Snow Angels (34 page)

‘You must leave and within the next week or so,’ Gerard said. ‘Anthea has plans for the house. We have a great deal to do here, so much to alter,’ and he looked around the drawing room as though counting the costs. ‘The builders are to begin soon.’

Abby stood there in her drawing room, in what had been hers, she reminded herself, and panicked. What was she to do? Suddenly she hated them all. They were eating her food and drinking her whisky and there was practically nothing left. Her own comfort was that when there was no more whisky they
would go, but it seemed that Gerard intended to move in that very day. Could he not have given her a little time, a few days to consider? She thought he would have liked her to leave right there and then. As she stood by herself in the middle of the house which she no longer owned, Gil walked across the room to her.

‘Considering your options?’ he said.

‘I don’t have any, it seems.’ Abby wished that her voice was more steady. ‘The stables are empty, the cellar’s empty, the bloody coffers are empty, there’s nothing left, there’s nothing—’

‘And the scavengers are here,’ Gil said, nodding in Gerard’s direction. ‘Is there somewhere we could talk?’

‘What about?’

Gil didn’t answer that, so she led him into the nearest empty room and it was very empty. Even the furniture had gone from here. It had been Jacobean, hideous but worth money and there had been a number of good though also dark and hideous paintings on the walls. The afternoon sun threw its relentless gleam onto the empty walls and the bare floor.

‘Did it himself, did he?’ Gil asked softly.

‘Of course he did. They blame me. I blame me too. Why did he have to do it? I’m not going. They aren’t going to turn me out of here.’

‘Abby, look … you do have somewhere to go. Your father only left me the house on condition that if you ever needed it you should have it.’

Abby looked straight at him.

‘How could he have known?’

‘He told me that he wished he hadn’t talked you into marrying Robert.’

Abby sighed and went to the window. She couldn’t believe that she would have to leave this place. It had been one of the main reasons for her marrying Robert and she didn’t believe Gil.

‘My father didn’t talk me into it. I wanted him. He was the catch of the county. I thought—’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know now, I don’t remember.’ She sighed. ‘You can’t give me the house.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because everybody will think I’m your mistress if you do.’

‘Straight to the point as always.’

‘It’s true.’ Abby turned from the window and smiled at him. ‘They’ll say, “what other reason could he possibly have? Nobody is that generous.” ‘

‘I loved your father.’

‘I know you did.’

‘No, you don’t. You think I was nice to him for what: he could give me.’

‘That too, perhaps. I suppose you’re going to tell me that he gave you the business for the same reason.’

‘He gave me the business because he had nobody else to give it to and he wanted it to go on. There’s a great deal of money, Abby. If you won’t have the house then you could buy a house—’

‘And you think people would be deceived? You know a lot about ships but you don’t know much about people. My reputation wouldn’t stand it, things are bad enough.’

‘And what use will that be when you end up in Hope Street, selling yourself because you don’t have any money?’

Abby laughed. She hadn’t laughed for a long time and it eased the great boulder inside her.

‘I don’t think things are quite that bad,’ she said. ‘I could go and be a barmaid at The Ship. Do you remember The Ship? You came across the room and rescued me. You can’t do that this time.’

‘I could if you let me. Wouldn’t you rather do the dignified thing and leave?’

‘What, with you? It would ruin me.’

‘Your husband has killed himself. You don’t really think you’re going to be asked to polite parties? Come with me. We
don’t have to see each other. I’ll move and you can have the house all to yourself. It’s waiting for you.’

Abby allowed herself a few seconds of longing for the home that she had loved so much.

‘Where would you go, Bamburgh House? It would almost be worth it to see you there, hating it so much. I don’t think you ever loved my father or me enough to let yourself go back there.’

‘The choices are gone. Where’s Georgina? Go and get her and pack a bag.’

‘I’m not going with you. Nobody would ever speak to me again.’

