Memories of the Storm (23 page)

All day she'd been waiting. Ever since Clio had
gone off to Michaelgarth, knowing that she was to
pick Jonah up later that afternoon, Hester had
been waiting. She'd guessed that Clio would broach
the subject of his silence and all day she'd been
wondering how he would react, what he might say.
She'd been unable to settle to any work but had
roamed through the house, into the garden and the
wood, and then back again, stalked by a puzzled St
Francis. Picking things up and putting them down
again, unable to eat or concentrate, she'd stared
out of windows, smoothed cushions, her mind
distracted.

She was standing on the terrace when the car
drove over the bridge and pulled up. Jonah
climbed out and stood for a moment, looking at
her. She instinctively raised her hand in greeting
and then let it drop, her heart hammering painfully
in her side, unable to move forward. It was Clio who
came round the car and led Jonah in through
the little gate on to the terrace. Hester could only
gaze anxiously at him, trying to read his face,
puzzled by the almost elated expression she saw
there. He came to her and took her hand in his,
and she grasped it eagerly, gratefully, still staring
up at him.

'Jonah.' She spoke his name tentatively – and
then Clio was there, taking her other arm and
leading her into the house, through the drawingroom
and on into the book-room where the fire
burned, comforting and steady. Hester and Jonah
stood facing each other on the hearthrug whilst
Clio remained near the door, watching.

'Clio told me something amazing.' He was still
holding Hester's hand. 'She told me that Edward
didn't die.'

Hester frowned, puzzled. 'Didn't die?'

By the door Clio shifted, ready to put in a word
of clarification, but Jonah spoke again.

'Not then. Not when they fought. She says that
Michael didn't kill Edward.'

'
Kill
him?' Hester was surprised into an expression
that was almost amusement. 'Of course he
didn't kill him. Edward died over two years later
from pneumonia. Who said Michael killed him?'

Jonah heaved a great breath. 'Mother did. She
believed that Michael killed Edward and then ran
away.'

'
Lucy
said that?' Hester stared at him. 'But why on
earth should she imagine such a thing? She didn't
even know about the fight. She was in bed.'

'No,' said Jonah. He let go of Hester's hand and
gently pushed her into the armchair beside the
fire. He sat opposite, leaning forward, arms on
his knees, hands lightly linked together. 'No, she
wasn't in bed. She couldn't sleep that night because
of the storm, so she got up and went into your
bedroom. She said the light was on and that she
hoped you might be persuaded to read her a story.
You weren't there but she got up on the little stool
to look at the Midsummer Cushion.' He paused.
'Can you guess what happened next?'

Hester, sitting forward, studied him through
half-closed eyes, her face strained and anxious, as if
she believed this might be a test question that it was
crucial she should answer correctly. Suddenly her
face relaxed and she smiled sadly.

'Ah, poor Lucy. She reached up to touch the
Midsummer Cushion and the string broke and
it fell to the ground. Poor little girl, poor Lucy.
What a shock that must have been. She loved it so
much. And so that's why she asked you to ask me
the question? "What happened to the Midsummer
Cushion?"'

Jonah nodded. 'It haunted her, you see. She
lost her balance and reached out to clutch at
something to save her. It crashed down to the floor
and immediately afterwards there was the fight
and she thought that it was all her fault. She'd been
told that if it broke something terrible would
happen.'

'That was simply a family superstition.' Hester
dismissed the notion. 'Nanny cashed in on it when
we were little, to stop us from touching it when my
mother had it reframed, and the story grew in the
telling. But wait a moment, Jonah. I still don't quite
see where this is leading us. So Lucy got up and
went into my room and the Midsummer Cushion
was broken . . . What happened after that?'

'She came downstairs, looking for you, and went
into the drawing-room. She says that Michael and
Eleanor were sitting on the sofa together, talking,
and suddenly Edward burst in from the terrace and
she hid behind the sofa . . .'

'That's it.' Hester struck her hands together
lightly, almost triumphantly, her eyes closed as she
recalled the scene: the shadowy fire-lit room, the
drawn curtains, the newspaper sliding to the floor
and the unexpected flash of colour behind the sofa.
'So it was Lucy,' she said softly. 'I could always
imagine that scene, you know. I remember it
clearly, the room as I saw it that evening as I came
in from the hall and switched on the light, and yet I
could never quite pin down the patch of colour
behind the sofa. It shouldn't have been there and I
could never place it. Oh, now I see!' She stared at
him in sudden realization. 'So she saw it all.'

