Snow Angels (35 page)

That summer when the children were at school Abby would steal time and lie in the hammock in the garden and imagine to herself that she was young again. The garden had not changed, it was just as her mother had planned it and, although they had a gardener, she spent time there, helping and suggesting and generally getting in the way, enjoying the various plants in their seasons. She wasn’t unhappy; she didn’t mourn Robert and her vague feeling of guilt soon went away.

It took a long time before she felt restless, before the day she went upstairs to her father’s room and decided that it was time to clear it out. She was half inclined to do so without saying anything to Gil, but when the children had gone to bed one autumn evening and he had retreated to the office – still the little room which had been her mother’s, he rarely ventured into the
study which had been Henderson’s – she knocked on the door and went in.

‘You don’t have to knock.’

‘I don’t want to disturb you.’

Abby no longer thought of this room as the place where they had made love. She had come to terms with that. She went in and stood for a moment and then said, ‘I though I might clear out some of my father’s things from his bedroom.’

Gil frowned.

‘I did mean to do it,’ he said.

‘People could use all those clothes. Some of them are good, and it’s past time – and other things.’

‘What other things?’

‘The dining-room curtains are dropping apart.’

‘I thought your mother had chosen them.’

‘It was a long time ago. They’re in a terrible state.’

‘I don’t mind what you do.’

‘Right.’

Abby emptied her father’s bedroom. When she had finished there was nothing left but the furniture and, much as she had dreaded doing it, she felt better. Then she bought new curtains for the dining-room but once she had done so, the rest of the room looked shabby and out of place. After that, it became a compulsion. The house had been her mother’s and then her father’s, though it had not been Gil’s. Now it seemed that it could be hers and there was something unstoppable in her that wanted to make it so. She had not refurnished a house before. She had been allowed to touch nothing in Robert’s houses, things were so old and valuable, whereas here her mother had been sensible, practical. Gil objected to nothing. For one thing he was too busy and for another he either liked what she did or was too cautious to tell her that he disliked it. He paid for it all without complaint, though Abby questioned him more than once as to whether it was costing too much. She was fearful of ending up like Robert, caring more for property than for people.
That winter when the cold weather came, she spent a lot of time at the houses that Gil had set up for homeless people and at soup kitchens, providing hot food and clothes and bedding and she was glad to be useful.

The depression that had been creeping up for years took a hold on the area and many businesses closed down. One of the first to go was Collingwood’s shipyard. Abby thought that she could not feel sympathy for Charlotte but, when Gil’s parents had to leave what they had thought of as a modest house in Westoe and live in a terraced two-bedroomed property in a street in Jesmond, she did feel sorry. Charlotte had had nothing to do with her since Abby had left Robert’s house and gone to live with Gil. One day when the weather was for once less bitter, she took the children to the park. There she spied a little fat figure of a woman watching them from across the way. She left the children playing happily and walked slowly across. The cold wind blew the woman’s hair about where it escaped from her hat.

‘Hello, Charlotte,’ she said.

Charlotte wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on the small boy who was giggling.

‘That is Matthew?’

‘It is, yes.’

‘How big he is for his age.’

‘Doesn’t he look just like Gil did at that age?’

‘Oh no, Gil was sullen and difficult. He would hide a lot and not come out and he wouldn’t learn to read or write.’

‘I believe excessive ability often takes people that way,’ Abby said stoutly.

‘Is Matthew clever?’

‘Average.’

‘He must take after Helen.’

Abby was amused but careful not to let it show. Just then, Matthew bounded across.

‘Come on, Aunty Abby, we have to get back. Hello.’ He beamed at Charlotte.

‘I’m your grandmother, Matthew, do you remember me?’

‘Are you?’

‘You have two. Your other grandma lives in Durham.’

Abby tried to move him away but he was intrigued, as well he might be, she thought.

‘You have two grandfathers. Don’t you know anything about them? And an uncle. Do you remember your Uncle Edward?’

‘Is this true?’ Matthew said, turning Gil’s dark eyes on Abby.

‘We have to go. We must get back. It’s teatime.’

