Homecoming (25 page)

‘Surely you're not going to tell her that Jack has moved in here?' Martin exclaimed.

‘You'd rather she saw him walking in and out of the house and come to her own conclusions? Or even worse, hear the news from one of the neighbours? You know what nosy gossips some of them are.'

‘I suppose you're right,' Martin conceded. ‘Just don't make too much of a meal of it.'

‘How can I, when I don't know anything beyond the fact that Helen has thrown Jack out and he's moving in with us for a couple of days?'

‘It's just that I don't think we should worry her. She doesn't look well. She hasn't had time to recover from having the baby.'

‘Lily's right, Martin.' Brian drank the last of the tea in his cup. ‘Better Katie and John hear it from you than an outsider.'

‘I suppose so,' Martin allowed grudgingly.

‘And as we're one man short, it's time we were off.' Brian gave Lily a look of commiseration, as she went to the door. ‘Good luck,' he mouthed behind Martin's back.

‘Lily, how nice. It's a surprise to see you this early on a Sunday morning.' John unrolled his shirtsleeves and fastened his cuffs. ‘Katie's bathing Glyn.'

‘I'm sorry, I interrupted.' Lily noticed soapsuds on John's hands as he pulled down the sleeves of his sweater.

He closed the door behind her. ‘She'll be a little while longer. Would you like to go up and see her?'

Lily hesitated. Until John and Katie's marriage she had always considered John to be first and foremost Helen's father, an adult to her child, and as such, remote from her friends. Katie's marriage had done little to change that. She still felt awkward in his presence, but Glyn's birth had brought them closer and he was Helen's father. ‘No, thank you, Mr Griffiths.'

‘John,' he smiled.

‘John,' she repeated, ‘but I would appreciate your opinion on something.'

‘If there is ever anything that I can do to help you or Martin, Lily, you only have to ask, surely you know that.'

‘It's not Marty or me.' She followed him into his living room. ‘Jack came round early this morning, with a case. He said Helen had thrown him out and he asked if he could stay with us for a few days.'

‘I see.' If John was shocked he showed no sign of it. ‘Please, sit down. Did he say why Helen had thrown him out?'

‘No, when I asked, he said he didn't want to talk about it.'

‘But he has moved in with you.'

‘We had to let him, Mr … John. After all, he is Martin's brother.'

‘Of course you did, Lily. I wouldn't have expected any less of you or Martin.' He paused for a moment. ‘I should go and see Helen.'

‘I thought I'd visit her this morning but it would be better if you go. You are her father.'

‘No, Lily,' he interrupted. ‘You are quite right, if anyone should go, it should be you. Jack has only just come home after years away so the chances are this is nothing more than the sort of stupid, trivial squabble all newlyweds have. And if that is the case, the more people who know about it, the more embarrassed Helen and Jack will be when it's over. She's probably realised by now that Jack has come straight to you, so when you turn up it won't be entirely unexpected. If I stick my nose in, both of them will see me as the heavy-handed, interfering father. Perhaps all they need is breathing space and I could end up doing more harm than good.'

‘You really think so?' Lily asked doubtfully.

‘You know Helen. This could be nothing more than the result of one of her tantrums. Remember what she used to be like when she was younger? Always off on a tirade against something or someone, without taking the trouble to find out the facts first.'

Lily nodded agreement, but even as she did so, she noticed a troubled look in John's eyes. She hadn't seen Helen lose her temper in two and half years – not since she had married Jack.

Jack slowed his bike to a halt outside a house set a few feet back from the narrow country road. Pulling Maggie's letter from his pocket, he straightened the creases Helen had made and checked the address at the top: Cartref. He'd hated Welsh classes in school and mitched off as many as he could because the teacher had been old, humourless and boring, but even he knew Cartref was Welsh for home. Unoriginal and, given the situation of the girls the place catered for, inappropriate.

