Illusions of Happiness (15 page)

She said as much as she helped his mother dry her tears and led her gently back into the room – and it seemed to do some good. Even so, she was almost glad to get away, for the first time feeling ill at ease in his company.

‘I think we may be outstaying our welcome,’ James said as they came away. ‘Best to leave him to his mother next weekend, don’t you think, my dear.’

She voiced her agreement but resolved to keep visiting on her own during the week. Anthony seemed a different person when she visited alone, almost like his old cheerful self, at least on the surface. It was Thursday, her third visit this week. Today, ignoring the leaden November skies, she found him even more cheery and talkative than she had dared hope.

‘You know, Maddie, I look forward so much to your visiting,’ he said as his mother left the room to have a word with their cook, his openness taking her by surprise.

‘Without you coming here to see me, I honestly don’t know what I’d do cooped up all day looking out at that bloody miserable November weather and having to listen to Mother constantly lamenting. Promise me, Maddie, you won’t stop coming?’

‘Of course I promise,’ she said with all her heart.

Having him shorten her name sent a thrill surging through her. But it was the slow, quiet, almost deliberate way he had said it that increased the feeling even more though she merely smiled, lightly adding, ‘And I enjoy coming here too. I really do.’

To which he had given a slow smile, one she was at a loss to interpret, leaving her wondering as his mother returned, what else he might have said had they been left alone for any further length of time.

The following afternoon, she wasn’t sure why, but after giving Mabel the usual peck on the cheek as she made to leave, she went over to him still seated in the armchair and, bending, planted a swift kiss on his cheek as well.

He looked up at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen since his homecoming. ‘Now then,’ he quipped lightly, ‘what’s all this sudden flirting?’

But his hand had caught her arm and just for a moment the grip tightened, delaying her from drawing back.

She gave a stupid giggle, instantly annoyed at hearing herself, and pulling her arm away, quickly moved back. But even as she did she saw what seemed to her like a message in his gaze that to her mind betrayed much more than mere banter. Confused she drew away.

‘I’d best be off,’ she said unnecessarily, gathering up her gloves and following Mabel out of the room. As she looked back she saw his gaze was following her and she knew her own had responded with a lingering look.

In the hall, as Mabel’s maid held her coat for her to ease into, her mind still pondered his last look.

Quickly she donned her hat, staring at her reflection in the hall mirror. It looked strained. Suddenly she drew in a sharp breath. ‘My handbag, I forgot it! I left it by the chair where I was sitting.’

Without waiting for the maid to offer to get it for her, she hurried back leaving Mabel and the maid standing in the hall.

‘I forgot my handbag,’ she said to Anthony who looked startled at her sudden return.

He watched her as she retrieved the bag, then said softly. ‘Come here a minute, Maddie.’

Not knowing why, she went over to him. She felt him take her arm; pull her gently down towards him. She let herself slip on to her knees without effort, his arms closing around her, lips closing on hers. Savouring the touch of those warm lips she was lost to the world, but only momentarily as sudden fear gripped her at the thought of his mother coming into the room wondering why she was taking so long and catching the two of them. What if she told James? She pulled away sharply.

‘I have to go!’ she heard herself gasp.

As she came upright, her face burning, her hand still gripping her handbag in a most ridiculous manner, she expected to see an amused look in his eyes. Instead, there was such a depth to his gaze that she drew in a sharp breath, instantly interpreting its message.

‘No, Anthony! We mustn’t! I’m married,’ she gasped.

‘Maddie.’ It was all he said, his tone imploring.

She was about to enforce those last words of hers when his mother’s voice sounded from the hall, growing louder as she approached.

‘Are you all right, Madeleine? Haven’t you been able to find your handbag?’

Madeleine sprang away from him as if shot from a cannon. ‘I’m . . . Yes . . . it’s all right. I’ve found it.’

Leaping across to where her handbag had previously been found by an armchair, she was just in time to seem to grab it up as Mabel came into the room.