Jonah nodded. 'She saw the fight, saw Michael
knock Edward into the river, but what then,
Hester?'

She nodded, her hands clasped tremulously, reliving
that evening in her mind's eye.

'Wait a moment. Yes, we were all out on the
terrace. I looked down into the river and saw
Edward struggling in the water. Eleanor seized me
as if she thought I might plunge in after him.
Michael ran out towards the road to get help but I
called him back. I knew there would be no traffic at
that time of night and, anyway, Edward was being
dragged downstream. I knew exactly where he'd try
to get ashore. He'd been familiar with the river
since childhood and I guessed he'd strike out for
the little beach where we used to paddle. Even on a
night like that he'd have a chance there but I
needed Michael to help me, you see. We all agreed
that he'd have to leave Bridge House, he and
Eleanor and Lucy, but I needed his help first. We
ran through the house leaving Eleanor to get Lucy
up – there was no sign of her then – and when we
reached the little beach Edward was there, clinging
to an overhanging branch. He screamed with rage
when he saw Michael but he was too weak to resist
his help. Between us we dragged him up the bank
and over the lawn and he fought like a child might
fight an older, stronger brother. It was pitiful.
We got him into the kitchen and I told Michael
to bring towels and dry clothes and Edward's
medicine before he went. Even when Michael had
disappeared Edward continued to struggle with me
but he'd been hurt and he was exhausted, and in
his condition it was all too much for him. Presently,
Michael just pushed in the things through the
half-open door and went away. The sight of either
of them would have driven Edward right over the
top. It was only later that I realized that I never said
goodbye to Lucy.'

Hester sat back in her chair, exhausted by her
recital, her eyes closed, but she was frowning as she
continued to think things through. Jonah watched
her silently, and Clio, knowing now that the misunderstandings
were cleared up, slipped away to
the kitchen to make some tea.

'But why?' asked Hester at last. 'I still can't quite
see why Lucy jumped to the conclusion that Edward
was dead.'

'Because Eleanor told her that he was. She told
her that Michael had killed him and that she must
never breathe a word to anyone or he would be
taken away to prison. She saw Edward go into
the river, and Michael run out over the bridge for
help, and heard you call him back. Then she
ran back upstairs as the three of you came back
indoors. She didn't know you'd pulled Edward out.
She has believed all these years that Michael was
a murderer and a coward. That, having killed
Edward, you and Eleanor persuaded him to run
away.'

Hester sat in silence, her face sad. 'Poor little
Lucy,' she said at last. 'How very terrible. How she
must have hated us! No wonder she didn't want to
talk about it. And now?' Her face altered as she
looked at him. 'And you, Jonah? You believed it
too?'

He opened his hands in a gesture of despair.
'What else could I do? I went straight from you to
Chichester and told Mum what you'd told me. You
never mentioned pulling Edward from the river
and so she thought you were still covering up. I told
her that we were thinking of making a play of the
story and it was then that she told me what she
thought was the truth. I admit I was horrified and
neither of us knew what to do next.'

'How she must have hated us,' repeated Hester
quietly. 'How very terrible. Why should Eleanor
have done such a thing?'

Jonah shrugged. 'I can't imagine. What motive
could Eleanor have had to lie? That's why Mum
believed her, I suppose. There was no reason not
to, and she'd seen Edward go into the river.'

Clio came in with the tray and put it on the
revolving table. 'I've been thinking about that too,'
she said. 'Ever since you told me, Jonah, I've been
trying to think why Eleanor should do such a
thing. The only reason for that kind of lie to a child
is to make her behave; to do what you want her to.
It was a threat to make Lucy behave. Could that be
it?'

'She said she didn't want to go,' Jonah remembered.
'She got back into bed and curled up small
and when Eleanor came in she pretended to be
asleep. Eleanor told her they were going to London
but Mum refused to get up. She struggled with
Eleanor and that's when she told Mum that her
father had killed Edward and if she didn't do as she
was told he would go to prison. Something like
that.'

'There you are then.' Clio was triumphant.
'That's the sort of thing I meant. She wanted Lucy
to get up and do as she was told, double-quick. She
was determined to get her own way and used the
means at hand to force Lucy into action. I doubt
she gave it a thought afterwards.'

