The Soldier's Bride (42 page)

Jack was still the same long thin streak she’d brought home to be introduced to Dad twenty-five years ago, a little round-shouldered now, otherwise looking very prosperous in a well-cut black worsted suit.

Twenty-one-year-old Emmeline, with her mother’s shade of golden hair, had come. So had Elisabeth, Lucy’s other daughter; tall, slim and fair despite her early pregnancy. Her husband was a well-built young man with a handsome if rather flexible face.

A sister of Ada’s, a woman just as dowdy, shadowed her continually, asking if she was all right. Ada gave perfunctory nods. She looked careworn from nursing her late
husband. Seeing her, Letty realised how much the woman must have loved him; recalled and regretted her own uncharitable feelings towards her and Dad when they’d first, as she’d seen it then, deserted her to take up their own lives together.

A neighbour or two completed the gathering but of Vinny there was no sign. Letty felt bitterness, even hatred, flood over her. Not even to attend her own father’s funeral – because Letty was there! How deep could it go?

‘No Vinny?’ she asked Lucy as casually as she could as Ada’s sister handed her a glass of sherry before they were called to depart for the East London Cemetery where Dad was being buried near to Mum.

‘Your father’s upstairs in the front bedroom if you want to go and look at ’im,’ Ada’s sister imparted before going on with the tray of tiny glasses containing their thimbleful of wine.

Letty nodded, forgetting Vinny at the idea of gazing at Dad for the last time.

‘Coming up there with me?’ she begged.

David had already shaken his head, declining the invitation. He hardly had any reason to see the old man. Chris had turned faintly long-faced and looked appealingly at his mother. He was young, had not looked upon death yet, was obviously not inclined to begin now.

Lucy inclined her head at Letty’s plea in rather reluctant agreement.

‘I have been up to see him once, though.’

‘Don’t matter then,’ Letty said.

‘No – it’s all right,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘I don’t mind.’
And with Letty going ahead, they went with suitably solemn steps up to the front bedroom where the coffin lay, its lid slewed to one side to allow a view of the deceased.

‘He looks very peaceful,’ Lucy said in a whisper.

‘Old,’ Letty said.

‘They’ve done him up well.’

‘I don’t like all that make up they use. Don’t look natural.’ Her old childhood way of talking came through. She suddenly felt a child again – wanted to cry out, ‘Dad, can I go down to play?’

She took a deep breath. She was forty-three years old next month. Far away from childhood. But she felt like a child, saw herself skipping down the street in Club Row, saw again Dad looking out of his shop door, his strong moustache bristling, blue eyes vivid and alive but kind. His voice was kind too. ‘Letitia! Come in now – yer mum wants some ’elp.’

Tears for those days, for what could never be again, filled her eyes. The moustache was sparse now, had been darkened by the undertaker’s brush, looking ludicrous against the papery skin, its pallor tinted a strange shade of pink. Dad was lying straight in his coffin, his eyes closed. She’d never hear him call her Letitia again. But oh, dear God, how she wanted the past back again!

Lucy’s arm was around her shoulders. ‘Come on, Let, don’t cry. We can’t do a lot here. Let’s go back downstairs.’

There was subdued talking, a quiet murmuring, around the room. The two sisters joined it, melting into it unnoticed. The front door had been opened and remained ajar for a brief while. Letty felt the draught of chill April air
come into the room from the hallway, taking the heat from the low fire, then cease as the front door closed. She momentarily thought it might be the undertakers but there was no stir of expectancy from the people around her.

They joined David and Chris. Lucy, now talking to Chris, her head tilted up to his six foot, glanced towards the door and her eyes lit up in welcome. Automatically Letty turned to see Vinny with her new husband and boys, now grown men, standing in the doorway.

Vinny’s grey-green eyes had roamed the room uneasily. They came to rest on her youngest sister and she blanched, mouth tightening. Held by the other’s stare, Letty saw the woman she had not set eyes on for ten years and was stunned.

Where Lucy had aged gently, keeping her figure, ample bosom redeeming her slimness, Vinny had grown gaunt. Sunken cheeks, the jaw bone a sharp line above a thin neck, she had hardly any figure, the new shapely fashion doing nothing for her. She was, after all, forty-six now. But Letty had expected her to wear her age well, as Lucy did – she’d been so beautiful as a young girl.

