Wishing Water (38 page)

Meg chuckled. ‘The kettle’s already on.’
 

‘You’re going to sell children’s clothes? But that’s a wonderful idea.’ They were all seated about the big pitch pine table in Broombank kitchen, Meg pouring tea from a huge brown tea pot, Tam smilingly watching her every movement, and Sally Ann stoutly content, hands appropriately busy with her knitting.

Jan and Nick sat as close together as they could get, arms full of babies. Robbie, who at fifteen months was already showing a mind of his own, one moment content to sit in his father’s lap, the next wriggling free so he could chase after the twins, squealing with delight. And the new arrival, Alice, cooing happily in Jan’s arms.

The remains of a ham and egg meal littered the table and cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling, voices light and happy. It was good, Meg thought, to have her family all together again. If only she could feel they were enough for Lissa, she would be the happiest woman alive. But she could see that her darling girl was unhappy, and finding it harder to disguise the fact.

‘I need to be occupied. That’s why I want a business. I feel it’s time for things to change.’ They all stared at her, waiting, listening, while Meg nodded, her head teeming with questions, asking none of them. Except one. She was striving to give the impression she was a happily married woman. While inside lay a still, grey pool of pain, which Lissa dutifully hid from view. Or thought she did.

She told herself that life couldn’t be filled with joy every day. The lake often looked grey. It was only when the sun shone that it glistened like silver. Life was like that. So all she had to do was bring some sunshine into her own life, then she would glow again.

Oh, Derry, why did you leave me? Life could have been so different with you. She pushed the thought away. Concentrate on reality, the way things really were.

‘What does Philip think of all this?’
 

Lissa dare not meet Meg’s shrewd gaze in case it should carry disapproval. It was suddenly so very important that she gain her support. If she lost that, what would she have? ‘I haven’t told him. Not yet. He’s a bit - over-protective - and not in favour of my working.’
 

A small explosion of exasperation from Meg that made Lissa glance at her in surprise, and then laugh when she read her expression. ‘Of course. You must have struggled once, so you’ll perhaps understand how I feel?’
 

Meg gave a rueful smile. ‘You could say so! I hoped things had changed. Apparently not.’
 

Sally Ann gave a deep chortle of pleasure. ‘Used to eat bank managers alive, this woman did.’
 

Everyone was smiling, trying to disguise their concern.

‘I know it’s wrong to keep secrets but it would only be for a little while. Till I’ve proved it’s possible.’ Lissa paused. ‘Then I’ll sort everything out.’
 

‘I’ve kept secrets,’ Meg mused. ‘It took me ages before I admitted to my father that I’d been given a dog. As for when I got you, well…’ She could laugh now, remembering Joe’s reaction to the unexpected arrival of a baby. ‘But keeping secrets from your own husband, that’s another matter entirely. I couldn’t fool Tam, could I now?’ She glanced across at her husband who merely shook his head, his eyes on Lissa.

‘Are you sure, lass, that it’s a good idea?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Lissa said, tight-lipped. ‘For the moment it is necessary.’ She looked about her at the many serious faces, all of whom wanted the best for her. ‘Renee and Jimmy are sworn to secrecy too. I’ll tell him soon, I promise. As soon as the time seems right.’
 

They shifted their feet, glanced at each other, then Meg spoke for them all. ‘Very well. We’ll ask no more questions. We want only your happiness. I just hope it’s a great success.’

‘I’d give my virginity, if I still had it, that it will be,’ Renee said, and they all burst out laughing.

‘Renee, I like you,’ Meg said, eyes suddenly growing misty as she glanced at Lissa. ‘I’m glad my daughter has you for a friend. She looks sorely in need of one.’
 

A small silence, for no one present had missed the pride in Meg’s voice as she’d called Lissa ‘my daughter’. Meg simply smiled, blithely unconcerned.

It was good to see Jan again, and how happy she was with Nick. The two friends stole a few moments to chat alone as Meg and Tam went off to do chores, assisted, or hindered, by Renee and the children. Lissa sat quietly watching as she prepared a bottle for the new baby.
 

