help.'

Piers sat for a moment, thinking about it. 'She
could advertise, though in my experience that's not
always very successful, and she could put flyers in
the local shops – if she intends to stay around here
– and she'd probably need a website so that anyone
looking for help on the Internet would be directed
to it. Anyway, Clio would be much more clued up
about it than I am; after all, she's been doing this
kind of thing in London, hasn't she? I remember
her telling me about a corporate skiing holiday
she organized and she planned all the hospitality
events for their clients. She's probably got lots of
good contacts if she were to think about going for
it, and I suppose she could use what she's doing
for you as part of her portfolio. Your name
recommending her would certainly attract some
attention.'

'Oh, I see what you mean.' Lizzie was getting the
idea of it now. 'You mean she could talk our event
up a bit? Make it sound quite a big thing?'

'Exactly. But she'd need to find other things
or people to recommend her. Something she's
organized in the past. A party? The skiing holiday?'

He got up to give the risotto another stir while
Lizzie sipped her wine thoughtfully.

'It sounds perfect,' she said. 'How clever of you.'

Piers shrugged. 'Not particularly. It was talking
to Mark that made me think about Clio. It's her
thing, isn't it? The difficulty might be supporting
herself while she gets it up and running. Anyway,
there's no point getting carried away just yet. She
might have something else in mind.'

'I don't think she has. Shall I suggest it to her or
will you?'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' he answered, looking
slightly alarmed. 'I told you, it was just talking to
Mark that gave me the idea. It's a bit much, telling
Clio that I've got her future planned out for her.
You can't go about deciding on how other people
should run their lives.'

'I can. It's brilliant. It would be a terrible waste
not to mention it to her and it's so right for Clio.'
Lizzie put down her glass and went to him, slipping
her arms round him. 'I must go and dry my hair.
How long until we eat?'

He kissed her. 'Ten minutes. Can you warn
Father? He's sitting by the fire in the study reading
the paper. Last time I looked in he was asleep.'

She went away and Piers poured some more
wine. Perhaps he would have another word with
Mark, sound him out a bit more about this couple,
just in case Clio were to be attracted by the idea.

Sitting on the sofa, with Tess curled up beside her,
Lucy stared into the dying fire and wondered if it
had been right to talk Jonah into changing his
mind. She'd been too absorbed in looking after
Jerry to think much about the on-going effect her
reaction had had on Jonah, that night back in early
December, and it hadn't occurred to her that it
would impinge on his work with Lizzie. Lucy could
see the difficulties here but felt very strongly that it
would be wrong for him to back out, not only
because it was unprofessional, but also because
some instinct warned her that both she and Jonah
would be damaged if they continued to allow the
past to remain unchallenged.

A tiny picture formed in Lucy's head: Hester,
down on one knee, stretching out a hand to the
uncertain child who stood clutching her father's
hand and a grey plush rabbit. Now, as she sat
stroking Tess's silky, high-domed head that lay
heavily against her knee, Lucy knew that it was
Hester who remained to be challenged. The more
she considered it, the more it became clear that
only Hester could explain why the four of them
– Hester, Edward, Michael and Eleanor – had
behaved in such a way. Only she was left to direct
some light into that dark corner of the past.

Lucy remembered that sometimes, when she'd
been growing up, she'd had an impulse to say to
a friend's parent or a teacher, 'My father killed
someone and it was all my fault.' The impulse was
often very strong, though she'd never succumbed to
it, and she wondered now if it had been a desire to
see if the other person's reaction would be as
shocked as she'd imagined. She'd seen herself as a
fraud, deceiving her friends and teachers, because
they didn't know the truth about her; wondering
if they'd be so friendly, or if they'd continue to
trust her, if she were to speak out. All the while,
the memory of Eleanor's whispered words – 'Your
father has killed Edward' – and the expression of
shame and defeat on her father's face had continued
to weigh on her mind and her heart, heavy
and dark, along with the terrible guilt that it
had been her fault for breaking the Midsummer
Cushion.