Abby had to almost drag him away and she was not pleased with herself. When Gil came in shortly after they got home, for once Georgina was not first down the hall and Abby could hear him from the sitting-room. ‘I met my grandmother. You didn’t tell me about her. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Did you now? Where was this?’

‘In the park near the entrance. She was standing there by the railings. Why don’t we see them? She told me I had another grandmother and two grandfathers but we never see them.’

‘They don’t want to see us.’

‘But she did.’

‘They didn’t before now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I did something wrong, something they didn’t think I should have done and your grandfather, that’s my father, he turned us out of the house.’

There was a short silence. Abby wished she could have stopped her ears.

‘It must have been something very bad.’

‘Yes, it was.’

With a wisdom well beyond his years Matthew said, ‘You don’t want to talk about it, do you?’

‘No.’

‘I would like to see them.’

‘We’ll have to think about that.’

Abby couldn’t eat. Gil didn’t reproach her; he didn’t lose his
temper; he didn’t say anything. She had not faced anybody with that much restraint and it was just as bad as if he had called her everything he could lay his tongue to. She didn’t meet his eyes all the way through tea and was so glad to get up from the table that she hurried. He went to the little office and stayed there. Abby dealt with the children but by the time she had put them to bed, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She walked into the office without knocking, slammed the door and said, ‘All right, say it, say it! I shouldn’t have gone across. I didn’t think. She was in the park and it is a public place. They live here. What did you expect? They live ten minutes’ walk away. You knew this, you knew what it was like, that Collingwood’s had closed, that they have lost almost everything. What did you expect me to do?’

She waited for the onslaught. Robert would have made the house ring.

‘Matthew followed me,’ she said, starting up again quickly. ‘I thought he was playing.’

Gil was staring at the wall.

‘I saw her on the street the other day,’ he said slowly. ‘She looked so little and fat and old.’

‘Does this mean you’re going to let him see them?’

‘No.’

‘And when he asks?’

‘I’ll think of something.’

‘Don’t you think he’s entitled to see them?’

‘I think we’ve discussed this sufficiently.’

‘You wrecked the house, you put him out of business, you ruined their lives. Isn’t that enough?’

‘He did it himself.’

‘He’ll die some day and then you’ll be sorry.’

To her astonishment, Gil laughed.

‘Do you know that’s exactly what your father said. What on earth makes you think so? I’ll dance on his grave. I’ve bought the property.’

‘What property?’

‘Collingwood’s.’

‘Don’t you own enough of the riverside?’

‘I couldn’t resist.’

‘He’s an old man and he’s finished. What pleasure is there in that?’

‘I got it cheaply,’ Gil said, ‘so very cheaply. I’m going to put “Reed’s Yard No 3” on the gates. Then I think I’ll be satisfied.’

Abby was angry.

‘And what are you going to tell your son, that you didn’t bed your brother’s wife and your own wife at the same time?’

‘Hardly, even though it’s the truth.’

‘Is it?’

He had not spoken about this before, at least not to her, but he was sufficiently upset, she knew, to do so.

‘You really thought it of me?’

‘Men do.’

‘You mean Robert did, bed other women?’

‘He did it all the time.’

‘I cared about Rhoda and Helen very much and I didn’t betray either of them; it was my brother I betrayed. I thought I loved him. I thought he meant more to me than anybody in the world, but I took his wife and his child. Matthew was the only thing that mattered, the only person he really loved ever I think. I destroyed it and Rhoda and Helen both died because of it, but I never played any woman false. I never did.’ He got up and was out of the room before she could have stopped him or said anything, though what she would have said or done Abby wasn’t sure. It was undoubtedly the longest speech of Gil’s life, and she believed him.

She went after him, at the time she wasn’t quite sure why. He would have been better let alone but she went, along the hall and he was standing there in the gloom as if not sure where to go or what to do. She decided it for him because he turned around as she approached and drew her to him and tried to hold her and kiss her. For some reason all Abby could remember was the last
embraces that her husband had given her and her regard for him surfaced. She did not feel guilt about his death; she felt resentment and anger.

