The Diary Of Pamela D. (8 page)

After some time, it occurred to Pamela that
Mr. Cross hadn’t come near the loft, except to stand at the foot of
the stair and shout about clean linen and hot water. Theo did ask
whether or not she wanted help but Pamela declined, going down
once, taking Theo aside and asking him to keep a rein on Mr. Cross,
who sat at the kitchen table cursing his daughter’s indiscretion,
seeming not to care who heard. After a few more minutes of this,
Pamela heard Theo raise his voice only once, and nothing further
was heard from Mr. Cross.

About three in the morning, a red-faced,
healthy baby boy screamed his protest over being brought into this
world of uncertainty. Soon after, Pamela came down the stairs of
the loft, white-faced and unsteady. Theo quickly got to his feet
and led her to the table. Mr. Cross sat on a small stool by the
stove with his arms crossed, trying to look defiant. But he said,
‘It’s over, then, isn’t it? My Emma, she’s dead, isn’t she?’

‘No, Mr. Cross,’ Pamela said, taking the tea
Theo handed to her. ‘She and the baby are just fine. You have a
grandson.’

‘A grandson?’

‘Yes, Mr. Cross. Why don’t you go up and see
him?’

It seemed he wasn’t going to reply at first.
Yet when Pamela least expected it, he abruptly lost his composure,
his gruff exterior and bravado falling away like a broken curtain.
‘Oh, my poor little Emma! I’ve been such an unconscionable
bastard!’ He put his head in his hands and wept. ‘She’ll never
forgive me.’

Setting down her tea, going to Mr. Cross and
kneeling before him, Pamela said, ‘I think everything will be fine
from now on, Mr. Cross. An unwanted pregnancy is a hard thing to
deal with, but this is your grandson. Emma will want you to see
him.’

Mr. Cross took her hands,
tears spilling unashamedly from his eyes. ‘God
bless
you, lass! You’re a
saint
, that’s what you
are!’ He got to his feet, took a deep breath as though considering
how to face whatever was waiting for him atop the loft, and began
the ascent.

‘Is
Her
Saintship
ready to go home?’ Theo said. His smile, for once, though
slightly mocking, couldn’t conceal the kindness that lay behind
it.

‘
Her
Saintship
isn’t looking forward to making
that journey twice,’ Pamela said, and took a sip of her tea. ‘But
we’d better get on with it before I fall asleep.’

It was nearly seven when Pamela stumbled back
to the Dewhurst mansion, leaning on Theo’s arm for support, unaware
that she was doing so, and all but prostrate from exhaustion.
Without saying a word to anyone she made her way upstairs, threw
herself prone upon her bed without first removing her clothing, and
was instantly asleep.

-4-

Pamela slept remarkably few hours (for her),
waking up at one o’clock in the afternoon. Getting out of bed she
noted belatedly that she was dressed in warm bedclothes, a
realisation that caused her to flush with embarrassment. ‘Someone
undressed me completely and put me to bed!’ Yet at the same time
this discovery brought out feelings she hadn’t experienced since
she was a little girl. That someone, probably Ellie and Doris, had
taken care of her, had dressed her in a heavy flannel nightgown and
put her to bed. She found that it was a good feeling, like being
picked up and held in someone’s arms.

She wanted to thank Theo for lending her his
strength and support the night before, but found she didn’t know
how. She was spared having to try, however, because upon going
downstairs she discovered that Theo had left for London at eight
that morning, obviously without sleep; she was told he would be
gone for two weeks. Feeling strangely disappointed, she threw
herself with renewed vigour into the housework she had begun,
spending whole days cleaning the kitchen before moving on to other
parts of the mansion.

A few days later, while Pamela was standing
on top of the dining-room table polishing the cut-glass prisms of
the chandelier, Doris answered the front door when the bell rang.
She returned a few moments later, sorting through several
envelopes. ‘There’s something in the mail here for you, Pamela,’
she said, her voice belying nothing. ‘I’ll leave it here on the
table for you.’

