When the Bough Breaks (33 page)

‘I had a letter this morning too,' he told her when they got their breath back and still lay sprawled on the grass. ‘From my father. He said as soon as the war finishes he is coming to see me. We'll have so much to talk about. I'd told him I've decided what I want to do when I leave school. Bother the silly exams; I don't care about those. I'm going to be an actor. I'm going to be just like him – except I'd rather be on the stage than work in a film studio. But imagine, Beth, taking a part, getting to feel how another person feels, saying their words,
being
that person.'

‘I expect you'll be splendid, Ollie. But I wouldn't like that sort of work.'

It was towards the end of that year that when Beth collected the morning paper from the letterbox she looked at the front page in horror.

‘Aunt Kathie, look what it says.' She passed the paper to Kathie. They had become used to the broadsheets being no more than four pages, but on that morning the top half of the front carried a banner headline: SUDDEN DEATH OF RICHARD MARLEY and below that a picture of him with an account of how he had collapsed and died on the set of his latest film. ‘Aunt Kathie, what about poor Ollie? It's not fair. His mum never bothered about him, now he's got no one.'

But of course his life would go on unaltered; he had
them,
he had Bruce and he had most of his father's not insignificant wealth held in trust for when he was twenty-one and would become master of Sedgewood Hall. In the meantime the rent paid by Brockleigh School would add to his fortune. Nothing detracted him from his certain intent; the name Marley was already held in esteem in the acting fraternity and Oliver meant to raise it to further heights.

There had never been any doubt that Beth would win a scholarship to the Grammar School. Sitting with Bruce in Deremouth Town Hall, Kathie wondered what Den would make of her waif if he could see her on her first speech day called to the platform to receive one prize after another. Oliver made no such trips at Brockleigh and was determined to leave as soon as he had taken his School Certificate and attend drama school. He never wavered in the path he meant to follow.

Like communities up and down the country in May of 1945 Sedgewood village gave a street party for the local children to celebrate the end of the war. Locals were the only children there by that time, for as the country had become safer the evacuees had gone home. The local policeman closed the road and there were games and races. Beth was too old to join in the fun but she held the rope at the finishing line and took the name of each winner. Then came tea, every household having dug deep to contribute something. The evening was for the adults, dancing in the street to the strains of an amateur band from Deremouth.

‘They're growing up, Kathie, our young people,' Bruce said as he led Kathie into a waltz and nodded his head in the direction of where Oliver was dancing with Beth.

Kathie nodded, remembering Den's warning that as the others changed so the spirit of Jess she ‘imagined' spoke to her would be left behind, too young to understand an adult world. With her head on Bruce's shoulder she longed to hear that voice, to know that Jess was still with her. She heard nothing, nothing but the clamour of happy people enjoying themselves. Bruce held her closer and whispered, ‘She'll always be there for you, Kathie.' But how had he known where her thoughts had taken her? ‘When you're old and grey, she will know and understand because she speaks to your heart.'

‘How did you guess what I was thinking?'

His serious moment had gone and holding her away he looked at her with a teasing smile, ‘Be warned, woman, you can have no secrets from me.'

‘So you know what I'm thinking now?'

‘The same as I am. Yes, we'll go back to school but not until later, later when the world is asleep.'

There was nothing in Sally's countenance to hint that each morning she watched for the post lady, but then over the last years she had learnt not to wear her heart on her sleeve. The fighting in Europe was over, but Clive hadn't been in Europe. ‘The atom is split' read the newspaper sellers' placards and, only half understanding, the nation waited in anticipation. Days later on the 16th August the final peace treaty was signed. Even then the full horror of what had happened in the Far East wasn't known. Still no letter came from Clive.

‘Sally, quick Sally, there's a phone call for you,' Beth shouted. ‘I'll stay with Steve.'

It was a long distance call and it was brief. When Sally came out of the house her vision was blurred by tears she had held back for so long.

‘What is it, love? Who was it?' Kathie was waiting, frightened to hear the answer.

