The Children's Hour (33 page)

At Ottercombe, Mina was preparing for bed. Lyddie had telephoned to tell them that Liam didn't want a reconciliation, except under the terms of complete surrender on her part, and so, she'd said, she had no course but to leave Truro and to ask if she could stay with them until she could decide what she should do next. Saddened though they
were by the news, Mina and Nest had been deeply relieved that Lyddie wanted to come back to them. It showed, as nothing else could, that she'd accepted her past even if she had not yet had time to assimilate it thoroughly. She was going to see Jack and Hannah first, just for a few days, she'd said; a plan that her aunts had encouraged. They had absolute faith in her cousin and his wife, knowing that they would allow her to talk and sustain her.

‘Roger simply must get his act together with his mortgage,' Nest had said. ‘Thank goodness that the big loan Henrietta took out for her boutique was paid off by the insurance. It was so foolish of Connor to go along with that business.'

‘Henrietta wouldn't give in,' Mina remembered. ‘She was absolutely set on it. Even to the point of sacrificing Lyddie on its altar.'

Nest had looked at her, suddenly alert. ‘Did you tell her about the accident?'

‘I told her,' answered Mina carefully, ‘that you'd all been heatedly discussing the question of whether she should work at the boutique and that you'd always feared that it was because of the high feelings that Henrietta wasn't concentrating.'

‘But that's not all of the truth,' Nest had said sharply.

‘Maybe not,' Mina had felt it necessary to be firm, ‘but that's all you can tell her. The cause of the accident is between Connor and Henrietta and you. Not Lyddie. It would be quite wrong to involve her in it. She cannot forgive you on their behalf, she can only be dragged down by it. To tell the whole truth, in my opinion, would be self-indulgent.'

Nest had stared at her, almost shocked. ‘Self-indulgent?'

‘Yes,' she'd cried. ‘Can't you see that? It can do no good
except to relieve
your
feelings. She'll feel obliged to absolve you and she will simply be left with the burden of the knowledge and all the horror to live through again. It would be cruel. You must continue to live with this part of the story, Nest. If Lyddie is ready to accept all the rest of it, and to move forward, then you must forgive yourself at last and go with her. It's over.'

She'd seen Nest swallow, her hands tighten on the arms of her chair, and, feeling a brute, she'd left her.

Now, as she brushed her soft white hair, a little ‘po-po-po' escaping her lips, she wondered if she'd been right. At her feet, Nogood Boyo quartered the carpet, looking for his toy, whilst Captain Cat watched him alertly from his basket. Earlier, overcome with irritation, he'd sneaked the toy away, hiding it behind the curtain, and now he peered, ears cocked, as his single-minded offspring searched determinedly. Beneath her stool Mina felt his excited breath on her ankles and bent to look at him.

‘What are you doing?' she asked. ‘Silly Boyo. What are you looking for?'

Fearing possible collusion, Captain Cat tensed on his bed but his mistress was too preoccupied to guess what Nogood Boyo was after and left them to it whilst she went into the alcove. She clicked and scrolled, intent upon the screen, and finally opened Elyot's e-mail.

From:
  Elyot
To:
      Mina

A good day. William is home! Oh, the relief and joy of having him safely with us. Lavinia has reacted so positively. She recognized him at once and, although she was confused as to where he'd been, she was fairly lucid. She seems to have
completely forgotten about Marianne, his ex-wife – which under the circumstances is just as well – but his unexpected appearance is doing Lavinia so much good. I'd been afraid to forewarn her in case something should go wrong but now I believe it was probably the right thing to do. The happy shock seemed to trigger something in her brain so that she is – I nearly said ‘quite her old self', which is far from true, but she is so bright that it does my heart good. I'd almost forgotten her smile. She has a quiet brooding look these days, and smiles rarely.

Sadly, it was all too soon before the question of our GP was brought up. I'd warned William about it and he is sympathetically non-committal, which is the best line to take. How right you were about that! Nevertheless it cast a tiny shadow over our happy reunion. William looks well and has leave until after Christmas when he takes up a posting with the Ministry of Defence. It will be good to have him back in the country for a while and, although I don't intend for us to be a burden to him, I know I shall be able to rely on him for support and – oh! so important – to make me laugh. Like you, my dear old friend, he has that blessed, happy ability to raise the spirits.