Still Letty and Vinny stared at one another. Indecision churned inside Letty. Should she keep up the stare until Vinny was forced to turn away, or give way herself, pretend she had not seen her? But that was silly. She gave a nervous smile – it felt more like a grimace. Vinny’s lips never even twitched, remaining a thin scarlet gash. It almost took Letty by surprise when her sister turned away abruptly, seeking Ada to offer her condolences.

Letty clutched at David. ‘I don’t think I can stand this.’

‘It’s all right.’ His hand squeezed hers, firm and reassuring.

‘It’s going to be horrible these next few hours. In the same room together and she acts as if I don’t exist!’

Chris was looking worried. ‘Take no notice, Mum.’

‘Probably a bit of a shock to her, your being here,’ Lucy put in.

‘She must have known I’d be here. Our own father. Obviously I’d be here. You’d think that after all this time …’

A faint stir rippled through the gathering. Again a draught swept through the front room making the fire flicker. Dark-suited men in black-ribboned top hats moved past the door, going up the stairs. Conversation ceased, the air was still, then past the door came the long shape, hoisted on the shoulders of the coffin bearers, heads bowed, hands held low and crossed, as expertly they balanced the coffin on shoulders.

There was a subdued shuffling in the room as the gathering sorted itself into an order of precedence, Ada supported by a brother going ahead, handkerchief to her nose, sniffing softly; the deceased’s three daughters following behind, Vinny on the farthest side from Letty with Lucy a barrier between them. The rest moved out of the house into the chill April air, a silent double file, to find their places in the waiting limousines.

Lucy sat between her sisters on the back seat, very aware of her role as intermediary, saying nothing to either of them, which was unusual for her, while Ada, comforted by her brother, sat in front.

After a sad service, which was expected, and words of
quiet encouragement from the vicar, they returned frozen to the marrow from standing at the graveside in a stiff April breeze. There was whisky and brandy and warming cups of steaming tea poured by a neighbour who had done the funeral fare of ham and tinned salmon sandwiches and small iced cakes and Swiss roll.

As whisky began to warm the mourners, conversation livened up. Stories of when Arthur did this or when Arthur did that brought reminiscent laughter and Ada was smiling again.

Lucy was talking with Vinny, Jack with David as if he were a true brother-in-law; Letty went and sat by the window, gazing out at the large double-fronted bay-windowed houses opposite. Here the blinds had been lifted and a weak sunlight filtered into the room with its high ceilings and heavy furniture.

A small brandy in her hand, a sandwich on a plate on the table beside her, she tried to ignore Vinny’s presence, thought of Dad then found it best not to as nostalgia descended. She and Dad had grown apart too long ago for her to feel any deep grief but she suffered keenly from a persistent sense of something lost. The past perhaps? Seeing everyone swapping anecdotes, she felt very isolated yet had no wish to join in; she still felt Vinny’s presence like a ton weight, fighting an urge to get up and run out of the house.

‘Are you all right, Letitia?’

Letty jumped, momentarily thought of Dad always calling her by her full name, looked up, and smiled at David.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘You looked very down.’ He drew up a chair. ‘You mustn’t sit here all alone mourning him, you know. You won’t do yourself any good.’

She suddenly wanted to throw all the weight of her burden on to him.

‘It’s not that!’ she burst out. ‘It’s Vinny. Deliberately ignoring me. I think she just came to make me squirm …’

‘No, that’s silly,’ he interrupted gently. ‘She came out of love and respect for her father. As you did.’

She
was
being silly. She let her shoulders slump a little. ‘I suppose so. If only she didn’t make me feel that I’m to blame. Chris was my child, not hers. But she’s my sister and I love her, in spite of everything. I don’t want her to hate me …’

‘Letitia!’ He leaned close. ‘Give it a chance. And don’t sit here by yourself. Go and talk to everyone while I …’

‘But how can I?’

‘Don’t worry.’ He got up, patted her cheek lovingly. ‘Just trust me, Letitia. Now go and talk to someone!’ Wondering, she stood up as he left her, going to seek Lucy once more. Vinny’s boys were standing around, bored. Young men now, they hung about their mother as though she were a lodestone. None of them, Lucy said, had girls, even though they were all good-looking.

‘She’s always mothered them,’ Lucy said. ‘Made big babies of them.’

Letty smiled wryly, sipping her brandy. She felt proud of Chris – the way he spoke with everyone, interested in what was being said. He was very much in command of himself and in September he would be going on to
Cambridge. This past year he’d discovered girls and made no bones about it. In her opinion he knocked his cousins into a cocked hat.

