The Prodigal Wife (18 page)

‘Is it?' He stared down at her. ‘Do you really believe that, Fliss?'

She turned away and sat down again at the dressing table. ‘It could be. Certainly for Jolyon, who's in an emotional state at the moment…'

‘And for us?'

‘Like you said, it brings back memories. I'm not sure that's always a good idea.'

‘There was something left at the bottom of Pandora's box,' Hal said, pulling off his shirt. ‘What was it?'

Fliss watched him through the mirror for a moment. ‘It was hope,' she answered.

It was Fliss who took Maria to the train on Monday morning.

‘I don't want to go,' Maria said, twisting to look back through the arch of the gatehouse to where Prue stood on the steps, waving. ‘Silly, isn't it? Well, I am a fool. You know that.'

She turned back again and settled herself while Fliss, confused, wondered how to answer her.

‘It's wretched for you,' she began cautiously, ‘having to cope with being alone. But, to be truthful, I've never seen community living as your scene somehow.'

‘Absolutely not,' agreed Maria readily. ‘That's what's so crazy, really. When I was young, the set-up here horrified me, I admit it. Now, it seems very attractive.'

Fliss was surprised by such honesty – and slightly anxious. ‘I expect it seems safe. It's frightening being alone, isn't it?'

‘It is for me. I've been thinking about it a lot just lately and I can see that I've always had someone controlling my life. First my parents, then Hal, and then Adam. I was used to having someone telling me what to do and how to do it. As an only child I was cosseted and organized, and even now I look for someone to be in charge. It's pathetic but I can't seem to help myself. It was different for you, being orphaned so young.' She looked at Fliss compassionately. ‘How on earth did you manage?'

‘With difficulty.' Fliss drove through the winding lanes towards Staverton, remembering how frightened she'd been. ‘I wasn't allowed to show it because of Mole and Susanna. I remember a ghastly woman telling me that I must be a little mother to them and I can remember how resentful and angry I felt deep down because I didn't want to be a little mother. I felt that I'd been deprived of my right to mourn simply because I was older than they were. It was such a relief to come back to The Keep and to Grandmother, and to pass some of the burden over.'

‘You always made me feel so immature,' said Maria reflectively. ‘Well, I was. But it didn't help, knowing that Hal loved you.' She saw Fliss's instinctive gesture of embarrassed denial and smiled. ‘Sorry. I know you hate this kind of emoting and stuff, but it's true. Don't you feel resentful for the way our lives were messed up by the adults in our families? I should have stuck with Adam but my parents were bowled over by Hal – and so was I, of course. He was so confident and mature. But without pressure from them I think I'd have been quite happy to stay with Adam. And as for you and Hal, well, that was crazy, really, wasn't it? All that first cousin stuff. Even if your fathers were identical twins I can't see why there was such a fuss about it.'

‘I do think that we gave in too easily,' said Fliss. ‘But we forget how it was all those years ago. It was hard to go against the wishes of our elders and we were all so young.'

The car passed over Shinner's Bridge, past the waterwheel, and Maria looked down into the glittering shining river.

‘It's been a mess,' she said sadly, ‘and I've been such a fool. I can't tell you how much there is that I regret. Thanks for letting me come down; it's been important.'

‘You're always welcome,' Fliss answered with an effort, still taken aback by such plain, unaffected speaking. She couldn't decide whether this was another piece of play-acting on Maria's part: the role of the penitent prodigal, perhaps?

‘Am I?' Maria was looking at her rather quizzically. ‘I'm not sure Jolyon feels that way. Or you. Hal doesn't really care either way, of course. Why should he?'

‘I think Jo has a lot of trust to rebuild.' Fliss decided that they could both play the honesty game. ‘You can't do that in one weekend.'

Maria bit her lip. ‘No, I realize that. I know how it looks to him. To all of you. Adam's gone, Ed's gone. Who shall I turn to now? I can't deny it. But Adam's death was a terrible shock and it's woken me up to certain things. Maybe it's too late to make amends, but I've got to try, and especially with Jolyon. Is that wrong?'

They drove into the station yard and Fliss pulled up near the fence and sat for a moment with the engine idling.

‘No,' she said at last, ‘of course not. But you've got to remember that people can't simply forgive and forget to order.
You
might have had an epiphany but
he
hasn't.'

