Secrets and Lies (18 page)

Her throat ached with the tension of unshed tears. She picked up a photograph of her father and absorbed his smile, her mind reaching out for any trace of him that might still reside in the house. He looked jolly, dashing and nice. She wished he were still alive so she could talk to him.

She went upstairs to the room where he used to sleep. Misty afternoon light came in through the grimy window that gave her enough illumination to see clearly. There was a safe in the room next door. She knew where the key was kept; in a secret compartment in the dresser. The door swung open easily when she turned it in the lock.

A bulging brown leather document case took up most of the room inside. Tipping the contents on to the bed she shuffled through it. There, she found the details of the Sinclair side of the family, including a couple of Richard Sangster’s diaries. But they were old ones, and shed no light on events that occupied her mind. But there was a record of his war service, birth, marriage and death. And there was a family tree. The last person who was recorded on it, in her mother’s hand, herself. Margaret Eloise Sinclair Sangster. She giggled when she realized that the initials spelled MESS.

She’d been born . . .? She stared thoughtfully at the date, and at the date of her parents’ marriage. So that was it! Her mother had been expecting her when she’d married Richard Sangster. He hadn’t lived long enough to see his own daughter born.

But what had that to do with not being allowed to see her grandfather? She wished her mother would tell her. It must have been something really bad . . . or perhaps it was because the marriage had been one of convenience.

The light was failing fast, and the temperature plummeted with it. She hurried home through the gloaming light, leaving the diaries where they were, but taking the family tree to study. It was too late to see her grandfather.

Her mother was waiting for her, annoyance painted on her face. ‘Where have you been, Meggie? I was worried.’

Her chest felt bulky where the document was flattened against her body. She kept an arm over it in case it slipped to the floor. She thought fast and uttered the first plausible lie that entered her head. ‘Aunt Es is due home soon. I went to see if she was on the train.’

‘She usually rings us when she’s on her way. You’re very dusty, go and tidy yourself up, then come down to the sitting room, I want to talk to you while the boys are out.’

She presented herself, and said before her mother could get the first word in, ‘I’m sorry I was rude to Mrs Avery, and to you. I don’t know what comes over me sometimes, and I have this horrible sense of humour that makes me want to giggle at times, when everyone else wants to be serious.’

‘You should try to control it. I don’t like my guests to be embarrassed.’

‘Remember, Mr Pike’s funeral? When the hearse went past and everyone closed their curtains, I peeked out, and I wondered how the undertaker had managed to fit such a large man into such a slim box.’

Her mother chuckled. ‘I wondered exactly the same thing. Listen now. Meggie. What happened was my fault, and it’s me who should apologize. Being a teenager is not easy, and I think I expect too much of you.’

‘Were you really worried . . . why? I won’t become an actress, I promise.’

‘Because my father-in-law saw you walking past Nutting Cottage.’

She found a plausible connection. ‘Well, you have to walk past it to go to the station.’ She hesitated. Her mother seemed to be in an approachable mood. ‘Will you tell me why you don’t like me mentioning my grandfather?’

The blank look appeared in her mother’s eyes, then she sighed. ‘I suppose you’re old enough to know. He had a mental breakdown after his wife left him and was in hospital for a while. He’s on pills to stop it happening again. I’ve always been worried in case his mental condition deteriorates. Denton said it’s unlikely.’

Meggie remembered her grandfather telling her that he was mad – and she’d thought he was making it up! Even so, the confirmation from her mother’s lips was not what Meggie had expected to hear. ‘I thought . . . I thought it was something to do with you being pregnant to my father before you married. I don’t mind about that . . . honestly.’

‘
You
don’t mind
what!
’ Her mother’s eyes flew open. ‘Who told you such a wicked lie, Meggie? You were born early, that’s all. You were lucky to survive.’

‘Nobody told me . . . I just guessed.’

‘Guessed?’

‘I think I saw the date of your marriage on a form you filled out. It was seven months before my birth.’

Her mother’s eyes impaled her, so she felt like an insect pinned inside a specimen cabinet. She wriggled but couldn’t escape.

‘What form was that?’

‘I can’t remember now . . . it was ages ago though. Does it matter?’

