Paper Doll (33 page)

‘It was selfish of him, but he was a good father to me. You don’t have to make excuses for your actions. And although he wasn’t about to compare his and Julia’s situation with hers, he said, ‘I fell in love with a married woman myself . . . I still love her . . . but we chose to not see each other again.

‘Was it the right choice, Martin?’

‘It doesn’t feel like it . . . It feels as though a large part of me is missing.’

She’d placed a small parcel of letters in his hands then, tied in a blue ribbon. ‘These are for you.’

They were the letters that his father had returned to her – the ones she’d written to him. They were still sealed. He could almost feel the dampness of her tears absorbed by the paper at the time of writing. He knew what they’d contain – years of pain for what had been lost, and just being human. It was a hard punishment, he thought, as he placed the letters inside his attaché case.

He still felt the fragility of that parting inside him, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. He couldn’t cope with her pain yet – not yet – perhaps not ever.

It was enough that she’d survived to tell him what he already knew – that being apart from somebody didn’t mean that the bond of love they’d established in the past was broken.

It was odd, but he was reminded of Julia everywhere he went: in the tilt of a woman’s head, a quick burst of her laughter, the glimpse of a stranger walking on the beach or sitting in a restaurant. This morning he thought he saw Julia sitting in the station cafeteria, and the image had been strong. But the window had steamed up and it had just been someone reading a paper.

Yet, when he arrived back at the station to catch the evening train later in the day, he went to the place. Buying a cup of lukewarm tea and a bun he sat at the same table and ate it. Not that he’d expected the woman to still be sitting here.

After a while a young serving girl began to busy herself cleaning the tables. ‘We close in a couple of minutes, sir.’

‘I’m sorry if I’ve held you up. It’s all right . . . I’m off to catch my train now.’

‘Don’t forget your paper, sir,’ she called out.

‘It’s not mine . . . but if you don’t want it, I’ll take it to read on the train.’ It might contain a cryptic crossword to keep him occupied.

‘Thank you,’ he said when she handed it to him, and he tucked it under his arm.

Someone had started the crossword and abandoned it. Two hours later Martin conceded to the superior brain of the crossword compiler.

Returning to the first page he read the Italian election post-mortem. He found that the thought of a fascist government under Benito Mussolini, especially with such a huge majority, was a slightly disturbing concept. He turned to page two.

The picture of Julia hit him with such force that the breath left his body, and he forgot to replace it for several seconds. His hands trembled and his knees felt weak.

Running his finger over the image of her dear face, he read the article. Latham Miller was dead. She’d converted her home into one for needy children. How typical of her way of thinking.

As for the two children on the rocking horse, they were the healthiest, happiest orphans he’d ever seen – and he’d seen plenty of waifs and strays in Colifield.

Doubt set in. Why hadn’t she written to inform him of Latham Miller’s death?

Was it because he hadn’t answered her last letter, because she’d asked him to be strong for them both, knowing he would be? He tore out the article and placed it in his briefcase.

Julia was now an extremely wealthy woman, and that was an obstacle in itself, he realized.

The cats greeted him when he arrived home. He let them into the back garden for a pee, then took them on to his lap and made a fuss of them. ‘It’s cold out there, isn’t it, chaps?’

Was this how he’d end up – a lonely old man like his father with only the cats for company?

‘Is it hell! Julia is worth fighting for, and damn her money. She was welcome to it.’ Flicking through his address book he found the number of the Millers’ home in Surrey, and hoped it hadn’t changed.

F
iona Robertson answered the phone.

‘Could I speak to Mrs Miller please?’

‘At this time of night?’

‘Yes, at this time of night. Tell her that it’s Doctor Lee-Trafford. Tell her I love her and I miss her.’

A grin spread across Fiona’s face for Julia had confided in her about her love for this man. ‘Ah yes, I believe I’ve heard of you. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable telling Mrs Miller all that yourself. I’ll see if I can find her.’

‘Who is it?’ Julia whispered.

‘Someone called Doctor Lee-Trafford,’ Fiona whispered back.

Julia’s heart began to pound. Frantically she shook her head, then she nodded just as frantically. ‘Oh, goodness,’ and she patted her hair into place! ‘Do I look all right?’

‘Can you wait a moment, Doctor? She just wants to put some lipstick on and comb her hair.’