Abby left the room, wandered through the hall, striving for breath because there were fifty people in the drawing-room and none of them should see her cry. They would be talking about her, what a bad wife she had been, how she had not provided a son, how they had known all along that she was a silly choice, that she was middle class, beneath him with different ideas, that she was not beautiful and read too much and was too opinionated. They wanted to get rid of her. Abby was wretched. She knew that she had not been a good wife to him, she wished that she could begin again.

She ran away upstairs. She did not want to face Gil, afraid that she should change her mind. She watched from the window until his carriage left and then she went back downstairs to face the mourners. She had been right. Gerard had no intention of leaving. He moved in that very day and, although she questioned the solicitors, apparently he was entitled to do so. After all, her husband was dead. His family swiftly followed and they began immediately moving in their possessions. It improved the look of the house straight away since there was very little left. New servants were employed and they ignored Abby. At the dinner table she was fed and so was Georgina, but they insisted on her moving out of her bedroom, which was the second most important, and no one spoke to her.

She made a trip into Newcastle to find work, but the work
which she could have found in a shop or a factory she was turned down for because, even at her shabbiest, she would not fit into such a place. As for office work, she could not learn to type in a week. There was also the question of Georgina. Where would they live and who would look after her? The winter streets were wet and gloomy, or was it just how she felt? The problem seemed insoluble. After a full day trudging the streets, she found herself getting on a tram that went to Jesmond. She hadn’t intended doing that, but it was dark and cold and had rained for most of the afternoon and she could not go back to the comfortless house which had been hers without looking at the house where she had spent a happy childhood, the best time of her life. She got off the tram and walked. She stood in a puddle and her feet were soaked. She stopped across the street. Lamplight was soft in the windows. It was evening now. Gil would be at home. She could not resist crossing the street and banging on the front door. She heard footsteps in the hall and a maid opened the door. Beyond her, Abby could see the hall just as it had always been. The tears which she had not shed for so many days threatened her now, half convinced that her parents sat beyond the sitting-room door. She was ushered in and the door opened. Gil and Matthew were sitting by a big fire, eating cake and drinking tea. The teacups winked in the firelight. Abby thought her heart would burst. Matthew shouted his hello and bounced across to her and Gil pulled a chair close to the fire and gave her tea and cut her cake.

The night closed in around the house. Abby tried halfheartedly to leave but Gil dissuaded her and it was so easy to stay. Georgina was safe at home. It was just one night to remember how things had been, but she could not even do that. When Matthew was safely in bed and they were having a meal, she said to him, ‘I need some work. You employ women.’

‘Not women like you,’ Gil said.

‘What do you mean? I can learn.’

‘You wouldn’t like it.’

‘I don’t have to like it. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do. Please.’

‘You were married to Robert Surtees, you can’t just—’

‘Then what can I do?’

‘I told you, you can come here.’

‘I don’t want to do that. If you let me work … I could work … Please, Gil.’

‘Stop begging. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘What are my alternatives? I have to work.’

Gil got up and came across to her and he got hold of her hand.

‘Look at that,’ he said. ‘You’ve never worked a day in your life.’ And he turned her hand over and touched the soft palm. ‘Women who work are either considered as little better than prostitutes or they live in reduced circumstances, and what would you do with Georgina?’

‘I would manage.’ Please.’ Abby wrenched her hand away and got up. ‘You are so—’

‘What?’ When she didn’t answer, he said flatly, ‘I’m all you’ve got left, you can’t afford to turn me down. You can have this house and part of the business. You could marry again eventually—’

‘Whatever makes you think I want to do that?’

‘Abby, if you go out to work you would lose your reputation just as badly as if you came and lived here with me, no matter what the circumstances. Socially you’re finished.’

‘Well, thank you. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, that’s very nice.’

‘There are worse things.’

‘I shan’t ask you to name them.’ Abby stood for a few moments and then thought of something. ‘Why haven’t you changed anything in the house?’

‘We could go back and collect Georgina in the morning and you could pack your things and bring with you whatever you want.’

‘I don’t have much. What are you doing this for, you can’t want me here?’

‘It was part of the deal. I got everything and when you needed it you got it back.’

