The Girl by the River (31 page)

‘NO!’ said Kate and Annie together.

The consultant looked at them over his glasses, tapping his Parker pen on the arm of his chair. ‘Why such a wall of resistance?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely no,’ Kate said passionately. ‘I will never, never let Freddie go to one of those places – and I was a State Registered Nurse. I know a bit about Hospitals for
the Mentally Ill. My husband is not, and never has been mentally ill.’

‘I agree,’ Annie said. ‘Freddie had a tough childhood – tougher than you would understand – Doctor. And he’s always been strong.’

‘That’s precisely the problem,’ said the consultant, pouncing on the opportunity to elucidate his case. ‘Strength is denial, especially in men. It can lead to depression
later in life, and that is what Mr Barcussy is suffering from now.’

‘What rubbish.’ Annie drew herself up very straight in the hospital chair. ‘My son has always been taught to pull himself together. He’s ill from bronchial asthma, not
this fancy, new-fangled depression. I don’t believe in it. No. We’ll have him home and he’ll soon get better, won’t he, Kate?’

‘I don’t think it’s rubbish,’ Kate said carefully, ‘but we’ve got a lovely home and a nice garden, and Freddie will soon get over this. He needs to get back
to doing his stone carving and gardening, then he’ll be happy.’

The consultant frowned over his notes. ‘Yes – but – that’s another issue. The stone dust is lethal. With his chest condition, your husband must never do stone carving
again. He must find another hobby.’

Annie and Kate looked at each other. ‘It’s not just a hobby,’ Annie said. ‘It was his passion – and he earned a lot of money from it.’

‘Nevertheless, it will kill him. The stone dust, and the cigarettes, and the fumes he’s getting from working with engines. All that has to stop.’

Annie’s face went crimson. She struggled to get up. ‘I’m not gonna sit here and listen to this!’ She brandished her ebony walking stick at the consultant.
‘I’ve never heard such a load of codswallop – especially from an educated man like you. Good day.’

After Christmas, Tessa borrowed Kate’s bike and rode into town. She called at the bank and drew a precious ten pounds out of her student grant money. Then she rode up
through the woods to Tarbuts Timber.

It was a crisp blue day in January, the air still and expectant, and there were song thrushes singing in what was left of the woods. Tessa was due back at Art College the next day. Despite her
resolve to drop out, she’d decided to stay there. She’d made the decision with a heavy heart, and she’d done it to please her parents. Freddie was home now, in the chair by the
fire, mostly staring out at the sky, miserable because he couldn’t smoke, and anxious about how he was going to earn money and keep the family. He wanted Tessa to go back to college. And so
did Faye. She’d spoken to her on the phone, and Faye had said, ‘Don’t be daft, Tessa. It’s only six months and we’ll have done our first year – and we’ve
got the long summer break. Then you can do your own thing.’

Tessa had found some flower pots and planted the lime tree seeds with Freddie. They’d stood them outside, along the garden wall. ‘Water them, Dad, when I’m not here,’
she’d said. Those little pots were a symbol of hope, and so was her plan for today. It meant parting with some of her money. She’d needed to buy a better camera for her coursework, but
that would have to wait.

She pushed the bike up the steep muddy track to the timber yard with the ten pounds safely in the back pocket of her jeans. She swept into the yard, her hair and college scarf bright in the
winter sun. A few annoying wolf-whistles came from the workmen who were loading piles of bare-rooted young Christmas trees into wheelbarrows. A man who looked like the foreman came to greet
her.

‘What are you doing here, young lady?’

‘I’ve come to buy some lime logs.’

‘Lime logs?’

‘For my Dad. He’s a sculptor, and he’s been told he can’t do stone work any more because of his health. So I want to get him into woodcarving, and I’ve been told
that lime is the best wood to start with. So I’ve drawn ten pounds out of my student grant, to buy him some.’

‘Oh, you have, have you? And how are you going to get them home? Not on your bike, surely?’

‘No. I’d like them delivered, please. Today,’ Tessa said, looking him in the eye. ‘Please?’

She saw an answering twinkle in his eyes. ‘Who is your father? Do I know him?’

‘Freddie Barcussy.’

‘Ah – Freddie. I know Freddie. Been very ill, I heard.’

‘Yes – and doing some woodcarving will help him get well,’ Tessa said. ‘It’s therapeutic, don’t you think? Poor Dad, he’s got to give up smoking too.
I’m sure you can spare a few of those lovely logs.’

The man grinned. ‘You’re just like your mother,’ he said, ‘and you keep your money. I’ll sort out a few nice logs for Freddie and bring ’em down.’