Enough of us. How are things at Ottercombe? Such good news that the skeleton is out of the cupboard. You have been very discreet, and rightly so, but I have guessed that it was a fairly large cadaver from the depth of your anxiety and, now, by the measure of your relief. Don't imagine for a moment that having William with us makes me any less anxious to hear from you as usual.
Elyot

Mina sat for some moments, considering. It was good to
think of him enjoying the company of his son and heartened by Lavinia's new-found brightness; it would be selfish to tell him about Lyddie's predicament quite so quickly. Yet she found herself longing to tell him, rather shocked by her need, realizing how much she'd come to rely upon him. She typed quickly lest she should weaken.

From:
  Mina
To:
      Elyot

All is well here and you are right to suggest that my relief is enormous. Nest looks better than I have seen her for a very long time. A degree of peacefulness possesses her at last – and not before time. Georgie has had one of her quiet days, rather as if she is puzzled by something that she can hear but we can't. No dramas at least!

I am so pleased to hear how happy William's arrival is making you. You deserve a break, dear Elyot, and it is lovely to think of you all together. What a treat to have him home for Christmas, not only because he is your son and he has been away for a long time, but because it will ease some of the load from your shoulders.

Enjoy this time together. We'll talk again tomorrow. Goodnight.

Mina closed down the computer, took off her long fleecy robe and climbed into bed. She switched off the bedside lamp and lay staring into the darkness.

‘
Everyone has a right to their own history
.'

After a while she reached for Lydia's rosary and began to pass the smooth, cool beads through her fingers but still she found it impossible to sleep.

Nest too was lying awake, thinking very carefully about the things Mina had said earlier. She had been right to explain the accident in those terms to Lyddie; right in saying that she, Nest, must live with the truth without the luxury of Lyddie's forgiveness. Lyddie could not absolve her of her guilt and it would be cruel to put such a burden of knowledge upon her. It was bad enough for her to know that she had been the topic of conversation, that it was anxiety about her future that might have been a factor in Henrietta's momentary loss of concentration.

Nest shut her eyes against the picture of Connor's profile, his head turned towards her. They'd been returning late from the house of a mutual friend where some celebration or other had been taking place, Henrietta driving. Nest had only agreed to go, staying overnight with Connor and Henrietta, simply because Connor had asked her to plead Lyddie's case with Henrietta. For the first time in more than twenty years he had invoked her support, visiting her at the
school in Surrey, asking her to persuade Henrietta out of her scheme.

‘Lyddie would be wasted,' he cries. ‘She's done well at university and now she's been offered a job with a major publishing house. She's over the moon about it. The real problem is that Henrietta's worried about the repayment of the loan and feels that Lyddie should be prevailed upon to help us out. There's all this talk about loyalty and family ties and so on. Henrietta has this mad idea that Lyddie won't need much in the way of wages as she'll be able to live at home and so she'll save on having to pay her full-time assistant. What future is that for Lyddie, I ask you? And she thinks having her in the shop will bring in young people and give it a shot in the arm. She can't understand why Lyddie isn't thrilled to bits at the thought of it.
Why
was I so crazy as to have gone along with the idea of a boutique in the first place? I won't have her sacrificing Lyddie's future . . .'

She watches him sympathetically, agreeing wholeheartedly that Lyddie should not miss her chance in London, but wondering how it is that the birth of their daughter so effectively killed all her passion for him; as if a sword had fallen, slicing the ties that once bound her to him.

How hard, how very hard it is, to give up her child, and yet, when she finally agrees to ‘the terms and conditions' as she bitterly refers to them, that period at Ottercombe is among the happiest of her life. She feels so fit, so well, ‘although,' she tells Mina, after her return from the doctor's surgery, ‘I'd have you know that I am an
elderly primate
.'

Mina makes a face. ‘Good heavens,' she says. ‘It makes you sound like some kind of gorilla' – and they laugh together.

