Once Upon A Winter (25 page)

He
fixed his gaze on Joshua again. ‘Your grandmother was called Anna Lambert. She was very young and very beautiful, but the Lord saw fit to take her away.’

‘To heaven?’

‘My father, your grandfather, raised me on his own.’

‘Oh.’ Joshua’s eyes looked watery. ‘Did my granddad love her a lot? Was he very sad when she died?’

‘Sad’ was not a word Silas had ever used to describe his father’s grief. It had been raw and dark and unyielding, but it had never come in the way of his duty as a parent. He had never blamed his son for Anna Lambert’s death. If anything, he had blamed himself. ‘The reason we ought to keep emotion out of it, Silas,’ he had counselled, on cold winter nights in front of yet another strange hearth. ‘The reason we never give anything of ourselves away - or ought not to. It’s like a curse, son. The worst possible kind of curse. To love someone that much, and know we won’t be permitted to keep her.’

Dragging himself back to the present day, shaking himself mentally, Sila
s realised Joshua was still patiently waiting for a reply.

‘Your grandfather was sad, Joshua. Yes.’

‘He’s dead now, though, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, he was old, and very tired. His heart had had enough, in many ways.’

‘Mum told me you didn’t have any close family left when she met you. Just distant cousins and aunts and things. One of them was a friend of Nana Gwen’s. That’s why you were at Aunt Em’s wedding, where you met Mum.’

Silas nodded reluctantly. The web of lies needed to be unpicked slowly. ‘No close family, no. Which is why it’s important for me, Joshua, to get to know you. And Freya.’

Joshua nodded back. ‘I know. And I know you had a reason for going away like you did - even though Mum might never understand it. But Nana Gwen believes in you. She’s kept your treasure chest safe, just like you wanted. No one knows it was yours once. I’m the only one she’s told. Dad, are you going to open it soon? Are you going to show us what’s inside? Nana Gwen’s desperate to know, and she’s getting really old. She’s worried she won’t live long enough to see.’

Disoriented by this, Silas needed a few moments to take it all in. A torrent of information. But the foremost point was hearing himself called ‘Dad’; not as a statement of fact, but as a term of address, spoken unconsciously by the child, who still appeared unaware of what he had said.

Was this frail, skinny boy leaning against the railing the same small human who had toddled around on fat bow-legs, grasping for his hand and calling, ‘Daddy.’ The same stumpy being who had sat on Silas’s lap sucking his thumb and listening intently to stories about trolls and unicorns and castles in the clouds?

Fatherhood had never held the same thrall for Silas that it did for some, he acknowledged now, with a pang of something that was possibly regret. But he had fulfilled those early duties as diligently
as any other. His care and attention had been real enough.

‘My “treasure chest”,’ he echoed now, feeling dazed. ‘You mean -’

‘That box,’ said Joshua. ‘The one that looks like it belongs to a pirate, only smaller.’

Silas nodded. ‘I know the one. So Gwendolyn showed you, did she? I asked your great-grandmother to take care of it, not long after you and Freya were born. It was more relevant to you and your family. It seemed fitting that she look after it.’

‘So,’ Joshua wore away at him, ‘what’s inside it? Can we see?’

‘Soon. It’s not as exciting as you imagine . . . But yes, soon I’ll be able to open it, and I’ll explain everything. You can reassure Gwendolyn of that, if you wish.’

Joshua beamed delightedly. ‘Are you going to come and visit Nana Gwen? She really wants you to.’

Silas hesitated. It meant going through
Ellena. Through
Nell
, as she stubbornly wished to be known. Making yet more arrangements that involved spending time with her, and her pain and hostility. However much she tried to keep it under wraps, it was there, in every heartbeat. And the more hours Silas spent in her presence, the more he was conscious of deserving her reproach. For everything he had done, and for all that he would do in the future.

‘Please, Dad . . .’ Joshua gazed up at him beseechingly.

‘I’d like to,’ said Silas, skimming over the surface of the truth, ‘I know how much Gwendolyn would like to see me. But -’

‘But what? How else are you going to open the box for us to see? Nana Gwen can’t go far. It’s much easier if you go to
her
, rather than the other way around.’

‘I know.’ Silas sighed heavily. There were other reasons he didn’t want to venture into that sprawling white house on the hill, but he wasn’t ready to voice them. ‘I don’t want to antagonise your mother,’ he said instead. ‘It probably won’t seem fair to her that
her own grandmother wants to see me.’