When the logs arrived later, Freddie’s reaction was not what Tessa had hoped it would be.

‘Whatever did you do that for?’ he grumbled.

But Kate was enthusiastic. She dragged Freddie out of his chair. ‘Now you come and look at these beautiful logs,’ she said, ‘and get those chisels out. I’d LOVE a
woodcarving of an owl. Or a squirrel.’

‘’Tis different from stone,’ Freddie said. He smoothed his hands over the pale new wood. ‘I suppose I could have a go. Gotta start somewhere.’

Kate and Tessa retreated and left him looking at the lime logs. ‘That was a good idea,’ Kate said, smiling at Tessa. ‘We’re so proud of you. You’ve changed so much,
haven’t you?’

‘Maybe I have,’ Tessa said. She longed to tell her mother about London, and Starlinda, but she didn’t want to stir the waters.

‘Is it Art College that’s changed you? Kate asked.

‘Selwyn changed me,’ Tessa said, ‘and Hilbegut. But I’ve got friends now, Mum. Real friends. We’re all in the same boat at college.’

‘And have you met any men?’ Kate asked.

‘Men?’ Tessa bristled. ‘Sure – there are men students – and I like most of them, as friends, Mum, not as potential husbands!’

Kate looked disappointed. ‘Well, I did so hope you’d meet someone nice,’ she said. ‘A nice boy from a nice family who would look after you.’

‘I don’t need looking after, Mum. Especially by a MAN!’

‘But surely you want to get married and have a family?’

‘No,’ Tessa said. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’

‘Oh, you’ll change,’ Kate said confidently, ‘when Mr Right comes along. I dream of a beautiful white wedding for you, and a nice home of your own – and children.
Won’t it be lovely?’

Tessa opened her mouth and shut it again.
If only you knew what I really want
! she thought.

‘Signal left,’ Freddie said, his hands braced against the dashboard as Kate hit the brakes. The Rover 90 stalled and lurched to a halt. Tessa was thrown forward,
banging her chin on the back of the seat.

‘Oops – sorry!’ Kate said, laughing it off. ‘Should have changed down, shouldn’t I?’

‘Start her up again,’ Freddie said calmly. ‘Wind the window down and give the hand signal for turning left.’

‘There’s so much to do at once,’ Kate protested, but she managed to stick her arm out and rotate it to signal left. Shakily she turned the heavy car into the gates of Bath
Academy of Art and drove it briskly down the drive, the L plates fluttering from the back bumper. She wanted to look confident and in control. It had been hard to persuade Freddie, and Tessa, that
she was capable of driving after only a few lessons. ‘I’m not going to let you do that long journey when you’ve been so ill, Freddie,’ she’d said. ‘I’ll
drive up there – then I can sit back and let you drive me home. It’ll be lovely. And Lucy will have something hot in the oven for us when we get back.’

Kate knew that Freddie was still more debilitated than he liked to admit. Christmas and New Year had been difficult. Despite her determined efforts to create seasonal joy, there had been
disruptive cross-currents in the family. She’d hoped that Lucy would be reconciled with her father after the harrowing time when he’d almost died. Lucy had held his hand in hospital,
and cried with the rest of them. But once Freddie was home again, she’d reverted to being hard-faced and full of resentment. Kate put all her energy into trying to make everyone happy.

‘Thank goodness Tessa is settling down,’ she said, as Freddie set off on the long drive home through the winter sunlight. ‘I enjoyed seeing her little room, and meeting her
friends. Such interesting girls! Faye is a bit – well – sullen – but Tessa seems to like her.’

‘Ah – she does,’ Freddie said, happy to be driving again with Kate in the passenger seat beside him. ‘It’s Lucy we’ve gotta worry about now.’

‘I asked her to cook tea for us today,’ Kate said brightly. ‘She’ll soon get tired of that silly Tim.’

Freddie was silent. She looked at his profile, and saw the tension in his jaw. She wondered why a man with such wisdom found it so impossible to forgive.

It was getting dark as they drove into Monterose and up the lane to The Pines. The house looked oddly unwelcoming, with only a light on in Lucy’s bedroom, and no smoke coming out of the
chimney. A blue van was parked in the road, and two men were carrying Lucy’s dressing table down the path.

‘What’s going on?’ Kate got out of the car and picked up Jonti who squirmed and licked her face in excitement.

