The Letter
Authors: Kathryn Hughes
THE LETTER
Kathryn Hughes
Copyright © 2013 Kathryn Hughes
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,
or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in
any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the
publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with
the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries
concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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ISBN: 9781783069170
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, either living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Cover
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART ONE
Prologue – Present Day
It was the small things she took pleasure in the most. The faint hum of a huge, furry bumble bee busily flitting from one flower to another, oblivious to the fact that it was completing a task on which the entire human race depended. The heady scent and glorious abundance of colour provided by the sweet peas which she grew in the vegetable patch, despite the fact that the space could be given over to their more edible cousins. Then there was the sight of her husband rubbing his aching back as he dug fertiliser into the rose bed without complaint when there were a thousand things he would prefer to be doing.
As she knelt down to pull up a few weeds, she felt her granddaughter’s hand slip into hers, so tiny, warm and trusting. It was another small thing which gave her the most pleasure of all and always brought a smile to her face and made her heart lurch.
‘What are you doing, Grandma?’ she asked.
She turned and looked into her beloved granddaughter’s face. Her cheeks were tinged pink with the afternoon sun and she had smudges of soil across her button nose. She pulled out her handkerchief and gently wiped the little girl’s face.
‘I’m just pulling up these weeds.’
‘Why?’
She thought about this for a second.
‘Well, they don’t belong here.’
‘Oh. Where do they belong, then?’
‘They’re just weeds, love, they don’t belong anywhere.’
Her granddaughter stuck out her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. ‘That doesn’t seem very nice. Everything belongs somewhere.’
She smiled and planted a light kiss on the top of her granddaughter’s head as she glanced across towards her husband. Although his once-dark hair was now smattered with grey and his face was more heavily lined, the years had not diminished him too much and she was thankful every day that she had found him. Against the odds, their paths had crossed and now they belonged together.
She turned back to her granddaughter. ‘You’re right. Let’s put them back.’
As she dug a little hole, she marvelled at how much could be learnt from children, how much their wisdom was under-estimated or even dismissed.
‘Grandma?’
She was shaken out of her reverie.
‘Yes, love.’
‘How did you and Grandpa meet?’
She stood up and took hold of her granddaughter’s hand. She brushed away a strand of golden hair from her little face.
‘Well, let’s see now. That
is
a long story...’
Chapter 1
March 1973
This time she was going to die, of that she was certain. She knew she must only have a few seconds left and she silently prayed for the end to come quickly. She could feel the warm sticky blood as it ran down the back of her neck. She had heard the sickening sound of her skull cracking as her husband slammed her head into the wall. There was something in her mouth that felt like a piece of gravel but was in fact a tooth, and she desperately tried to spit it out. His hands were so tightly gripped around her throat it was impossible for her to draw breath or make any kind of sound. Her lungs screamed out for oxygen and the pressure on the back of her eyeballs was so intense she was sure they were going to pop out. Her head began to swim and then mercifully, she began to black out.
She heard the long-forgotten ringing of the school bell and she was five years old again. The chatter of the other children was almost drowned out by the incessant ringing. She screamed at them all to stop and suddenly she realised she had a voice after all. She stared up at the bedroom ceiling for a second and then squinted at the alarm clock which had just roused her from her sleep. Cold sweat trickled down her spine and she tugged at the bedclothes, pulling them up to her chin in an effort to savour the warmth for a few seconds longer. Her heart was still pounding after the nightmare and she blew out gently through her mouth. Her warm breath hung in the frigid air of the bedroom. With an enormous effort, she heaved herself out of bed and winced as her bare feet found the icy roughness of the wooden floor. She glanced over at Rick, who thankfully was still sound asleep, snoring off the effects of the bottle of whisky he had drunk the night before. She checked his cigarettes were still on the bedside table where she had carefully positioned them. If there was one thing guaranteed to put Rick in a foul mood, it was not being able to find his fags in the morning.
