Long Goodbyes (4 page)

chapter four

I made a good recovery and was soon back on my feet, happy to relieve Jack of his nursing and catering duties. He, however, seemed morose and unsettled at the resumption of my normal routine.

‘You are too thin,’ he said to me one morning at breakfast. ‘How will you keep well without a proper diet?’

‘Actually,’ I said, a little petulantly, ‘I am quite capable of managing my own diet. You are worrying over nothing.’

‘I shall be out and about for a couple of hours today,’ he said. ‘I mean to talk to the local smith about a horse. I think it would benefit us both to ride a little.’

‘What a lovely idea. I shall come with you.’

‘No.’ His reply was abrupt and defensive.

‘Why ever not?’ I knew, of course, what his intentions were likely to be. The house.

‘It’s a man’s business, selecting a horse.’

‘You are going to the house, are you not? Deny it!’

His hesitation told me that I was right. ‘What has come over you? Why are you so obsessed?’

‘I am
not
obsessed.’
 

His tone was harsh, like a dog’s bark, and I felt close to tears. With a great effort I composed myself.
 

‘Please, let us talk it over. Can you not take me to the house, show me what it is which has so captivated you?’ I reached across the table for his hand, but he withdrew it and ran it instead through his unbrushed hair.

‘No. I cannot.’

My heart sank. ‘Jack, please, what has happened? This is a new beginning for us, remember? We were to be so happy.’

He sighed deeply. ‘Nothing has happened. I am merely conducting some small explorations.’

‘But you lied to me. About the horse.’

‘I intend to purchase a horse. It is no lie.’

‘Very well,’ I said, suddenly angry. ‘Go and conduct your ‘small explorations’, if that’s what you want.’

At that he got up, took his coat from the stand and departed without another word, leaving me with my head in my hands.

Jack did not return home until after I had retired. I heard him downstairs muttering and pacing but did not wonder that he did not come up to bed immediately, our earlier disagreement being sufficient reason, so I imagined, to keep us at a distance. I was tired, however, and although I had intended to stay awake until he must come to bed, I nevertheless tired of my reading and drifted into a fitful sleep.
 

I awoke to find the bedsheets cold beside me. I found matches on the bedside table and lit the lamp; its flickering flame confirmed that I was indeed on my own. The grandmother clock in the corner told me it was shortly after 3am. Taking the lamp I went to the landing, paused at the staircase, and called Jack’s name. There was no response; the cottage was still and quiet. I placed my bare foot onto the first step but hesitated as I heard a faint rustle from the parlour. My heart was beating like a drum and I felt suddenly fearful of what I might find downstairs. Shadows danced eerily upon the walls as my shaking hand held the lamp aloft. Taking a moment to compose myself I continued my descent and at last came to the foot of the stairs.

For a moment I imagined the parlour to be deserted, but then I saw that someone was sitting in the corner, bolt upright, in the spindle-legged chair. The noise I had heard was the slight creak of the wooden frame upon the parlour’s flagstones as the figure shifted slightly, just as one would do if in an uncomfortable position.
 

It was not Jack.

I stood rigid, completely paralysed. The lamplight only revealed the legs and midriff of whoever occupied the chair; the head and shoulders were deep in the shadows but I could tell from his build and attire that it was a man, even though the style of the shoes and stockings belonged to another age. My hand was shaking so badly by this stage that I almost dropped the lamp, but the terror of being left in the dark with this unknown visitor kept my hand tightly curled about the brass handle. I tried to speak but no words came.
 

The chair creaked again but this time loudly, as if its occupant meant at last to rise. A sudden draught made the lamp flare and for a brief moment the shadows fled. I heard myself scream; the lamp fell from my nerveless fingers and I felt the cold stone of the parlour floor on my cheek.

Somewhere, as though from a long way off, I heard the front door open and shut.

‘Jenny?’

I felt Jack’s strong arms encircle my shoulders, and whether through relief or repressed terror, fell into a deep faint.

‘You haven’t been well. That’s all it was,’ Jack set a cup of tea down on the bedside table. ‘You must have had a bad dream, or perhaps you were still asleep when you came downstairs. It’s not unheard of. Some of our chaps used to march in their sleep, they were so exhausted.’

‘I know what I saw. I wasn’t asleep,’ I said.
 

‘Look,’ Jack said, his face kinder and softer than I had seen it of late, ‘you must rest again for a day or so and put this out of your mind.’

‘Where were you? It was so late. Why did you leave me for so long?’
 

‘I hadn’t intended to,’ he said, and something about the way he said it inclined me to believe him. ‘I was on my way back when I ran into Benjamin. He invited me for a drink, and I’m afraid we got talking. It was later than I realised by the time we parted.’

My heart skipped a beat. ‘So it wasn’t you I heard downstairs. I’d gone to bed, you see, and I heard you in the parlour, but if it wasn’t you… then who…?’

‘Jenny, Jenny. You must have imagined that as well. Perhaps you had already dropped off to sleep.’

‘Do you really think so?’ I wanted to believe it.

He placed his hand upon my forehead. ‘Yes. I
do
think so.’

‘Very well, then. I am somewhat reassured.’ I tried to smile for him. ‘But I
am
glad you found some male company,’ I said. ‘You must miss it. It’s good for you, and Mr Benjamin is a kind soul.’

