The Winter Children (45 page)

But there was no escape. The letters from Dan began arriving soon after they did, each one sent registered mail, pages of carefully composed script which she knew had been laboriously crafted
and copied. There were emails too, but she filtered them out so she didn’t see them. The letters, by turns pleading and threatening, made her feel bludgeoned when she read them. He wouldn’t just shut up and let her absorb what had happened, and make her own choices about how to deal with their situation. He demanded that she put an end to his
misery of not knowing what was going to happen. He wanted her to jump to his orders, do what he wanted when he wanted it. His apologies were heartfelt but having made them, he evidently felt that
the onus was now on her to accept, forgive and move on. If she failed to do so, then he became the wounded party and she was now the wrongdoer.

She read the letters, then put them away, wishing he would be quiet and bide his time. Every letter put off the time when she could bring herself to communicate with him again. Each one made her
feel more that he wanted to control her.

But that was what he was always like. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.

When she tries to imagine a life with Dan, she cannot. Apologies are not enough, promises to be good are not enough. She meant what she said: he has taken their love and killed it stone dead.
Although she is still deeply hurt, angry and betrayed, and in mourning for the marriage she thought she had, she feels very little for him on a personal level except for a firm conviction that she
can’t have him in her life anymore. There is no place for him. She doesn’t want to let men like him within a country mile of her. She needs honesty, generosity and emotional truth. When
she tries to imagine going back to Dan, she feels physically sick.

No more lies
, she tells herself.
I might learn to trust again – but it won’t be Dan.

Olivia is gardening, her back baking in the heat even though it’s now early evening. The children are in the kitchen having supper with their cousins, looked after by Olivia’s
sister. She enjoys taking the odd evening to herself, finding peace in digging and tending the flower beds. There is always plenty to do in a garden and while it might not look like much at
first, the work gradually has its effect as the plants flourish, the weeds subside and order comes out of the chaos.

She doesn’t hear any footsteps approaching over the lawn so the voice, when it comes, makes her jump and gasp. ‘Olivia?’

She turns around, already knowing who it is. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asks in a freezing voice. ‘How did you find us?’

Cheska has her hands out in a gesture of supplication. ‘Please, don’t be angry. I need to talk to you. This was the only way. I’m sorry to spring out of the blue like this, but really . . . it was the only way.’

‘I suppose Dan told you.’ Olivia stands up. She is taller than Cheska and at once she feels her dignity return. She strips off her gardening gloves. ‘You’ve got a nerve
showing up here. Don’t you understand that I never want to see you again? And if you think you’re getting your hands on my children, you can forget it. All your money won’t buy
them, I can promise you that.’

‘I don’t want that,’ Cheska says quickly. She looks older, Olivia notices. Her legendary polish is still there, but a little rougher round the edges as though life has been a bumpier ride lately. ‘I just want to apologise. And explain a
little.’

‘And you’ve come all this way to do that?’ Olivia laughs mirthlessly. ‘You must really want to have your say. Why not send an email?’

‘I wanted to make sure you understand the spirit I’m talking to you in.’

‘How kind. So thoughtful and considerate. You’re such a good friend.’ Olivia begins to walk towards the villa, wishing the biting sarcasm could help relieve her anger at
Cheska, but it doesn’t seem to. Her voice grows icier. ‘I’m afraid I have no desire to hear what you’ve got to say. Now will you please leave? You can talk to me via my
lawyers.’ She heads back towards the white house as though it’s her sanctuary from attack.

‘Please, Olivia.’ Cheska is following her, her voice beseeching. ‘I would just like to explain. Just a little. I want you to know that it was nothing to do with
you.’

Olivia spins round, her eyes flashing. ‘Well, I guess I got that message. Because if you’d thought about me for a moment, perhaps you wouldn’t have done it.’

‘It was wrong,’ Cheska says humbly, dropping her gaze. ‘But there were reasons. I suffered too. I lost so much as well. I wish you’d let me tell you.’