Joshua chewed meditatively on his bottom lip for a moment. ‘Mum loves Nana Gwen,’ he said at last. ‘She won’t try to stop you. Mum’s kind, like that. She p
uts Nana Gwen first a lot. She says it’s only right, but I know she does it because she wants to.’

This still didn’t spare Silas’s sense of guilt. If anything, it made it worse. But he looked down at the boy he loomed over, the boy who would one day be as tall as he was, and said resignedly, ‘I’ll speak to your mother. I’ll arrange something.’

‘Today? D’you promise, Dad? You might as well talk to Mum when we go back inside.’

Silas nodded, cornered by his own son, his own pupil. ‘Today,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask your mother about it today. I promise.’

Nana
Gwen sat in the chair by the window. Nell had helped her to put on her best dress, cardigan and pearls, without complaint, even though it rankled that her grandmother wanted to make such a fuss over her visitor.

‘We’ll take tea and cake upstairs in my suite,’ she had instructed Nell. ‘Did Emma bake anything nice?’

‘No, she was busy today.’ Nell failed to add that Emma deliberately hadn’t baked anything, considering she disapproved more than Nell of the visit. ‘I picked up some blueberry muffins and Welsh cakes from Calista’s, though.’

‘Hmm.’ Nana Gwen twitched and fidgeted. ‘I seem to remember he liked Bara
Brith.’

‘Well, I’ve got what I’ve got,’ said Nell tersely. ‘It’ll have to do.’

‘I know you’re not happy about this, Nellie. But when you only know a portion of the story, it’s hard to pass judgement.’

‘Yes, Nana,’ said Nell. Really she meant the complete opposite.

Nell had remained tight-lipped on the subject of Silas coming to see her grandmother. While Emma, in her usual, inimitable style, had been less forbearing. She had wanted to sit down and have a ‘chat’ with Nana about family loyalty; but Nell knew Nana would have a rebuttal for everything, however indecipherable her response might be. It was best just to allow the visit to take place than to have her grandmother go on about it as she had been.

Joshua answered the door
to Silas, while Nell pretended to be busy in the kitchen and Freya holed herself up in her room. Nell stuck her head into the hall.

‘Oh . . .’ she said, sounding as if she’d almost forgotten he was coming, ‘hello . . . You can go on up. Nana’s waiting for you. Joshua will show you the way.’

‘I’ve brought Gwendolyn some flowers.’ Silas showed them uncertainly to Nell. ‘Will they do?’

‘Very nice. Well, um, I’ll take a vase upstairs in a minute. Nana will appreciate those in her room. She always likes to have fresh flowers.’

‘Do you . . . need a hand with anything?’ Silas eyed the kitchen. It was more cluttered and untidy than usual. General housework had been low on Nell’s list of priorities lately.

‘No. No, I’m all right. I’m brewing a pot of Nana’s current favourite. Ceylon. Is that OK with you?’

‘Er, yes. Yes, that would be fine.’ Still he hesitated, gazing around the room, before Joshua grabbed his arm and started tugging him towards the stairs.

‘Just hang your jacket from the banister.’ The boy bossed him about. ‘There. That’s it. And we’re not allowed to wear shoes upstairs, because the carpet’s cream Berber or something and it’s difficult to clean.’

‘Oh.’ Silas started slipping off his boots.

‘There’s no need . . .’ said Nell faintly, something far too domesticated about the sight of him in a casual shirt, jeans and faded grey socks, as if he belonged here, mooching about the house like any other occupant.

‘It’s fine.’ He shrugged, and smiled awkwardly before following Joshua up the stairs.

Frowning, Nell stared after them, then stalked back into the kitchen, taking out her feelings on a
n innocent teaspoon as she tossed it into the sink.

*

Daniel slouched on his sofa, glaring up at the ceiling. It was one of those days when he wished he’d never given up smoking five years earlier. Never stuck on those patches or chewed that nicotine gum. Never resisted Lauren when she’d so defiantly decided she was going to continue with the habit herself, come hell or high water or the fact that it seemed to be getting more expensive by the minute.

It was also one of those days when Daniel wasn’t about to throw stones at anyone else, either. Not for taking to drink, or dabbling with pills, or becoming addicted to gambling. Because life could be depressing. Downright shitty. Meaningless. Life could be whittled down to a few scraps of paper and some tawdry bric-a-brac filling a couple of cardboard boxes, along with the knowledge that you would inevitably become nothing but a memory, in the mind of someone who would one day be nothing but a memory themselves.

