The Shadow of the Sycamores (56 page)

At last, Henry said, ‘So there was really only one murder – the little baby. The man’s death was an accident and Jerry’s wife’s was suicide. Am I right?’

‘That is correct,’ James replied.

‘So our Jerry wasn’t responsible for any of the things that happened?’

‘Not the least little bit responsible. Now, I know that the news has upset you, brought it all back, but I was duty-bound to tell you.’

Wiping her few remaining tears away, Fay said, ‘Of course you had to tell us and we are truly grateful to you, James. At least we know now that our son did not murder anybody.’

‘I feel bitter that …’ Henry hesitated and then went on, ‘that the baby wasn’t Jerry’s.’

Frank sat forward in his chair at this point, as if about to say something, but Laurie came running in from school. ‘I knew you were here,’ he crowed, making straight for Malcolm. ‘I saw the Rolls.’

‘My legs could be doing with a stretch,’ Malcolm smiled. ‘How about coming for a wee walk with me?’

Frank also stood up. ‘I could be doing with a walk myself.’

When the door crashed behind the boy, Fay turned to James. ‘You’ll stop for your supper?’

‘You are not prepared for three extra mouths,’ he told her. ‘I was meaning to go after Samara comes home. I would like to see her again.’

‘You’re stopping and no argument!’ She went through to the kitchen to pare some more potatoes, thankful that she had made enough broth that morning to do them two or three days because the boiled beef wouldn’t go round everybody. The family wouldn’t get any but at least there were plenty carrots.

His wife out of the room, Henry reverted to the topic uppermost in his mind. ‘You know, it was years after the army sent on Jerry’s belongings that we came across the two certificates – the marriage one and the birth one. That’s what made me try to find his widow and their son – of course, I didn’t know the boy wasn’t Jerry’s son at that time – but, as you know, they were not to be found. Mind you, I’d no idea that Anna Cairns, as her maiden name was, had been a patient, though I did have a strange feeling that something wasn’t right. That rough bit on the birth certificate, where the mother’s occupation was given, had been changed to read ‘nurse’. It would have originally said
‘patient’ or maybe even ‘mental patient’ and Jerry must have altered it because the registrar or whoever filled out the certificate wouldn’t have risked doing it. Altering legal documents is against the law – as my father was to discover when he tried to get my own birth certificate changed.’

James let him talk on. It would do him good to get everything sorted out in his mind.

‘Did anybody say anything bad about the infant? I mean, he wasn’t like his mother? He was … normal?’

‘As far as I know, he was. Tina would have said if he had not been. She had a lot to do with him and his mother. She was very fond of them … and of Jerry.’

‘Aye, that’s some comfort.’

Henry fell silent now but the ensuing silence was broken when Mara came in.

‘I’m so glad to see you, James,’ she said, kissing his cheek.

‘Take him up to your room and listen to what he says,’ her father instructed her. ‘Laurie and the two men’ll be back shortly and you’ll get no peace in here.’

Having told his story already, James was more fluent and, with Mara being quicker on the uptake, it did not take nearly so long. She did not weep when he came to the last tragedy but shook her head sadly. ‘That poor girl … and poor Jerry.’ She considered for a few moments and then said apologetically, ‘I can’t help thinking that it’s true what people say – that God works in mysterious ways. Anna hadn’t been cured, like they all thought and probably the birth had had a lot to do with her mental state. Then the business with Charles Moonie …’ She hesitated briefly. ‘You’ll maybe think this is callous of me but, to my way of thinking, Jerry would have that terrible time fresh in his mind for the rest of his life, plus the awful sights he must have seen in battle. It was probably best that he died when he did.’ She looked earnestly at James. ‘Do you think I’m awful?’

‘Not at all. It is not the way my mind was working but I can see your point. I do not think, however, that you should mention it to your parents. They will be struggling with their
feelings for some time yet, I imagine, but they will settle down again and perhaps you can put your point of view to them then.’

She gave a wry laugh. ‘And perhaps I had better not.’