Maria looked at Fliss. ‘You see things so clearly,' she said rather wistfully. ‘I've always envied you your clear-sightedness. I seem to spend my life in such a stupid muddle. Thanks for the lift. Don't come on to the platform. I can manage.'

‘Of course I shall come,' Fliss said. ‘I'd worry in case the train didn't turn up or you were waiting for ages. Look, you climb out so that I can pull in against the fence and then we'll get your case out.'

 

‘And after all that,' Fliss said to Prue later, ‘I invited her down for Hal's birthday and then I drove home regretting it and feeling quite cross. As if I'd been manipulated.'

‘No, no.' Prue put her book aside and shook her head. ‘You did quite right. Poor Maria. It's clear that the shock of Adam's death has opened her eyes to many things and it can be so painful. That was kind of you, Fliss.'

‘I didn't feel kind. Part of me thinks she's getting off lightly. It's a bit like the Prodigal Son, isn't it? He behaves disgracefully and then wanders in saying, “Sorry,” and everyone is expected to be thrilled to bits.'

Prue laughed. ‘Do you remember saying that to darling Theo when you were small? You were terribly upset that the elder son was so undervalued, and Theo had to try to explain that there were faults on both sides.'

‘Did he?' Fliss frowned. ‘I don't remember that.'

‘You were a bit young for it, I expect. The gist, as I remember it, was that, although the younger son had been wild and thoughtless, the older son was resentful and angry. There was a lack of generosity in his self-righteousness that was just as damaging in its way as the profligacy of his younger brother. At least, that's how Theo saw it.'

Fliss was silent, still frowning, and presently Prue picked up her book again and left her to her thoughts.

 

On the train, Maria sat in a trance of surprise and delight.

‘Why don't you come down for Hal's birthday?' Fliss had said, just as the train appeared around the bend in the track. ‘Think about it and let me know,' and then there had been the bustle of finding the right carriage and saying goodbye, and now she sat quite still, hardly believing her luck.

There was no need to think about it – the answer was ‘Yes, please,' – but she felt rather relieved that she hadn't been too pathetically eager. Now she had something to look forward to; to plan for in the empty days ahead. Suddenly, at the prospect of the tiny annexe, the endless silence, the pointless meals for one, Maria fell prey to a sinking, gut-churning misery. No Adam talking about his plans for the garden, or a fishing trip, or coming home with tickets for the theatre; no Adam in the big, cold bed or sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper.

She stared resolutely through her tears, thinking about the warmth and companionship at The Keep and how once she'd despised it.

‘I've never seen community living as your scene,' Fliss had said – and how right she'd been.

It was the prospect of that community living, thought Maria, as the train pulled in at Exeter St David's, that was the thin end of the wedge. It was my first real step away from Hal and back to Adam. I don't regret going back to Adam but I wish I could have done it with less damage. What a selfish prat I was.

There was a little twist of pain in her heart when she thought about Jolyon; he'd been the scapegoat. Hal had Fliss and she'd had Adam and Ed – but poor Jolyon had borne the real brunt of the rupture: he'd endured the rows and scenes, and then being sent away to boarding school while Ed stayed at home, cherished and beloved, and went daily to the choir school. When she'd finally moved in with Adam there hadn't even been a bedroom for Jo in that first little house in Salisbury. He'd had a Put-u-up in Ed's bedroom and she'd actively encouraged him to spend his holidays at The Keep whether Hal was at home there on leave or not. Jo's unswerving love for her – and the way he looked so much like Hal – had made her feel guilty and resentful. Remembering, Maria burned with a scalding shame. She wondered if it would ever be possible that Jo might forgive her. She'd noticed that he couldn't bring himself to call her ‘Mum' or to be really at ease with her but maybe, if she persevered, she might break down the barrier between them.

‘You might have had an epiphany,' Fliss had said, ‘but he hasn't.'

She thought about Fliss; how strong she was, how upright: that cool, clear look that shone like a merciless beam of light upon her own shortcomings. Maria shuddered away from the shame of her memories, from the muddle and mess of the past. Suddenly she remembered what Jolyon had said about the ginger jar, that it was a symbol of loyalty and friendship: ‘…though a relationship might be damaged it didn't necessarily mean that it was irretrievably destroyed. Sometimes it could even become more special.'