‘He’s a good chap altogether. Well connected. Did you know that he’s a personal friend of Lloyd George?’

‘Goodness. We have greatness in our midst.’ I laughed and saw the pleasure in Jack’s eyes. He seemed better, almost normal.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been preoccupied,’ he said quietly. ‘Forgive me. It is just a distraction, something which interests me - the house, I mean.’

‘Of course you are forgiven,’ I immediately responded. ‘You must have interests, hobbies. Ambitions even; it’s only natural.’

‘It’s good to pursue things which are - mundane - you see,’ he explained. ‘I spent so long living like a rat underground, surrounded by death and destruction. I suppose I see a rebuilding project as just that: rebuilding. Putting something to rights again. And, in a wider context, that means our lives, doesn’t it?’

I took his hand. ‘You are a sweet man and we shall be so happy together.’

‘We shall. Now you must rest.’

After Jack had left me I found myself in more cheerful spirits. Perhaps the nervous strain I had been under had indeed provoked the whole episode. Would that I had trusted my faculties and insisted on abandoning our new life altogether there and then - but, as it was, I allowed myself to be lulled by Jack’s rational explanation. I gave no further consideration to what I thought I had seen in the parlour and made every effort to put it as far from my mind as I was able. We would indeed, I resolved, continue to build our lives here and in time be as content as any young couple could wish to be.

If only I had known how little time we had.
 

chapter five

For the next day or so the grand house seemed to be forgotten, and Jack was himself again. We went to see the smith who agreed to our sharing a fine chestnut mare with his own daughter, who, being a minor, was obliged to attend school weekdays, which left the animal free for us to enjoy. I myself had not ridden for over a year - since my departure to Belgium in 1915, and so it was a joy to feel once again the strong seat beneath me, the wind blowing in my untied hair as I took Maisie through her paces around the smith’s paddock, and then, having gained the beast’s confidence, out through the lanes and finally down to the shore. Jack was not as keen a rider as I and was content for me to enjoy a daily gallop along the beach, something I found exhilarating and quite addictive. Jack would follow me on foot and watch me from a favoured position on a nest of rocks where the land ended and the pebbles opened out towards the foaming surf.

Returning from one such outing Jack offered to take Maisie home which allowed me the opportunity to arrive at the cottage ahead of him to wash and prepare lunch. As soon as I opened the cottage door I felt it; something at odds. I withdrew the key from the lock and entered cautiously. There was an unusual smell in the air, not the usual scent of
pot pourri
or woodsmoke but something - different; there was a tangy, savoury quality about it. I went into the parlour, nervously, although I did not sense the presence of another, and saw immediately that in the centre of the dining table, there was a tray I had not seen before. Upon it stood a large silver tureen.
 

My first thought was that Jack had prepared a meal earlier and had set it out prior to our departure -
 
but that being the case, why would he have agreed that I should go ahead of him and begin preparations for our lunch? And why would he have set out but one meal?

I approached the table and placed my hand upon the lid; it was warm. I opened it and fell back, my gorge rising in disgust; maggots writhed upon the rotten meat within. The lid fell, clattering onto the flagstones as I staggered to the door and lurched outside, hand over mouth, only avoiding the embarrassment of being violently sick by taking frequent gulps of fresh air. All at once Jack was at the gate, his expression full of anxiety.
 

‘Jenny? What is it?’

I straightened up with difficulty, my hand upon my heaving breast. I pointed to the cottage door. ‘In there. On the table.’

‘It must have been on the turn,’ Jack offered. ‘I mean, before it was delivered.’

‘A dish full of maggots? On the turn? It is foul, rotten.’

‘Perhaps Orla-’

I raised my hand in denial. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Orla Benjamin would no more leave us a gift like this than spit in the Pope’s eye.’ I felt myself close to tears and blinked angrily lest I should lose control altogether.
 

‘You’re upset. Let me get you a hot drink.’

‘I am not
upset
. I am just…’ The truth was that I was afraid, and did not wish to admit it.

‘Well, we can settle this quickly.’ And he made as if to fetch his coat from the hook on the wall.
 

‘No! Don’t leave me.’

Jack hesitated on the threshold. ‘You’re frightened. Forgive me. I only mean to briefly question the Benjamins. I am sure there is a perfectly rational explanation.’

‘Let me come too.’

‘As you wish.’

So we went out together, into the warm drizzle. I felt an odd sensation as we took to the path, as if our hurried departure was being observed. I glanced back but the cottage windows were empty.

Somewhere in a nearby field a horse whinnied and was quieted by the reassuring murmur of its groom’s low voice. I clasped Jack’s hand, wishing for some measure of the same from my distracted husband.
 

‘Dreadfully upsetting, my dear. Of course you must stay and eat with us this evening.’ Mr Benjamin shared the suggestion with Orla who agreed with alacrity.
 

‘But of course they must. Come through and make yourselves comfortable. What a terrible shock.’

I saw again that almost conspiratorial look pass between them, the same expression I had noticed on the night Mr Benjamin had told us of the history of the grand house.

‘Well now, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding,’ Orla said as she went out to busy herself in the pantry.

‘Quite,’ her husband concurred. ‘Or some stupid practical joke. One of the farm boys, probably.’

‘It did not seem so to me,’ I said. ‘It was elaborately presented. Where would a farm boy obtain a silver tureen?’