‘It was
him
, Clive. He's home. He's had malaria, that's why he couldn't write. Came home on a hospital ship. He's home. Soon as he's fit to travel he's coming to get Steve and me.' She had never known such aching joy – yet she couldn't stop crying.

Before that summer was over the day came when removal vans were at Sedgewood Hall and finally the convoy left. Removal lorries, coach loads of boys and staff, then a private saloon with Bruce in front at the wheel and behind him Nanny Giles holding Elspeth's hand. They were going home.

Replacing the telephone receiver Kathie looked around her at the tidy room. The weekends were precious; she lived through each week waiting for Saturday teatime. Usually Bruce arrived around five o'clock, leaving London-based Brockleigh as soon as Saturday morning classes finished, the day students went home and the boarders filed in for their lunch. He stayed just long enough to say a quick grace and then he headed westward. When she'd paid Bert and his two young helpers and wished them all a good weekend that's exactly what she had anticipated for herself. Each evening Bruce phoned her and she had known that Elspeth had a chesty cold, even that she had trouble breathing, but neither of them had thought it was anything serious.

‘Nanny fetched me to her in the night,' he'd just told her. ‘I called the doctor out; she could hardly breathe. He's brought in a nurse to stay with her but she's so frightened. Poor Nanny seems to have gone to pieces. She's been up all night of course, poor old dear. Kathie, I can't leave Elspeth, not like this. She always smiles, you know she does. But today she's crying, she sounds like a hurt animal.'

From his voice, Kathie could tell how upset he was. ‘Of course you can't.' And she had meant it, for she wouldn't have him any different. ‘Is she in pain?'

‘How can one tell? The doctor says it's pneumonia and now pleurisy. It must hurt her to try to breathe. I feel utterly helpless. Nanny's holding her hand while I talk to you, then I'll take over. Can't believe it. Never seen her so . . . so . . . alone. She's always happy, contented. Now she seems lost. She whimpers, she fights for breath, she looks like a trapped animal. A chesty cold, a nasty cough, that's all it was. She still smiled. Now suddenly . . . it's like seeing a child suffer. Oh God, if only it could be
me
not her. She doesn't understand.'

‘Go back to her, darling. She won't be frightened if you are with her.'

After the call ended she looked around her and shivered not so much with cold as with an uncharacteristic fear of the unknown.

‘Pull yourself together,' she chided herself, speaking aloud, the sound of her own voice making her feel even more alone. As she climbed the narrow flight of stairs, without warning the memory of Den pushing himself up one stair at a time came into her mind. According to what Oliver told her fairly recently after making a brief visit to the bungalow in Hampshire, Claudia had brought alive his enthusiasm for living and achieving. Together they ran a small business crafting leather goods, handbags, purses, wallets. Imagining them Kathie smiled with satisfaction. If Den could pick himself up to that extent, then who was she to worry about one disappointing weekend? Like a child, Elspeth wouldn't need time to convalesce; once she felt better her illness would be forgotten.

But Kathie was wrong. Late that same evening Bruce phone again.

‘It's all over, Kathie. Her breathing got worse, just an unearthly rattling noise while she stared at nothing. She didn't cry anymore. It was as if she'd already left us. Then her breathing stopped. She'd gone.'

‘Bruce . . .' But what could she say? ‘Are you all right?'

‘Better than I was when I spoke to you earlier. I worried about Nanny, but she is remarkable. Elspeth was her life. She loved her with a sort of completeness. Now she says she is thankful. What were her words? “My darling child, now she is herself again.” I felt humble.'

On the Sunday morning he phoned again, and late that night too. Between those two calls something happened to change the shape of all their futures.

‘Morning, Aunt Kathie.' Immediately she recognized Oliver's voice and threw down her hoe. ‘Working on a Sunday? All on your own?'

‘Bruce couldn't come.' And she told him why.

‘That's going to put a different complexion on your carrying on here surely? And just when I have some exciting plans to share with you. Get your bonnet on and I'll take you down to the Boatman's Arms.'

