Chapter 15

Claudia roused herself from her reveries, vexed that she had allowed her mind to drift back over the past. When she had been working there was always so much to concentrate on that she could keep her thoughts firmly under control. With leisure time on her hands it wasn’t proving so easy. Surely the past was buried now? Why should these memories come back, nearly forty years after the events, to haunt her once again? Annoyed with herself she got up to make some coffee.

No sooner had she picked up the newspaper to do the crossword than her mind was off again. In those early years, when she had started teaching, letters had arrived, addressed in Maria’s embellished handwriting. She had torn them up and tossed them into the waste bin.

Earlier, during her time in the wilderness, Claudia would contact her father at intervals, as she had promised. Then he would try and pass on information.

‘I hear Maria and Stefano have come back to England now, and have settled in Wimbledon,’ he said on one occasion.

‘Stop it, Dad. I don’t want to hear about them.’

But he didn’t stop.

‘I hear there’s a child.’ Claudia had banged the phone down.

Another time he told her of the letters Maria had written to him, in which she had implored him to try and heal the rift. She had said how much she missed her sister. He quoted: ‘Whatever I have done, I’m willing to ask for her forgiveness – although I don’t really understand why she is so against me. I knew Claudia was fond of Stefano, but I didn’t think she’d ever want to marry him. He doesn’t think so, either. And he swears he never offered marriage to her.’

All Claudia’s emotions had risen to the surface, jangling until she could bear it no longer.

‘You know nothing, Dad. You never did understand Maria. You never saw through the stories she made up. You never realised how she rewrote history to suit her purposes. Nor, for that matter, did you ever understand me! Because I sat there calmly hour after hour with my books, enjoying working out maths problems, everyone assumed I was a simply a factual person. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone that I might feel deeply, and suffer pain like anyone else. Well, I have to tell you that I have known the deepest, most unbearable pain a woman can ever know, and I shall never be able to forgive Maria … never!’

‘Look, Claudia, I am truly sorry. I wish you had been able to tell me. I didn’t realise just how deep all this went. But isn’t it time now to let these things lie where they are – in the past? What is the point of dwelling on old wounds, and as a result losing out on a family relationship that was once so good? Can’t you let bygones be bygones?’

‘That’s the whole point! They have not gone! What happened has left a permanent mark on my life and changed the whole course of events for me. What I am now, I shall be in forty years time. Apart from my career, I have nothing to look forward to.’

‘How can you be so sure of that? You can’t possibly know what lies ahead! You could well meet someone far more suitable for you than Stefano would have been. You must open your heart, Claudia. You seem to have battened everything down as though no more opportunities could possibly be waiting for you.’

Claudia’s voice was low, strained, and held under control only with a supreme effort.

‘I told you it wasn’t possible for you to understand. How can you have any concept of what it would do to me if I did allow myself the luxury of feeling emotion? I wouldn’t be able to bear the consequences. Please, Dad, if you want to help me, never speak of any of this again. Allow me to decide how I must live to make my life, if not happy, at least endurable. And the only way I can do that is to cut Maria, and all she represents, out completely.’

Her father had reluctantly agreed. It meant that she did not have a great deal of communication with him. He tried to show an interest as her teaching career progressed. He rejoiced with her when she achieved the headship at Kingdown Primary School. He came to believe that she had found a level of contentment. They never had a heart-to-heart again. By the time she retired, he had died.

A sudden noise disturbed Claudia’s train of thought. She realised someone was banging on the door. Composing her features into her usual fixed look that revealed nothing, she opened the door.

A woman, unknown to Claudia, stood there.

‘Yes? What do you want?’

Claudia’s eyes took in the woman, probably late thirties, tall and athletic in appearance, with dark hair and blue eyes that held a hint of something familiar. The woman, unfazed by the brusque, unfriendly greeting, looked straight at Claudia.

‘You’re Miss Hansom, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Who are you?’

‘I’m Fran,’ she replied, ‘and I’d like to talk to you. May I come in?’