Snow Angels (11 page)

The wind got up outside and they threw back the curtains to watch the stars in the clear night, which seemed bigger and nearer and twinkled on and off as if in entertainment while the candles guttered and the fire died and Gil wished that the morning would never come. She was so wonderful, she was so beautiful and he knew that she loved him, that she had always loved him, was born to love him. She was nothing to do with Edward, or anyone else, so it didn’t matter that she had married him. They talked about silly things and when the fire was out and the candles were gone and there was no light from the windows so the last vestiges of respectability were finished, in the complete blackness they made love and Gil knew that she had never belonged to anybody but him and that she never would. The responsibility was strange. Finally she slept and he listened to her breathing and knew then that neither of them would ever die. He acknowledged that it was all stars and folly, but it was all there ever would be and he would have given up the rest of his life for the sake of these few hours with her.

Abby’s wedding to Robert Surtees was not as she had thought it would be. It was almost as though someone else was marrying him. His family, and especially Charlotte, took over. She had to have half a dozen bridesmaids; there had to be five hundred guests. Robert, as Charlotte pointed out frequently, was the most eligible batchelor in the county and therefore certain standards had to be met. Abby wanted to deny it all, wear an old dress, run away, but for his sake she went through with it. If they had loved one another differently she would have suggested they should elope, but he was important and she was not, so she meekly accepted his cousins and friends to attend her on the day and all the ideas that the women of his family could devise. Later, she swore to herself, it would be different.

It was May, the best time of year to be married, with all the flowers out. Her father was so pleased. The wedding breakfast was to be held at Robert’s house since it could accommodate all the guests and the fine bright day meant that people walked in the gardens and sat about, talking. Rhoda was her chiefbridesmaid. The Collingwoods were all at the wedding, though Helen looked pale.

*

Edward had started coming home at night, though nobody knew why, and Helen had become nervous. Gil was already worried
and would have kept from her had he known how to. Each day he swore to himself that he would not go to her and each night he went; but on the first night that Edward came home to dinner, Helen drew Gil aside after dinner and without looking at him said, ‘It must stop.’

‘I can’t stop, I don’t know how.’

He drew her into a darkened room along the wide main hall of the house and began to kiss her.

‘We could leave. We could go away—’

‘He came to my bed.’

‘What?’

In the darkness Gil could see nothing.

‘He came to my bed. He’s my husband.’

‘When?’

She didn’t reply.

‘When, Helen?’

‘I don’t want to talk about this any more.’ She wrenched away, tore from the room and when he followed her she was sitting close beside Edward by the fire in the drawing-room.

Gil couldn’t eat or sleep or work. As far as he could judge, Edward bedded his wife nightly and she made no objection. William began shouting at Gil in the office. Gil thought of various wild schemes and dismissed them, but he admitted to himself after days and days of denying it that Helen did not, in spite of what she had said to him when they were together, love him. Her eyes lit when she saw her husband in a way in which they had not done for him even at the height of passion. He counted for nothing. When his brother was present, she didn’t notice him.

On the day of the wedding she didn’t leave her husband’s side. They moved around together, talking and laughing with everyone, her hand through his arm. Edward looked so happy. Toby stood and watched them too and he came to Gil.

‘How are you, dear boy?’ he said.

‘How’s your garden?’ Gil asked him.

‘I could fill it with black tulips,’ Toby said.

Gil became more and more miserable. Helen didn’t look at him; Abby didn’t speak to him and later when there was dancing, Rhoda refused. Her mother and stepfather were there and her brothers, including the small one, her stepfather’s child, who tugged at her skirts for attention. Gil felt like doing the same.

Abby had once as a child had a pot doll dressed like a bride. It could not be played with because it was in white and would get dirty. It sat in a glass case, untouched and useless. That was how she felt on her wedding day, something to be looked at and not touched.