'I suspect that Eleanor saw her chance and seized
it.' Hester was thinking back into the past. 'She
might well have even set the scene in the first place,
hoping that Edward would see her and Michael
together. I know that she'd had enough of pretending
and I suspect that Michael had put her off for
too long, using the excuse of keeping Lucy here as
a shield. When Eleanor saw the opportunity she
made the most of it and she certainly wouldn't have
allowed Lucy to get in the way after that. It didn't
do her much good. Michael was dead within a few
months. But Lucy . . .' Hester shook her head sadly.
'To think of her living with such memories for all
these years.'

'But not for much longer.' Jonah put his cup and
saucer down. 'Do you think I could make a telephone
call, Hester?'

'Of course you can.' Hester hesitated. 'Should
I . . . ?'

He shook his head, smiling at her. 'Not just yet. I
think she'll need time to adjust to it.'

He went out. Hester looked at Clio, dazed.

'It was a wicked thing to do,' said Clio. 'Eleanor
must have been a monster.'

'I never liked her,' admitted Hester. 'But even so,
I can hardly believe it of her. I suppose she had no
idea of the damage. Oh, poor Lucy. She adored her
father. What a terrible burden she's carried. Thank
God Jonah came here, Clio. She might never have
known the truth.'

'And nor might he. Is he like Michael, Hester?'

'Very like him physically, as you saw from the
photograph. And he's inherited his creative instinct
but I would guess that he's probably tougher emotionally.
Why do you ask?'

'Oh, no reason,' answered Clio lightly. 'Just interested
to know what Michael was like. I'm really
hooked now, you know.'

Hester smiled. 'Yes,' she said. 'I can see that.'

For Jonah, there was a sense of
déjà vu
as Clio drove
him to Michaelgarth. This time he was less aware of
the countryside through which they drove, though
he still had the impression of light and water; yet
his mind ran continually on the joyful knowledge
that he could think well of his grandfather again
and that he could allow his natural feelings for him
full rein. At the same time he was conscious of a
sense of frustration. His mother's reaction had not
been the unrestrained joy he'd wished for her and
he was disappointed; almost cross.

'What do you mean?' she'd asked him sharply.
'What has Hester said? I was there, remember. Did
you tell her that?'

It was almost as if she hadn't wanted to believe
the truth; as if she saw this new explanation as some
kind of trick or deception.

'But Edward didn't die, Mum,' he'd repeated.
'He didn't die until over two years later. Clio told
me that before I even saw Hester. Clio is Hester's
god-daughter and she told me how Edward and
Hester lived together after the war. Hester and
Michael pulled Edward out of the river after you'd
gone back to bed, that's why you didn't know
anything about it, and they all agreed that it was
right that the three of you should go. He didn't run
away, Mum, and he didn't kill Edward. Aren't you
pleased? I am. I feel as if someone's taken a millstone
off my back.'

'But why should Eleanor lie?' she'd asked indignantly,
rather as if she actually thought it more
likely that Eleanor was being wrongly accused than
that Michael was what she'd always believed him to
be.

Now, as he and Clio drove up the steep road that
led onto Winsford Common, Jonah experienced
again the flash of irritation with which he'd responded
to this question.

'I don't know why,' he'd cried. 'You can probably
answer that better than I can. The point is that
Michael wasn't a murderer or a coward. That's got
to be good news, hasn't it? Isn't that what's been
eating you up all these years?'

'Yes,' she'd said, after a short silence. 'Yes, of
course.' Her voice had been subdued. 'It's just such
a shock. I simply can't believe that Eleanor should
have been so wicked.'

'Sorry, Mum,' he'd said penitently. 'I didn't mean
to shout at you. I just thought you'd be so pleased.
It's a bit of a shock, I can see that. Would you like to
speak to Hester?'

'No,' she'd answered quickly. 'No, I need to think
about it, Jonah. Try to understand. Tell her . . . oh,
I don't know. Tell her I'm glad and that we'll speak
soon.'

He'd been disappointed, hoping perhaps that
she and Hester might have had a moment of
reconciliation, and he'd had the feeling that Hester
had hoped for it too, though she'd managed to
cover her disappointment quickly.

'There will be time for that later,' she'd said.
'The important thing is that the truth has been
discovered.' She'd kissed him goodbye; the first
time he'd ever seen her display any great emotion.
'I'm so glad you came back, Jonah,' she'd said.

Clio was aware of him beside her, shifting in his
seat, staring out unseeingly over the common, and
she guessed at the reason for his dissatisfaction.
She'd seen his expression when he returned from
making the phone call and wondered what Lucy
had said.

