The joy felt at Paulo’s slow but encouraging progress was shattered with the message that was received six weeks later. Monty had been shot by the communist Resistance group, after he was found to be a traitor to the cause.
Now a further two weeks had passed, and the front room of their apartment where Flors and Cyrus sat was silent, but for the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. The devastation caused by their youngest son’s death, in disgraceful circumstances, had built a wall between them; an invisible and almost impenetrable wall. Their grief was like no other they’d previously experienced. It was knitted with shame and lack of knowledge, as no one seemed to know – or be willing to tell them – the extent of what Monty had done, and who had ordered his killing.
The clang of the doorbell made Flors jump.
‘It’s all right, I’ll go.’
Flors watched Cyrus cross the room. Her emotions were shut down, leaving her just an empty shell. The usual reaction that she would have, to Cyrus showing such hurt, didn’t come to her.
‘It’s Wills, Flors. Come on in, my boy. I hope you haven’t come on official business. But if you have, please make it good news, as we are unable to take any further bad news.’
Flors looked at Wills, but didn’t greet him.
‘I came to tell you how sorry I am, and to give you some hope. There was a meeting this morning and it has been decided to bring Marjella home.’
‘But that’s wonderful. Thank you so much, as I know you will have had a hand in bringing about such an idea.’ Flors at last felt some hope. ‘When?’
‘Well, there is a “but”, I’m afraid. Randolph has now finished his training, and to an exceptional standard, and it is being proposed to exchange them.’
‘Oh no. When will it ever end?’
‘Darling, it won’t until men like Randie and Freddy make it end. They are the right ones to fight this, not Marjella and Sibbie. I hate the idea of giving one of our children in exchange for the other, but Marjella has done so much. We need her home, to care for her.’
‘Yes, I know you are right. But I just don’t want any of our children in danger. I can’t bear to lose any more of them.’
There was another silence. Flors wanted to scream that Monty was their child, no matter what he’d done, and how did they know that he hadn’t been forced to become a traitor by the Germans? But she remained quiet, locked in a cocoon of grief that felt like a knife twisting in her heart. It was as if she wasn’t allowed to grieve, and that she should be glad her son was dead.
‘I can only say, Mrs Harpinham, that this is what is happening all over the world. Mothers and fathers are grieving over their sons and daughters, and children are grieving over lost parents. It sometimes feels as though the whole world is crying.’
‘I know. I’m grateful to be getting Marjella home. Thank you.’
‘I wasn’t totally responsible. M was much more so. But I am very happy, as you know how much I love Marjie. It is agony to have her in danger.’
‘Well, my boy, Marjella has made a wise choice in you. Both Mrs Harpinham and I are very happy at the prospect of one day welcoming you into the family.’
‘Thank you.’
Flors caught the look that Wills gave her. She didn’t want to confirm what Cyrus had said; she didn’t want anyone to take her Marjella away from her ever again. Wills might do that. He was the son of a lord; he would be a lord one day. There was an estate to care for, and he would be responsible for that and for taking his place in the House of Lords. Marjella wouldn’t be able to live in France with them – that’s if it ever came about that they could live in their beautiful home again.
Cyrus coughed. ‘Can we offer you some refreshment, Wills?’
‘No, thank you.’ Then, as if he knew her thoughts, he said, ‘I – I, well, I want to reassure you that although Marjella and I will live at my home when we are married, we will travel to see you at least three times a year. I would never keep her away from you.’
Flors decided to fill the silence. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. ‘Thank you, Wills. Forgive me, I’m not myself.’
‘I understand.’ He smiled. ‘But it’s good to see you in all lights, then I know what kind of mother-in-law I am getting.’
His laugh fell like a tin can on a stone floor. Wills reddened and went to apologize, but Cyrus stepped in. Smiling, he put his hand out to Wills. ‘I’m still learning about my wife, so it will be an evolving process for you, but I can promise you it is all good.’
At that moment Flors felt the pain of the chasm between her and Cyrus and wanted so much to go to him. As if this had been conveyed, he turned and put out his arms to her.
Rising, she went to him and gladly allowed him to enfold her. The door clicked. Wills was gone. Guilt filled Flors, but Cyrus kissed it away. ‘That’s a very special young man, with the perception of someone much older than himself. We’re so lucky to be getting him as a son-in-law.’
‘I know, Cyrus. I’m sorry. I was very rude to him. Will you go after him?’
‘No, that’s not what’s going to happen, or what he would expect. He made himself scarce as he saw that we just needed each other. I so need you, my darling.’
‘Oh, Cyrus, love my pain away.’
They clung to each other. A mixture of emotions assailed Flors. Most of them were painful ones at their loss, while some represented fear for Freddy and Randie. But a little joy seeped into her, as she knew that no matter what happened in life, Cyrus would always be there for her and she shouldn’t have shut him out – and also because her beloved Marjella was coming home.
