Effie’s letters had been infrequent recently, as if she was too occupied with her own life, and Rosabelle was surprised that there had been no mention of Aaron sending a sculpture to the Royal Academy – but, she realized, that probably would not seem very important to his grandmother. If he brought home a record catch, she’d certainly write about it.
She wanted to surprise them all by turning up unannounced, especially because she was unsure whether she was still held by her promise to leave Aaron alone, in spite of the fact that he was now an adult. The train journey seemed very long and tedious, but after they left Newcastle, she began to gather her possessions and was waiting in the corridor when the train drew into Burnmouth.
The guard who reached up to open her carriage door shouted out, ‘Next stop Eyemouth!’ and she stood still in astonishment. Leaning down, she asked him, ‘Did you say Eyemouth? Is there a station there now?’
He laughed. ‘Oh aye, there is, lady. You must have been away a long time.’
I have been away for a very long time, she reflected and sat back in her seat for the time it took to cover the next few miles.
Eyemouth station looked smart and brightly painted when she stepped down from the train. A uniformed porter came hurrying towards her, eager to assist a first-class passenger, and she recognized him as an old schoolfellow.
‘Hello, Eck,’ she said and was disconcerted by the blank look on his face. He had no idea who she was.
‘Don’t you know me? It’s Rosabelle Scott,’ she explained, and at last he smiled.
‘My gosh, Rosabelle, ye’re awfy swell. I wouldnae hae kent ye,’ he said.
She knew that in the ten minutes it took to walk to Effie’s, the news of her return would be all round the town.
He lifted her bags on to his trolley and asked, ‘D’ye want me to send these down to Effie’s for you?’
‘Yes please,’ she told him and he grinned.
‘I expect you’re back for the wedding then?’
What wedding? But he obviously expected her to know what he was talking about, and it would not do to let him see her ignorance, so she only said, ‘I am.’
Walking beside her, pushing the trolley, he was eyeing her with open admiration and curiosity. ‘It’s marrying time in town right now. It seems everybody’s doing it. What about you?’ he said with a laugh.
She shook her head with a smile but inside she was wondering if there was a local saying connected with marriages – one gets married and another breaks up, or something equally foreboding.
Apart from a new branch railway line and station, the town seemed exactly the same. The day was bright and sunny, making brass handles and fingerplates on shop doorways glitter; the alleys and doorways were carefully swept by house-proud women; and every doorstep gleamed with red polish.
Until Rosabelle went to London, she had not appreciated how clean her hometown was – even when at their poorest, women scoured their doorsteps and polished their windows every day.
Even the gulls, perched on roofs and masts, looked well groomed and glossy, not like London’s scruffy, scrofulous pigeons. As she walked along, she eagerly looked around but resolutely avoided staring out at the open sea. She was not yet ready to catch sight of the Hurkars.
There was no reply when she knocked on Effie’s door, and she stood looking around in confusion. Effie never went very far from home so she’d probably be back soon.
A woman she recognized as one of the Purveses walked by and asked, ‘Are you looking for somebody, madam?’
Madam? Here was yet another old acquaintance who didn’t know her.
‘Yes, I’m looking for Effie.’
‘She’ll be up at Beechwood making the arrangements. Do you want somebody to take you there?’ The questioner’s eyes were sharp and curious, and Rosabelle wondered if she had been completely transformed into a complete stranger by her years of absence.
‘No, I can find my own way,’ she said. What arrangements were being made at Jessie’s big house? she wondered.
The Purves woman suddenly gasped. ‘I thought I knew your face! It’s Rosabelle Scott, isn’t it? My word, you’ve changed. You’re quite the lady now.’
Every detail of Rosabelle’s smart travelling costume and matching hat were being taken in and memorized for future description.
‘Are you back for the wedding?’ There was the question again. Whose wedding? But Rosabelle nodded and smiled, hiding her ignorance.
‘Of course,’ she said.
The big front door at Beechwood stood ajar when she got there. The house seemed to have lost its old stiff formality, thanks to Jessie probably, and Rosabelle stepped into an empty but untidy hall, more and more relishing the idea of catching her family unawares.