The two men returned with the boy just as James and Mara went downstairs. James introduced her to Frank and supper was served. Because of Laurie, the meal was eaten amid light-hearted banter and it was Henry who said, as the two ladies were clearing the table, ‘Mara, why don’t you take Frank out and show him a bit of Ardbirtle? Malcolm can play a few games of Ludo or something to amuse Laurie and I’ll help your mother with the dishes.’

She didn’t like to refuse. As she told her mother the next day, she quite liked the look of Frank Fry but had thought it would be difficult to know what to say.

Soon after Laurie was settled for the night, Malcolm excused himself on the grounds of all the driving he had done and went to bed, too, although Fay knew that it was only an excuse. ‘What were you playing at?’ she accosted her husband. ‘Are you trying your hand at matchmaking with Mara and Frank? Maybe they’re the right age for each other but I don’t think it’ll work – they’re both too shy.’

The couple
were
very shy and walked along silently for a few minutes and then Mara said, ‘We can go back if you’d rather. I’m not a great conversationalist.’

‘Neither am I but we can surely find something to talk about.’

She found his grin very attractive. ‘Right. I believe you brought Malcolm up on your own? It must have been difficult when you had to go to work as well.’

‘It wasn’t easy but he was a good boy – always ready to help. We got through.’

‘You made a good job of it, anyway. He’s a very nice young man. I wish he were a good few years older.’ Wishing that she hadn’t said it, she gave a laugh to show that she was joking. ‘One of these days he’ll surprise you by bringing home a girlfriend. How will you feel about that?’

‘I’ll have to say nothing – whatever the girl is like.’

‘I’m sure Malcolm will pick a winner.’

‘I picked a winner,’ Frank said. ‘Sylvia was everything a wife should be – a good cook, a good housewife, good with money.’ He looked at Mara quizzically. ‘What about you? Did you pick a winner?’

‘I did. Leo was a lovely man when I knew him first – tall and handsome, good fun, good company – but, unfortunately, the war robbed him of all that. I married him after he was sent home, a total wreck. At first, it wasn’t so bad and we had quite a few years of perfect happiness. Then there were some years that weren’t so perfect and he deteriorated quite quickly after that – until I couldn’t cope any longer. That was when James took him away and put him in a home for disabled servicemen.’

‘So neither of us had all that long to enjoy our marriages?’ He stopped abruptly when they came to what claimed to be an antique shop. ‘Can we go in? It’s still open and I love browsing through old things.’

‘You’ll be at home here,’ she giggled. ‘It’s full of old junk.’

She watched him as he sifted through the piles of bric-a-brac lying on the first small table. He wasn’t a bit like his son. They were both tall – around six feet – but he had dark, grizzled hair while Malcolm’s was much fairer. The shape of their faces was different too. Even at twenty-five, Malcolm’s was still round and boyish, his father’s was angular, strongly boned. She had also noticed earlier that Frank’s eyes were brown and his son’s were grey.

‘Does Malcolm take after Sylvia?’ she asked when Frank straightened up to go to another table. He gave her a most peculiar look, she thought, and she was about to apologise for being too personal.

‘No, he takes after his mother.’ His voice was soft. Then, seeing her puzzled expression, he went on, ‘I think we should find somewhere private to talk.’

She took him to Petty Park, donated to the town in the late nineteenth century by Alexander Roderick Petty, a local boy
who had made good in America. It was quite a pleasant night and they had to go well in before they found a vacant seat – crafted by a local cabinet-maker. ‘I had better tell you everything,’ Frank began. ‘I should really have told you and your parents together but I wasn’t sure …’

‘You’re making me very curious,’ she smiled, hoping that he wasn’t about to confess to an affair during which Malcolm had been conceived.

‘As you may have guessed, Sylvia was not Malcolm’s mother. She had been told, when she was much younger, that she could never have family so, when her best friend lay dying from a flu that was raging at the time and asked her to take her baby, she agreed. He was just over a year old and he was like a gift from God.’

‘Was the mother not married?’

‘Yes, Daphne had been married but her husband had to return to his regiment the day after the birth and he never came back. She never knew if he’d been killed or if he had abandoned her.’