Olivia stares at her, and she recalls something she overheard that awful day. Cheska said something that stuck in her mind. What was it? She hears it again in her head.
Don’t you know
how easy it is to ruin a life when someone loves you? Look what you did to me.
She thinks of Claire’s description of Cheska at university, treated like a joke by Dan, ordered to do his bidding. Her agony when he ignored her. She
always knew, somewhere deep down, that there was a story like that at the heart of Cheska and Dan’s relationship. She has been wondering what happened between them, when they became lovers
and how it ended. She knows it must have been before she and Dan met.
Did he really ruin her life? But how?
She feels a tiny buzz of pity for Cheska, and something in her relents. And
besides, she wants to know. She senses that Cheska is here to tell the truth.

‘All right,’ she says slowly. ‘We’ll walk around the garden and you can explain.’

‘Thank you,’ Cheska says gratefully. ‘Thank you for the chance.’

‘Come on then.’ She walks off towards the gravel path that will take them around the perimeter of the garden.

Cheska follows, and as they go, she begins her story.

Olivia doesn’t know how many times they go around the garden as Cheska tells her what happened right from the start. She loses count after the first half dozen. It is almost dark when
Cheska stops. By now they have left the garden and are sitting on the veranda, looking out over the lawn with its riotously coloured flower beds.

There is a silence and then Olivia turns to her and says softly, ‘It doesn’t excuse it, you know. It doesn’t mean you did nothing wrong.’

‘I know that, really I do. But you should have known it all a long time ago. I shouldn’t have buried everything away as I did. If I hadn’t, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.’ Cheska looks more peaceful now that she has shared
her story.

Olivia thinks for a moment and then says, ‘I’m sorry. About the baby. That was very cruel.’

Cheska says slowly, ‘I think that under any circumstances I would probably have had an abortion. We were far too young. Well . . .’ She laughs with a touch of sorrow. ‘If Dan
had wanted to marry me it might have been different. As it was . . . the damage was caused because he pretended none of it had ever happened. And because I couldn’t let go of a piece of
fantasy. Even when Walt came along, I always thought I’d ended up with second best.’

Olivia is surprised. ‘Didn’t you love Walt?’

‘Oh yes, I did love him. But I couldn’t help clinging on to my romantic notions about Dan. I didn’t realise how much I need Walt, or what a good man he is, until all of
this.’

‘Then something good has come out of it,’ Olivia says ruefully. ‘I suppose we should be glad about that.’

‘Well, it was a terrible and traumatic way for things to right themselves,’ Cheska says drily, ‘but yes, some good things have come out of it. I’m going to restart my
career, for one thing. Walt is encouraging me to get back to work. No more charity balls. Proper human rights work, although it won’t be as a lawyer, unless I go back to law school. I’m
afraid my legal career was another casualty of my stupid infatuation.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m going to tell Olympia – and you must tell Bea – never to let herself be derailed by romantic dreams. Sometimes I think they’re half the reason why women don’t make it to the top as often as men. We let ourselves get distracted by fantasies.’

‘Maybe.’ Olivia likes the way Cheska talks as though Bea is not her daughter, but entirely Olivia’s. ‘I think it’s a good thing that you’re reclaiming your
work. Good for you. I’m going to do the same. My work will have to support us a lot more than it has. I’ve got all sorts of ideas on the go.’

‘Well, while we’re all waiting for Dan to finish that bloody play . . .’ says Cheska jokily.

Olivia laughs. ‘What was he doing all that time?’

‘I think I might know.’ Cheska smiles conspiratorially. ‘I went into that study of his one day and the spider solitaire was open on his computer in the middle of a game. So I
went to the statistics. He’d played seven thousand games in the last two years.’

‘What?’ Olivia is disbelieving. ‘He spent all that time playing solitaire?’

‘Maybe not all the time,’ Cheska rejoins. ‘I think sometimes he might have played fantasy cricket.’

They both laugh.

Cheska regards her in the twilight, her expression hard to read as the light fades. Then she asks, ‘Do you think you’ll take him back?’

Olivia slides a glance towards her, wondering if Cheska has in fact been sent by Dan and all this is to be reported back. But then she realises it doesn’t much matter either way. ‘No,’ she says at last. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘No.’ Cheska nods. ‘I can see why you wouldn’t. The trust is gone.’

‘Utterly gone. Utterly.’ There’s a long pause and then Olivia says, ‘But you and Walt are fine?’

‘Yes. He knows everything. He knew some of it anyway, in a vague way. But not about the baby. He didn’t know that.’