‘That’s Lucy’s dressing table! Where are you taking that?’ she asked, frowning at the two men. ‘Oh – it’s you . . .’ Kate was shocked at the
precarious arrogance on Tim’s face as he shuffled past her and loaded the dressing table into the back of the van. She tried to confront him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Ask
’er!’ he mumbled, and jerked his head at Lucy who was coming through the front door with a pile of clothes draped over her arm.

‘Mum!’ Lucy looked guilty. ‘I thought you’d be gone all day.’

‘Hello, dear.’ Kate went to her daughter, her eyes puzzled. ‘We’re tired out, and cold. But I drove all the way to Bath, and we took Tessa in and saw her bedroom.
It’s a lovely place, and Tessa introduced some of her friends to us.’

‘Good for her,’ said Lucy. Her tone was sarcastic, her eyes rebellious. She looked cold, bundled in a baggy brown sweater, a chunky knit that was obviously Tim’s, a red scarf
wound around her neck. Her legs were covered in thick black tights, her hands in woolly black gloves.

‘Did you manage to make the casserole?’ Kate asked. ‘We’re hungry – haven’t eaten all day. And Freddie’s really tired. He’s still not well, you
know, and he’s going to miss Tessa.’

‘Yeah. Pity he won’t miss me.’

‘What d’you mean, Lucy?’ Kate look bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m moving out, Mum.’

Kate felt the shock hit her, right in the middle of her sturdy little body. She saw Lucy’s eyes harden as Freddie came and stood beside her in silence.

‘And no, I didn’t make a casserole,’ added Lucy. ‘And I haven’t lit the fire either. No time for that. Good old Lucy has had enough. I’m moving out. Excuse
me, I’ve got stuff to pack.’ She twisted past her parents, carried the clothes to the van and flung them in.

‘But – Lucy – Lucy – NO!’ cried Kate, doubling up with grief. ‘Don’t do this – please . . .’

She marched after Lucy and grabbed her arm. ‘Please listen to me, Lucy. I’m your MOTHER. Lucy – you have a responsibility to your family – all we’ve done for
you.’

Lucy shook her off. ‘Don’t manhandle me.’

Kate followed her through the kitchen and up the stairs. ‘I’m not having it, Lucy. Why do it like this? Why try and sneak out when we were taking Tessa to college? Why couldn’t
we have talked it over? We still can. It’s not too late, dear. Won’t you change your mind?’

‘No,’ Lucy sighed, and Kate thought she saw a glimmer of compassion pass through her eyes. She looked down at Lucy’s bed, now stripped to the green and white striped mattress,
the pink paisley eiderdown and the frilly nylon pillowcases gone. The bedside lamp, the grey and cream radio, the two ageing teddies – gone. A box of shoes stood by the door, each pair with a
special memory of a party or a birthday. On top were the strappy silver dancing shoes they had given her for Christmas.

It was the poignancy of seeing those elegant little shoes that broke Kate. She sat on the edge of the bare mattress, with the silent sting of powerless tears on her cheeks. Lucy rolled her eyes.
Heartlessly, she picked up the box of shoes and marched out with it.

Kate could hardly breathe. She had chosen the shoes with such care and love. They were expensive, more than they’d planned to spend, so Kate had secretly added some money she’d made
from selling her homemade butter. She knew how much Lucy wanted them. On Christmas morning, when she’d opened the parcel, there had been stars in her eyes. Stars they hadn’t seen for so
long. Freddie’s eyes had twinkled in response. But it seemed the stars were now only temporary visitors, just passing through. Stars that popped in the sky and vanished like bubbles.

When she says goodbye, I should hug her, and wish her luck
, Kate reasoned with herself, but even as the thought came, she heard the rattle of the van’s engine. She went to the
window and saw Freddie standing by the passenger door. He was saying something to Lucy, and Lucy wasn’t listening. Her face was pale and hard as china.

Kate flung the window open and leaned out. ‘LUCY! Don’t go without saying goodbye.’

Tim was at the wheel. He glanced up at her, smirked, revved the engine, and took off into the twilight with black smoke spiralling from the exhaust. Hatred came and squatted in Kate’s
heart, alongside the burning grief. She stood in the window, feeling the blue shadows of frost creeping across her skin like a paralysing tide.
I must be a terrible mother
, she thought, and
the memory of three-year-old Lucy danced, vivid and radiant, in her mind.
I’m no use to anyone now
, she thought, and the house felt suddenly empty and deathly cold.

She sat in Lucy’s abandoned bedroom, staring at the bare walls, the yellowing curls of sellotape where posters had been. She listened to the sounds of Freddie lighting the fire, snapping
sticks and crumpling paper. Kate crept downstairs. She didn’t want the intensity of her grief to disturb Freddie. She must be strong.