She crept quietly into the bathroom and eased the door shut. It would probably take an explosion not seen since Hiroshima to wake him, but Tina wasn’t taking any chances. She ran a bowl for a wash, the water freezing as usual. Sometimes it was a choice between feeding themselves and feeding the meter. Rick had lost his job on the buses so there was little money for heat. Enough to drink, smoke and gamble though, she noted in the silence of her brain. She went downstairs, filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. The paper boy had been and she absently pulled the newspapers through the letter box,
The Sun
for her and
The Sporting Life
for Rick. Then the headline caught her attention. It was Grand National day. Her shoulders sagged and she shuddered at the thought of all the money Rick would squander on the race. There was little doubt he would be too drunk by lunchtime to venture out to the bookmaker’s, and it would be left to Tina to put the bet on. The betting shop was next door to the charity shop where she helped out on Saturdays and the bookie, Graham, had become a close friend of hers over the years. Despite having worked all week as a shorthand typist in an insurance office, Tina looked forward to the day in the charity shop. Rick had told her it was ridiculous for her to spend the day voluntarily sorting through ‘dead peoples’ clothes’, when she could work in a proper shop and contribute even more to the family coffers. For Tina, it was another excuse to spend the day out of Rick’s way, and she enjoyed chatting to the customers and having normal conversations where she didn’t have to watch every word she said.
She switched on the radio and turned the volume down a touch. Tony Blackburn always managed to make her smile with one of his corny jokes. He was just announcing Donny Osmond’s new single,
The
Twelfth of Never
, when the kettle began to give its hollow whistle. She snatched it up before the noise became too shrill, and put two teaspoons of tea leaves into the old, stained pot. She sat down at the kitchen table while she waited for the tea to brew, and opened her paper. She held her breath as she heard the toilet flush upstairs. She heard the floorboards creak as Rick padded back to bed, and exhaled with relief. Then she froze as he called downstairs.
‘Tina! Where are my fags?’
Jesus
.
He smokes like a Beagle.
She jumped up immediately and belted up the stairs, two at a time.
‘On your bedside table where I put them last night,’ she replied, arriving breathlessly at his side.
She ran her hand over the table in the gloom but could not feel them. She swallowed her rising panic.
‘I’ll have to pull the curtains a little, I can’t see.’
‘For God’s sake, woman! Is it too much to ask for a man to be able to have a fag when he wakes up? I’m gagging here.’
His sour morning breath stank of stale whisky.
She finally found the cigarettes on the floor between the bed and the table.
‘Here they are. You must have knocked them off in your sleep.’
Rick stared at her for a moment before he reached up and snatched the packet out of her hand. She flinched and instinctively covered her face with her hands. Rick grabbed her wrist and their eyes met for a second before Tina closed hers and fought back the tears.
She could recall the moment Rick had first hit her like it had happened only yesterday. Even the memory of it caused her cheek to sting and burn. It wasn’t just the physical pain though, but the sudden stark reality that things were never going to be the same again. The fact that it was also their wedding night made it harder to take. Up until that moment, the day had been perfect. Rick looked so handsome in his new brown suit, cream shirt and silk tie. The white carnation in his buttonhole confirmed him as the groom and Tina thought it was impossible to love anybody more than she loved him. Everyone had told Tina she looked stunning. Her long dark hair was swept up into a loose bun and weaved through with tiny flowers. Her pale blue eyes shone out from beneath thick false eyelashes and her complexion radiated a natural beauty that needed no help from cosmetics. The party after the wedding was a lively affair at a local inexpensive hotel, and the happy couple and their guests had partied the night away. As they were preparing for bed that night in their hotel room, Tina noticed that Rick was unusually quiet.
‘Are you alright, love?’ she asked. She put her arms around his neck. ‘It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? I can’t believe I’m now Mrs Craig.’ She pulled away from him suddenly. ‘Hey, I’ll have to practice my new signature.’ She picked up the pen and paper from the bedside table and wrote
Mrs Tina Craig
with a flourish.
Still Rick said nothing but just stared at Tina. He lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of cheap champagne. He swigged it down in one gulp and walked over to where Tina sat on the bed.