‘It does if you go around blurting such things out to all and sundry. And am I to take it that you’ve been snooping into matters that don’t concern you?’ Thank goodness her mother didn’t require an answer, for she went on, ‘If I ever hear you repeat what you just said, or indeed, find out that you’ve discussed family business with anyone, I’ll . . . well, I’ll probably slap you. Do you understand?’

Meggie was sure her mother wouldn’t perform such an aggressive act, but she certainly could have predicted that their conversation would end up in its usual manner – with them at loggerheads.

Her mother just didn’t understand her.

She sighed. ‘Yes, Mother.’

It seemed to Esmé that dates always managed to conspire so she spent Christmas in England.

It had been a wet year, the ticket inspector on the train had told her morosely, and she’d need her umbrella.

She arrived at the station on Christmas Eve, pleased to see that they’d left the rain behind. She hadn’t telephoned to tell the family she was coming, else she would have missed the train. But they usually checked with the shipping company, and somebody came to meet her. This year there was nobody.

She left her suitcase with the stationmaster, with a promise to get someone to pick it up. It was a long walk to Eavesham House in court shoes, and she was laden down with parcels she’d decorated with festive green, red and gold ribbons.

It was nearly dark when she passed Foxglove House. It looked cold and unwelcoming against the grey expanse of sky. Grass grew in tall yellow fronds under the shuttered windows. It was hard to believe she’d spent part of her childhood there. She remembered the summer when Richard Sangster had left them . . . remembered his brilliant smile, his laughter and vitality and the way his spirit shone through his pain.

They had been in the garden. Richard had been under the oak tree in his invalid chair, watching them play. Denton had been part of their game. It seemed as though Livia had known, for she’d turned and given a little cry. It was if, at that moment, the world had stopped turning for her sister. She could see them all, standing like a frozen tableau. It was hard to believe Richard no longer existed on earth, but she liked to think he was looking down on them, especially his daughter, Meggie, who’d been born after he’d died.

She lit a golden candle in her heart for him. ‘Have a joyous Christmas with the angels, Richard,’ she murmured.

Nutting Cottage wasn’t far away. The major would be spending another lonely Christmas, she imagined, and wished Livia would unbend towards him.

Placing her shopping bags down, because the biggest one in particular was getting heavier by the minute, she stretched.

She heard a car coming up behind her and turned. Thank goodness. It was Chad driving an Austin Morris Seven. Bringing the car to a halt he beamed a smile at her.

‘You haven’t driven all the way from Edinburgh in that tin can, have you?’

‘No. I’ve been here a week . . . it belongs to Livia. She said that it’s more her size than the old one. I’ve been into Blandford for some last minute shopping, and was going to see if you were on the train. Only I was a bit late. The stationmaster told me you’d arrived, and I’ve got your case. Hop in; you can throw your parcels in the back seat. I hope there’s one for me . . . that big one looks exciting.’

‘That’s a joint one for Denton and the boys, but they might allow you to play with it while you’re home.’

‘Will you be staying for New Year?’

‘No . . . I’ll be on board the ship for that. We’ll have a terrific party, I imagine. It’s hard to believe that 1936 is just around the corner.’

Exchanging a hug with her twin, she said, before he set the car rolling forward, ‘How is the studying going?’

‘It seems endless. But I’m keeping up with it. What about life on the ocean wave?’

‘Relaxing. Most of the passengers are brimming with good health, and the novelty has worn off.’

‘Bored, are you?’

She slid him a glance. How well he knew her. ‘A bit . . . but the ship’s only got one journey left in her. I believe the immigration department has scraped up a load of migrants to make another trip to Australia worthwhile, though they won’t find the streets paved with gold . . . the Depression is beginning to bite hard there. We’ll drop off passengers in Australia then the ship will go to Singapore to become scrap.’

‘How will you get home?’

‘I don’t know yet. I hope the company will offer us a return fare, or I can work my passage on another ship.’

He gave her a quick glance. ‘If you get stuck, I can probably manage a return fare.’

‘Thanks, Chad, but I hope I won’t need it. I thought I might stay with Minnie for a while. She expects to lose her position soon, too, due to a mine closure. By the way . . . I ran into that friend of yours . . . Leo Thornton. He sends his best.’