Fiona grinned and listened some more, then said, ‘The doctor thought he saw you at Waterloo station this morning.’

Julia snatched the phone from her. ‘Hello, Martin. I saw you too.’

‘Why didn’t you come and talk to me?’ After such a long time of not hearing his voice she wanted to drown in the depths of it.

‘You were with two women, and a child who looked very much like you. Your wife and child, and your mother-in-law? I didn’t want to embarrass you.’

‘You wouldn’t have. The baby is my nephew, Timothy. The older woman is my mother, and the younger one my half-sister Avis. It was a reunion with my mother, and the first time for meeting my family.’

She felt as though she was dropping rapidly through the air and her stomach had been left behind. She applied imaginary brakes and began to float. A smile of delight spread across her face and she was sure it was beaming out like the lamp in a lighthouse. He wasn’t married. ‘Can you forgive me? I thought you’d married. I’ve been trying hard not to hate her all day, because, my darling, I wanted so much for you to be happy.’

Fiona got up and left the room.

‘It’s so lovely to hear your voice. How have you been?’

‘Missing you. Why didn’t you get in touch before?’

‘I didn’t know that Latham had died. I saw an item in the paper, just today. Why didn’t you let me know?’

‘I thought everyone knew. It was all over the newspapers.’

‘Not in Colifield where I was working.’

‘Where are you now . . . still in London?’

‘I’ve set up my shingle in Bournemouth.’

‘Tell me you still love me.’

‘I’ll always love you, Julia mine. I told you that right at the beginning.’

‘But things have changed since then, and we need to talk. You might as well know the worst. I’ve given most of Latham’s money to support charities.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘That solves a problem.’

‘What problem was that?’

‘I didn’t want you consider me to be a fortune hunter.’

Laughter trickled from her. ‘I haven’t left myself completely penniless. I’ve decided to come down to Bournemouth. I’ll bring the children with me.’

‘Children?’

‘I have two. One is my son, Ben, and I’ve adopted Irene Curruthers’ daughter.’

‘Oh? I can’t remember ever meeting her.’

‘Irene was Latham’s mistress and a friend of mine, of sorts – but only when it suited her. She died from liver cancer. Towards the end nobody wanted to know Irene, or her little girl, not even her parents. Lisette was such a sad child who needed to be loved. Irene asked me to adopt her. She’s such a quiet, sweet little poppet. I looked after Irene until she died, and she was very brave until the end.’

Julia wondered if she was taking Martin too much for granted after all this time, since she’d learned from Latham that men didn’t necessarily tell the truth, but what they thought you wanted to hear.

‘Will you mind that I have two children to care for? You see, Martin . . . I must put their welfare before my own?’

‘Of course you must. You know, I’ll love you more than ever for that.’

‘Before you decide, I also have two dogs that used to be Latham’s. He loved them, and I can’t have them destroyed. They’re nice dogs, loyal, and well behaved as long as they get a good walk every day. I can’t leave them here.’

‘Of course you can’t,’ and she heard laughter in his voice.

‘They go to the gate when they hear a car, in case it’s Latham coming home, and it’s heartrending to watch them, because they don’t understand that he won’t be coming, even after all this time. They do need a new master they can attach themselves to. Do you mind dogs?’

‘I love dogs, and we have a beach to walk them on in the evening . . . though I don’t know what Clarence and Billy Boy will say about it.’

‘Oh, cats are very adaptable and will soon get a couple of dogs under their control.’

He laughed. ‘You’re doing one of your famous chats about nothing. Where shall we keep your orphaned elephants? I don’t think my garden is big enough for any more waifs and strays.’

‘Stop teasing me, Martin Lee-Trafford. I just wanted to warn you of what you’ll be getting into. No elephants.’ She picked up the dancing lady he’d given her on the first Christmas they’d met and smiled at it. She’d found it amongst her father’s things in the attic, still intact. Martin had told her it had reminded him of her.

‘Have I established my credentials yet?’ he said quietly.

‘You seem to have all the qualities I expected you to have, and more.’ She laughed then. ‘I might as well tell you now that Latham fathered Lisette. If you look at the clipping in the paper you will see that she looks a little like him. The other child is Ben.’