‘I don’t want it all back. I don’t want you to leave and I certainly don’t want the business.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you would leave that too, I know you would. Besides, it isn’t the business which was my father’s. You built it.’

‘There’s enough to go round,’ Gil said roughly.

The next morning they drove into the country and collected her child. She packed her clothes and her few possessions and left the house which she had gone to so optimistically such a long time ago. She felt nothing but relief. Gerard and his wife and children waved her away from the front door. Abby didn’t look back.

Living with Gil was not as difficult as she had thought, but then nothing could be. To anyone who was not suffering from her husband’s suicide it might have been considered dull. There was no social life, no invitations came and there were few visitors, only the tradesmen. She had nothing to do. The house was run rather, Abby thought, as he probably ran the works; she was just glad she didn’t have to work for him. He didn’t say anything but the servants minded him, as her mother would have said. It should have got on her nerves that the whole thing moved like an army camp, but it didn’t. She was so glad to be back there, it was coming home both literally and in her head. She had not eaten or slept properly for a long time, but she did now and the two children liked one another immediately. Georgina was happy, therefore it was difficult for Abby not to be.

No one came in drunk; nobody gambled anything away. Gil came home promptly at half-past five for tea. At seven o’clock he either went back to work and was there long after she went to bed, or went into the study and was seen no more. He left for work at six in the morning. Sometimes she heard him. Occasionally he went out and came back late, but Abby considered it none of her business, which was quite refreshing and, although he did drink sometimes in the evening, it was never to excess so after the first two or three times of seeing him do so Abby
relaxed. Gil did not get drunk; he did not shout and lose his temper and empty the house of everything which was comfortable. He would take a glass of brandy into the office or, if she stayed up late, there was the faint smell of whisky, but it did not affect his speech or his actions so she didn’t care.

Nobody talked about marriage. If the local gossips thought she was sleeping in Gil’s bed, let them think it. She hadn’t lived with a man like this since her father and it was rather comforting. He didn’t make demands; he didn’t complain; he didn’t make her feel as though she ought to be responsible for anything. He insisted that she should open a bank account and he paid money into it each month. That had been a hiccup.

‘Why?’ she had said to the suggestion.

‘Presumably you need to buy things. Think of it as the start of what I owe you.’

That put it on a different footing. It was a handsome sum but, considering he had taken her inheritance, Abby didn’t care and spent it freely. She thought that she was a kept woman, but was doing nothing for it. That was not quite true. She had undertaken the caring of the children. Matthew seemed delighted that she and Georgina had come to live with them and treated her straight away as he would a mother. For somebody who couldn’t remember his mother, she counted this as a bonus. He had started school. She took him there each morning. Since Georgina was quite desperate to go, watching all the other children, Abby talked to the kind woman who ran the small school and Georgina was soon going in the mornings. Luckily it wasn’t far to walk, because she had to collect Georgina at lunchtime and Matthew at teatime. There were only a few pupils and it was really just one room with a yard behind, but the children seemed happy there and quickly learned their letters. She or Gil read to them both in the evening before bed. It was all so civilised, Abby thought, rather like marriage was meant to be and probably never was.

Georgina had fast caught onto the idea of having two
parents and would listen for Gil at the door, run to him and throw herself into his arms. Having had one father who ignored her, she was not about to start calling him ‘Daddy’ as Abby had feared, but called him by his first name. In vain did Abby point out that this was not considered respectful, but since Gil called her ‘Georgie’, something else Abby didn’t like, she left the whole problem to resolve itself. Georgina adored Gil and Abby thought it was not surprising. Robert had not shown his child attention or affection, but Gil managed both. He would throw her up in his arms and she would scream in delight when he caught her again. He would listen to endless tales that the children told about school, read long stories, sometimes the same one over and over again so that he would lean back against the bedroom wall, eyes shut, and relate word perfect whichever story it was that had been requested. He told her her paintings were brilliant and her numbers and letters were superb. Abby feared that Matthew might feel left out, so she took him to the park to play cricket when it was fine and to sail boats when it was windy and encouraged his interests. She took both the children shopping and out to tea and for various day trips in the fine weather.