‘Poor girl. That must have been awful for her but didn’t her parents want to take care of their grandchild?’

‘Apparently she had fallen out with her mother. Daphne’s mother said Jerry was a rotter for having his way with her before they were married and then deserting her and the baby. Sylvia did go to them to make sure it was all right for us to have him and Mrs Nelson said they didn’t want anything to do with him.’

‘Oh, that’s sad. Fancy any parents … grandparents …’ Mara broke off. It was too horrible to think about.

‘I kept telling Sylvia that we should try to trace Daphne’s husband. We could have applied to the War Office or to the Gordon Highlanders Headquarters …’

‘My brother was in the Gordons.’

‘So I believe. I went to ask the Nelsons if they knew his service number but they wouldn’t tell me anything – not even his name. Sylvia knew his name but she wouldn’t say either. She was scared we’d lose the boy if I stirred things up so we
had to adopt him before he could legally have our surname.’

Mara became aware that he was regarding her cautiously. ‘But you did find out his name?’ she asked after a moment.

‘Not until after Sylvia died and I didn’t want to lose my son as well as my wife. In any case, I only knew his name – I didn’t know where he actually came from. Being a Gordon Highlander, he was almost certainly from the north of Scotland, the north-east probably, but …’

The truth struck Mara then, as clearly as if he had actually said it. ‘You think it was my brother?’

‘Oh, Mara, I wasn’t sure. It was only when I heard James speaking about the Rae family that I had any suspicions. Jeremy Rae …’

‘Killed in action in 1917,’ she finished for him. ‘Oh, Frank, it
is
him, was him … and oh, God, I’m going to cry.’

He put his arms round her and held her closely, kissing her hair and patting her back, until the soft sobs ceased. ‘I’m sorry, Samara. I couldn’t find a way to tell your parents but I shouldn’t have blurted it all out to you like this … on your own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

She stroked his cheek. ‘There’s no need to be sorry, Frank. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been for a very long time. I’ve discovered today that Jerry was innocent of any crime and that he did find some happiness after he left The Sycamores.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Wait till my father learns he really does have a grandson after all.’

The jubilation in Oak Cottage carried on until well after midnight, Fay and Henry practically jumping their own (small) height with joy, James Ferguson shaking his head in delighted disbelief and Malcolm’s happy smile, when he hugged his grandparents, so wide that it almost split his round face in half. Looking on, it seemed natural to Mara that Frank was still holding the hand he had clasped for support while he told the others the momentous news.

Not until they were all exhausted did they go to bed, Malcolm first, then James, then Henry and his wife. On her way out, Fay
turned to say goodnight to her daughter and Frank Fry but what she saw made her think better of it.

‘What a day this has been,’ she exclaimed when she closed the bedroom door.

‘Aye, you’re right there,’ Henry agreed. ‘And I’m shit done.’

‘There’s no need for that kind of language,’ she admonished him.

‘I’m that damned happy I don’t know what I’m saying,’ he laughed, grabbing her round the waist and twirling her round. ‘I feel like I’m sixteen again, courting you, my lovely, lovely, Fairy Fay. I thought we’d go to our graves with just one daughter to leave behind and now we’ve got a grandson as well. Who’d have believed it?’

‘There’s something else you’re going to find it hard to believe,’ she smiled. ‘You’re going to have a son-in-law as well, mark my words. Did you not notice Frank holding Mara’s hand?’

‘No, no, you’ve been seeing things. They only met this afternoon.’

‘And you sent them out together. Your matchmaking did the trick, my dear Tchouki. They make a nice couple, though they’re both well over forty.’

Henry was too happy to argue. ‘I hope they
are
serious about each other. If they get wed, Frank’ll not mind so much about us wanting a share o’ Malcolm.’

THE END

First published 2004

by Black & White Publishing Ltd

29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL

www.blackandwhitepublishing.com

This electronic edition published in 2014

ISBN: 978 1 84502 815 2 in EPub format

ISBN: 978 1 84502 012 5 in paperback format

Copyright © Doris Davidson 2004

The right of Doris Davidson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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