Too engrossed in what she was doing to stop,
Pamela finished cleaning the last of the grime from the chandelier
and tossed her rag in the bucket, its sloshing contents a murky
yellow-brown, attesting to years of accumulated cooking grease and
smoke stain. Only belatedly she remembered the letter and picked it
up. To her delight, she discovered that it was from Tessa. She tore
it open, and read:

Dear Pamela:

Would you mind very much if I called you Pam?
Everyone calls me Tess, except for my aunts and uncles. There’s no
need for formality between friends, now is there?

I got your letter only today. Sorry I didn’t
write sooner but we only got back from Danby last night so I didn’t
have much of a chance.

How are aunt Ellie and aunt
Doris getting along? They
are
special, aren’t they? I can’t imagine why they
never married, except that they’ve always been perfectly satisfied
with their own company, at least, that what I’ve been
told.
No place for a man
in
their
lives, it
seems, unless it’s a visit from the gardener.

Mum wants to know if you can
come visit us this summer, with aunties Ellie and Doris when they
come to visit. She liked you very much, Mum did, as did the whole
family. As you can tell from my address, I live in Hornsea, which
is about 25 km south of Bridlington. I believe I told you over
Christmas that I lived in Hornsea, but neglected to tell you where
Hornsea was. Like Scarborough, it’s right on the Sea (the
Ocean
, Mum is telling me
over my shoulder). We have a place in Cornwall, too, that my
parents let to friends of theirs. Its right on the ocean, and
there’s a tiny summer cottage on the property which we can have all
to ourselves. By late fall it’s usually empty, so I’m hoping that
we can go there sometime in September or October, just you and I,
without a bunch of older people bothering us.

Please say you’ll come. And write soon!

Your friend, Tess

Pamela smiled to herself and read the letter
over several times before giving it to Ellie and Doris to read, but
waited until they finished reading to take it back, as though
afraid to let it out of her sight.

‘You and Tessa enjoyed each other’s company
very much, didn’t you,’ Ellie said thoughtfully as she handed
Pamela what she knew to be the girl’s most prized possession of the
moment, and went back to kneading bread dough.

‘I’ve never had a friend like her before,’
Pamela was able to say without bitterness.

‘Nor she, you,’ Ellie told her. ‘I’ve never
seen her look so happy.’

‘Tessa? I can’t imagine her
being
un
happy,’
Pamela said.

Ellie smiled a small,
enigmatic smile. ‘Around you, my girl, it’s hard not to find
something
to smile about.
Especially not since you threw out Norrie’s preserves! The poor
woman was positively
scandalized
.’

Pamela couldn’t help but
make a face. ‘But Ellie, they were
growing
. I was afraid she might
actually try to feed them to someone.’

‘Yes, well, they had been
sitting in the cupboard for a good long time. Fifteen years at
least would be my guess. They were rather a fixture in this
household, but perhaps you’ve inadvertently saved us all from a
fate worse than death.’ She managed to say this without cracking
the least hint of a smile, or pausing in her kneading. ‘Regardless,
you
will
help
Norrie make some more in the near future, won’t you? At least, let
her
feel
that she’s
participating in some small way. It doesn’t take much to make the
poor soul happy. All it takes is a little kindness.’

Pamela cringed, despite Ellie’s attempt to
lighten her unintended slight against Norrie’s incompetence. ‘I
didn’t realize that I’d hurt her feelings. We’ve got some extra
fruit that needs to be used up. How be I fetch her and we make
preserves out of that?’

‘That sounds splendid,’ Ellie said, her
enigmatic half-smile returning. ‘I’m sure that with your help
Norrie will be quite herself again.’

In fact, Norrie did quite well, for Norrie.
She was having one of her good days and didn’t forget a thing or
become sidetracked. She quite forgave Pamela and seemed happier
than she had been since Christmas.

As they were processing the bottled
preserves, Norrie said, quite unexpectedly, ‘I don’t understand why
Mr. Theo hasn’t asked you to marry him. There’s no one in his life,
and you would be so good for him. I wonder why he hasn’t seen that
for himself yet?’