Wheeling his bike into the courtyard, he propped it against a wall. He took a comb from his pocket, ran it through his hair then examined his trousers, the same ones he'd worn the night before. They were splattered to the knees with mud, and the leather jacket he'd bought in Cyprus was more practical than respectable, but he would have been frozen as well as damp if he'd ridden his bike in his sports coat. Unzipping the jacket he straightened his collar and tie before climbing the short flight of steps to the porch. The outer door was open but, as he couldn't see a bell on the inner door, he remained on the step, rang the bell and waited.

A tall, thin, sour-faced woman, who reminded him of his primary school headmistress, opened the door. ‘Yes.' She eyed him as if he was a potential burglar.

‘I'd like to see Mrs Maggie Jones, please.'

‘Visiting is two to three Sunday afternoons and then, only for relatives.'

‘I am Jack Clay.' As she went to close the door, he blurted, ‘Her brother-in-law.'

‘Really?' she queried sceptically.

Hoping the woman didn't know too much about Maggie's family, he added, ‘I'm married to Gordon's sister. Gordon was Maggie's husband,' he prompted. ‘I've only just found out that Maggie is here.'

‘Visiting, even from relatives, is from two o'clock until three o'clock on Sunday afternoons,' she repeated, as if she were reciting a mantra.

‘Please.' He gave her his most charming smile as he sensed her wavering. ‘I've just returned from serving abroad and I haven't had an opportunity to offer my sister-in-law my condolences on Gordon's death.'

‘Your wife is not with you?' she questioned suspiciously.

‘She is ill. In hospital.' As his lies began to take on a life of their own, he only hoped he would be able to recall what he'd said, should this woman grill him at some future date.

The matron peered at him for a moment. Just as he'd decided that she was about to send him packing, she opened the door wider. ‘This is most irregular. Any future visits will have to be made strictly within visiting hours.'

‘I understand,' Jack said gratefully.

‘You can wait in here while I check that Mrs Jones is in a suitable condition to receive your visit. She has been ordered to rest.' She ushered him into a tiny, freezing cold anteroom set off the porch.

‘There is nothing wrong, is there?' he asked, hating himself for being unable to suppress the thought that it might be easier for him, and his pitifully slim hope that Helen might eventually forgive him, if the baby Maggie was carrying never became a reality.

‘There is no cause for alarm. Mrs Jones has been suffering from the effects of high blood pressure. Something not entirely unexpected in a woman of her age, in her condition.'

A stone bench was set against the green distempered wall but Jack didn't sit down. He stood uneasily, listening hard, waiting for the sound of the matron's returning footsteps. In the distance he could hear the clatter of pots and pans. Someone was making a meal. There was no sound of women's chatter or babies crying. Baby – his baby. His stomach lurched at the thought of a child he had been instrumental in making. A child he was responsible for – a child that wasn't Helen's.

The matron reappeared. ‘Mrs Jones would like to see you, Mr Clay, but I warned her as I am warning you, that I cannot allow a visit of more than ten minutes duration. Mrs Jones was only discharged from bed rest yesterday afternoon and the doctor left strict instructions that she is not to undertake any heavy work.'

Jack couldn't see how talking to a visitor constituted ‘heavy work', but he nodded agreement.

‘You can use the residents' lounge. I am aware that you are a relative and this is a condolence visit, but you will, for obvious reasons, have to leave the door open.'

‘I'd appreciate privacy.'

‘And I have to run this home in an appropriate manner. If it should become common knowledge that I allowed a man, any man,' she gave Jack a steely glare, ‘private access to a resident, the committee would quite rightly relieve me of my position.' She opened a door and Jack saw Maggie sitting uncomfortably in a vinyl cushioned wooden armchair. Her figure was swollen and bloated, her face thinner and more lined than he remembered, and her blonde hair heavily threaded with grey.

‘Jack, how good of you to come. I didn't expect to see you.' He went to her and she rose clumsily to her feet. As he offered her his hand, she fell sobbing on to his shoulder.

‘I will leave the door open, Mr Clay, but as most of the residents are engaged in domestic duties elsewhere in the house, you should not be disturbed.' The matron lingered for a moment. When neither Maggie nor Jack acknowledged that they had heard her, she sniffed loudly and walked away.

