Gull Island (41 page)

The day was surprisingly warm for early spring, with skies clear and blue. People on the pavements had lost the urgent, bent-forward, hasty walk of winter and were strolling, enjoying the sweet fresh air. The road back to town was very steep and a lorry was slowly chugging its way up towards them in a low gear. Idris slowed near the top for her to look across the docks and the sea beyond, then eased his foot off the brake and swooped down.

‘Don’t!’ Mrs Carey laughed excitedly. ‘You’ll frighten me to death!’

He laughed too, pleased that she was enjoying her unexpected outing. Then, after slowing again, he touched the accelerator to frighten her and add to the fun and somehow the wheel slipped in his hand and the van shot across the road, touched the wing of an approaching lorry, bounced off and careered over, to stop against the wall of the school.

The contact was severe and his mother catapulted forward and hit her head on the facia. Another few miles per hour and she would have gone straight through the windscreen. Idris hit the screen but miraculously it didn’t break. The rear-view mirror caught the side of his face and blood ran in a fast stream down his face.

Stemming the flow with a handkerchief, he helped his mother out and ran to phone Richard. He wanted to call an ambulance but she insisted that he phoned Richard.

‘I’m only a bit shaken,’ she said. ‘Richard will know what to do.’

A householder invited them inside but Idris stood by the gate and waited for his brother, preparing his story. Mrs Carey sat inside, sipping tea in trembling hands, her arms shaking like a drummer on a final roll. Richard arrived in less than fifteen minutes and he carried his mother to his car and took her to the hospital. He said nothing to Idris, saving his fury until he knew his mother was safe.

Unbelievably, Mrs Carey wasn’t seriously hurt, but the doctor advised her to stay overnight, in case of delayed shock or other damage revealing itself. Idris was bandaged and then insisted he was well enough to go home.

He walked into the house with an unnecessary limp, and saw with relief the look of alarm and horror that crossed Kate’s face. Exaggerating his discomfort just a little, he allowed himself to be put to bed and fussed over.

Kate couldn’t turn him from her bed any longer. He was difficult, completely unreliable and untrustworthy, but the naughty-boy charm always got to her. Something within her still felt the strong emotional ties of marriage and, she had to admit it, love. She didn’t have much difficulty persuading him to stay.

Mrs Carey stayed in hospital for three days and in that time had more
visitors
than the rest of the ward together; including Rosita, Kate and Richard, and a contrite Idris who brought flowers and fruit and a huge box of chocolates far beyond a sweets ration – refusing to explain how they were acquired!

Rosita and Richard still went daily to see baby David and having met twice at the hospital, no longer without telling each other. Although they talked about him a lot, they didn’t discuss his future, but knew the time was coming when a decision would have to be made. In a wheelchair Mrs Carey also visited the nursery and admired the child. One day she was there when Richard arrived.

He approached the cot and smiled at his mother. ‘He’s a funny little chap, isn’t he?’ he said after kissing his mother. ‘I feel drawn to him somehow. He looks so helpless and alone in there.’

‘He’s a Carey, in spite of not carrying the name, and should be our responsibility.’ Mrs Carey sighed. ‘And there’s Kate not willing, and me too old to do anything about it.’

Luke drove from Cardiff and after parking his car beside the cottage, looked along the beach and saw someone sitting on the steps of the Careys’ old house. He knew at once that it was Barbara. He went into the cottage
and prepared a tray of tea and, balancing it carefully, he made his way across the uneven rocks, to sit beside her.

‘I have so many memories of this place, Luke,’ she said as she took a cup of tea. ‘Remember how we used to walk out here? The youngest Carey sitting on the bogie cart? Often barefoot, dressed in clothing that was rarely a proper fit. We used to drag firewood back the two miles home. Me surrounded by the Carey clan. And the picnics we enjoyed! Very different from the picnics people would have today. A loaf and a scraping of margarine and a jar of jam, Marmite or bloater paste. Remember?’

‘I remember,’ Luke said softly. ‘I once came here looking for you to ask you to marry me.’

She turned her face to him in surprise, her beautiful eyes widening. Her face showed the signs of too much wind and sun, the still-thick hair more grey than brown. To Luke she had never looked more beautiful.

‘I’d decided that the best for you and Rosita was for you to marry me. I came here, couldn’t find you and was eventually told by Mrs Carey that you’d become Mrs Graham Prothero. I went that same day and lied my way into the army and was sent to France.’

‘What a different life we’d have had if I’d delayed my decision for a week or two. Poor Rosita. I let her down badly.’ She leaned towards him and his arms held her close.

