Guarded Passions (20 page)

Helen replaced the receiver as the line went dead. She took a quick look in the hall mirror, pushing her hair into shape, wishing she had got up early and washed it that morning as she'd meant to do. Ruth might have let her know they were coming, she thought, as she outlined her mouth with a pink lipstick. She hated being caught unprepared.

She called out to Lucy to let her know where she was going. Lucy was engrossed watching television, and, knowing Mark would soon be in from milking, Helen decided to let her stay where she was.

Ruth and Hugh were waiting in the station forecourt, Ruth wearing a red mini-skirt and white blouse, Hugh in grey slacks and an open-neck short-sleeved blue shirt.

‘What kept you?' Ruth asked as she settled into the passenger seat beside Helen, leaving Hugh to sit on his own in the back of the car.

‘Nothing kept me,' Helen told her sharply. ‘I came the moment I put the phone down. If you'd warned me you were coming …'

‘Here we go,' Ruth interrupted. ‘Nag, nag, nag!' She turned to Hugh, ‘What did I tell you!' She turned back to her mother and said, ‘Blame him; it was his idea to come.'

‘I'm not blaming anyone,' Helen told her. ‘I'm always pleased to see you, you know that. It's just that I'm not prepared and you know I like to have everything ready. I'm not even sure if there's enough dinner to go round!'

‘There'd better be,' Ruth laughed. ‘We've had nothing since breakfast-time. We're both starving. We missed out on lunch we were so busy packing.'

‘Packing?' Helen asked in surprise. ‘You've only brought a weekend case with you.'

‘I've been posted.' Hugh said. His eyes met hers in the driving mirror, darkly intense.

Helen's heart thudded wildly. ‘You … you don't mean …'

‘Yes,' Hugh said tersely. ‘Northern Ireland.'

‘I was afraid when they announced that troops were being sent over there that you might have to go,' Helen murmured, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice.

She had heard on the news about the riots in Londonderry and the need to send in extra troops and she'd hoped it wouldn't be the Guards. It seemed ludicrous to think of them going over there to deal with terrorists when only recently they had been on duty at Caernarvon Castle for the lavish spectacular of the investiture of Prince Charles as Prince of Wales. She and Lucy had sat glued to the TV set, straining to pick Hugh out from the hundreds of red-coated Guardsmen, but finding it impossible since their bearskins almost totally concealed their features.

‘They should never have allowed the Apprentice Boys' Parade to go ahead,' she added sadly.

‘That's what brought things to a head in the Bogside,' Hugh agreed, ‘but it has been building up for some time.'

‘When are you being sent over there?'

‘Next Tuesday.'

‘Next Tuesday! It's Friday now … that's only four days away.'

‘That means you only have to put up with us for a couple of days,' Ruth quipped. ‘We'll have to go back on Sunday because there's still a lot of packing to be done. The Army collects the boxes on Monday and we hand over the quarter first thing Tuesday morning.'

‘You're going as well then, Ruth?'

‘Of course. It's a two-year posting – the chance I've been waiting for.'

‘You'll be over there at Christmas!'

‘That's right.' Ruth grinned. ‘Do you think Father Christmas will be able to find us?'

‘I hope so. I shouldn't think Hugh would get leave that soon,' Helen said lightly, sensing the strain underlying Ruth's banter.

She had changed so much since her marriage that it worried Helen. The softness had gone from her grey eyes, and her gentle, sensitive mouth was now so much firmer. Helen had wanted her to come back home while Hugh had been on tour first in Hong Kong and later in Oman, but Ruth had insisted on staying on at Chelsea Barracks.

Hugh, too, seemed older and more cynical. Helen felt she knew so little about him. She had been shocked when his mother had died just three months after the wedding. Mr Edwards had never fully recovered and four months later had suffered a massive stroke, which left him in a coma until he died three weeks later.

Over the next few days Helen's uneasiness about them increased. Ruth seemed to be on the defensive all the time, too ready to argue, and to pick on Hugh whenever he was in the wrong. But if he made the slightest criticism of anything she did, then she rounded on him and quickly asserted her rights.