‘Are you all right?’ Jan asked. ‘You aren’t still worrying over being illegitimate and your mother dumping you, are you?’
 

‘Lord, no. I never think of it these days.’
 

‘You’re not jealous of me then? Being here with your family?’

Lissa shook her head. ‘They’re your family too now, you and your lovely children.’
 

‘What about you and Meg? Have you made your peace yet?’

When Lissa avoided her gaze, Jan persisted, ‘It’s long past time you did. It would make Meg so happy.’
 

Despite her embarrassment, Lissa felt warmed by Jan’s concern, and gave a wry smile, then softly musing. ‘It’s ironic really. I’ve spent so much of my life fighting this feeling of rejection, wanting to belong. As a result I made hasty judgements, rash decisions for which I must now pay the price.’
 

‘What sort of rash decisions?’
 

Lissa shook her head. ‘Don’t ask. I now seem to have quite the opposite sort of problem. Isn’t that silly? Serves me right, I suppose.’ There was a hint of bitterness in the falsely bright tone, a bleakness in the flashing eyes that Jan did not miss nor feel able to comment on.

Somewhere deep in the house a clock struck six, the notes chiming endlessly on, and a log fell in the great hearth. When silence fell again Jan asked, ‘Have you ever heard anything from Derry?’
 

‘You’re his sister. He’d write to you, not me.’
 

‘I did think at one time you two might...’
 

‘Don’t say it, Jan. I don’t think I could bear to hear you say the words.’ Lissa was on her feet, pushing her chair back so hard that it grated on the slate flagstones and almost fell over. ‘I think I’ll get a bit of fresh air, if you don’t mind.’

‘Yes, do that, and speak to Meg.’

‘Are you happy?’ Meg and Lissa had walked up to Brockbarrow tarn. Now they were sitting on the windy heaf as if there wasn’t still the prickle of past differences between them. ‘I like to have you to myself for a while. But you look tired, a bit peaky. Aren’t you well?’ Meg cast her a sideways glance. ‘You’re not pregnant?’
 

‘No.’

‘Isn’t little Alice a treasure?’

‘Absolutely.’
 

‘You wouldn’t care for another?’
 

‘Not at the moment.’ High above, the small blue outline of a merlin falcon flying low and fast in a passing air stream swooped and dived, seeking a wandering mouse or vole who might have escaped Meg’s harvesting. Lissa changed the subject. ‘It’s so lovely to be at Broombank again. I don’t visit nearly often enough.’
 

‘No, you don’t,’ Meg agreed. ‘You haven’t been near since your birthday in March. But I know you have your own life to lead.’

‘There were - reasons.’
 

Meg stifled a sigh and turned her head away to stare at the horizon, not wanting to ask if it was herself who had kept Lissa away. Nor did she wish to let her daughter see the hurt in her grey eyes. The distance between them yawned as wide as ever, hurting her more than she cared to acknowledge. But it had to be bridged. One of them must make the first move. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Summoning all her courage, Meg put an arm about Lissa’s shoulders. She expected her to move away or shrug it off, as she usually did, and was glad when she didn’t. But the slender body seemed somehow frailer than usual.

‘There’s nothing to say.’ Head down, lower lip quivering. The misery etched in her daughter’s profile cut her to the heart.

Was this man making her daughter happy? Philip Brandon had seemed so very sensible and caring, a suitable person for Lissa to marry despite his being older than they would have liked. Certainly an improvement on that young Teddy Boy she’d once taken up with. Not that Tam had agreed with that. He’d been quite taken with young Derry, but then he was a soft-hearted Irishman. Philip got on well with them all, fitted in at family events. Only there was something wrong now, Meg could smell it. How could she be sure he was being good to her lovely girl?

‘You’d tell me if there was a problem? If you were distressed about anything, wouldn’t you?’
 

Lissa gave a half laugh, blinking away the prick of tears. ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.’ The shoulders stiffened and Meg let her arm drop.