She heard voices coming from a drawing room on her right and its door was open too. Peeping in, she saw Jessie, Effie and two young girls sitting at a table covered with bits of paper. Sitting in a chair on the other side of the table was a man she recognized as the Reverend Cochrane. Like the house, he had changed, and looked much more relaxed than he’d ever been before. As she stared at the tableau, she felt her throat tighten and tears welling up in her eyes.
‘Hello,’ she said in a strangled voice and they all turned to look at her. It was obvious from their expressions that even they, for a few seconds, had no idea who she was. But Jessie was the first to recognize her.
‘Heavens above! Rosabelle!’ she shrieked and jumped out of her chair, scattering papers as she did so.
Effie followed, arms extended and tears flowing. ‘Oh, lassie, how did you know? I wasn’t going to tell you till afterwards. I was afraid you’d think I’d gone daft!’ She was crying.
They crowded round her, Jessie and Effie almost fighting to hug her first. Laughing and weeping at the same time, she hugged them back. With one holding on to each arm, she was dragged into the drawing room and pushed into a deep sofa.
‘Look at you! Just look at her, Alan. Isn’t she a swell? My word, what a bonny hat!’ Jessie cried.
The minister was blushing, shyness returned, but he nodded and said, ‘Very smart,’ in agreement with Jessie. It seemed as if he’d never dare to disagree with her about anything.
The young girls turned in their chairs, watching this scene with open curiosity and Rosabelle asked them, ‘Are you Henrietta? Are you Jessie’s other daughter?’
They nodded, and the younger girl, a replica of her mother, came across holding out her hand, ‘Hello. I’m Poppy,’ she said.
‘I’m Rosabelle.’
‘Aaron’s mother?’ asked Henrietta, jumping up too and rushing across.
‘Yes, I’m Aaron’s mother.’
‘I’m betrothed to Aaron,’ the girl said proudly.
‘Oh, my dear! Are you the ones who are getting married?’ Rosabelle asked in surprise. Surely Effie would have told her about that?
Effie laughed. ‘Not yet. In a couple of years, when he’s finished at art college, they’ll do it. It’s me that’s getting married. Can you imagine that? At my age!’
Rosabelle was staggered by this revelation, but she managed to ask, ‘Who to?’
Jessie rescued her. ‘Isn’t it grand? Alex Burgon and Effie are getting married in his chapel the day after tomorrow.’ Effie was giggling like a girl, but watching anxiously to see Rosabelle’s reaction.
‘How did you know to come home for the wedding?’ she asked.
Rosabelle flung out her arms and hugged her mother-in-law, saying, ‘I don’t know myself but I was certain I had to come back. It must be magic. I’m so pleased, so very pleased. Alex’s such a good man. The fairies must have told me to come home now.’ Jessie and Effie began arguing noisily about where Rosabelle should sleep. ‘There is plenty of room here. I’ll put her in the big front bedroom,’ Jessie said, but Effie shook her head.
‘No, she’ll come back home with me. Aaron’s back from the fishing tonight and he’ll want to see his mother. What a surprise it’ll be for him.’
That clinched it, and Rosabelle was relieved because she knew that Jessie’s front bedroom had an open view of the sea – and the Hurkars.
Besides, she was desperate to see her son and wondered if he too would not know her.
Aaron was whistling when he came swinging through Effie’s front door that evening and stopped in surprise at the sight of three valises standing at the bottom of the stairs.
‘What’s happening? Are you going someplace?’ he called in to Effie, who shook her head.
‘No, come in. We’ve got a visitor.’ She pointed to Rosabelle, who was sitting half hidden in the corner of the big fireside. The lamps were deliberately left unlit and he could not see her clearly in the gloom.
Her heart was beating so fast that she felt a pulse throbbing in her neck. Let him know, oh let him know me, she silently prayed.
He stared at her for a moment, and then, thank God, he said only one word, ‘Mother.’ She ran across the floor and hugged him tightly, relieved that the likeness to Dan was less striking now. His hair was not as jet black as his father’s, and he was leaner too. ‘Mother,’ he said softly again.