Even Mama, once everything is settled – ‘once I knuckled
under,' says Nest – becomes affectionate and sweet-tempered again.

Perhaps the acceptance, the giving in, is the mainspring of this release of a new kind of contentment. The horror and the fear, the terror for her child's future – and her own – gives way to a calm confidence. At Ottercombe, it is as if she's stepped out of the world, hidden from its censorious gaze, and is able to offer herself wholly to this wonderful new experience without thinking of the future. The three women pick up the threads of the life Nest had left five years before and she sinks contentedly into the warmth of Mina's caring. She walks for miles over the moor and spends hours watching the sea, revelling in the softly stealing, all-pervading sense of peace that its unceasing movement always brings to her.

Timmie visits as often as he can, bringing Anthea and small Jack, lending his support. He, like Mama, has no idea of the identity of Nest's lover and it is never discussed. He simply offers encouragement and unconditional love, as is Timmie's way. They all adore Jack, especially Lydia, who loves to hold him on her lap where he sprawls, relaxed and sleepy. When Nest cuddles him, feeling his warm heavy weight, touching his flushed cheek and feathery hair, it seems impossible that she should not hold her own child like this. Yet some sense of self-preservation refuses to allow such thoughts to develop, pushing them gently but firmly away so that quietude fills her soul again and soothes her heart. It is agreed that she should be allowed to choose her child's name and Nest has no doubts in her mind: if the baby were a boy he is to be named Timothy; if a girl, Lydia.

During that winter and into the early spring, Lydia succumbs as usual to attacks of asthma and bronchial problems. Nest listens to her racking coughing and watches
her increasing frailty with anxiety, thinking of those war years, when Mina was living in London, and Mama read aloud
The Country Child
and O'Shaughnessy's poetry. The positions are now reversed and it is she who reads to Lydia as they sit by the fire in the drawing-room whilst Mina sews or knits small garments for the baby.

‘Do you ever get lonely?' she asks Mina one evening, after Lydia is in bed. She remembers how she'd gone away to start a new life five years before, leaving Mina with Lydia isolated at Ottercombe, and she feels a pang of guilt.

‘Lonely?' Mina considers the thought. ‘I don't think so. I have Mama who, as you see, requires quite a lot of care and, to be honest, I think I'm a naturally solitary person and I have the house and garden to look after. I've always had this passion for books, for stories. I live in them, you see, and the people are quite real to me. They are my friends and I've always found their worlds much more satisfying than the reality outside.'

Yet when the outside world imposes itself upon her, Mina responds with courage and cheerfulness. Nest knows that during her own bad times, first losing Connor, then those empty, agonizing weeks – mercifully few before she'd had to start the new term – after Henrietta takes the baby away, and, later again, the months immediately after the accident, it is Mina who holds her firm, instilling the will to go on, forcing her back to life.

Nest stirred restlessly, glanced at her bedside clock – nearly half-past one – and decided that she needed a hot drink. She edged herself out of bed, pulled on her dressing-gown and got herself into her chair. Opening the door quietly, listening for a moment, she wheeled across the hall and into the kitchen. She was sitting beside the table drinking camomile tea when Mina came in.

‘Oh dear,' she said. ‘You too? Not brooding, I hope?'

‘I was a bit.' Nest set her mug down. ‘Thinking back to the accident, you know. Trying to decide whether Henrietta actually took in what I said. I keep going over it. It was a soaking night, terrible rain, if you remember. The wipers were going and the traffic was quite bad; the tyres swishing on the wet road. I was almost shouting, well, we all were. Connor and I had drunk too much and Henrietta was in a state because she was beginning to see that she might not get her own way. She wasn't used to that and she was starting to panic. She was very defensive, cross that I was involved, and she knew that Connor had roped me in so as to support him. She was snappy. “I may not be Lyddie's mother,” she said, very sarcastic, and, quite without thinking, I said, “No, but Connor
is
her father . . .” I remember stopping short, clapping my hand over my mouth, and she turned her head very sharply and they looked at each other. And then the car just clipped the lorry coming in the other direction and we were spinning and spinning out of control. I'll never forget the terrible sounds . . .'