The Shortest Journey (21 page)

In a sort of daze I returned to the kitchen, took my
omelette out of the oven and put it on the table. I looked at the
brown, shrivelled thing before me, pushed it aside and made myself
a cup of tea. I didn’t really feel like eating.

All that sentimental nonsense, the
faithful-unto-death bit, the Wordsworth ... Even if he hadn’t
actually killed her (and it seemed that the heart attack was
genuine enough) he had still deceived her, luring her away, letting
her tell no one where she was going – and all for the money. As I
sometimes feel when I’ve eaten too much chocolate, so, after my
wallow in sentimentality, I felt rather sick. I also felt an
absolute and utter fool.

Christmas came and went and after a while I put the
whole affair out of my mind. Michael went back to London, leaving
behind his motorbike, but with a small secondhand car, presenting
me with a whole new category of things to worry about. One
particularly gloomy morning – the sky was steel grey, the ground
was frozen hard and there was a vicious east wind – I went into the
hall to get the post. There were the usual post-Christmas bills and
a letter with a Canadian stamp, which I presumed was one of
Sophie’s chatty and entertaining accounts of her busy life. I
poured myself a second cup of coffee and saw that the address was
typed and there was no return address on the envelope. When I drew
the closely written sheets from the envelope I could scarcely
believe my eyes.

16 Valley View, Nepean, Ontario

My dearest Sheila,

I can imagine what a shock this letter will be to you
and I’m so sorry about that, but I did so much want you to know
that I am well and oh so happy.

Perhaps I had better tell you about things as they
happened. As Chris will have told you, he wrote to me to say that
he had seen the announcement of Julian’s death. I can’t tell you
what an excitement it was hearing from him after all those years
and when he said he wanted to come and see me I almost said no. I
know it was foolish, but I half wanted him to remember me as a
young girl and not an old woman. Fortunately I did say yes and he
came. Oh Sheila, it was wonderful – it was just as if we had never
been parted. I knew we had to be together but I was so frightened
of what Thelma might do to stop us. I do wish that I could have
told you – I had to tell Mrs Jankiewicz, but I knew she would never
say anything. Chris told you how we managed things and how
marvellous those months were in that heavenly place. It was
wonderful to meet Olive at last – Father had never allowed me to
see any of Chris’s family or friends – we got on so well.

Chris and I were married by special licence at the
Registrar’s Office in Gloucester and I was to go back to Ontario
with them. As his wife I could travel on Chris’s passport, you see.
I’m so glad that Olive was at the wedding. I didn’t have anything
new to wear – well, I was frightened to go into any of the shops
just in case I met someone I knew – I’d been wearing some of
Olive’s clothes because I couldn’t bring anything with me! But it
was a lovely wedding and we went back to the cottage and Chris
opened a bottle of champagne that he’d bought and we had some nice
smoked salmon sandwiches he’d got at Marks and Spencer! Olive said
that when we got back to Ontario we’d have a real celebration. Poor
Olive. We had to wait for the papers to come through – the passport
and tickets and so forth – but before they arrived the poor soul
died. She wasn’t very strong and she was some years older than
Chris. It was a heart attack and very quick. We stood there looking
down at her and Chris said a little prayer.

Then I had an idea. It was rather shocking and I was
a bit ashamed of it, but Olive was dead and I didn’t think she’d
mind. I said to Chris that since we had hardly spoken to anyone
while we’d been at the cottage nobody knew which of us was which.
So why didn’t we pretend that Olive was me and that I was dead? If
we buried her as Edith Rossiter then Thelma would never be able to
get at me again!

Chris was a bit doubtful – he’s such an honest man,
with such high principles – but I persuaded him and it all worked
beautifully. I honestly don’t think that Olive would mind lying at
rest in that beautiful churchyard, and she was such a kind soul I
think she would have been glad to give me that peace of mind. Chris
felt very bad, Sheila, at deceiving you. When you knocked at the
door and I looked through the curtains and saw you standing there I
almost rushed out there and then to give you a hug like we used to.
But we’d come so far and I thought we must go through with it,
though it broke my heart to see you looking so sad as I stood at
the bedroom window and saw you going down the garden path.