‘Son,’ she replied, sinking her face into his chest, wetting his shirt with her tears.
‘Are you back for the wedding?’ he asked, but she shook her head.
‘I came back because I saw your carving My Lost Family in the Royal Academy. You’re very talented, Aaron.’
He beamed. ‘You saw it? It won a prize, you know – and somebody bought it.’
‘I know. I’m so proud of you.’
Effie’s voice came from behind them. ‘And here was me thinking you’d come back to dance at my wedding!’ But she was smiling when they looked at her.
‘I’ll do that too,’ promised Rosabelle. Because he was sailing next morning Aaron went to bed before nine o’clock, but Effie and Rosabelle sat on at the fire, staring into its red heart and talking.
‘Do you think it’s unseemly for me to marry again at my age?’ Effie asked.
‘No, I think it’s a very good thing for both of you. You should have done it long ago,’ Rosabelle told her.
‘I worried at first in case I was betraying Jimmy Dip, but it’s different this time. Alex is my friend, the companion of my old age. Jimmy was my first lover and the father of my children – it’s different now; we’re different. We’re happy. Are you happier now, Rosabelle?’
Rosabelle frowned. ‘I don’t know. In a way I’ve come back here to find out. I’m at a crossroads in my life, you see. Rachelle, my partner, recently died and the business has been sold. I’ve enough money to live without working for the rest of my life, but I don’t know where I want to go or what I want to do. I could go to Boston and see Clara. I could travel in Europe like Hester Stanhope. It’s confusing having too many possibilities. I’m frightened of choosing the wrong thing.’ She did not mention Dr Worthing’s proposal.
‘At one time I’d have advised you to come home and set up a dressmaking business here, but now that I’ve seen you again, I know that’s not suitable. Strike out, my dear. Be brave,’ said Effie.
‘That’s the trouble. I’m not a very brave person. My instinct is to run for safety and hide.’
‘That might have been true at one time but I don’t think it is any more. You’ve grown up more than you realize,’ said Effie, rising and pulling Jimmy Dip’s fob watch off its place on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s midnight. We ought to go to bed. There’s a lot to be done tomorrow.’
When Rosabelle and Effie arrived at Beechwood in the morning, they found it in turmoil. In the hall Jessie was berating a cowed-looking Mrs Lyall.
‘I don’t like that gown you’ve made for Effie. It makes her look fat. I want her to look elegant, like Rosabelle.’
‘But she is fat and you ordered a crinoline though I told you they’re out of fashion,’ protested Mrs Lyall.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Jessie grandly.
Lengths of cloth were draped over the chairs of the drawing room, and Rosabelle picked up a soft, pale grey ribbed silk that crumpled satisfyingly in her hand. The longing to create again seized her and an idea for a design leapt immediately into her mind.
‘Use this,’ she said.
‘Isn’t it too drab? How about purple? She’s the bride after all,’ said Jessie.
Rosabelle laughed. ‘Are you still fond of purple? The grey will look superb if it’s made up properly. Like this…’ She walked over to Effie, draping the cloth over her shoulders before tucking it in at her waist. ‘It should be very plain and simple. The detail will be in the flowers, and the hat – but this time, no stuffed birds. There should be flowers bunched on one side of a high crown and a wide brim. They’ll bring out Effie’s bonny eyes.’
Jessie clasped her hands. ‘Oh lovely, but do we have time?’
‘Yes, send to Berwick. Fetch Mrs and Miss Gibson if they’re still there. They’ll make the hat. Mrs Lyall and I can make the dress,’ said Rosabelle.
The next few hours were like being back in Half Moon Street, with Rosabelle making sketches and pinning bits of material together while Mrs Lyall stitched away. Old Mrs Gibson was dead, but her daughter turned up with the perfect hat, and was delighted to see her old employee transformed into a woman of fashion.
At eleven o’clock that night, Rosabelle finally stood up, stretched and said, ‘That’s it. It’s finished. Oh, I’m tired.’
Jessie, looking concerned, said, ‘Go to bed. It’s all ready and warmed for you. In the back bedroom. I know you don’t want to see the harbour…’
‘No. I won’t go to bed yet. The moon’s out, isn’t it? I think I’ll walk down to the sea.’