They'd been Fliss's words, he'd told her, and Maria wondered why Fliss had given the ginger jar to Jolyon in the first place. How miraculous if the words could, sometime in the future, apply to the relationship between her and her son.

They'd parked on Robin Upright's Hill and were now walking away from the car, arm in arm, whilst Juno and Pan ran amongst the rusty bracken and Tacker splashed joyfully through the earth-red puddles on the deeply rutted track.

‘I can't see it,' Jolyon said gloomily, ‘I really can't. It's been such a shock realizing how resentful I still feel about her.'

Henrietta squeezed his arm sympathetically. ‘I can understand that. Well. You know how I feel about Mum.'

‘It's different, though, isn't it? You're angry with Cordelia because she made a mistake and broke up your family. But, actually, it was your father who walked away from it, wasn't it? How would you feel if he suddenly wanted to come back into your life now?'

Henrietta tried to imagine it. Just at this minute, all she could really think about was Jo; holding his arm and feeling him close.

‘It would depend how he was,' she said at last. ‘I can't imagine how he could talk away all that rejection. I can imagine him being angry with Mum and wanting to hurt her, but to stop all communication with me ten years later…' She shook her head. ‘How do you get over that?'

They walked for a while in silence. The dogs were far ahead but Tacker still skittered at the track's edge. Bulky black clouds, gold-edged, crowded the sun and, through the gaps in the hills, they could see far across the sunlit spaces of Somerset towards the coast; the island of Steep Holm rose from the silver shimmer of the sea like a hump-backed whale dozing in the misty sunshine.

‘Perhaps the first thing we have to do is to convince ourselves that it's their problem, not ours,' suggested Jolyon thoughtfully. ‘We blame ourselves, don't we? We tell ourselves that because they couldn't love us there must be something wrong with us? Even when we try to persuade ourselves that there might be something wrong with
them
we can't quite believe it, can we? I tell myself that because my mother loved Adam and Ed it must be my fault that she didn't love
me
. It makes me feel inadequate. Fliss tried to explain it years ago when she gave me the ginger jar. She said that there were lots of people who loved and valued me and that it was destructive to dwell on the one person who didn't. She tried to show me how it might be my mother's problem, and I believed I'd come to terms with it. That's what's really upset me: the fact that I feel that I've made no progress at all.'

‘I think it's one thing coming to terms with it when the person concerned isn't part of your life, and quite another when you're asked to welcome them back with open arms and pretend it never happened. That's a different adjustment, isn't it? You'll need time. I'm beginning to think I've been a bit hard on Mum. I resented her for causing the break-up in the first place, but I think I've blamed her for Dad walking away simply because she was there. I've projected my anger and hurt on to her instead of him.'

‘Why did he wait so long?' asked Jolyon. ‘I mean, ten years later seems a bit odd.'

‘It was odd,' she agreed. ‘My mum and Angus Radcliff were in love when they were young but he didn't want to commit and went to Australia for a two-year exchange with the Australian Navy. Mum married my father and then five years later she and Angus met up again when he and Dad were based in
Dolphin
. Mum and Angus had a weak moment and Dad found out and he left. He wrote to me when I was about fifteen and told me all the details. Apparently, Mum had a telephone in her study and Angus phoned her the day after their indiscretion. Dad had been suspicious that they might be getting friendly again and he picked up the extension and listened in. Mum was telling Angus that they must never ever do it again and that she wouldn't leave me and Dad. Stuff like that.'

‘I suppose he just couldn't hack the fact that she'd been unfaithful. Is that why he left?'

Henrietta shrugged. ‘Possibly. The odd thing was that he waited nearly a year before he confronted her. By then Angus was married.'

‘A
year
?' Jolyon was shocked.

‘I know. He wanted to make certain that Angus and Mum couldn't marry, I suppose.'

‘That's…that's really chilling, isn't it? And she didn't know he knew, all that time?'

‘No. Mum said he felt things very deeply. He was very intense.'

‘And calculating, by the sound of it. You mean he waited a year before he confronted her and then another ten years before he told you why and that he was going out of your life for good?'

‘He said he'd met someone in Australia and was starting a completely new life.'