‘So he knows about . . . the twins?’ It’s hard for her to say it out loud. A nasty pain stabs her in the gut, and she feels a return of her fury towards Cheska for doing what
she did. She breathes slowly and lets it drift away from her.

‘Well . . .’ Cheska colours slightly. ‘I said that I’d allowed myself to get too close to the twins; that I had emotional reasons for feeling connected to them. I
don’t feel any longer that I’m their mother, and I don’t want that to be lodged in Walt’s mind. I know I’m not being entirely straight with him. I will be, one day.
But there’s a lot for him to absorb at the moment, so we’re taking it slowly. He knows there’s more to the story. He’s willing to give me time to tell him. So far, he still
seems to want me to stick around so . . .’ Cheska smiles again, although this time her lips are a little twisted as though she might be on the brink of tears.

‘I’m glad,’ Olivia says simply. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted Dan to spoil any more of your life for you. You deserve to be happy now.’ She is surprised to realise
that she means it.

‘There’s lots of lost time to make up,’ agrees Cheska. ‘But I want you to know how deeply . . . deeply sorry I am about—’

Olivia cuts her off. ‘Don’t. Let’s not talk about it. I have my children and that’s all that matters.’

‘I know you’ll be a wonderful mother,’ Cheska says softly. After a moment she says, ‘I do love them too. I want you to know that. If you ever need help or anything at all, please come to me. I mean it.’

‘I know. But I hope it never comes to that.’

There’s another silence as they sit in the deepening blue of the night. Insects flit around them, drawn to the lighted windows behind them. Someone has looked out to see if Olivia is
there, and discreetly withdrawn. Cheska says tentatively, ‘May I . . . can I see them?’

Olivia turns to her. The hatred she felt for Cheska, all the cold contempt, has gone, but while she has sympathy for her and what she suffered at Dan’s hands, there is still the fact of
the pain she has caused and the deception she practised. It can’t be wiped out just like that. ‘No. I’m sorry, Cheska, but no. Not yet. Maybe one day. I’m still working up
to letting Dan see them again. I know he’ll have to one day. We’ll need to start hammering out a divorce and custody and all of that. Maybe after that, you can see them. But not now.
I hope you understand.’

She can just make out the sadness in Cheska’s eyes. ‘Of course,’ she says humbly. ‘I understand.’ She stands up. ‘And now I’ll be going. Thank you for
listening.’

‘Thank you for coming.’ Olivia realises she means it. She feels a deeper peace than she has for a while. One of the sources of churning despair has been quieted. ‘It took guts.
Thank you, Cheska.’

She puts out her hand and Cheska takes it with a sorrowful smile. ‘I hope we meet again,’ she says. ‘And . . . will you please kiss the children for me?’

‘Yes.’ Olivia returns the smile. ‘I will.’

Julia Adams gets out of the taxi and walks up to the front gate of Renniston Hall. She stares through the bars at the old place. It’s so familiar to her and yet it’s been years since
she set eyes on it. It’s empty now, but she remember the huge door open, with girls running in and out, staff carrying bags and trunks, teachers greeting parents, the Headmistress regally
descending the staircase as though she were Queen Elizabeth the First herself.

The taxi driver calls from the car. ‘Do you want me to wait, missus?’

‘Yes please. I won’t be too long. Please wait.’ She expects he’s wondering what a white-haired old lady is doing visiting this empty old ruin on her own.
‘I’m just going to take a look around, but I’ll be back.’

The gate is locked, so she starts to walk around the side of the house. She wanders along the eastern side. Out where the playing fields used to be there is a smart housing estate, concealed
from the house by a large row of trees. The school must have sold them off before it closed down. Of course it never recovered from the scandal. Julia remembers all the terrible fuss, though it was all so long ago now. A schoolgirl, pregnant by an Irish builder. A precious middle-class English girl,
defiled by a working-class Irish navvie! It got into the papers, goodness only knew how, and caused the most awful outcry. The school tried to ride out the storm but the parents took their
daughters away in droves. It couldn’t survive.

The path towards the back of the house is there, though, slightly muddy, as though there hasn’t been much rain, but even so, it hasn’t dried out completely. Julia walks down it, a
little hesitant in her smart, gold-buckled leather shoes. Ahead of her she sees the empty bulldozers and the abandoned cement mixers of a building site.