Memories of the Storm (13 page)

As they sat beside the fire in the book-room, with
St Francis draped lovingly across Jonah's chest,
Hester started to describe the uncertainty of those
years after Edward's capture, and the anxiety and
fear that had haunted them all – especially Eleanor.
Her physical passion for Edward had been very real
and she'd missed him terribly so that Michael's
arrival with Lucy had found her in a lonely and very
needy state.

As Hester negotiated these dangerous waters she
soon realized that Jonah was not at all predisposed
to judge his grandfather: he was ready to accept
that Michael and Eleanor had both been vulnerable
and therefore open to temptation. Hester could
truthfully show that it was Eleanor who'd made the
running, even if she were aware of Jonah's growing
recognition that Michael must have allowed himself
to be manipulated – up to a point.

The sticking point, beyond which he would not
budge, Hester told Jonah, was Lucy's safety and
happiness. It was at Bridge House, with Hester and
Nanny and the boys, and Patricia, that Lucy had
found some kind of normal life again and Michael
refused to move her away though it was clearly
impossible to have an affair before the gaze of such
a large family. Any leave he had was spent at Bridge
House, which though it had its advantages for
Eleanor, was also deeply frustrating.

'I'm sure that Lucy was happy with us,' Hester
said, though now sounding rather doubtful. 'And
though it could be said that Michael and Eleanor
behaved badly, it's necessary to remember that for
three years Eleanor – all of us – half believed that
her husband was dead. The danger really began
when poor Edward came back and neither Michael
nor Eleanor would make a clean break one way or
the other. To be fair, Edward frightened all of us
and I wouldn't have blamed Eleanor if she and
Michael had decided to cut their losses and had
simply gone away together. Afterwards, I wished
they had.'

'Afterwards?'

'He came on them unexpectedly one evening.'
Hester decided that she could tell him this much.
'They were together in the drawing-room. I think
Eleanor was pleading with Michael to go away
with her. She was holding on to him and he had his
arms round her. Perhaps, in his dark, confused
mind, Edward already suspected something
between them. Anyway, he lost control and attacked
Michael. They fought, it was very violent and
horrid, and afterwards there was no question but
that Michael should take Lucy at once and go back
to London. Eleanor decided to go with them.'

Jonah was looking rather shocked. 'Mum didn't
say anything about this.'

'Lucy wouldn't have known. She was in bed,
asleep. Eleanor had to wake her up so as to dress
her and hurry her away. It must have been very
frightening for her and I don't know what Michael
and Eleanor told her. Perhaps there was something
they said which accounts for her long silence.
Shortly afterwards Michael was killed. The whole
period was terribly traumatic for her. I feel now that
we let her down. I said that she was happy here and
I'm sure she was, at least until Nanny and the boys
left when Patricia's husband came back after the
war. After that she must have been lonely, poor
little soul, though she had become used to us by
then, and Michael was reluctant to move her to his
old aunt in Sussex. When Edward came back, and
we saw that he was unstable and deeply disturbed
mentally, we should have acted. I see that now, in
retrospect, but life is never quite so clear when one
is living it, is it? We all dithered, getting through
each day, trying to come to terms with this new
development. We didn't have counselling in those
days. We just got on with it as best we could. Most of
the time Edward was very quiet but odd things
would upset him and one could never be sure
what they might be: certain noises or even colour
combinations distressed him. Nowadays he'd have
been locked up, of course, or on very powerful
medication.' A pause. 'Did Lucy talk about
Edward?'

'Only in passing. She said that he frightened her
but took very little notice of her. She said . . .' Jonah
frowned, remembering, 'she said that there was an
aura of turbulence around him and that he had
violent fits of temper but she said that Eleanor also
frightened her. She said that you and Patricia were
"safe" people.'

Hester smiled gratefully. 'I'm so glad that she felt
that and that she remembered Nanny and the boys
with affection. Tell me what she said about the
Midsummer Cushion. It clearly had an effect on
her.'

'Actually, she didn't talk about it as such. She
mentioned it right at the end, when I was leaving.
"Ask Hester about the Midsummer Cushion," she
said.'

'I've been thinking about it,' Hester said, 'and I
remember that it broke very soon after Michael and
Lucy left us. I found it in pieces on my bedroom
floor. The string was worn very thin and had
broken. Probably some vibration finished it off. I'm
glad she didn't know about that. She loved it so
much.' She hesitated, watching him, trying to gauge
his reactions. 'Do you think that she might come
here, Jonah? Now that you've broken the ice? I
would so like to see her again.'