At twenty-three Oliver was as handsome as his father had been and was already making a mark on the West End stage. As he'd always said, it was the stage that drew him, he had no wish to be like Richard and become a movie idol. But the money he had inherited from that movie idol was what made possible what he proposed to do.

‘The hall stands empty,' he told her as he put half a pint of local cider in front of her, ‘I can't imagine I shall ever make it my home. But it's ideal for a school – and this time it will be a school of stage and drama. The Marley School. It's my father's money that makes it possible. You have to be in films to get to be a household name and that holds no appeal. But what do you think, Aunt Kathie?'

‘You want to teach?' She was surprised.

‘No,' he laughed, ‘can you imagine it? No, but I've put out a few feelers and staffing would be OK. Somehow, when I dreamed it up I always pictured you at Westways working your magic on some of the students like you did on me. Funny how things work out, isn't it. Because of being able to come to Westways I learnt to adjust to school – and to know Bruce Meredith so much better.'

‘And it's because of
you –
like an animal in a cage . . .'

‘I remember. Jess took me under her wing.'

‘She knew no other way,' Kathie said lovingly. ‘And it was because of you and the row when you got back to school that I met Bruce. Do we weave our own pattern, Ollie, or is it ordained and we have no choice?'

‘I don't know, Aunt Kathie, but if it is I'm sure we are in good hands. Have you seen Beth lately?'

‘She comes over most weeks. She's been busy with her new flat.' Beth had lived up to Bruce's high expectations. After seven highly successful years at the Grammar School she had gone to London to law school, leaving with high commendation. London held no appeal for her. She loved Devon, and perhaps above all she loved Westways. So she accepted a post with an Exeter firm and moved into a flat with views of the river. ‘She never tells me when she's coming, but very often it's Sunday evening just in time to see Bruce before he sets off back to London.'

‘You and he,' he hesitated, his sensitive nature making it difficult for him to go on, ‘I mean now that Mrs Meredith has died . . .'

‘Shall we get married? As far as the two of us are concerned, Ollie, we've been married for years. Whether Elspeth knew he was always there for her we were neither of us sure, but he would never leave her.'

Oliver nodded. ‘That's what I thought. He's a great guy. Drink up your cider and we'll go and find somewhere for some lunch.'

It was turning into quite a day. But it hadn't finished with her yet. They were back at Westways when Beth arrived. The skinny waif of yesterday had become an ethereally beautiful young woman. She and Ollie walked together to the hall, they even looked at the weedy mound where Fudge was buried before they went into the great house, going from room to room while Oliver expounded his plans.

‘With Mrs Meredith gone, Aunt Kathie is sure to give up Westways. I suppose she'll be the headmaster's wife at Brockleigh. It won't be the same here, Beth. It's been the base we've built our lives on.'

This was on their minds as they walked back through the wood and over the gate to the lane. Even then they didn't come straight indoors. Just as Den and Jack Hopkins had all those years before, they sat on a couple of old oil drums. Through the window of the warm room Kathie watched them. The fading daylight seemed to bring a thousand memories flooding through her mind. Soon all this would be no more than another memory. The Headmaster's Lodge, part of the school, would be her home. Remember the past, she had told Dennis, your future is built on it. All this, every clod of earth, every blade of grass. ‘I've done the chickens, Mum, and I tell you what! I got six huge eggs today.' Her eyes stung with tears, no longer tears of sadness but of unchanging love.

She wondered what Ollie and Beth were talking about so seriously. Soon they'd come in for an early supper before he started back to London. They were sure to tell her.

But they didn't. That was the last day of September.

It wasn't until a date at the end of term had been fixed for the wedding that Kathie found out what Oliver and Beth had been discussing so seriously on that September evening. He was to take over the lease of Westways.

‘But your career?' Kathie had looked at him in amazement when he told her.

‘I may have been a willing worker when I was a child, but that's about all,' he laughed. ‘This is the idea: I've sounded Bert out and he's talked to Sarah about it. You know how it is for them, still living with her people and precious little hope of getting a place of their own.'