The Hills and the Valley (56 page)

‘Further up the road, in the car – or he was,' Barbara said, feeling ashamed, and added quickly: ‘His nerves were shot to pieces after something that happened to him in France.'

‘Oh, I see. You can get home then can you?' the policeman asked.

‘Yes – so long as he's still there …'

He was, still sitting exactly as she had left him. She got into the passenger seat. Her knees were trembling and she was glad to sit down.

‘That's it then. He's been taken away by ambulance,' she said matter-of-factly.

Marcus did not reply and made no attempt to start the car.

‘Marcus!' she said sharply. ‘We can go home now.'

He remained immobile.

‘For heaven's sake do something!' she snapped. ‘Don't just sit there!'

His breath came out on a shuddering sob.

‘Well, there you are then,' he said. ‘Now you know.'

Barbara was too shocked herself to play guessing games.

‘What do you mean? What do I know?'

‘What I'm like. What I'm made of. The man you married.'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake! What are you talking about?'

‘A hero. You thought you married a bloody hero. Now you know the truth.'

‘Oh Marcus!' She leaned across and touched his hand. It felt cold. The magic of the evening was shattered now and she knew it had been a vain hope that he had put his guilt and inadequacy behind him. It was rooted too deep. Well, she would just have to go on trying to help him as she had promised she would. In some ways he was as much her baby as Hope. ‘You
are
a hero. Everyone knows that,' she said gently.

‘No!' He was crying, tears running down his face.

‘Don't be silly. You were decorated for heroism.'

‘I wouldn't have been if they'd known the truth. I'm not only a coward. I'm a bloody liar as well.'

She froze. There was something in his tone which made it impossible for her to utter further platitudes.

‘It wasn't the way I said it was,' he went on, speaking slowly now and deliberately, as if the words came from deep inside him. ‘You really want to know what happened that day when we were ambushed? I ran away. That's why I survived. I ran away and left my men to die. I left them. That's why I'm alive and they're dead. I deserted them, Barbara.'

‘Oh my God,' she said. ‘Marcus, you don't know what you're saying.'

‘Oh yes I do. Why do you think it haunts me like it does? I'm no hero, Barbara. You've seen what happens to me when the crunch comes. Look at me!'

His hand, stretched on the steering wheel, was taut and shaking. She looked at his face, drawn and white in the light of the moon, and knew without a shadow of doubt that he was telling the truth.

Afterwards, Barbara knew that it was in that moment that any feeling she had left for him died. Not in the bedroom when he had beaten and abused her. Not when he had failed to take her in love and instead had taken her by force. She had still felt sympathy for him then and been able to make excuses for him. But now the last shreds of the charade had been stripped away and there was nothing left between her and the naked truth. Marcus the golden boy did not exist. He never existed, perhaps.

For a moment she sat with her hand on his. The full implications of his revelation had not yet had time to be absorbed but the shock of them had made her suddenly very calm.

‘Well, we can't stay here all night,' she said and her tone was still matter-of-fact. ‘Are you going to drive or do you want me to?'

‘Yes – will you …?'

‘Move over then,' she said.

The world seemed to have collapsed around her. She went on automatically with the everyday tasks of caring for Hope exactly as before but she could think of nothing but Marcus's anguished confession. Over and over again it played itself over in her mind and she kept seeing his face, white and strained, and his shaking hands. Fragments of past conversations came to her, too, and she slotted them into place in the overall picture. So many things made sense now that she knew his terrible secret. She could understand the ghosts that haunted him, knew why his self-disgust ran so deep, even pity him in a way. But any respect that had remained for him had died along with the remnants of love and Barbara felt more alone and frightened than she had ever felt in her life.

How could she live like this? How could she continue to share her bed and her life with a man for whom she could feel nothing but scorn and a little pity? So long as he had been a hero to her there had at least been something to hang onto – the hope that in time he would be able to put tragedy behind him and become once again a man to be admired. But his revelations had put an end to that once and for all. To outsiders it might appear that he had the world at his feet; Barbara now knew those feet were made of clay. There was nothing, nothing at all for her to cling to, no single peg for a dream and nothing but her own stubbornness and dogged determination to keep her going.