Lily rang the bell of Helen's house for the third time and waited. When no answering sound came from within, she looked through the front windows. There was no sign of life in the living room or kitchen. Walking around the back, she peered through the dining-room window and French doors and checked the back door. To her surprise, it opened. She called Helen's name and knocked loudly as she stepped inside but she was greeted by silence.

She found Helen crouched on the bottom stair in the hall.

‘Didn't you hear me knock?' she asked apprehensively, concerned by her friend's pallor.

‘No,' Helen murmured remotely.

Lily grasped Helen's hand. It was icy. ‘Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make you a cup of tea and some breakfast.'

‘I don't want anything,' Helen remonstrated, but she allowed Lily to pull her to her feet.

‘You will, when it's set in front of you.' Refusing to take no for an answer, Lily steered Helen down the passage and into the kitchen.

‘I've pins and needles in my legs,' Helen muttered, lurching clumsily towards a chair.

‘I'm not surprised.' Lily filled the kettle. Helen sat at the table. ‘It's like an ice-box in here.'

‘I haven't lit the fire this morning.'

Lily switched on the electric fire and closed the door. ‘We'll soon have this room warm.'

‘You know, don't you?' Helen turned a bleak face to Lily's.

‘Jack turned up on our doorstep this morning.'

‘He's staying with you.' It wasn't a question.

‘As Martin said, we could hardly throw him out, he is his brother.'

‘He told you what he did.'

‘No.'

‘Do you want to know?'

‘Not if you don't want to tell me.'

Helen sat shivering on the chair. Lily brewed the tea and set a cup in front of her. ‘You're a good friend, Lily.'

‘So are you.' Lily laid a hand over Helen's. She was still frozen. ‘You need a hot bath and to get into some warm clothes before you catch pneumonia. I'll lay and light a fire while you go upstairs. When you're ready, we'll go down to Mumbles. I'll buy you dinner in a cafe.'

‘I couldn't face people.'

‘OK then, do you have food in the fridge? I'll make us something to eat.'

‘Please, Lily, sit down. If I don't talk to someone I'll go mad.' There was a frenzied look in Helen's eyes that reinforced her words. ‘I know that if I talk to you, it will end with you.'

‘Of course it will.'

‘You won't tell anyone else, not even Martin if he asks you?'

‘I promise.' Keeping her grip on Helen's hand, Lily sat next to her and began to listen.

‘This is ridiculous. I'm behaving like a fool.' Maggie dried her eyes with a handkerchief and sat back in her chair. ‘It's not you, Jack.' She looked to the door to make sure that the matron had left. ‘It's seeing you again. You remind me of Cyprus – and Gordon.'

‘I'm sorry.' Jack pulled a chair as close to Maggie's as it was physically possible to get and lowered his head next to hers. ‘And I am sorry for getting you into this mess.' He whispered so low he was barely audible.

‘You couldn't have done anything without me.' She continued to watch the door. ‘And there was no need for you to come here.'

‘I had to. If you need anything, I'm starting a new job tomorrow …'

She shook her head. ‘As I said in my letter, I don't need anything, but thank you for asking. Gordon always said you were one of the best National Servicemen in his platoon.'

‘I could visit you any time you want me to. They think I'm married to Gordon's sister.'

‘I know.' She managed a weak smile. ‘It's just as well that you gave the matron your name. If she had told me that my brother-in-law had come to see me I would have denied all knowledge of you. Gordon and I are – he was an only child.'

‘I see.' Even as Jack uttered the banality, he couldn't decide what he should do next. From the moment he had read Maggie's letter he had been agitated, disturbed by the thought that he should do something. The journey to the hostel to see her had been the first logical step, but now that he was actually sitting with her, he was at a loss. Not at all sure what he should say, let alone know what he was supposed to do.

‘It will all be over in a few months,' she said, as if she had read his thoughts.

‘Then you'll go back to live with your parents?' He didn't know why he was asking when she had detailed her plans in her letter.

‘I need help with the children, my mother and father enjoy having them, and the children adore living with their grandparents. It's important that the boys have a man around now that Gordon – now that he's gone.'