Jolyon grimaced. ‘He sounds a bit of a cold fish, to be honest, doesn't he?'

Henrietta nodded; her face serious. She clutched his arm more tightly. ‘I don't think I'd want him back in my life. Not now. To tell you the truth, I'm beginning to feel guilty that I've been a bit of a cow with Mum.'

He returned the pressure of her arm. ‘I can understand, though. Philip Larkin had the right of it, didn't he? I'm probably overreacting too. Perhaps I need to lay the ghosts properly. I just don't know how.'

They stood together listening to the whistle of the steam engine echoing over the hills from Stogumber.

‘Angus Radcliff's moved down to Dartmouth. His wife's died and he's on his own again,' Henrietta said. The sun disappeared behind the great banks of cloud and she shivered a little. ‘Mum went to his house-warming party last week.'

Jo looked down at her. ‘Is that a problem?'

She made a little face. ‘I don't know. I'm trying to decide how I feel about it.'

‘Does it matter after all this time?'

‘I don't
want
it to matter,' she explained, almost crossly, ‘but it's just a bit difficult imagining how I might react if they get together again and I have to meet him. It's a bit like you and Maria, in a way. He's coming back into my life and I have to work out how not to feel resentful about him.'

‘It's odd, isn't it?' said Jolyon thoughtfully. ‘Your mum and mine and Fliss. Falling in love with one man and then marrying another.'

‘It's scary,' answered Henrietta. ‘I mean, how do you know? Really
know
?'

They stared at one another, her hand slid into his and his grip tightened. Heavy drops of rain began to fall, splashing into the puddles, plopping in the soft red earth, and they started to run back along the track with Tacker at their heels, shouting to Pan and Juno who came racing out of the bracken. They opened the hatchback so that the dogs could jump in, lifted Tacker in, and then fell, panting and out of breath, into the car, laughing at each other, wiping the rain from their cheeks. Henrietta pulled off her hat and shook her head, and her wild tortoiseshell hair flew about her cold face. Jo reached out and seized her by the shoulders, smiling at her.

‘Will you marry me?' he asked – and, to his surprise, he felt quite free of fear and doubt and was able to wait with joyful certainty for her reply.

She beamed at him. ‘Yes, please,' she said, and kissed him.

 

Lizzie kicked off her boots, gave Pooter and Perks a biscuit each and went into the kitchen. Prue was stirring soup.

‘Is Fliss back from the station?' asked Lizzie. ‘I'm starving.'

‘Yes, she's back. Maria's train was on time, which is a miracle, and Fliss has invited Maria down for Hal's birthday, which is an even bigger miracle.'

‘
Has
she?' Lizzie took an olive from the dish on the table and crunched it with relish. ‘I think I'm surprised.'

‘So is Fliss,' said Prue cheerfully. ‘Nothing is more surprising to us than making a truly charitable gesture. Have you noticed? It's followed by such confusion. At first we feel rather elevated by our great-heartedness and then we're furious that we've allowed ourselves to be taken in. Don't you agree?'

Lizzie chuckled. ‘I don't think I've ever thought about it,' she said, ‘but I'm sure you're right. Which is Fliss feeling at the moment?'

‘I rather think that she'd worked through her sense of self-satisfaction by the time she'd driven home and now she's in a fit of exasperation at what she sees as her weakness. She's in the drawing room playing the piano. Rather gloomy Brahms.'

‘Do you think it was weakness?' asked Lizzie, amused.

‘No, no. I think that a true act of generosity should never be regretted, but poor Fliss fears that she might have been manipulated.'

‘Well, that's possible. Maria's rather good at that, isn't she?'

‘Yes,' sighed Prue. ‘Poor Maria finds it hard to relax. She is fearful because she's insecure and so she needs to feel in control all the time. It's very sad.'

‘I was expecting her to be more of a cow. You know, making bitchy remarks and putting the cat among the pigeons. She was very subdued when she was here in the spring, but I put that down to her bereavement, and I was expecting more ructions this time.'

Prue put bread and cheese on the table, and a bowl of salad. ‘Adam's death has shocked her,' she said. ‘Maria was always immature, putting her own needs before those of her children, looking to Hal and then Adam to make difficult decisions and look after her. She could never see that we are each responsible for ourselves and now, suddenly, she's completely alone. I think, in the end, that she truly loved Adam and his death has opened her eyes at last. She's left it late to grow up but perhaps not too late. We must hope not.'

