The River Folk (45 page)

With surprise, she turned to see Randolph Marsh following her. She stopped and turned to wait for him.

‘My dear,’ he said, taking her arm and urging her further down the path away from the small gathering outside the church door. ‘You no doubt know that you will receive Lawrence’s airforce pension, but . . .’

‘I don’t want his money,’ her voice was shrill. ‘That’s not why I married him. I want nothing from you. Nothing.’

She could tell that he was fighting to hold on to his patience. ‘Now, my dear, don’t be so hasty. You are entitled to it and I certainly have no objection to make. What I wanted to ask you, my dear, was . . .’

Lizzie ground her teeth together, wishing he would stop calling her ‘my dear’, for there was not an ounce of affection in the endearment. But she said nothing as his next words shocked her. ‘I don’t suppose, by any miraculous chance, you could be pregnant?’

She stared up at him, her eyes wide with amazement. The audacity of the man, she thought. What an unfeeling, hard bastard Randolph Marsh was. Everything she had ever heard about him was true. Here he was at his own son’s memorial service, and all he was concerned about was, was there any possibility of an heir for his family’s fortune?

Lizzie’s mouth was tight as she said shortly, ‘No, I’m not.’

She pulled her arm free of his grasp and marched away from him, glad to be leaving the Marsh family for good.

‘Oh Dad, Gran’s waiting on the wharf again.’ Lizzie turned towards her father standing at the wheel guiding the ship towards its mooring. ‘Something must have happened. She only ever comes now when there’s trouble.’

Lizzie had slipped back into her former life as if she had never been away. Her brief marriage to Lawrence Marsh was now never spoken of and the affection between herself and her father was, if that were possible, even stronger than before. As for Lizzie herself, she was as happy as it was possible for her to be, but deep inside she carried a heavy burden of regret. She felt such guilt that she had not been able to love Lawrence, as she should have done. She could not forgive herself for having hurt him. And worse still, when she realized at last where her true feelings lay, it was too late. Tolly was gone. She would never be able to make up her quarrel with him, not properly. Even though, that last time, they had parted on better terms, there was still so much that had been left unsaid. There was so much she wanted to tell him. And now she would never be able to. She would never be able to tell him how much she really loved him.

Lizzie and her father exchanged a troubled look as the vessel drew nearer to the wharf. Bert had been a little under the weather two days ago when they had left and the same thought was obviously in both their minds. Had something happened to him?

But as the ship drew nearer and Lizzie leant over the side, she could see that although her grandmother’s face was anxious, she did not look devastated, as she no doubt would have done if something had happened to her beloved husband.

Lizzie was the first off the ship and running towards her. ‘What is it, Gran? What’s happened?’

Without the usual greeting, Bessie nodded her head beyond Lizzie towards Dan. ‘It’s yar dad I have to talk to, lass. Not you.’

‘Just tell me, Gran, it’s not Grandpa, is it?’

A brief smile chased away some of the anxiety on Bessie’s face. ‘No, lass. Your grandpa’s fine. Better than he was.’

‘Thank goodness,’ Lizzie breathed. ‘Then, what is it?’

Doggedly, Bessie said, ‘You’ll know soon enough, but your dad has a right to know first.’

Several minutes passed before Dan was able to step ashore. Lizzie could hardly contain her impatience and then, to her disappointment, as her father came towards them, Bessie waved her away. ‘Just let me tell yar dad, there’s a good lass.’

She opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the look on her grandmother’s face, she turned away and walked to the far end of the wharf. She watched them converse, although it was Bessie who was doing all the talking. Dan was just listening, staring down at his mother in disbelief.

‘Whatever can it be?’ Lizzie muttered to herself, standing first on one foot and then on the other.

She saw her father nod, say a few brief words and then her grandmother turned and, leaning heavily on the walking stick she now used, made her painful way from the wharf and towards her home.

Dan came towards Lizzie and stopped in front of her.

‘What is it, Dad? What’s happened?’ She could guess nothing from his face, for his expression was a strange mixture of shock and disbelief.

His words came at last, halting and disjointed. ‘She’s come back. She’s at your gran’s house. She’s very ill. She . . . she . . .’

Lizzie took hold of his hand. ‘Who, Dad? Who’s come back.’

For a long moment, unable to believe it himself, Dan stared at her. Then, his voice breaking with emotion, he said, ‘Mary Ann. Your mother. She’s come back.’

Lizzie felt as if her legs were going to give way beneath her, but whether from shock or relief that her mother was alive – and therefore the dark secret she had always dreaded had been entirely unfounded – she did not know.