When she'd heard the casual words with which
Hester had explained the accident to the tapestry,
Lucy had felt an instant easing of mind but also
she'd been gripped with anger: anger with herself
for giving in to the foolish superstition inherited
from her mother. To carry that burden for so many
years and then have it described as a simple piece
of misfortune was almost more than she could bear.
Yet she could see now that it could be true, that
the string had worn thin and it had required only
a touch to send the whole thing down; anyone
dusting it might have done it. At the time it had
seemed cataclysmic: she'd touched the Midsummer
Cushion and broken it and something terrible had
happened that had affected them all. The two
events had been welded irrevocably together in
her mind: the breaking of the precious, magical
heirloom had foreshadowed the disintegration of
the family. Even when she was old enough to reason
with herself, to rationalize the events of that night,
at some deeper level the superstitious fear and guilt
remained: by disobeying the rules and destroying
the heirloom she'd been responsible for the
tragedy. This had been her interpretation. Clearly
the tapestry had had no such connotation for
Hester. That much, at least, was a relief.

Pulling Tess's long silky ears, Lucy considered
how she might approach Hester. An invitation had
been issued; it would be simple enough to accept it
– but what then? How should she express her
feelings, how ask the crucial questions? In her
mind's eye Hester was still young; how would she
cope with meeting the elderly woman that Jonah
had described? Lucy shook her head, shifting
forward in her seat so that Tess stirred and looked
at her enquiringly.

'Time to go out,' said Lucy. 'Come on, wake up.'

She let Tess out into the garden and stood at the
back door, shivering a little and thinking about
Jonah. Since that moment in the attic, when he'd
first seen the photograph of Bridge House, he'd
been driven by a fascination to find out more. He'd
longed to know about his grandfather and it was
evident that he'd connected with him very deeply
after that first visit to Hester. Lucy regretted her
outburst – it was cruel that he should be so brutally
disillusioned – yet she simply hadn't been able to
continue to hide the truth, especially when it was
proposed that some kind of screenplay should be
made out of the story. The prospect of it still had
the power to shock Lucy; again and again she
sought for some clue to the way Hester must be
thinking about it all that she should even consider
the idea, let alone encourage Jonah in it.

A thought occurred to her: in dismissing the
breaking of the Midsummer Cushion so lightly,
Hester had actually offered some kind of consolation
and lifted the burden of guilt. Perhaps she
might also be able to shed light on the events that
had followed, making some sense of it all and so
easing some of the pain.

Peering into the darkness for Tess, Lucy
wondered what Hester might possibly say that
could bring comfort. It was easy enough to account
for the affair between Eleanor and Michael: he,
grieving, missing his wife; she, lonely, convinced
her husband was dead. That wasn't the problem. It
was the way they'd behaved that night on the sofa
before Edward had come in, and the way they'd run
out on Hester, leaving her to face the music, even
though she'd encouraged them to go, that was hard
to understand and forgive.

'Why did they behave like that?' she wanted to
ask Hester. 'As if they didn't care if he discovered
them though they must have known it would send
him over the edge into madness. What did Eleanor
mean when she said that something terrible would
happen and it would be my fault? If it hadn't been
for me would they have left Bridge House once they
knew Edward was alive and coming home? Why did
you stop my father going for help and why did you
make him run away once you'd found out Edward
was dead?
Why didn't you write to me?
'

Lucy caught herself up, surprised by this final
question that had come from nowhere. Just briefly
she suffered again the anguish of pain, the sense of
abandonment by the family. Even after her father
had died not one letter or card had come for her,
although they must have guessed where she'd been
sent. No word from Hester or Nanny or Jack. Oh,
how lonely she'd been then. Not until she'd met
Jerry had her sense of rejection and loneliness been
eased. He'd cherished and valued her and now she
had every intention of making herself strong, casting
off fear and guilt, in order to care for him. If
this meant confronting Hester then she would do it
if she could only find the courage. It was one thing
speaking of the intention to Jonah; another thing
to carry it out.

Tess appeared out of the darkness and barged
past her into the kitchen, looking eagerly for her
bedtime biscuit, and Lucy followed her inside and
shut and locked the door behind her.

Jerry was awake, propped up by pillows, reading as
usual; the bed was strewn with newspapers and
books were piled on his bedside table. He smiled at
Lucy, taking off his reading spectacles, glad to see
her. Somehow he derived comfort simply from her
presence.

'I've got a pot of mint tea,' she told him cheerfully,
'and some of those biscuits that you like from
Marks and Spencer.'

She set the tray down on a small wooden table on
castors, putting out mugs and little plates and
making a picnic of it, and he pulled himself higher
up on his pillows with a sense of anticipation. By
rearranging the room, putting a chest of drawers in
the spare bedroom which they now used as a dressing
room, she'd contrived a space where he could
sit comfortably at the table so making a welcome
change from being in bed.