‘I was looking in the wrong place,’ she said quickly, knowing that she was breathing fast, her face flushed.

She glanced hastily towards Anthony. He was reclining in his chair as if completely at ease, his eyes closed as though wearied by her visit, but she knew instinctively that every muscle was taut.

‘I did wonder if you were having trouble finding it,’ Mabel was saying in an easy tone as she led her from the room.

‘It wasn’t by the place where I was sitting,’ Madeleine managed to reply by way of explanation as she followed Mabel to the front door which the maid was now holding open for her.

Having kissed Mabel goodbye, she was glad to be outside, her nerves still all a-jangle by what had happened, grateful for a chance to calm herself during the short walk to the end of the road where she could hail a taxicab.

Anthony loved her. He’d not said as much but she knew from the tension she had seen in him as he lay back in his chair. He was in love with her. And she with him, but being in love was now coupled with a craven fear of being so, not daring to look into the future with its lies and hurt and misery. And there was nothing she could do and that in itself was fear enough.

The war was over. Most chose to ignore that it hadn’t been so much won as hostilities brought to an end by a signed armistice. It was good enough to know that the fighting and the dying were finally over.

‘God knows why celebrations were delayed until today,’ Madeleine said as she and James made their way through the prancing crowds to his sister-in-law’s house. Though Big Ben had struck one o’clock to announce the official start to the celebrations, flags of all the Allied nations had been flying from every building and crowds thronging the streets all morning.

‘They’re naming it Victory Day even though the armistice was signed on the eleventh, five days ago on Monday.’

‘I suppose they had to be sure, make it official,’ James said, his eyes taking in the antics of the crowds beyond the motor car window.

They drove along at a snail’s pace to safely negotiate the groups of revellers too happy to pay heed to pavement, kerb or road as they danced and hugged and sang, waving flags and kissing everyone whether they were friends or strangers.

‘After all,’ he went on, still watching the crowds, ‘I suppose it does seem an odd way to end after four years of slaughtering each other, neither side having won outright – just a piece of paper signed by a civilian and a couple of minor army officers with a white flag. It could be that’s why it’s taken five days to really be sure. Maybe the stock market will start to pick up now,’ he finished hopefully. ‘It’s been a difficult four years.’

She wasn’t interested in stock markets. ‘I wonder how Anthony is, knowing it’s over and that he won’t be sent back?’ she said, only half her mind on what James had been saying.

‘Damned relieved I shouldn’t wonder,’ James said, continuing to gaze through the window, ‘like those out there.’

Madeleine leaned back in her seat. She wasn’t interested in those out there. She was thinking more of that last meeting with Anthony eight days ago. She’d not had the courage to go near his home since then. Even now she could still feel his lips on hers.

How she’d got through this week, she didn’t know, her mind removed from all else as she relived that previous Friday over and over again. Even on Monday as people began to pour on to the streets at the news of the armistice having been signed that very day, it hadn’t touched her other than to breathe a thankful prayer that Anthony would no longer be in danger of a return to the front to fight and probably to die.

James had been in his office at the time. He had telephoned through to her even as she sat at her window watching the growing crowds. She hadn’t gone out to join them, mostly thinking of those who must have been sitting behind their own curtained windows mourning their lost ones, some perhaps in the very last days of war.

Her first desire had been to run to Anthony’s side, but that had been impossible with James on his way home. Nor indeed could she have brought herself to do it with the memory of that kiss still so strong in her mind.

On the phone James had said, ‘I’m coming home, my dear. I do not want you to be on your own on this great day.’

All she had said, her mind miles away, was, ‘Thank you, James.’

He was a kind man, thought of her every comfort, did all he could to make her happy, bought her whatever she asked for, totally unaware that the one thing she was most thankful for was that he had never attempted to consummate their marriage. She didn’t think she could have taken that.

She was aware that he saw her as a companion who had helped fill a void left by the death of his wife, whom he never referred to or mentioned by name. She knew too that he was deeply grateful to her for – as he’d once put it – ‘
so generously
accepting my offer of marriage as a good friend
.’