Why the hell had Lauren come over here the other day?

On the pretext of bringing stuff over that had once belonged to Daniel’s father, she’d
said. Clearing the loft out. Moving things along.

Really?

Daniel was sceptical. More likely her curiosity had simply got too much for her, and she’d used this excuse to come and see where he’d ended up after twelve years of marriage had blown up in his face. Lauren’s restraint these past months had been out of character, after all.

‘It’s only temporary,
isn’t it, Danny?’ She’d glanced around the Annexe. ‘Once the house is sold and the money’s all freed up, you can find somewhere bigger and better - can’t you?’

She’d seemed so bloody cheerful. And too stunning in her long leather coat and slim-fitting boots, her hair fanning around her shoulders like a TV commercial for a vibrant new hair dye.

Daniel groaned and heaved himself off the sofa. No point reliving it. And if all he was going to do was feel sorry for himself, he might as well do some good instead and go next door to see Nell. It was possible that she’d welcome a friendly face.

Joshua had proudly confided in circle time today that his dad was coming over to visit his great-grandmother. The boy’s enthusiasm apparently made him oblivious to his sister’s reaction, Daniel had noted. Freya had sunk her chin into her cupped hands, and tried to disappear behind the stray tendrils of hair that had escaped her plait and were frizzing around her face.

As he passed through the tiny hall of the Annexe, Daniel caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the radiator. He flattened his hair at the front, frowned, reminded himself this wasn’t a date, and stomped out.

Nell was
surprised to see him. ‘Daniel . . . Hi . . .’ She stood at her front door and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um, you probably don’t know this, but Silas is -’

‘Here,’ said Daniel
. ‘I do know. Joshua mentioned it at school today. But I’m not about to start a fight. I just wondered if you could do with some moral support.’

‘Oh, right.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Well, he’s upstairs with Nana Gwen, so . . .’

‘And he won’t try and punch me or anything?’ Daniel checked, stepping on to the mat.

‘As I remember,’ said Nell, ‘it was
you
who tried to instigate a brawl at New Year.’

‘Yes, well, I’m not particularly proud of the way I acted that night. In fact, I was
hoping to apologise to Silas. If you think that’s appropriate,’ Daniel added hastily, studying Nell. She looked exceptionally pretty today with a touch of make-up, deftly applied, he noticed, rather than just slapped on in a hurry for appearance’s sake.

‘I suppose it wouldn’t be
in
appropriate,’ she said, shutting the front door behind him. ‘Come into the kitchen. Do you fancy a coffee?’

‘I’d love one,’ said Daniel, and flopped into a chair. ‘It beats going through the boxes of my dad’s things Lauren dumped on me the other day.’ He pulled a face. ‘I keep putting it off. Procrastination’s my middle name.’

‘And there’s me thinking it was Arthur.’ Nell switched on the kettle. ‘What sort of stuff is it you need to sort through?’

‘Oh’ - he shrugged - ‘things my mum didn’t want to keep, but at the time I couldn’t bring myself to throw out. Paraphernalia. You know.’ He shrugged again. ‘So I just stuck it all out of sight in the loft instead. Ironic, isn’t it?’

‘It’s hard to throw someone’s belongings away when that person’s gone. At least that’s one thing I didn’t have to do when Silas left. He took everything that was his with him. Managed to clear out all his gear, minus furniture, in one fell swoop. Not that he was big on material possessions.’

Daniel frowned sympathetically across the kitchen. ‘Nice.’

‘Daniel’ - Nell hesitated, a couple of curvy Denby mugs in her hands - ‘do you think this is a good idea? You being here? I don’t want Silas to misunderstand.’

‘Oh?’ Daniel stood up again, went over to the counter and took the empty mugs from her. ‘Can’t a friend spend time with another friend now? In fact, what does it even matter? It’s none of his business what we do. We can all be civilised and keep our nose
s out of each others’ affairs - and I don’t mean “affairs” in that sort of way. So why don’t you sit down for once, Nell, and
I’ll
finish making the coffee.’

‘Wow.’ She sat down. ‘You can be very domineering at times.’

‘It’s the Deputy Head in me.’ He smirked. ‘Do you know, Mr Frennison’s back next week. His wife’s over the worst.’