'Did you sleep at all?' she asked, holding his stick
in readiness as he pulled on his dressing-gown and
swung his feet to the floor. She noticed that his
pyjama jacket had the usual patches of dampness
and saw how the rash across his face formed a
butterfly formation over his nose and cheekbones –
and she was seized with fear and compassion. 'I
hope the telephone bell didn't wake you?'

'I was awake,' he admitted, 'but I've had a good
rest. Who was it?'

'It was Jonah.' She pretended not to see the effort
it was for him to walk to the little table, knowing
how he hated to have his pain made a subject of
preoccupation. 'He was talking about going down
to Exmoor to see Lizzie again. He's one of the
tutors at her film event. D'you remember I told you
about it? It sounds such fun. Twenty sixth-formers
are to be selected from schools all over the West
Country to write and act out a half-hour piece of
television, which they have to film and produce
themselves. Lizzie's got a team of professionals to
show them how it's done and the local television has
agreed to show it, if it's up to scratch. Jonah's
getting a script worked out in case they don't have
any ideas to begin with. He sent his love to you.'

'He's been spending too much time down here.'
Jerry's tone implied that he thought Jonah was
making a fuss, though Lucy knew just how much his
son's visits had meant to him. 'I'm glad he's back in
the swing of it.'

'We're lucky that he can be flexible,' she said as
she poured the mint tea from a little flowered pot.
'It's been good that he could come down so often
this last couple of months but you're much better
now, aren't you? I was wondering if we might go out
tomorrow. I could drive us over to Stansted House
for coffee or to Bosham; not too far but just to make
a change. The weather forecast is good and Tess
could have a run somewhere. Do you think you'd
manage it?'

'I'm sure I could.' Jerry took his mug and sipped
gratefully at the clean, sharp-tasting liquid; the
concoction of medication he took each evening
always left a disgusting coating in his mouth and
ruined the flavour of his after-dinner coffee. He ate
some biscuit and watched Lucy's down-turned face;
she looked thoughtful but not overly anxious, so
that was good. He'd always been aware of the
shadow that edged her happiness. He'd been told
by Aunt Mary that it was to do with losing both her
parents in quick succession when she was small.
He'd hoped that it was something she might be
able to cast off as they grew up together but it
had remained present if not visible, rather like
something glimpsed from the corner of your eye,
but which disappeared if you turned to look at it
directly. He wondered if she'd ever actually been
able to do that: to look it in the eye, as it were. Not
that he could ask her. He'd feel a fool and, anyway,
she'd withdraw a bit and pretend that he was
imagining things. But sometimes he'd wanted to –
to ask her if she'd ever tried it because he had the
feeling that if she did then it might prove that
the shadow was simply that: something that would
evaporate if her bright gaze was turned upon
it. Well, something like that. Not that he knew
anything about it except that he wished she'd try it.
Because it held her back, he knew that much. Oh,
she'd struggled with it, he could see that; wrestled
with it, refused to go under with it, but it was as if
she was wrestling with something she couldn't quite
see or understand and so she and the shadow were
unequally matched and she couldn't ever quite cast
it off. It had clipped her wings and stopped her
from flying free – if a shadow could do that. He
wanted her to be free of it – oh, not for himself,
though he knew how much harder she was trying
to overcome the shadow now, ever since he'd
been diagnosed with this filthy disease. He knew
she wanted to be strong and positive, to take the
weight. But it wasn't because of that he wanted it. It
was simply because he'd like to see her flying free,
really free, just once.

She glanced up at him, as if aware of a new
quality in the silence, and briefly, as they stared at
each other, some deep exchange was made. He
smiled at her.

'OK, Luce?' he asked. He'd been asking it at
intervals through the years and it meant variously:
'Are you happy?', 'Just saying hello', 'Is anything
worrying you?, 'I'm sorry about the way things are
at the moment.' He was incapable of speaking
aloud his true feelings but the question symbolized
his love for her.

She decoded it correctly. 'Of course I am. I was
thinking about Jonah going to Exmoor again, and
about Hester.' She straightened her back, as if she'd
made a decision, smiled at him and stood up. 'And
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I'm going to have
a shower. Shan't be long. There's another cup, if
you want it.'

He sat alone, listening to the familiar sounds and
drinking his tea, and for some reason he could not
understand, his heart felt lighter. It was as though
his very real longing for the shadow to be lifted had
communicated itself to her and strengthened her
resolve.