He smiled at her. 'I'd like to think she would,' he
said warmly. 'I'm sure it would do her so much
good now that she's begun to open up. I'll certainly
mention it when the moment seems right.'

'Good.' Hester stood up. 'I thought we'd have a
drive tomorrow. The forecast is promising and I
think you need to keep the landscape in your mind,
as well as the emotions. There will be plenty of time
before you catch your train.'

'That'll be great. My turn for lunch, though.'

'Splendid. We'll go to the Royal Oak at Winsford.
Your grandfather enjoyed a pint there. Goodnight,
Jonah.'

She went away and he sat on for a moment,
piecing the story together, seeing visions in the
flames. There was a great deal to think about and,
though he was conscious of some missing element
in Hester's recital, he was too tired and comfortable
to worry about it.

She knocked on his door next morning, opened it a
little way and spoke through the gap. 'The boiler
has indigestion. Best put on an extra jersey. Dave
can't come until tomorrow.'

His curiosity was sufficiently roused for him to
ask sleepily: 'Who's Dave?'

'Dave is the boiler's personal physician. He does
clever things to its little insides and then it feels
much better. Meanwhile it's rather cold.'

It was whilst they were drinking a third cup
of coffee each, and the usual early morning silence
was being gradually broken, that Hester told Jonah
that she might be leaving Bridge House. During
breakfast he'd been brooding on all the things
she'd told him, especially the details of Edward's
mental condition, and weaving them all into a
comprehensive whole that he could see developing
quite clearly and satisfactorily in his mind's eye.
This news, however, shocked him so much that his
thought process was completely broken.

'Leave?' he repeated. 'But why? I mean, sorry, it's
none of my business. It's just that . . .'

'Just what?'

'Well, I feel I've just found you after all these
years. Not just you, of course, but all of them:
Michael, Edward, my mother even. It sounds weird
but I do feel that I'm learning at last about my own
family. And Bridge House too. It's all been a part of
it for so long, you see. "Lucy with Jack and Robbie
in the garden at Bridge House." It became a part of
the whole mystery of it. And now, just when I've
found you all, you say you're going. How can you
do this to me, Hester?'

She smiled. 'It's not quite that straightforward. I
don't have any particular desire to go but the fact is
that I'm not the sole owner of Bridge House. My
mother left it equally to Patricia, Edward, and me.
Edward left his share to me and when Patricia died
she left her share divided between Jack and Robin.
We've all used it as a family home for holidays
and emergencies until I retired and since then I've
lived here most of the time although the family still
come for holidays. Now, my nephew Robin is rather
in need of ready cash so it looks as if the time has
come to sell up.'

'But that's rather tough on you, isn't it? After all,
it's your home. Where would you go?'

'That's a very good question,' Hester answered
lightly. 'I only wish I had an answer to it. I think
that Robbie thinks it would be more sensible for me
to be in a smaller place, less to look after and so on,
especially now that I've had a hip replacement. To
be honest, I feel better than I have for years but
that's not the point. The upkeep would be beyond
me without the others to share some of the costs.
I'm sure you've seen the state of the roof. A new
thatch would cost a great deal of money.'

'You couldn't afford to buy them out?'

She laughed. 'On my savings and pension? No,
my dear Jonah, I couldn't. I was an academic, not
a footballer. Do you know anything about equity
release?'

He frowned. 'Not much. Is that where the
mortgage company gives you part of the value
of the house in return for the property when you
die?'

'Something like that. You continue to live in the
house using the money they've given you. In this
case, a third of the money would go to Robin and
Amy.'

'Who's Amy?'

Hester explained the intricacies of the family
tree whilst Jonah watched her with an expression of
mingled dismay and indignation that amused her.

'It's quite fair, really, you know. They are
entitled to their inheritance. It's my own fault for
not looking too far ahead. I lived in university
accommodation, you see, and when I retired it
seemed a natural move to come to Bridge House.
Everyone was happy about it and I pay Robin and
Amy a proportional rent. It was good to have
the old place used full time, and any of the family
could come here when they felt like it so I grew
complacent. My difficulty about staying here is
the prospect of keeping up with the costs. I'm
not certain that my share from equity release will
support Bridge House and me for the rest of my
life.'