Yet despite his kindness and his concern for her happiness he would not agree to her request to search for the baby taken from her. Although after all this time it could prove futile and the memory ceased to bite as much as it once did, it still lay there in the background . . . and she yearned for his consent to at least try.

This had been the main reason why she had married him, that his money might help find her daughter, yet it was the one thing he had never granted, almost wilfully it seemed to her at times. In every other way he was so generous and understanding and kind that she’d become almost reluctant to push him any further on the matter.

Now that lurking wish was raising its head again. Her thoughts returned with a rush to Anthony. It could happen that in the not too distant future she could find herself widowed. James wasn’t getting any younger and who knows, maybe sooner rather than later she and Anthony would be together, legally married, he young enough to accept a ready-made family and happy to help trace her baby. But not just that, she loved him. But what if James went on into his seventies? To find out about her and his own nephew would break his heart, his world would crumble; of that she was sure. How could she do that to him?

He must never know. But where did that leave her and Anthony? All these thoughts crowded her mind enough to make her head spin as they drove almost at a snail’s pace through the singing, dancing, laughing throng.

Anthony was standing at the window, leaning on his stick as he gazed out at the celebrations; they were, perhaps, somewhat less exuberant here, a little more sedate. He turned from the scene as Madeleine and James came into the room accompanied by his mother.

‘Looks like everyone’s enjoying themselves out there,’ he said without a smile or one word of welcome, almost as if they’d been there for hours.

‘Yes, it certainly does,’ James returned cheerily, seeming to be quite comfortable with such a reception. ‘And how are you?’

‘Fine.’

He’d still not smiled and Madeleine realized that he was continuing to gaze at her, his eyes fixed on her face, and immediately she felt her heart turn over. She looked away quickly, fearing her face might betray something she didn’t wish James to see. But he probably wouldn’t have noticed, utterly innocent of how she felt.

‘Well,’ cut in his mother. ‘That is a fine greeting, I must say, dear, after your uncle has taken the trouble to come and see how you are on such an occasion as this. The least you could say is “hello”.’

‘Hello,’ he repeated, parrot fashion, his tone mocking.

Mabel gave an impatient click of the tongue, saying, ‘I’ll ring for tea,’ and turning to her guests, added, ‘I expect you both would like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you, dears?’

Madeleine found her voice. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

She could still feel Anthony’s eyes trained upon her even though she refused to meet them.

Then suddenly he said, ‘Well, sit down, Uncle James, Aunt Madeleine. Make yourselves comfortable. It’s so nice of you to come. I very much appreciate it, after you’ve been pushing through hordes of people.’

Addressed as Aunt, almost deliberately it seemed, made her squirm but she betrayed nothing. Was he being sarcastic or was it for his uncle’s sake, or maybe he was trying to convey to her some second thought over what had transpired between them the last time they’d met.

Moving away from the window, he returned to his own seat, Madeleine looking from beneath her brow noticed that he no longer needed to use his stick for support, merely holding it clear of the floor; that beyond a hardly discernible limp he seemed perfectly fine. James had noticed it too.

‘I see you’ve got rid of the plaster,’ he remarked.

‘Yesterday,’ Anthony said. ‘Almost back to normal and just in time to savour the peace, long may it last!’

He spoke brightly, yet Madeleine felt she could detect a trace of strain in his tone. She wished he would cease throwing glances at her, too many for comfort. Evading them made it seem all the more obvious that something deeper than family friendship existed between them. She lifted her face to him, her expression hopefully betraying nothing.

‘You must be so deeply relieved in not having to be sent away over . . . I mean, well, not finding yourself having to be packed off back to France,’ she said, stumbling awkwardly over the words and feeling instantly stupid.

He was looking at her, a faint smile now hovering on his lips. Was he mocking her or embracing her? She couldn’t tell.

‘Yes, very relieved.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Hopefully I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now. You too, Uncle James,’ he added almost as an afterthought which to her ears had a far too significant ring to it for her own peace of mind.