'It must have been a great shock for your mum,'
she hazarded. 'After all these years. I think I'd want
to search Eleanor down and kill her if it were me.
I'd like to slap her about a bit and watch her suffer.'

He grimaced wryly. 'I suppose it was a bit
optimistic to think that she'd feel like I do. She
couldn't quite take it in.'

'Well, that's natural, isn't it? It's different for you.
Correct me if I've got it wrong but you've only just
got to know Michael, haven't you? I mean you've
known he was a soldier and that he was blown up
and things like that, but it's Hester who's made
him come alive for you. You've believed he killed
Edward for how long? Two months? OK. Now
you know the truth and it's not too much of an
adjustment. You'd begun to love him, you said, and
now you can go right on with that. But your mum
has lived with it for nearly sixty years. Remember
how you felt for two months and you never even
met him? Well, this was sixty years, Jonah! Most of
her life. She's had to think about it, deal with it, all
that time – and now, suddenly, it's all changed. It's
not true. I don't think it would be too easy just to
say, "Wow! Great! So that's that then!" I'd be bloody
angry, like I said. Someone else has spoiled her life,
like they've stained it or something, or irreparably
damaged it. You don't wipe that kind of pain out
with one telephone call.'

Jonah looked at her with relief and affection. He
thought: I really like her. She's so easy to be with. I
don't have that feeling I usually have with women,
that if I make a particular move or say a certain
thing I'm liable to transgress some unwritten rule
that I should have had the sensitivity to know about
without being told.

'I didn't quite see it that way,' he admitted. 'I was
too busy being thankful that I could just go on
feeling good about him.'

Clio thought: I really like him. I feel I've known
him for ever. I suppose that could be a problem. I
don't want to start feeling sisterly . . .

'And now you can go on and write your
screenplay,' she said, grinning. 'That's what it's all
about really. I know you creative types. You're quite
ruthless.'

He laughed. 'I must admit that I've never allowed
the truth to spoil a good story,' he chuckled, 'but
this was just a tad different. Oh God, and now I've
got to face Lizzie.'

'Lizzie's fine,' she reassured him. 'She just wants
her event to work well.'

'And you've been helping her.' He glanced sideways
at her. 'I've been too preoccupied to ask how
you are. I gather you've quit London.'

'That's right. It wasn't going anywhere so I've
started up my own business in lifestyle management,
seeing that I'm such a bossy-boots.'

He settled in his seat, relaxing. 'Far be it from me
to contradict a lady. So how did you start? What
gave you the idea for it?'

As they drove through Winsford and out towards
the valley road, Clio told him about Piers' contact
and how, through him, she'd met her first clients.

'They're quite sweet really,' she said. 'Rather
insecure with all this new dosh but definitely "if
you've got it flaunt it" types and they clearly feel
they can trust me. Probably because I have no
difficulty at all in telling them how they ought to be
doing things. They like my confident approach.
She told me that I'm what they describe as a "class
act". I'm organizing decorators and plumbers and
masses of other stuff. They found the house rather
more quickly than they bargained for and they'd
already got a cruise booked so I'm looking after it
all for them while they're away. They want to give a
party when they get back so plenty more work
there. I couldn't have found a better way to start.
Only time will tell whether I can actually make a
living like this. If not I'll pack it all in and go back
to London.'

He watched her admiringly. 'I admire your
courage,' he said. 'It must be scary to go it alone.'

'It is a bit. But being with Hester has given me
the space to try it. I can't rely on her much longer –
she's moving, as you know – but it's giving me
enough time to find my feet. These clients are
taking up nearly all of my time, and I've got Lizzie
as well, of course, but I might have to get a parttime
job in due course to help pay the bills until I'm
properly up and running.'

Watching her, he had the unsettling, almost
painful, sensation of knowing exactly where his
heart was located, and he folded his arms lest he
should be tempted to reach out and touch her arm.

'So what is your business called?' he asked. 'The
Angel in the House? Fairy Godmothers, Inc.?'

She chuckled. 'You can mock but it was really
difficult to come up with anything remotely
reasonable. The first thing I had to do was to open
a bank account for the company so I had to think of
something quickly. It kept me awake at nights,
racking my brains for ideas. I kept a pad and pencil
beside the bed ready to jot down names. And then I
suddenly had this thought that when we were all
talking about it we kept saying 'It's all about making
time for people to do things; to get on with their
lives. Giving them time for other more important
things than waiting in for the plumber or planning
a party. Giving them
time for
. . . See? So that's what
I called it, Time For, except I use the figure 4
instead of the word. I checked the Internet to see if
anyone was using it as a web address and nobody
was so that was that.'