‘Leo? Good Lord . . . what a coincidence!’

‘Yes . . . it certainly was. He was doing some locum work and was called to attend an accident at the mine site, where Minnie runs the nursing post.’

‘How is Minnie; is she still a flirt?’

Esmé didn’t want to discuss Minnie’s hurried, but already failing marriage, or the reason behind it. That was Minnie’s business. So she just said, ‘Minnie has married an Australian.’

‘And Leo?’

Her smile was spontaneous. ‘He’s just as confident as the last time I met him. He took me to meet his parents and brother. They have a sheep station, and it’s huge. His brother runs it with his parents.’

‘Leo took rather a fancy to you when he was here.’

‘He took every opportunity to remind me of that. He asked me to be his girl before I left Australia.’

‘And . . .?’

‘He hadn’t considered the difficulty of courtship when there are thirteen thousand miles between us. That was the principal reason Liam and I decided to part.’

Chad laughed, and then offered her an amused, ‘I thought it was because Livia froze him out. You’re not still dreamy-eyed about Billy Bastard are you, Es?’

‘Don’t call him that, Chad. He’s doing his best to manage his life, and without the privileges we enjoyed. We’re no longer children, and it tends to diminish you, rather than him.’

Colour touched his cheeks. ‘Yes, I suppose it does. You might as well know that I checked his background. He’d been an inmate of Borstal a couple of times?’

She hadn’t known, but he’d said he’d done things he was ashamed of and wanted to forget. ‘That’s the boys’ prison, isn’t it?’ Although she dreaded the answer, she had to ask it. ‘What did he do?’

‘Housebreaking the first time. The second time he broke into a shop. Then he was caught dancing in the street outside a theatre, and passing the hat round.’

‘That’s not much of a crime.’

‘He had no fixed address and was sleeping in an empty house he’d broken into. He was eighteen at the time. When he came out, the theatre gave him a job.’

He’d met his best friend Eric then, she recalled. Eric had obviously been a good influence on Liam. Although he was pleasant, he kept his distance, and she’d formed the impression that he disapproved of her engagement to Liam.

‘Thank goodness we didn’t have to sing in the street to feed ourselves.’ She felt a niggle of resentment because Chad had felt it his duty to check into Liam’s background. He couldn’t help his background or upbringing. ‘Liam has grown up with quite a few good qualities, Chad. You tend to overlook that. He used to defend you from the bigger boys.’

‘Yes . . . I suppose he has.’

‘Let the matter drop, please, Chad. Liam’s past is his own business, and one he regrets. He’s grown up since then, and you can afford to be charitable.’

‘Yes, I know . . . sorry . . . I thought you’d want to know, and it’s only because I care for you, and don’t want you to be hurt.’

‘Liam wouldn’t hurt me. He always treated me with the utmost courtesy and respect. In fact, I always got the impression he liked his best friend, Eric Blair, more than he did me.’

‘Did you ever think . . . no, perhaps not.’

‘Stop trying to be enigmatic. Tell me.’

‘Well . . . some men are
different
.’

‘In what way?’

The look he flicked her had an awkward edge to it. ‘You know, Es. They prefer the um, friendship of close men friends.’

Her cheeks heated. ‘Enough, Chad, you’re embarrassing me. I’m sure Liam was nothing like that. Besides, you have no reason to suggest such a thing.’

‘Did he ever take any liberties with you?’

‘No, never! He kissed me when he proposed, that’s all. Liam has always been a perfect gentleman. What are you reading into that?’

‘That some men marry to prove themselves to themselves. You’re a lovely-looking woman. It would be natural for a man with marriage on his mind to drool over you. I’m glad he walked out on you else your marriage might have ended up as one of convenience.’

‘Ugh . . . how perfectly horrid of you to say so. In return for your advice, I promise to mind my own business, and not to interfere when you find yourself a girlfriend. You can make your own mistakes your own way.’

‘Touché, Sis,’ he said, and laughed as he brought the car to a halt. ‘I’d be lucky to find a girl who’d want me, I think?’

Chad was of medium height and handsome in a quiet sort of way. Some would call him ordinary, but his brown eyes held warmth in their depths, and they resembled hers, reminding her that their mother had nourished them both at the same time.