She had missed Rhoda. There had been no one to whom she could confide her doubts and fears, the way she didn’t like certain members of Robert’s family. She liked to listen to Rhoda’s problems, too, but this time Rhoda had come with her family and would go back with them. She seemed different, less approachable and had nothing to say. Even though Abby’s thoughts were caught up in her wedding, she was shocked to see how thin Rhoda had become. Rhoda excused herself by saying that she had not been well, but she was silent. Abby wondered whether she was slightly envious because she wished that she could get away from her mother and stepfather and her life in Allendale Town. Rhoda seemed more unhappy than ever and there was little Abby could do. She resolved to have her stay for a long time when they came home again.

Abby endured the day well enough, speaking to everyone, smiling all the time, finally escaping into the garden when everyone was dancing. She could not bear another silly remark about her marriage. It was still light, though a star peeped through. She walked in the cool silence and it was such a relief, until she came to a big pond in the middle of the garden and found Gil by himself. He, too, had lost weight. He glanced at her and then down.

‘You look—’

‘Like something off a Christmas tree. I know. I had a doll
who looked like this. She was called Ethel and her underwear was stitched to her dress.’

She waited for Gil to laugh or at least smile.

‘We’re going away,’ she said to fill the gap. She felt a wave of homesickness and she had not set off yet. ‘We’re going to Paris and Rome and Venice. We might see Helen and Edward.’

In the quietness Abby’s mind replayed accurately the way that she had refused Gil and how Robert had told her Gil watched her when she danced. Robert had been right. Gil had no graces, no conversation. He didn’t even look at her. He ought to have wished her well, basic manners decreed it. From the ballroom, Abby could hear the musicians strike up a waltz.

‘I must get back,’ she said and picked up her skirts and ran across the lawn towards the door.

*

Gil walked around outside for a long while and then back towards the house. At the side of the house in the shadows, he could see Rhoda and a man. She was obvious because of her bridesmaid’s dress: they were all alike, pale blue. She was standing against the wall. The man with her had one hand on the wall as though he was somehow holding her there, though he was not. As Gil drew nearer, he saw that it was Jos Allsop. Rhoda looked distressed as far as Gil could judge, her body drawn back against the wall as far as it could be. Jos was speaking to her in low, soft tones. Gil’s feet crunched on the gravel and Jos turned around, quickly taking his hand away from the wall. Gil didn’t know what made him say it, but when Allsop challenged him with a rude, ‘What do you want?’ he said, ‘Rhoda promised to dance with me.’

‘She’s changed her mind.’

‘I haven’t.’ Rhoda looked up bravely, though her voice trembled. Allsop cursed and walked away. Gil couldn’t understand why he was concerned about her. She didn’t matter to him. She was trembling and kept glancing past him fearfully as though
her stepfather might come back. She looked like someone who wanted to run far away, a creature who longed for the cold dark moorland and obscurity. The bleakness of her situation struck Gil as much the same as the way he felt. He put her hand through his arm and walked her slowly back inside. They stayed together. Gil needed the support. Rhoda was like a wall between himself and the other people who were there. He was not flattered. If she left him she would have to go back to her mother and stepfather and, he realised, anything was better than that. They danced twice and when he went to get Rhoda a drink, his father came to him and clapped him on the back.

‘Her father left a tidy sum, lad, and if she’s happy at home then I’m a Dutchman,’ he said.

*

Abby had not worried about her wedding night. Her mother had talked openly to her about such things.

‘Men are not gods. If they had been, they wouldn’t have such ridiculous bodies which can provide such intense pleasure. Be kind when you marry and generous in bed and with luck you’ll enjoy yourself.’