I expect that by now you will have heard from Thelma
about my will. It must have been a very nasty surprise for her!
Chris was very worried and upset when I told him how I was going to
leave the money – he has a strong sense of family and, even though
Thelma and Alan haven’t been very loving children, I think he was
rather shocked at what I had done. But honestly, Sheila, after all
the misery that money has caused, I thought it was time it did a
bit of good for a change. Chris and Olive have always done so much
for the community here – raising funds for this and that – it will
be really marvellous to be able to help. We won’t spend a penny of
it on ourselves. Chris is quite well off – he did very well in his
job and I’m so proud of what he achieved – and has plenty of money
for us to live on. Father’s money has only brought me unhappiness –
and poor Mother, too – so it will be wonderful to think it can make
other people happier. I left Alan the amount he wanted for that
expedition – I know his motives were selfish, but it might do a
little good for others – and Thelma will have all her grandfather’s
money from the Trust (she’s very like him in many ways so it seems
right, somehow), so, really, she has no reason to complain –
though I’m sure she will!

I made the will before Olive died, of course, and I
thought then that after a while I would be presumed dead (is that
the phrase?) and the will would be proved in the usual way. But
having a death certificate in my name has made it all much easier.
So wasn’t I clever! Dear Chris was very doubtful about it all at
first but I think he’s coming round to it now, especially as we
have a joint account and I write all the cheques so that no one can
say that he’s a fortune hunter! You see how independent I’m getting
these days! But, really, I seem to have taken on a new lease of
life. Chris says that if he knew how bossy I’d become he’d never
have married me!

The people in Nepean (I called it Nepeen at first,
but it’s Nepean – three syllables!) are so nice and friendly and
Chris’s house is lovely. They’re so hospitable. Soon after we
arrived a group of his friends gave a lovely party for us at
Emilio’s, which is a very nice restaurant not far from here. Chris
does a lot of work for the local hospital and for a sort of
help-line (rather like our Samaritans) and I am helping Emma (who
is our next-door neighbour) with her basket supper to help raise
funds for St Mark’s – that’s the Anglican Church we go to. Oh,
Sheila, I’m having such fun. I never knew life could be so
wonderful. I’m so very lucky.

I must finish now and let Chris take this to the
post. It’s very snowy here, but the house is lovely and warm, and
everything looks very pretty. Yesterday I saw the young people were
skating at the outdoor rink at the Civic Centre. People do seem to
enjoy themselves more over here. Perhaps one day you could come
over and see us. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Tell Mrs Jankiewicz all
about this, please. I don’t think I’d better risk a letter to West
Lodge!! Write to me soon and let me know that you forgive me and
tell me all the Taviscombe gossip.

My dearest love to you.

Your old friend, E.V.

Scrawled at the bottom in a different hand was a
brief note: ‘Please do forgive me – I hated to deceive you that
day. We very much want you to come and see us, just so that you can
see how happy we are! C.V.’

I put the letter down on the table and sat staring at
it for some time – so long, in fact, that Tessa, worried by my
unaccustomed stillness, nudged my leg with her nose and whined
softly.

I took the letter down to West Lodge and read it to
Mrs Jankiewicz. When I had finished I saw that she had tears in her
eyes.

‘Is good,’ she said, smiling. ‘Is very good. When I
see them together I know it will be right for her. I am never
wrong!’

She rummaged in the large black leather handbag that
she always kept beside her and found a handkerchief and blew her
nose vigorously. Then she drew a letter from the recesses of the
bag and said, ‘And now I have the news for you. My Adam is coming
to see me soon. He writes that he is thinking of giving up
Cambridge.’

‘Oh, surely not!’ I exclaimed. ‘What will he do?’

‘He has seen many programmes about Poland on TV and
he wishes to go to Warsaw to work there in our country. He wishes
to come to see me so we can talk about Poland and he says he asks
my advice.’

‘And what will you tell him?’ I asked.

She shook her head. She was sitting bolt upright; her
head was erect and her eyes were sparkling. She was the Mrs
Jankiewicz I had always known.

‘I do not know. We talk. I tell him about the old
days. I tell him about his ancestors in Poland, many generations
ago. He will decide himself. But’ – her face softened into a smile
– ‘he comes to ask me. I am not old and useless – there are still
things I can do.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘both you and Mrs Rossiter. We
still need you.’

‘Thanks God,’ said Mrs Jankiewicz.