‘Where has she been all these years?’

Her father was looking down at her strangely now. ‘You mean, you don’t know, Lizzie?’

Lizzie shook her head and now, for the first time, she could whisper, ‘I thought she might be dead. That night . . .’ The question she had so desperately wanted to ask for so long, and yet had not dared, could now be voiced. ‘I thought she’d drowned.’

‘What?’ His tone was scandalized. For a moment Dan closed his eyes and then groaned aloud. ‘Oh, my dear girl, I never realized. Lizzie, I’m so sorry. I should have explained it to you. But at the time, you were so young and then, well, I couldn’t bear to speak her name. I just wanted to blot it all out, to forget it. To forget her.’

But he hadn’t been able to. Lizzie knew that. The haunted look in his eyes that had always been there told her so.

‘It’s all right,’ she said now. It wasn’t, but it was all she could say. She couldn’t add to this poor man’s burden any more. He was already suffering. He had suffered for years because of that night, and now . . . What now? Lizzie thought. Aloud, she said, ‘So, where did she go?’

‘She’s been living in a little cottage just the other side of Raven’s Wood.’

Lizzie gasped, understanding, at last, why there had been such anger when her father had learnt that that was where she had been meeting Lawrence. As if reading her thoughts, Dan smiled wryly. ‘Yes, when you started meeting Lawrence there, I was always afraid you’d find out where she was.’

‘But why – I mean, why was she living there?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

Mystified, Lizzie said, ‘Not really. Unless she became tired of living on the ship and wanted a little house of her own.’

Dan sighed so heavily that she felt the waft of his breath on her face. ‘If only that had been the case.’ The hurt of years was in his tone as he added, ‘No, your mother left me to go to her lover. She’s been a kept woman, his mistress, hidden away near the woods all these years. All I can presume is that he no longer wants her now. So, she’s come back.’

‘Her . . . her lover?’ Lizzie began, and then it all fell swiftly into place. It was suddenly so blindingly obvious, that Lizzie was astounded at her own naïvety.

‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed and, not usually given to blasphemy, her father understood the depth of her shock. ‘It was Randolph Marsh, wasn’t it?’

Her father nodded and then added, his voice deep with emotion now, ‘And that’s not all. Your gran says she’s expecting a child.’

‘You’ve told her?’ was Bessie’s greeting as Lizzie and her father stepped into the house.

Dan nodded. Then his voice was husky as he asked, ‘Where is she?’

Bessie gestured with a slight movement of her head. ‘Front room. I’ve had to rig up a bed in there for her. She’s in a bad state.’ There were tears in Bessie’s eyes as she added, ‘I couldn’t send her away, Dan.’

The big man reached out and touched his mother’s wrinkled hand. ‘Of course you couldn’t, Mam. I . . . I wouldn’t have wanted you to.’

Woodenly, he moved towards the door leading into the front room. Big and strong as he was, Dan looked suddenly so vulnerable and afraid. Impulsively, Lizzie followed him, caught hold of his hand and smiled up at him. ‘Do you want to go in on your own or shall I come in with you?’

He looked down at her and she felt his hold on her hand tighten. ‘Come with me, Lizzie. Please,’ he said hoarsely and, together, they went into the room.

Lizzie would not have recognized the woman lying in the bed. Apart from the bulge beneath the bedcovers that pronounced her pregnancy, she was thin to the point of emaciation. Her cheeks were hollowed, her eyes bulging from their sockets, and her hair hung, lank and unkempt, about her shoulders. Her face was an unhealthy pallor, devoid of any colour.

‘Oh Dan!’ Her voice was weak, little more than a whisper. Then her gaze came to rest on Lizzie. ‘And Lizzie.’

With what appeared to be a great effort, she lifted her arm from the bed and reached out with trembling, skeletal fingers.

‘There isn’t long. Dan, please, will you forgive me? Please say you forgive me. I couldn’t bear to go without making my peace with you.’

Dan moved suddenly, dragging Lizzie with him as he went towards the bed, his other hand outstretched to take Mary Ann’s. ‘My dear, don’t say anything. You’re home now and we’re going to take care of you.’

He released Lizzie’s hand and, sitting down on the edge of the bed, took hold of Mary Ann’s with both his strong, warm hands. Lizzie, unable to speak, stood behind him, but her gaze never wavered from the woman in the bed.