Had he noticed the resemblance? She heard the rustle of paper, then he said, ‘The children are not much alike.’

‘No . . . they’re not. It’s an awful lot for you to take on, but will you marry me then, Martin? All of us, really.’

He laughed. ‘I’m supposed to ask
you
that.’

‘Then ask me.’

‘I love you, Julia. Will you become my wife?’

She decided not to tell him about Ben yet – she’d surprise him. ‘I most certainly will, and I’m definitely coming to Bournemouth to see you.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know . . . I’ll have to work out some travel arrangements. I want to leave my father’s car for use at the children’s home, so I’ll have to come by train. Besides, I couldn’t have my menagerie leaping about in the car when I’m trying to drive. Perhaps Fiona might be able to take a day off and help me . . . though she’s already stretched. We didn’t expect the home to fill up so fast.’

It would be enough time to arrange for her boxes to be sent down to Bournemouth, and for the staff to be informed of her impending marriage. The flat could be handed over for the use of Fiona and Agnes now. They were the senior staff, after all, so they deserved the best accommodation, and she was sure that Fiona would be pleased to see the back of her, though they had become good friends since Latham’s death.

‘I’ll come and get you in the car,’ Martin said. ‘You can’t manage by yourself with two children, two dogs, and the luggage. Will two weeks be enough time to sort yourself out?’

‘Goodness, everything is coming in twos. It sounds as though we’re setting up a Noah’s Ark.’

Two weeks later a car drew up outside the house. The dogs wagged their tails, looked hopefully at Martin, then sniffed his ankles and followed him into the porch when he made a fuss of them. The pair began to compete for his attention.

Julia answered the door and shooed the dogs back into the garden with: ‘Off you go, you can meet him later.’

Drawing him inside she took him through to a comfortable flat attached to the main house.

‘I’ll show you around the children’s home later,’ she told him.

‘I’m impressed by what I’ve seen so far.’

‘That’s good, because I’m going to ask you to accept a seat on the board of trustees, on my behalf, and you might as well know what you’re being a trustee of. But now, meet Lisette Miller and Master Benjamin Miller, otherwise known as Lisette and Ben.’

The girl scuttled off and stood behind Julia’s legs for safety, holding tightly to her skirt at the sight of a stranger in their midst. Julia picked her up and kissed her. ‘He won’t hurt you, sweetheart, I promise. Take a seat on the couch, Martin.’

The boy trotted on sturdy legs to where Martin sat. Martin sucked in a breath as he looked at him. Nothing had prepared him for this.

‘Hello, Ben, my boy,’ he managed to get out.

‘How do-de-do,’ Ben said and held out a chubby, and rather grubby hand.

A pair of eyes as blue as his own looked into his as he shook the little hand. The boy had dark curly hair and a smile a mile wide. He’d inherited that from his mother, plus her dimple.

‘Surprise!’ Julia said softly, when he gazed at her with a grin on his face and an enquiry in his eyes.

He shook his head. ‘I’ll be damned . . . didn’t Latham suspect?’

‘No . . . He was convinced Ben was his. For a while I felt guilty about Ben, but Latham was constantly unfaithful, you know, and he treated me so badly. I was the perfect daughter to my father, and that was because I reminded him of my mother, and I loved him and wanted to please him.’

‘Your father loved you, dearly.’

‘I know. But Latham expected me to be the perfect wife, you see. I couldn’t be because I didn’t love him. Most of the time I didn’t like him . . . sometimes I despised him. God knows, I did try. I was a paper doll to both of them, an ideal. You’re the only person I know who ever allowed me to be myself. You treated me as an individual and thought my opinion mattered.’

‘You’ll never be a paper doll to me. I should have taken you away earlier.’

‘You had your own problems to deal with, my love. Just before Latham’s death I told him Ben was the result of an affair and that I was going to leave him. He didn’t believe it, and was coming home to try and save our marriage when he died. Irene told me that he’d finished with her that morning. And he didn’t want the responsibility of Lisette, though he was supporting her.’

‘You went through all that by yourself. Poor Julia.’

‘The staff supported me wonderfully, and I didn’t have time to grieve, not with Irene to look after, as well. She needed me, and was very demanding, and the children needed me . . . and turning this house into a memorial for Latham was the best way I could think of to get rid of his money and build a memorial as well.’