There were times when Helen thought Hugh was actually afraid of Ruth. Yet, when they were on their own, they seemed close enough, strolling hand in hand, or with their arms around each other's waist.

It was Ruth's bossiness, her perverseness, and her sudden flare-ups, that worried Helen. It was almost as if Ruth didn't know how to share her life with someone else, Helen mused as she listened to them arguing fiercely. At times, Ruth even seemed to be deliberately trying to provoke Hugh, Helen thought, watching the scowl on his face when Ruth contradicted him.

Watching them together, Helen was convinced that Ruth's attitude would lead to trouble and she tried to find a way to talk to her alone and tactfully point this out. On the Saturday evening she suggested that Ruth went with her to visit Aunt Julia.

‘I'm sure Hugh would sooner stay here with Mark than come with us,' she said with a smile.

‘If I have to suffer Aunt Julia, then I don't see why he shouldn't,' Ruth protested.

‘Suffer her!' Helen's voice was sharp with annoyance.

Ruth laughed a little awkwardly. ‘You know what I mean, Mum.'

‘No, I don't. She's a sweet old lady and she's always been very kind to you.'

‘Oh, I know that. Don't take everything so literally,' Ruth snapped. ‘She does go on a bit though about Dad and she likes to delve into the past and talk about when you were a girl and all that.'

‘She only has her memories now,' Helen defended. ‘She's crippled with arthritis so she isn't able to get out and about very much these days. Looking back is one of the few pleasures left to her.'

‘Oh all right. I suppose I ought to go and say “Cheerio” to her before we leave for Ireland. Do you want to go right now?'

‘I must put Lucy to bed first.'

‘Hugh can do that. Come on, I want to be back before half-eight. There's a programme I want to watch.'

‘Hugh can't put Lucy to bed!' Helen exclaimed.

‘'Course he can. All he has to do is tell her to go upstairs and remember to clean her teeth. Don't worry, he'll pop up later and tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.'

‘I want a story,' Lucy protested.

‘OK. You shall have a story,' Ruth snapped. ‘Hugh tells wonderful stories … or he'll read to you, whichever you like. Come on Mum, don't let's stand here arguing all night.'

‘Well …' Helen looked bemused.

‘It's all right,' Hugh assured her. ‘Lucy will be OK. You two go on.'

The speech Helen had carefully memorised, and worked herself up to give, fell flat. Ruth was in no mood to listen. The moment they were on their own she turned the tables and launched into a full-scale attack.

‘Why do you always take Hugh's side whenever we have an argument, Mum?' she asked angrily as they left the house.

‘Take Hugh's side … what are you talking about!'

‘Come off it, you know what I mean. The minute I criticise him, or disagree with him over anything, you fly to his defence.'

‘Well, he
is
a guest …'

‘Rubbish! He's one of the family. We're married, remember.'

Her tone inflamed Helen. Forgoing the gentle, tactful approach she said angrily, ‘I don't know what's got into you, Ruth. You've become bossy … aggressive … you seem to be looking for a row all the time.'

‘No, I'm not.'

‘From where I stand it certainly looks that way,' Helen said heatedly. ‘You've changed.'

‘I've learned to speak up for myself. I wouldn't survive long in married quarters if I didn't … you should know that.'

‘I never found it necessary to contradict your father every time he said something.'

‘I don't argue with Hugh … except when it's necessary – and when I know I'm in the right and he isn't. I'm not just going to agree with him for the sake of peace and quiet like you used to do with Dad. You needn't bother denying it. I've seen you back down time and time again when you should have taken a stand.'

‘I don't know
what
you're talking about,' Helen denied hotly.

‘Oh yes you do, Mum. Things are different today. Marriage is a partnership. I don't accept Hugh's word as law. I have a perfect right to my own opinion about things.'

‘Of course you do, dear.'

‘And I expect Hugh to do his share of the chores. I don't go along with the way you treated Dad. I have no intention of waiting on Hugh hand and foot. When Dad was at home, our whole life had to revolve round him. He had the best chair, chose what we all watched on telly, and where we should go if we went for a walk. He was even given first pick of the cakes at tea-time! It makes me sick just to think about it.'