'So if you don't take that route where might you
go?'

Hester shook her head. 'I really can't decide.
Bridge House seemed to be a natural centre when I
retired, it was home, but now I feel rather rootless.
I have old friends in Lincoln and in Cambridge but
I don't particularly feel drawn to moving back
to either place. I could buy a smaller place in
Dulverton.' She sighed. 'I'd decided to put it on
hold until Clio comes back. She's so clear-headed
that I hope she might help to see it all more
positively. Sometimes we need someone who isn't
so involved to show us a path out of our muddles.
Don't look so upset, Jonah.'

'I am upset,' he declared. 'Especially if you don't
want to go. There must be other ways out of this.'

'I'm glad you arrived when you did,' she told
him. 'Let's just be grateful for that. And if you can
persuade Lucy to come for a short visit I should be
very happy.'

'I shall certainly try. When you say Clio is coming
back do you mean for the weekend?'

'No,' she answered. 'That's another story.'

This opened a new direction of discussion that
lasted them through the drive to the Royal Oak
at Winsford where Hester introduced Jonah to
Graeme, who pulled him a pint of Butcombe. At the
bar, several locals were discussing a shoot and,
having made a fuss of two black Labradors, who
waited patiently with noses on paws, Jonah and
Hester took the menu and their drinks to the table
in the bay window. After they'd eaten they sat long
over their coffee, enjoying the warmth of the fire,
and presently went out into the winter afternoon.
Already the sun was low but the sky was still clear
and the air had a frosty chill to it.

Jonah settled himself happily in his seat, preparing
himself to be receptive to the glory of the
scenes that Hester would show him. She drove
slowly, stopping at certain points, occasionally telling
him a little story that involved Michael and
Edward or some other member of the family and,
just as before, he was aware of the impact of light
and air and water.

The quality of the light, particularly, was extraordinary:
the winter sun, shining obliquely across
hill and water, touched the countryside with vivid,
rosy radiance. Even the dying bracken and dry
brittle cages of heather took on a new and glowing
life. Puddles lay like bloodstains beside the road
and the bright bare twigs of the graceful, ghostly
silver birch burned crimson.

On a steep hillside sheep stood toe-to-toe with
their slab-sided shadows, grazing peacefully whilst a
flock of starlings swirled over the field and settled
in a chattering crowd on a wind-twisted thorn. In
the west a low bank of cloud lay massed across
the land behind which the sun was slowly sinking,
its power gradually evaporating as if it were
being extinguished by the watery vapour. Across
the Channel tiny lights began to prick into the
growing twilight: an insubstantial, flickering necklace
strung out along the coast.

Jonah, utterly absorbed by the mysterious beauty,
was surprised when Hester began to turn the car.

'If we're quick,' she said, 'we'll see the rest of it up
on Dunkery. It should be pretty impressive.'

The road, descending from the hills, passed between
beech hedges and dry-stone walls, plunging
downwards into the little town of Porlock where
friendly lamps twinkled and shopkeepers were
bustling out to bring in their wares from the pavements.
The unusually truncated church tower
showed black against the brilliant sky and Jonah
twisted in his seat to stare back at it as the town was
left behind and they raced on through deep lanes
and between woodland that crowded thick on every
side. So dark was it in these combes that when the
car burst out again upon the high moorland road
Jonah gasped in surprise. Up here the light was still
radiant and the rocky cairn on Dunkery Beacon
showed starkly outlined against a duck-egg-green
sky that was streaked with cloudy banners of flame
and scarlet and gold.

Hester parked the car and they both climbed
out. Jonah stared at the spectacle in silence. Each
moment the sunset colours changed and glowed
with a greater intensity and, as he watched, a grey
plume of thunderous cloud funnelled up and
drifted like smoke across the blazing sky. The
brilliance began to fade; already in the north the
mist lay soft and white, though hard-edged, with an
indigo scrawl on the horizon where the land rose as
if out of a distant milky sea.

He glanced at Hester who smiled at him, tipping
her head as if to draw his attention to some new
wonder, and he turned quickly. In the east the
moon was rising, all shredded about with wisps of
cloud, luminous and magical above the darkening
land. Jonah found that he was swallowing hard,
moved beyond anything he had ever known, and
then Hester was beside him, touching him lightly
on the shoulder.

'Come,' she said gently. 'We have a train to
catch.'