The evening drew in and an offshore wind moved the warmed air from the land out onto the colder sea and covered the scene in a chilling mist. The island disappeared as though a curtain had been drawn over it. There was no one else around, just the two figures locked together on the steps of the ruined house. It was a long time before they moved.

Mrs Carey knew there was something wrong between Rosita and Richard. Nothing had been said, but looking at them now, each pretending to look at a newspaper, tense and unhappy, she thought there must have been a quarrel. When would they ever learn to accept their differences?

Barbara had telephoned; said she had met Luke and would like to bring him back for supper. They were sitting waiting for them to arrive.

‘What is it with you two?’ she demanded when she could stand the silence no longer. ‘Ever since I asked you to stay and eat with us, the
atmosphere
has been as thick as a boiled sock!’

Rosita smiled and assured her that everything was ‘just fine’. Mrs Carey glared at Richard’s miserable face and ‘humphed’ to show she wasn’t convinced.

Barbara and Luke arrived and were soon followed by Kate, Idris and the girls and there was a mood of celebration. Mrs Carey was home from
hospital, Idris was wallowing in Kate’s loving attention. It was only from Rosita and Richard there was a lack of joy.

Unaware of the tension, Barbara said, ‘Well, you two, have you a date for the wedding yet?’

‘Richard and I won’t be marrying after all. Too many complications. We want different things.’

‘You’ve had another quarrel!’ Mrs Carey said in exasperation.

‘Not a quarrel, Auntie Molly Carey. I have other plans.’ She smiled at her mother and said, ‘I’ve been in touch with the authorities and applied to adopt baby David.’

White-faced, Richard stood up and stared at her. ‘They won’t let you,’ he gasped. ‘A single woman? No, they’ll never agree!’

‘He’s my sister’s child, and because there’s a family connection they are considering it.’

Richard glared at her and stormed from the room. Rosita stared after him, ashamed at the way she had broken the news in front of everyone. Last evening she had told him she couldn’t marry him but hadn’t explained her reasons. Hearing of her intention to adopt or at least foster Hattie’s orphan son had been more of a shock for him than she had imagined.

She reached for her coat and went after him. As she reached the door she saw his car leaving the kerb opposite. Running to her Anglia she drove after him. His car was more powerful and if he wanted to he could easily leave her behind.

He drove out of town and, hardly registering any surprise, Rosita
realized
he was heading for the beach at Gull Island. It was dark and frosty and the swath of her headlights made the hedges unreal, like scenery in a play. He parked near the beach and pushed open the car door. She parked near and ran towards him. His passenger door was unlocked and she sat beside him, panting as though she had run all the way.

A moon lit the scene, casting its eerie glow over the rocks and trees around them. To their left, Luke’s cottage showed a yellow light. The island looked larger in the moonlight, rising out of a calm sea, its colours muted and dull.

‘Why, Rosita?’

‘I have to,’ she said simply. ‘The baby needs me. I can’t allow him to grow up among strangers. Kate refuses to take him. Even with her
compassionate
nature, she’s unable to accept her husband’s child into her home.’

He didn’t reply, but just sat, looking out across the water.

‘Richard, I’m sorry. But my own childhood, with all its trauma, makes it impossible for me to leave him. I just can’t allow David to be brought up with no one of his own. He’s my nephew.’

‘And mine,’ he said.

‘I didn’t want arguments. I just know I can do the best for him. You see that, don’t you, Richard?’

‘Why do you never trust me? Or is it that you don’t need me any more? Have Barbara and baby David taken all the love you can spare and there’s none left for me?’

‘You know I love you. All my life I’ve held on to the hope that one day, you and I – But this changes everything. I can’t ignore the helpless, adorable little scrap. I can’t allow him to go to strangers and, well, I can’t expect you to feel the same.’

‘But I do. I want him too!’ Richard turned to look at her, hardly visible in the strange light. ‘What makes you think you’re the only one to feel compassion and love for a helpless child? I want to look after him, keep him safe and surround him with love. Can’t we combine the love we have for him. Care for him together?’

‘You mean it?’

‘Of course I mean it, woman! I’ve seen him every day since he was born. I can’t explain it, but I want him.’

‘You wouldn’t resent him, being Idris’s child?’

‘Would you?’

‘Never!’

‘Rosita, I believe David’s best chance of a happy childhood is with us, you and me, plus a child of our own. D’you think you could manage two very young children?’

He opened his arms and with a sigh of relief, Rosita slid into them. ‘With you beside me, I can manage anything.’

Time to Move On

The Runaway

Facing the World