She noticed David talking to Edwin Nicholson, Vinny’s husband, more like long lost friends than men having met for the first time today. The next moment he had moved over to her, taken hold of her arm and was guiding her back to Vinny’s new husband.

‘Edwin, I don’t believe you have met Letitia, Lavinia’s sister? Letitia, this is Edwin, Lavinia’s husband.’

Letty tilted her head solemnly. Vinny was standing behind Edwin with her back to him, talking to someone. He turned and attracted her attention.

‘Vinny – here’s your sister.’

The men had a look of conspiracy about them, Letty noticed as Vinny glanced round. Her expression was a picture, finding herself suddenly at arm’s length from Letty. She guessed hers was only fractionally less guarded.

She heard herself saying, ‘I’m sorry, Vinny – it wasn’t me,’ while her sister assumed the look of a cornered cat, bristling and wide-eyed.

‘Aren’t you going to say hello to your sister?’ David, very much in command of the situation, was refusing to allow them any escape.

What else could Vinny do? ‘Hullo, Letty,’ she said stiffly.

‘Hullo,’ she returned, stifling an urgent need to giggle. But if she had she’d have dissolved into tears. She swallowed hard, gazing in silent appeal at her sister.

‘We’ll leave you two alone to have a chat,’ David was
saying, his tone blithe. ‘I expect you’ve a lot to talk about.’ You can say that again, Letty thought as the two men moved off. She sensed Vinny about to turn away too, predicted the move, and put a restraining hand on her arm.

‘Vinny! Don’t let’s go on like this. We have to talk sometime.’

She saw Vinny stiffen, felt suddenly dreadfully sorry for her.

‘Please – can’t we make it up?’

Vinny remained stiff-faced. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, almost viciously.

‘Yes, you do. You’ve blamed me all these years. And perhaps you have a right.’

She wanted to say more. Say: ‘I was his mother. I had a right too.’ But it would have driven a wedge back into the gap she could see had started to close, ever so slightly. She stood gazing at Vinny, all that was in her mind visible in her glistening green eyes. Then the words began to flow of their own accord.

‘Think about Dad,’ she said slowly. ‘He wouldn’t want us to keep all this animosity between us. It don’t matter who was wrong, or who was right. We each had our claim, Vinny. We each felt so terribly hurt. But I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

Her eyes were swimming. Vinny’s as well.

‘Let’s make it up to Dad, by making up. He’d have wanted that. And I still love you, Vinny.’

For a moment, her sister’s tears threatened to spill over. Embarrassed, Vinny switched her gaze to the tall figure of Chris with her sons who were laughing at something he’d
said; George, who’d inherited his father’s pomposity at times, was laughing the heartiest.

‘He’s grown tall, your Christopher,’ she observed huskily.

Letty half turned, followed her gaze, and nodded. ‘Like Dad was.’

‘No, he’s like your David.’ Vinny’s tone made her turn back. Vinny’s face had softened unexpectedly.

‘But he’s got Lucy’s nature,’ Letty said with new heart.

‘He’s totally different to the child I was bringing up. So self-assured, I wouldn’t have recognised him. He’s your boy, Let, through and through. I’ve been clinging to memories of a little boy but he’s a man now. He’s yours – yours and David’s.’

She couldn’t believe it was Vinny saying this – the Vinny who had ignored her all these years, who had borne such a terrifying grudge against her.

She wanted to hug her but still felt wary; instead said quietly, ‘Let’s be friends again, Vinny. Let’s forget … things, shall we?’

For a moment Vinny regarded her unsmiling. She hadn’t smiled in all this time, but Letty could forgive her that.

‘I was sorry to hear about your Billy. I know how it feels, having lost …’ She hesitated then went on, ‘But you’ve got David now.’

‘It’s nice of you to say that,’ Letty began warmly, immediately to realise something was not quite right as, attempting to take Vinny’s hand in a gesture of sisterly affection, she felt it instantly drawn away, as though her touch had burned.

Vinny’s tone had become frigid.

‘I do agree, Letty, it is rather negative to carry on being nasty to each other. For Dad’s sake, I suppose. But I can’t ever forgive you for the pain you caused me when you took Christopher away from me. I just hope you never have to suffer the sort of misery I did. But, as you say, we should bury the past. If only for Dad’s sake.’