If only I could talk to someone about it, it wouldn't seem so bad, she thought. But there was no one. Sir Ralph and Lady Erica were remote from her, they had never shared confidences and in any case Barbara knew that if they learned the truth it would be disastrous. The knowledge that their son was a coward and a liar, responsible for the death of his men, might not actually destroy them but it would certainly destroy the somewhat tenuous relationship which existed between them. No, she could not confide in the Spindlers. If Marcus chose to tell them at some time that was between him and his parents. It was not for her to do it.

Sometimes when the knowledge weighed on her so heavily that she did not think she could bear it alone, Barbara wondered if she could talk to Amy or even Charlotte. But she could not bring herself to do it. It was as if Marcus's failings had diminished her in some way, she felt. She was ashamed of him, yet even now reluctant to admit that her marriage was a disaster.

I was so determined to show Huw I could forget him that I fooled myself over Marcus, she thought, and the longing for Huw overwhelmed her. He had always been the one to whom she could turn, the one to whom she had confided her hopes and dreams and fears. But Huw was far away. And even if he were here now she did not think she could bring herself to tell him. So Barbara kept her own counsel, determined that no one should know of the darkness inside her heart.

But Amy knew. She looked at her daughter, missed the sparkle in her eyes, and knew that something was very much amiss in her life.

‘She's not happy, I know she's not,' she said to Ralph.

Ralph, engrossed in sorting out the details of a timber deal with the government for the building of prefabricated houses, barely glanced up.

‘She seems the same as always to me.'

‘I suppose to you she would,' Amy said stiffly. ‘She has always been very good at putting up a front. But I'm her mother and I
know.
'

Ralph put down his pen and reached for the cup of coffee at his elbow.

‘Don't start interfering, Amy. You'll get no thanks for it. She's married now and if there are any problems between her and her husband it's for them to sort out.'

‘I know that,' Amy said irritably. She felt helpless and it was not a feeling she liked. ‘But I can't bear to think of her being unhappy, Ralph. She's so isolated, living with those Spindlers. They're queer people. Him all bluster and her – well, she's strange. She has peculiar eyes, Ralph.'

‘Only you, Amy, could think your daughter is unhappy because you don't like her mother-in-law's eyes.'

‘Don't be so silly!' she snapped. She and Ralph rarely quarrelled but there were times when she felt like hitting him.

The subject was dropped but Amy continued to worry about Barbara and when she came to visit on Sunday afternoon and they were alone together Amy decided to take the bull by the horns.

‘Is everything all right, Babs?' she asked.

They were in the kitchen, warming their toes by the fire. Hope was asleep in her pram in the hall, Maureen had been invited to a friend's house for tea, and Ralph had retired to his study with the Sunday papers.

The moment the question was asked she saw the wary look creep into Barbara's face.

‘Of course it is, Mum. What makes you ask?'

Amy hesitated. ‘I'm not sure, Babs. Except that I probably know you better than anyone else and I know when you're hiding something. Everything is all right between you and Marcus, is it?'

‘Fine.' But there was no mistaking the brittleness of her tone.

‘Babs, I don't want to pry,' Amy persisted. ‘But if you ever do feel you want to talk – well, you know where I am.'

‘Yes. Thanks Mum.' She was silent for a moment, staring into the fire, and Amy saw her swallow hard. There was something. She knew it. She waited, watching Barbara try to control herself. At first she thought she would manage it – there was so much of herself in Barbara, so much stubborn pride. But the suppressed emotion was too strong. The muscles of Barbara's face tightened, her eyes squeezed shut and still the tears came rolling down her cheeks in silent rivers.

Amy went to her going down on her knees in front of her and taking her hands.

‘Babs, darling, tell me – please.'

Barbara's head was bowed, the firelight made the tears shine on her cheeks. ‘There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.'