‘The sea? Are you sure?’ asked Jessie doubtfully because she knew how much Rosabelle dreaded looking at the Hurkars and the moonlight was bright.
‘It’s time for me to lay some ghosts,’ was Rosabelle’s reply.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Jessie, taking her friend’s arm.
A glorious summer moon glowed like a blood orange in the sky and the sea was flat and smooth as velvet. The moon’s rays cast a broad path across its surface, as if inviting the watchers to walk along it.
Arm in arm, the two women walked along the harbour wall to the end of the pier, and, bravely, Rosabelle raised her head to stare across the bay at the rocks she so dreaded seeing, the rocks that had haunted her dreams for years.
Jessie felt the tension in her friend’s body and clutched her arm tighter. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Standing stock still Rosabelle continued to stare out without speaking, but at last she said, very softly, ‘I’m all right. Thank God, I’m all right. I feel as if different parts of me have come together at last.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jessie.
‘It’s as if the girl I was before Dan died has found the person I am now. I was wandering in the middle…’
Jessie sighed. ‘Yes, we all grieved, but you were the worst. You couldn’t get to grips with it.’
‘Not for a long time. But I’m all right now. I can look at those rocks and feel nothing but sorrow. Before I had such terrible anger… and fear. I thought the rocks would get me too.’
‘Let’s go back. Effie’s getting married tomorrow,’ said Jessie, gently pulling Rosabelle’s arm and leading her away.
Next morning, a glowing Effie with silk roses in her hat and wearing a pale grey gown that made her look like a duchess, stood before the preacher and married her Alex.
The wedding reception was held at Beechwood. During the dancing, Aaron, face flushed, came off the floor, lifted two glasses of champagne and went over to sit beside his mother.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, putting a glass in her hand.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Begin by telling me all the reasons that brought you back to Eyemouth. You haven’t told us everything, have you?’
‘No. It was mainly because of your sculpture. It made me feel guilty, so I came back to tell you I’m sorry for being a bad mother. And I came back to find myself and to make up my mind what to do next.’
‘You’re not a bad mother. You lavished money on me. And you made sure you left me in good hands. Effie loves me and I love her.’
‘I know that. In a way I’m jealous of how you and Effie feel about each other, which shows how stupid I am. I’m jealous because you love the woman I gave you to. You’re more Effie’s boy than mine.’
He took her hand. ‘I’m your boy too. After I read Alan’s book about the storm, I felt terrible pity for you. You must have almost been driven out of your mind by grief.’
‘Yes, I suppose I was deranged for a long time, longer than anyone knew. Till quite recently in fact.’
‘What changed you?’
‘I had a good friend to talk to and then I met someone… I used to think I’d grieve about your father for ever, but that’s changed too. I had to come back to make sure, though. I had to look at the Hurkars again.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘I love you, Mother,’ he said.
When the party broke up Aaron and Henrietta were in the garden, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. The newly married couple had disappeared, and Poppy was running round the drawing room draining champagne glasses and giggling. Rosabelle left the house to walk to the end of the pier and again deliberately raised her eyes like someone taking a sighting along a rifle, looking out across the sea.
In the gathering evening light, the jagged Hurkars rose from the water. She stared hard at them, challenging them to make her quail and shudder, but they were just rocks, outcrops of stone from the seabed. The terror they once inspired in her had gone. She knew now what she must do.
Next morning she packed her bags at Beechwood before walking down to the fisher town where she found Effie, Alex and Aaron eating breakfast.
‘I’ve come to say goodbye, my dears. I’ve decided to return to London,’ she told them.
‘I hope you’ll come back for my wedding,’ said her son, standing up.
‘I certainly will. I might even return before that, and when you’re in London to receive more prizes you’ll stay with me,’ she cried and hugged him tight.
On her way back to say farewell to the people at Beechwood, she stopped at the post office where she wrote out a telegraph message.
It read:
There’s an outbreak of wedding fever here and I’ve caught it stop My answer is yes stop Meet me at King’s Cross station eight p.m. tonight stop I’m coming into safe harbour.