‘And what about Jo?'

‘Ah, yes. Well, Jo was expected to grow up too quickly. Maria forced him into that and he might find it very hard to be sympathetic now that it's her turn.'

‘You think he ought to forgive her?' asked Lizzie diffidently.

‘Oh, yes,' said Prue at once. ‘For his own sake, if not for hers. Anger and resentment are so bad for the soul, aren't they? So destructive. Perhaps, especially now, he can afford to be generous.'

‘Why especially now?'

‘Henrietta,' answered Prue succinctly, ‘the wonderful thing about love is that it's all-encompassing. He might find he has a little left over for Maria.'

 

Cordelia came out of the Harbour Bookshop and stood for a moment, tucking her parcel into her basket. A tall woman with a familiar face emerged from the doorway behind her and Cordelia stood to one side to let her pass.

‘I think you dropped this in the bookshop.' The woman smiled at her, holding out a pretty silk scarf. ‘They asked me to give it to you. It is yours, isn't it?'

‘Yes, it is. Thank you so much.' Cordelia hesitated, wondering whether to make a friendly observation, but before she could say anything else her mobile phone began to ring. She rolled her eyes, shrugged, and the woman laughed and moved away.

It was Henrietta. Cordelia hurried across the road towards the car park on the quay, her phone to her ear.

‘Hello, darling,' she said. ‘How are you?'

‘Fine. Really good. Actually I've got some news for you. Jolyon and I are engaged.'

Cordelia stood quite still; she closed her eyes. ‘Oh, darling,' she breathed. ‘What fantastic news. It's wonderful. I'm so pleased.'

‘I knew you would be.' Henrietta's voice was jubilant and Cordelia felt that she might weep with joy. ‘Listen, Jo's here and he wants to speak to you.'

Jolyon was talking before she could pull herself together and she clasped the phone even tighter, listening eagerly to his voice.

‘Hello, Cordelia. Henrietta says you're pleased. Isn't it fantastic? I know I should have asked your permission first and all that but it was a bit spur-of-the-moment stuff so I hope you'll overlook it…'

‘Oh, darling Jo, it's the most wonderful news. I couldn't be happier. Oh, I want to shout with joy but I'm in the car park in Kingsbridge. Where are you?'

‘I'm with Henrietta. We're at the cottage. Look, I haven't talked to anyone at The Keep yet so if you should speak to Fliss or Dad before we do I'd be grateful if you didn't mention it.'

‘Of course, I understand. Let me know when you've spoken to them.'

‘I'm hoping to do that now but Henrietta wanted you to be the first to know. Here she is again.'

‘Hi, Mum. Listen, we're only telling just the immediate family at the moment. Nobody else. I don't want Susan to find out from anyone but me. I'll catch you later but Jo wants to speak to his family now. OK?'

‘Absolutely. And I won't tell a soul. Of course not. Oh, darling, I'm just so happy for you.'

She stood for a moment beside her car, quite incapable of getting in and driving away; too happy to do anything but revel in her joy. ‘
Henrietta wanted you to be the first to know…
' How sweet those words were; Cordelia clasped her hands to her heart and swallowed down her tears.

‘Are you OK?'

It was the tall woman again, unlocking her own car door in the row opposite and looking at her with friendly concern.

‘Yes.' Cordelia made an effort to behave normally. ‘Yes, I'm fine, thanks. Just some rather wonderful news from my daughter, that's all.'

‘That's good then.'

‘Oh, it is. It is. I'm so happy.'

‘I can see that.' The woman nodded, smiling. ‘Drive carefully.'

‘Thanks. I will.' For a moment Cordelia longed to share her news with this kind woman, but she remembered Henrietta's injunction and held her tongue, simply raising her hand in farewell to the woman as she drove away. She unlocked the car and got in, wanting to be at home. With any luck Fliss would telephone and she'd be able to share her happiness. Still, she paused long enough to dial Angus's number.

‘It's nearly four o'clock,' she said, ‘and I'm on my way home now so you could come any time you like.'

‘Great,' he answered. ‘I can't wait to hear how the weekend went and what Maria was like. I'll be with you in an hour at the most.'