‘And Philip?’
 

‘He’s fine too.’ A light, jocular tone. ‘Overworked and underpaid he says, but otherwise fine. How very motherly you sound all of a sudden.’
 

‘Why not? I am your mother, in all but name.’ The sharp words faded into silence and the two gazed upon each other for a second before both looked away, awkward and embarrassed. Something inside Meg seemed to snap and she tossed back her hair in a characteristically defiant gesture. ‘I’m the best mother you’re ever likely to get.’
 

A long pause, then a reflective smile at the circling merlin. ‘I dare say you are,’ Lissa agreed, an edge of resignation in her tone. ‘And I should make the best of that, eh?’
 

Meg felt as if she’d been slapped. She stood up, kicked a small pebble with the toe of her boot so that it rolled down the bank and fell with a plop into the tarn. The ripples widened and spread, just as Lissa’s remarks spread within her like a canker, making her heart bleed. It was hard to know where you were with her. Meg tried to tell herself that the young tended to make these pithy comments without thought of their effect. Yet Lissa made too many, and too often for Meg to shrug them all off.

‘Do you still write to Kath?’ She dreaded the answer.

‘Once. I never got a reply. No point, is there? She’s made her position clear.’ Lissa gazed out across the ruffled water. ‘I used to come here when I was a child, against all your rules, to make wishes. I called it my Wishing Water. Grandfather Joe told me of a silly ritual he used to do when he was a boy. I thought it would be sure to bring Kath hurrying home to see me.’ She smiled now at her own youthful folly. ‘Kids have such wild notions, don’t they? All fantasy and foolish fancies.’
 

‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy. It would be a dull old life without it. I wish I could have made your dream come true, Lissa, but I couldn’t. I even swallowed my pride and tackled that dragon of a grandmother to make you happy.’ A rueful smile. ‘But I failed you. Perhaps I should have let you go when you were seven, when you took a fancy to going with Kath back to Canada. I see it was selfish of me not to consult you.’ She hugged herself with arms that suddenly ached. ‘When you were very small, I used to ask how much you loved me. More than all the world, you’d say.’
 

‘I remember.’
 

‘I couldn’t risk losing that, you see. I was so afraid. Afraid that you might not come back. I didn’t even have Tam at that time, didn’t know if he would ever come back to me. I’d no one but you.’ There were tears in her eyes, in her throat, which as ever she refused to shed.

Tears glistened too in Lissa’s eyes as she stared up at Meg as if seeing her for the first time, seeing her as a young woman, vulnerable and alone. When she spoke again it was in a hauntingly quiet voice. ‘I didn’t know about Tam. And I’m glad you didn’t let me go. How can a seven year old choose what’s right? I just fancied the horse she promised me. Probably wouldn’t have kept it any more than her other promises.’

Her eyes pricked but she didn’t want to touch them in case Meg thought she was crying. Yet the tears rolled down Lissa’s cheeks nonetheless. ‘Then I made you lose the baby.’
 

Meg looked shocked. ‘Heavens, that wasn’t your fault.’
 

‘I thought it was, because you were worried over me staying out all night after we had that row.’
 

Meg was shaking her head, her face warm and alight with sympathy and love. ‘That didn’t make me lose the baby. It was an accident, nature’s wisdom perhaps.’
 

‘I wanted to hurt you. I was so cruel, so jealous.’
 

‘You were young, an adolescent rebelling against a world that had hurt you. I just got in the way of your anger.’ Meg came to sit beside her again. ‘I tried to explain the baby wouldn’t have made any difference to us, to you and me. You weren’t ready to take that in.’
 

Lissa looked at her, her face a picture of agony. ‘I’ve wasted so much time in foolish wishing. I’m sorry I ever blamed you for Kath’s deficiencies. Now that I’m a mother myself, now that I can perhaps understand human nature a little better, I realise how lucky I was. It’s taken me a long time to say it, but I’m so glad I had you for a mother, Meg.’