Abby did enjoy herself and was glad that her mother had given her permission to do so. Abby had no one to compare with Robert, but for sheer enthusiasm and joy he was impossible to fault. He quite clearly adored her. She did think he very possibly had been to bed with a number of other women as rich young men were inclined to. He made her laugh, which was a good start. They had champagne and Abby was more certain than ever before that she had made the right choice. He was kind and helpful and didn’t embarrass or upset her. She was so pleased at her decision to marry him and could not help thinking of what Gil would have been like – clumsy, most probably, because he would know nothing of women – but her heart thudded that she had even thought of him. Abby wished she could be sure that he was all right because he hadn’t looked it that day and she was
partly to blame. She wondered what he was doing now and she thought of Venice. They would be there, the four of them, among the wonderful buildings and churches and he would be at work in Newcastle without anybody.

Waking up in bed with another person was a pleasant surprise. They set off for London the next day and Abby tried not to look back, thinking of her father. He had assured and reassured her but, since he had not been without her before, Abby did worry.

The Mayfair house was huge and terrified her, but she had to do nothing so the terror passed. The housekeeper there was used to running everything and, though she was polite and discussed menus and guests with Abby, everything ran smoothly without any assistance from her and she was relieved. All she had to do was be the hostess at her first big party, be advised by her personal maid what to wear, and smile and chat to all Robert’s friends. This, Abby conceded, was not difficult.

A life of pleasure was something she had not had before and it was strange. There were parties, at least one every night, and concerts and plays and different people to meet. Being up most of the night, it would be lunchtime when Abby rose. There would be visiting; either people would come to her or she would go to them and after a while she began to recognise everyone.

They went to Paris several weeks later, but in a way it was similar to London because most of the same people were there. She liked the new sights and the warm afternoons. They stayed for so long that Robert said Venice was not the place to go next, it would be too hot and smelly, so they went to Florence and there again were people she knew. Abby would have liked to go off and explore Florence alone, but she was not allowed to do so, other people declaring that it was not safe, so she had to endure their constant chatter all day. If she picked up a book she was almost bound to be interrupted and she discovered it was not the done thing to read.

‘Are you bookish?’ she was asked more than once.

Robert seemed happy to stay in Italy or in France and when they finally made their way back home he was reluctant to go any further north than London. Abby felt that it would have been churlish to have insisted. They were together constantly, but he didn’t always come to her bed and Abby found that she was quite glad of the quietness, since she was now rarely alone. He put her first in everything. He loved to see her in new dresses; he bought her expensive jewellery; they went to parties together. Other men went out without their wives and Abby was pleased when he began to do so occasionally; people had teased her that he loved her so much he couldn’t bear to be out of her sight.

Before the winter began, Abby had a dream. She dreamed that Gil was a child again and that his father was turning him out of the house. She dreamed this two nights running. On the third night she thought that she was standing on the beach below the castle at Bamburgh. It was snowing and he was calling her and she couldn’t see him through the snow.

Abby dreaded going to sleep and would lie awake during the quiet – at least comparatively quiet – hours of the London night and try not to wish herself in Newcastle. She had nothing to complain about other than that she missed her father and longed to see him. Robert complained that she had nothing to say. She caught a cold, developed a bad cough, became reluctant to see other people and was always tired. All during the first dark days of the winter she thought about her mother and about her father all alone and finally she went to Robert.

‘I must go home for Christmas,’ she said and he sighed and kissed her and reluctantly agreed.

*

It was William’s idea that Rhoda should stay. At first Gil resented his father’s high handedness but, while Edward and Helen were away in Venice, it was pleasant to come home and find somebody there. Rhoda was the least demanding person he knew. She would go walking alone, but he could go with her if he
chose. She loved riding and didn’t ask for company, though if he suggested they should go out together she seemed glad of the company. She was happy reading in the evenings, but loved the theatre. She was quiet in company, but she would talk to him when they were alone. Helen and Edward were gone three months and during that time Rhoda came to stay twice. Both times she looked so happy to come and so miserable when she had to leave that the second time Charlotte persuaded her to stay longer, so when Edward and Helen finally returned Rhoda was still there.

On that first evening, Helen drew Gil aside in the hall and said, ‘What is Rhoda Carlisle doing?’