‘But tell me, at least
tell
me. Is there something wrong with Hope?'

‘Oh no, nothing like that.'

‘Then what?'

‘Oh Mum …' And suddenly it was pouring out, stumbled words becoming a steady flow. Amy listened in shocked silence. Whatever she had expected it was not this.

‘Oh darling, I don't know what to say!' she said when at last Barbara faltered into silence.

‘You see?' Barbara raised her chin, looking at her mother through her tears with a hint of her old defiance. ‘I told you there was nothing you could do. All that has happened is that now you're worried too.'

‘But I'm so glad I know! Oh Babs, why did I ever agree to you marrying him? I knew it was a mistake. I knew it!'

‘Oh, don't start that now please!' Barbara was on the verge of tears again. ‘The last thing I want is you saying I told you so.'

‘I know but … Babs, you can't go on like this! You made a mistake. You can't go on paying for it all your life.'

‘What else am I to do?'

‘Leave him! Oh, I know it won't be easy. But you've always got your home to come back to.'

‘No, I couldn't,' Barbara said. ‘I promised him, Mum, that I'd stay with him. If I left him I don't know what he'd do. He's threatened to kill himself and I wouldn't put it past him.'

‘Then he needs help. There are doctors who understand these things.'

‘He'd never seek help,' Barbara said. ‘That would mean admitting the truth. He'd never do it.'

Amy sat back on her heels, shaking her head. She did not have much faith in doctors who claimed to be able to heal broken minds. She was remembering Grace, Oliver Scott's wife, who had suffered with her nerves. She had attempted suicide and all the treatment in the world had failed to make her well. She had been better for a while perhaps, but the weakness was always there, the first stress of some seemingly normal occurrence and she would be ill again, depressed and thoroughly unpredictable. Amy knew the worry and unhappiness Oliver had had to live with because of it and she felt sick with wretchedness at the thought of Barbara enduring a similar experience.

‘You have Hope to think of too,' she said. ‘If he's like that, heaven knows what it will do to her. He might …' She broke off, shocked by her own thoughts.

‘I am thinking of her, Mum,' Barbara said. She was no longer crying. Her expression was set, her hands squeezing Amy's very hard. ‘If I did leave him he'd never let me take her. The Spindlers would never allow it.'

‘But you're her mother!'

‘And she's a Spindler. Can't you imagine the way it would be? They are very influential people. They could afford the best lawyers.'

‘So could we. I'd fight for her if it cost every penny I have.'

‘And we still might lose. The Spindlers
own
Hillsbridge, don't forget. They have the county in their pockets.'

Amy was silent, thinking.

Barbara moved suddenly, taking her hands away from Amy's and fumbling in her bag for a handkerchief. ‘Mum, I'm going to have to go.'

‘Oh Babs, no!'

‘I have to. It will be time to feed Hope. And Marcus will be wondering where I am.'

Damn Marcus, Amy wanted to say. But she knew it would do no good.

‘Well, promise me you'll come again soon, darling. And think about what I've said. We'll both think.'

‘All right, Mum.' Barbara was composed again now. Only her pale face and haunted eyes showed the depth of her despair.

After she had gone Amy paced the kitchen. Dear God, she had known something was wrong but she had never suspected it was as bad as this.

And it's all my fault, thought Amy. My fault for interfering between her and Huw. She always wanted him and he wanted her and I … But I only did it for the best. I truly believed they were the same flesh and blood. Damn Eddie Roberts. Damn him! But it was a little late for that now …

She poured herself a stiff whisky and lit a cigarette. Then she carried her glass into the study. Ralph had nodded off over his Sunday paper. Unusual for him, but he had been working very hard lately. When she opened the door it disturbed him and he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

‘I must have been asleep! Has Barbara gone?'

‘Yes.'

He noticed the glass in her hand and raised his eyebrows.

‘What are you doing drinking at this time of day?'

‘I needed it. And I have to talk to you, Ralph. I'm out of my mind with worry.'