‘Really?’ Nell knew she ought to quiz him more about this, but all she came out with was, ‘Do you want to stay for dinner, Daniel? I’m not going to dish up until Silas has gone, so I don’t know how long that’ll be. It’s only macaroni cheese again, though. I’m not a very imaginative cook.’

‘Are you kidding? I
love
your mac cheese. Of course I’ll stay.’

If anything, thought Daniel, just to apologise to Nell’s
‘ex’, and then rub the smug git’s nose in it.

*

Silas looked over his shoulder, as Joshua hurried out of the room. Gwendolyn had charged him with the task of asking for another pot of tea. It meant that the boy would be gone for a minute or two.

‘He’s a credit to you, Silas.’ The old woman smiled weakly after the lad.

Age had crept up on Gwendolyn like a thief, finally stealing her youthful vigour. Since the last time Silas had seen her she had shrivelled up to two-thirds the woman she had been back then. Not exactly stout all her life, but filled-out, with a sturdy frame.

‘No,’ Silas told her grudgingly. ‘Not a credit to me. I’ve done nothing. Nell raised him.’

‘But he is the way he is because of you.’

‘No,’ Silas disputed again. ‘He simply has my genes. My lineage. I did nothing except father him.’

‘Yes, I suppose it’s poor Nellie who did all the hard work.’ Gwendolyn sighed and with a shaking hand, smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress.

‘I’m sorry, Gwendolyn. Sorry it had to be your granddaughter I hurt. I only ever wanted to help her . . .’

‘But always with the intention of leaving at some point? Am I right, Silas? You never stay for long. Not a lifetime, at least.’

He bowed his head, staring at his drab, grey socks, and saying nothing. It was oppressive up here for him, in the attic at Bryn
Heulog. One life had been tragically cut short here once, just as another had begun.

‘I know it must be tiring,’ said Gwendolyn, ‘pretending to be something you’re not. Someone, even very slightly different, from the person you really are.’

Silas looked up again, meeting her eyes. This woman was one of the few who had ever truly understood. ‘It is,’ he admitted quietly.

‘And how can I not forgive you for choosing my Nellie, when you gave her those two beautiful children. Even with all the heartache she’s known, Nellie can’t regret being with you after such a gift. And she needed loving, Silas, when you first met her.
She’s so much stronger now, because of you.’

‘But only because I left,’ he said morosely. ‘Not because I stayed. Rebuilding her life is what made her strong.’

‘And that was a bad thing?’

‘Yes,’ said Silas, although he had not given it the thought it deserved over the years. It was only these last few days that it had troubled him. ‘I was never meant to be a destroyer.’

‘Not of the weak,’ Gwendolyn pointed out. ‘Oh, what’s the term these days? You hear it so much on the telly . . . That’s it - “collateral damage”. Is that what poor Nellie was?’

Silas stared out into the darkness through a chink in the curtains. He didn’t look back at the old woman as he answered, ‘I swear to you, Gwendolyn, I’ll do the best that I can to make sure she finds the happiness she’s owed. I’m glad she’s made a start. Coming back to Harreloe, to her family, was what she ought to have done years ago. And before I leave here, I’ll make certain she’s as settled as she can be. The divorce will help. It will give her the freedom she needs to start over again.’

‘I suppose it will.’ Gwendolyn shrugged her thin shoulders feebly as Joshua hurried back into the room.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked for more tea. Dan’s down there now, and Mum’s asked him to tea. Dinner, I mean. Are you staying, too, Dad?’ He turned to Silas.

‘Daniel Guthrie’s downstairs?’ said Gwendolyn tartly.

Joshua nodded. ‘Uh-huh. He likes Mum’s mac cheese, he said.’ The boy seemed to find this amusing.

‘What about you, Silas?’ said Gwendolyn. ‘Did Nellie ask you to stay for dinner?’

Silas shook his head. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Why say it like that?’ snapped the old woman. ‘I would have thought she would have been polite enough to extend the invitation to you, too.’

‘It isn’t a question of courtesy. Besides, I have other arrangements.’ Silas checked his watch. ‘I can’t stay much longer . . .’

Joshua’s face fell. ‘But the treasure chest! I thought you were going to open it?’

‘Don’t hound your father, lad,’ Gwendolyn chided. ‘He’ll open it when he’s good and ready, won’t you, Silas?’