‘I don’t know what you mean! Mr. Theo would
never want someone like me.’ Pamela said brusquely. ‘I just work in
his house. He needs somebody like himself, someone who was born
into wealth, who grew up with it, who knows how to deal with
it.’

‘Piffle! My dear, after the
few short months you’ve been here, you practically
run
this establishment.
You think I don’t notice, or that old Norrie’s wits are somewhat
addled. But I do know
this
much! Theo relies on you. He depends on you. And
the sooner he comes to realize this for himself, the
better!’

‘I do only what he tells me,’ Pamela
rejoined. ‘I don’t know the first thing about business.’

‘Have you told him yet that you’re in love
with him?’

Pamela could only gape.

Norrie gave her a look that was all too
knowing. ‘Come, girl, everyone under this roof knows how you feel
about him, with the possible exception of you and Mr. Theo himself.
You’ve never been intimate with a man, have you.’ It was a
statement.

‘What-?’ Pamela, who had gone a deep shade of
red, could only manage a squeak.

‘You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? That’s
why you’re so terrified to get too close to Mr. Theo. God knows, in
this day and age, that’s a rare commodity. Unless you want to end
up a nun you’d better hurry up and tell him how you feel. He won’t
hold out hope forever, you know.’

‘Norrie! Theo . . . he
doesn’t
want
me.
He’s not the least bit interested-’

‘Then why’d he buy you all
those new clothes, eh? I
know
, he told you that the money came
from Mrs. D. Well, it didn’t. If you
must
know, I overheard Mrs. D. saying
that it was about
time
he was nice to the girl, meaning you. So there.’

‘Norrie . . . I-’ she stopped herself and,
purely on impulse, went over to Norrie and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry I
threw out your preserves.’

‘Oh, bosh! At least these
will be edible. I was having a rather bad time of it when the old
batch got made. The others kept them far too long, just to humour
me, thinking I didn’t know they’d gone bad. Brr! I hope you had
sense enough not to open them before you threw them out. But never
mind. A clean slate! That’s what we all need. And you know, my
dear, there are times when I can’t help but think of
you
in those terms. Now
come, that’s fifteen minutes. Let’s seal these and get the next
batch in before
both
of us lose track entirely.’

Theo returned four days later during an
horrific snowstorm. There had been a number of problems: icy road
conditions, impassable roads, collisions involving several cars.
Theo and Mr. Pascoe had just finished changing a tyre only a few
miles from the Dewhurst place, and they were both thoroughly
chilled and miserable. Without thinking, Pamela brought Theo a
large mug of coffee laced with rum as he sat in the sitting room by
the fire, glaring at the inclement weather from the safety of his
armchair. He accepted the mug from her, smelled it in surprise, and
drank deeply. Pamela had turned away and was just about to leave
when unexpectedly he said, ‘Wait, please. Sit down a moment. I wish
to have a word with you.’

She did as he asked, but sat on the edge of
the chair across from him, stung with misgiving, hands clutched in
the hem of her apron. As before, taking in her demeanor, he seemed
angry or unsatisfied with what he saw. What he said, however,
caught her entirely off-guard.

‘I’ve managed to track down your
parents.’

Ashen-faced, Pamela could only stare, waiting
for him to continue.

‘They’re both alive, living in different
parts of North America. Neither of them expressed the slightest
curiosity over how you are, or what you look like now that you’ve
grown.’

Looking away from him, Pamela wiped at tears
that came unbidden, yet found herself experiencing a sudden
detached feeling of desolation that was somehow akin to fate, as
though she had known all along that this would moment would come.
Her parents were not the kind of people that Theo and his family
would ever associate with. It was over.

‘When are you sending me back?’

He was silent for several long moments. At
last, he said very quietly, ‘Is that what you want?’ For the first
time, his voice sounded gentle, if that was possible.

‘What I want?’ she said, bitterly. ‘What I
want doesn’t matter, does it? I suppose I should be used to that by
now-’