‘Take your hands off me!’ she said and before Gil could turn back into himself from being Robert she had spoken in rage and he backed off and walked out. He left the front door open. It was a vile night. Wind and rain threw themselves in as he opened the door. Abby hesitated only just before going after him, but it was too late. The street lamps told her that the street was empty, so where he was she had no idea.

‘Gil!’ she shouted in case he was close enough to hear her, but even if he had been it was doubtful whether it would have turned him back. Abby cursed herself but then she realised that it was true. She didn’t want any man near her, not after what Robert had done.

*

There was nowhere to go, Gil discovered, nowhere except work and that wouldn’t do. In the end, after walking the streets for a short while, the weather drove him to make a decision, so he went to the brothel where John had taken him. Mrs Fitzpatrick who owned it welcomed him with a smile. He hadn’t been there in the short months since Abby had come back to Jesmond and it was only now he could see how much he had hoped that he could gain her affection again. He and John had done some late-night drinking, but he had refused to go to Mrs Fitzpatrick’s. John had laughed.

‘Why bother when you have it at home?’ he said.

‘It isn’t like that.’

‘It isn’t like that for me either. Edwina withdrew her bedroom favours a long time ago,’ John said with a sigh. ‘Women. If the pretty little Mrs Surtees isn’t giving you what you want, why do you keep her? The whole world thinks you’re bedding her and the odds at the clubs are that you’ll marry her.’

Gil could see now that Abby wouldn’t marry him, that she
wouldn’t let him near her, even after he had just told her that he had done nothing dishonourable towards women. She wouldn’t believe him. Why should she? Men were like that, Robert had proved it and after Robert why should she want anyone else? She had what she needed: a roof, money, comfort and security for her child. He could not turn her onto the street. Gil could see them going on like that for years and years. He had known that she did not love him, but he had not known that she was disgusted with him.

Mrs Fitzpatrick knew that he favoured blondes. When he came here all he thought of was Helen. He didn’t have the same girl twice; he didn’t want anything to do with them other than bed. They were all blonde, they were all pretty, they were all the same to him. He was directed upstairs and went and knocked on the door. The rooms were all the same, too, as though Mrs Fitzpatrick wanted to encourage anonymity. Men could be anything they wanted here and the girls could be anyone they wanted, which was why he came here. After the first time he had tried to make himself not go, but the memory of being able to have a woman like that stayed with him. It was the only way he could think of Helen.

He opened the door. The rooms were all sumptuous, huge beds and lavish bedhangings. It was a very expensive place. The girl was blonde, of course, and dressed in red underwear which would have looked ridiculous except that it didn’t at Mrs Fitzpatrick’s.

‘Good evening.’

‘Hello, stranger,’ she said smiling.

‘Have we met before?’

‘Everybody knows you. The girls have all dyed their hair yellow, hoping you’d come back.’

‘Whatever for?’

She stood up. She was very pretty and went in and out in all the right places.

‘Because you tip better than everybody else. Lucky old me.
You’re the most generous man in Newcastle, my petal. When you’ve been here, somebody always has new dresses and new scent and oh, all sorts of things. Now it’s my turn. Some men are mean, they’re mean all over but you … you’re a star.’

Gil took off his jacket and took her into his arms and held her close and it was such a relief.

‘My dad works for you,’ she said.

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s a joiner.’

‘So what are you doing here?’

‘I like it.’

‘Nobody likes it.’

‘It’s my work. It’s what I’m good at. Some days are awful and some days are … not so bad.’

Gil laughed.

‘That sounds like work,’ he said.

She was good. He insisted on knowing her name, which was Sylvia, but to him she was Helen. They were all Helen. He didn’t drink much when he was there, but he needed a couple of whiskies to complete the illusion and then she was Helen, so beautiful in his arms. He was back there in that house with the narrow cobbled street outside and the smell of breadmaking in the alley in the early morning and the sweet scent of lemon flowers. She was all he would ever need or want there in the soft white sheets. He was making love to her and she was giving herself to him freely such as nobody had done since. It was only there that he acknowledged his life to be a nightmare. There was nothing in it beyond her, there never had been. He had never had his brother’s love or his parents’ affection; Rhoda had been all need and Abby had married a richer more eligible man than he was, but here Helen would give herself to him completely and it was all he needed.