‘Oh, Dan,’ Mary Ann breathed and closed her eyes. Tears pushed their way from beneath her eyelids and ran down her face. ‘You’re such a good man. I was such a fool. A stupid, naïve fool. So often, I’ve wanted to come back to you. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you and . . . and Lizzie. And Duggie. I even missed Duggie and his teasing, too.’ She opened her eyes now. ‘I . . . I was so sorry about Duggie. Did you see the banner?’

Dan was puzzled. ‘Banner? What banner?’

‘The banner I embroidered in his memory. I gave it to the parish church. I thought they would put it up somewhere . . .’

‘You? You did that, Mary Ann?’

Weakly, she nodded. ‘It was the least I could do. It was the only talent I ever had, wasn’t it?’ she said bitterly. ‘Being able to embroider. I was useless at everything else. I even loved the wrong man.’

Lizzie watched as Dan said nothing now, but merely patted Mary Ann’s hand.

‘Dan, I was so wrong. So wicked . . .’

‘Don’t say that, my dear. A little foolish, maybe, but wicked, no.’

‘I was. It was so wrong of me to leave a good and generous man like you. And I took you away from poor Susan too, didn’t I? I did it deliberately, Dan. I couldn’t bear to see you loving her, while no one seemed to love me. And then, to leave my child, my own flesh and blood. What sort of a mother does that? That was unforgivable.’

Her glance lifted now to rest on Lizzie and the slightest of smiles touched her mouth. ‘She’s pretty, Dan. Like I used to be, isn’t she? And from what I’ve heard, she’s been just as silly as her mother.’

Dan shook his head. ‘No, no. She’s come home. She’s back with me now.’

‘Since Lawrence was killed?’

‘Well, no.’ There was embarrassment in Dan’s tone and he glanced apologetically at Lizzie before adding, ‘She came home before that. She’d . . . she’d realized things weren’t working out.’

Mary Ann gave a little nod and murmured, ‘Maybe she’s got a little more sense than me, then. I hope so.’

Lizzie was listening with a kind of bemused, shocked fascination. She had not seen her mother for nine years and yet Mary Ann knew all about her. She knew about her marriage, about her young husband’s death – everything. But then, she would have heard it all from her lover. No wonder Randolph Marsh had been so incensed over Lawrence marrying Lizzie.

If it hadn’t been such a tragic situation, Lizzie thought, it would be funny. But looking at the poor creature in the bed, there was nothing to find amusing.

‘You’ve come home now, Mary Ann,’ Dan was saying. ‘And when you’re better . . .’

Mary Ann was shaking her head. ‘I’m not going to get better, Dan. This child is going to kill me.’

‘Don’t talk like that. I won’t listen to such talk. You’ll have the child and then, when you’re stronger, we’ll see what’s to be done.’

Mary Ann was smiling at him sadly. In her huge, dark eyes Lizzie could see a depth of knowledge, a premonition, that what she said was the truth.

She had no will to survive any longer.

‘I’ve come back, Dan,’ Mary Ann whispered, ‘for one reason only. To beg your forgiveness, so that I can rest in peace. Just say it, Dan. Please. Say I’m forgiven.’

His voice broke then and he lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Oh Mary Ann. You’re forgiven. You are forgiven.’

A week later, Mary Ann gave birth to a strong, healthy boy, who yelled constantly for the sustenance his sick mother could not give him. For the three days following the difficult and protracted birth, whilst the life drained out of Mary Ann, Lizzie sat beside her mother’s bed, holding her hand.

Most of the time, Mary Ann was barely conscious, but Lizzie stayed there anyway. On the third night, at about three in the morning, Mary Ann awoke. Lizzie, dozing fitfully and uncomfortably in the chair, was instantly awake too.

‘Is there anything you want, Mam?’ she asked softly. The room was illuminated softly by a tiny nightlight on the mantelpiece.

‘No,’ Mary Ann whispered. ‘Just . . . hold my hand, Lizzie. And tell me you love your wicked, silly mother.’

‘I do love you. We all do. Just get well and we’ll be so happy together.’

‘No, Lizzie. It’s not going to happen, my darling.’

‘Why not? You’re not going back to
him
, are you?’

Mary Ann’s smile was weak, but for a brief moment some of the suffering left her face. ‘No, my love. I wouldn’t go back to him. Not ever again. He’s a cruel, harsh man. He uses people. But I couldn’t see it. I was dazzled by his sophistication, his charm. I thought he loved me, but I doubt very much if the man is capable of love. And yet, I still couldn’t seem to stop loving him.’