‘Ruth!' Helen's face was white with shock and anger. ‘How
dare
you talk about your father like that.'

‘Because it's the truth – and before you start to criticise the way I am with Hugh, think about how you acted with Dad and then decide which of us is right. I'm pretty sure Hugh loves me as much as I love him, but that doesn't make him perfect and it doesn't mean that I have to put him on a pedestal. Neither do I have to be a martyr and go along with everything he says when it's not what I want.'

‘Yet you are going to Ireland with him!' Helen pronounced triumphantly.

‘Of course I am! Like I said, he's human. If I let him go over there on his own for two years he may find someone else.'

‘Ruth! Hugh hasn't got a roving eye already?' Helen exclaimed in dismay.

‘Not as far as I know, but, as I said, he's only human. If I stay in England, when I could be over there with him, then I would only have myself to blame if he strayed.'

Desperately Helen tried to find the words she needed to counsel Ruth, to warn her that unless she treated Hugh more tolerantly she'd lose him anyway.

‘You do tend to shout at him, Ruth,' she blurted out.

‘'Course I do. He's a soldier. Orders are all he understands. If I speak in a reasonable tone and ask him to do something he'll simply mumble “Yes” and go on reading or watching telly, or whatever. If I shout an order at him then he automatically springs to attention.'

‘And you argue such a lot,' Helen persisted.

‘He's got to learn what my opinions are, hasn't he?'

‘But, Ruth …'

‘Look Mum, we've only been married a couple of years, not a life-time like you and Dad. You knew what he felt about most things and you either shared his views or gave in quietly. I'm not like that, nor is Hugh. He doesn't want me to accept his opinions if I don't agree with them … and I don't intend to do so, anyway. OK we settle things rather noisily, but we do communicate. We're still individuals. I don't intend to end up as Hugh's shadow, without any opinions of my own, or being too scared to voice them.'

‘I wasn't scared of your father …'

‘Oh, come off it, Mum. You wouldn't ruffle his feathers no matter
what
the issue might be and you brought us kids up to be the same. As long as Dad didn't mind, we could do anything and go anywhere. The moment he raised so much as an eyebrow, it was taboo. We were shit-scared of him. The only good times were when he was away. Then we all breathed freely and even you became more human. When Dad was around you didn't even have Nesta Evans and Sheila Wilson in for coffee because you thought Dad mightn't like it.'

‘The Wilsons and the Evans often came in for a meal …'

‘Yes, as long as Jock and Taffy were there to keep Dad company. Then he'd play the big man of the house. You'd do all the work, all the cooking and baking, and he'd just pour the wine, or the beer, and lord it over everyone. And did he ever give you a hand with the clearing up afterwards?'

‘Nesta and Sheila used to help.'

‘Sometimes. More often than not the dishes were left until after they went home and then you were the one that did them. Well, it's not like that in my house. If we have friends in for a meal then Hugh plays his part. If he's at home he helps with the preparations as well as with the clearing up.'

‘You seem to have it all worked out,' Helen murmured as they reached Aunt Julia's gate. ‘I hope you've got it right. Time will tell. But all I can say is that my marriage was as near perfect as it was possible to be. Your father was a wonderful husband and I never had a moment's worry about him when he was away, whether it was a field exercise or a trip overseas. I hope you will be as lucky.'

‘I hope so too, but, as I said, Hugh is only human.' Ruth grinned. ‘And since he's not on a pedestal, he won't be able to fall off, will he?'

Ruth found living in Northern Ireland very different from Chelsea. Hugh was stationed just outside Londonderry and they had been allocated a house in Robin Road, a cul-de-sac on the opposite side of the road to the barracks. A multi-stranded barbed-wire fence at the bottom of their garden and pill-box lookouts at the end of the road, segregated the Army property from that of the local inhabitants.

The road blocks were manned right around the clock and the soldiers on duty had the power to stop and search everyone using the road, as well as ask them for proof of identity. As it was, they quickly knew the people living there by sight and such formalities were generally overlooked.