'Time 4,' he repeated, trying it out. 'Very neat.'

'A friend of mine in London is working on the
website for me,' she said enthusiastically. 'She's
starting a web design company so we agreed
that she'd design my website for a nominal fee if I
would be her first client and reference. I'm writing
my own copy for the website and I've got a contact
who's designing the logo for me. It's terrific
fun, actually, and Piers put me in touch with his
accountant to explain about submitting a business
plan to the bank and being self-employed. That
side of it's a bit mind-blowing, I have to admit.'

'But you're enjoying it?'

She nodded. 'I am. The next thing is to look for
something to rent ready for when Hester sells
Bridge House. It'll have to be very small, that's all I
can say!'

'Hester must be really gutted about moving.' He
suddenly remembered her expression when he'd
come back from the telephone call. 'I hope Mum
will feel that she can talk to her soon.'

'Hester will understand,' Clio told him. 'Really
she will. Just relax, Jonah.'

'I will,' he said. 'Honestly, I will. I'm going to
concentrate on all the ways I can use this new
business Time 4. Picking me up from railway
stations, getting scripts sorted out, choosing
presents . . . Are you staying at Michaelgarth for
dinner this evening?'

'Yes,' she answered, slightly surprised by the
change of direction. 'Why?'

'Oh, nothing,' he said lightly, concealing his
pleasure. 'I just wondered.'

After they'd gone, Hester found that she was as
unsettled as she'd been before they'd arrived. She
could hardly believe that Lucy had been labouring
under such an appalling misapprehension for
the greater part of her life, and again and again
she remonstrated with herself for neglecting her
after Michael's death and Eleanor's departure for
America.

'I should have written again,' she murmured. 'I
shouldn't have left it to a child of four or five to
decide whether she wanted to be reminded of the
past. I shouldn't have simply assumed that she was
happy with Michael's aunt.'

She piled more logs onto the fire, made more
tea, and then wandered about aimlessly, wondering
exactly how Lucy had reacted to the unexpected
telephone call. It had been clear from Jonah's
expression that she'd received the news with mixed
emotions; clear too that she was not ready to
talk.

'And I can't blame her,' muttered Hester, pausing
to stroke St Francis, gaining a small measure of
comfort from the mechanical, smoothing action.
'What a shock it must have been. Oh, how she must
have hated us all.'

Presently she sat down at the table in the
breakfast-room and began a letter to Blaise,
explaining the terrible misunderstanding and
Jonah's reaction to the truth.

You came closest to it when you suggested
that Eleanor might have turned Lucy against us
once they were all in London, though it never
occurred to me for a single second that she
might believe such a terrible thing. Why should
it? I didn't even know that Lucy had witnessed
the fight. Jonah is clearly relieved that he can
continue in his good opinion of his grandfather
but I gather that Lucy isn't yet ready to rejoice.
And who shall blame her! I wish I knew what to
do but I am afraid to interfere and feel that the
ball should be left in her court to respond to
when she thinks the time is right. Yet that was the
attitude I took all those years ago, and see where
it got us all. Perhaps I should write to her.

Oh, it was so good to see Jonah again, Blaise. I
thank God he came back. To think that he too
might have carried that terrible burden all his
life. I can only imagine that Eleanor saw her
opportunity and was determined that Lucy wasn't
going to stand in her way of getting Michael to
herself at last. She probably had no real idea of
the damage she was doing; Eleanor was always a
very self-centred woman – tunnel vision, they'd
call it now – and she had no imagination. Jonah
told us that Lucy didn't want to leave Bridge
House that night, and that she defied Eleanor
and said she wouldn't go. I suspect that Eleanor
just said the first thing she could think of that
would make Lucy obey her.

I am in an odd state of shock, though it is a
relief to have Jonah's silence explained. What
a comfort Clio has been to both of us. She and
Jonah are becoming attached to one another but
it is too early to be sure how they truly feel. She's
looking for some small flat or cottage to rent in
Dulverton and I've decided to put Bridge House
on the market at last. Perhaps that will galvanize
me into taking positive action as to what to do
next. Yet I still feel that there is something else to
do before I leave: it's a strong feeling that Bridge
House has some final part to play in this small
drama. I should like to think that Lucy might
come to see me, just once before I go, but it is
probably asking far too much. I must be glad that
Jonah has come back.

With love,
Hester