It was almost Christmas by the time Marjie arrived. They’d said goodbye to Randie more than a month earlier, but it was thought he would need to work alongside Marjie for a time, in order to be able to take over the leadership of the Hérault Maquis.
Freddy had written often, and with much enthusiasm, about the advance of the Allied forces in North Africa, but of late his letters had been few and far between, as it was known that the Germans had the Allies pinned down, and they hadn’t yet reached Tunisia.
Over the weeks and months since hearing of Monty’s death, Flors had healed a little. She and Cyrus had been to the grave of their firstborn, Alice, in September and had put a heavy cast-iron vase on the side, to Monty’s memory. It bore the inscription: ‘We Live by the Decisions We Take. Remembering You Always as a Loving Son’; and underneath that, ‘Montague Harpinham 1922–42, RIP’.
They had spent a long time there, hoping that, in God’s eyes, Monty wasn’t a traitor, but was fighting for the side he believed in; and that he was forgiven and resting with his lovely sister, Alice. A little peace had come to them at this. And Flors’s splintered heart began to heal, with her acceptance.
And now they were waiting for Wills to bring their lovely Marjie home. She’d landed two weeks ago and, with debriefing and demobbing, was at last on her way. They could have seen her before now, but both were still on extended bereavement-leave and therefore weren’t involved in anything at Baker Street HQ.
When the doorbell finally rang, both of them jumped from their chairs and rushed to open the door, almost colliding as they did, so that when they opened it, they were giggling like children.
‘Mama, Papa. Oh, it’s good to be home.’
All three fell into a hug. Tears, laughter and love filled the circle they made. ‘My Marjella, my darling daughter.’
‘And mine!’ This indignant remark from Cyrus had them laughing again, but this time it ended in sobs and they clung together, trying to heal all they had been through.
‘There are things I have to tell you, Mama and Papa, and I don’t know if you can forgive me.’
Flors felt shocked by this. Did Marjella have anything to do with Monty’s death? Please, no . . . No!
Cyrus’s voice, strong and meaningful, cut through these thoughts. ‘Whatever decisions you made, or actions you took, were done as they should have been, I have no doubt about that, my darling. And so we have nothing to blame you for, or to forgive you for. We only have extreme pride in your ability to do the right thing, no matter what it cost you. You are truly our daughter, dearest Marjella. Don’t let anything mar your peace of mind, or stop you going forward. Forget everything bad that has happened, and remember only the good that you have lived and the happy times. It is the only way.’
Flors knew in that moment that she had to release her daughter, just as she did her son. ‘My darling, the wonderful, brave young woman who undertook her duty, and was called upon to make horrific decisions, didn’t flinch in doing so, and neither should she have done. As Papa said, you did your duty, when it was asked of you. Put all of it behind you – everything. Nothing can erase the memory of your growing up, or the happiness we all shared in our beautiful home. So now look to what’s in your future, and never let the past mar that.’
‘Oh, Mama, Papa, I so needed you to say these things to me. To give me your understanding. A great burden has lifted from me, with you saying you don’t have to forgive me.’
They huddled together again, but something in Flors had died. That her children should have been through such horror, and that one of them, she was now certain, had to order the death of the other – how was she going to live with that? How was her darling Marjella going to?
But when they came out of the huddle and Marjella went into Wills’s arms, Flors knew that he would help her. Wills would prove to be Marjie’s salvation, and maybe their own, too.
Later, after they had eaten and the atmosphere had become more relaxed, Marjie approached the subject that was on her mind. ‘Mama, Wills has some leave over Christmas and we were wondering: would it be possible to go to Scotland and be with Sibbie and Paulo and Aunt Ella, and everyone up there? They’re all so lovely, and Portpatrick is a beautiful place.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I know Aunt Mags and Uncle Jerome are going up there with Beth and Belinda, so it will be like . . .’
Marjie watched her mama draw in a deep breath.
‘Not old times, Mama. Nothing can make those come back, but it will be a good start to new times. Something we can have in place for when Freddy and Randie come home. A get-together at Christmas time of all of those who can.’
‘Yes, Marjella, that’s right. After every stage – good or bad – there has to be a new beginning.’
With Cyrus saying this, Flors knew it to be so. She made herself smile and say, ‘It sounds wonderful.’
When the car finally arrived in Portpatrick after a two-day journey, driven by Cyrus and Wills taking turns, Marjie could hardly contain herself. They were all there, waiting at the bottom of the road that led to Mags’s and Betsy’s shared house. The sea behind the little group looked dramatic, as it crashed waves onto the quayside and tossed the boats anchored in the port as if they were toys. Through the dark, tumbling clouds a weak sun glimmered a streak of light onto the angry water.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful – beautiful. No wonder you love it, Marjella.’
‘I do, Mama. After just one visit, I have never forgotten it.’
‘Aye, and us neither, I hope.’
‘Never you, Betsy.’ Marjie laughed, but then she caught sight of Sibbie. ‘Oh, Sibbie! Sibbie! Paulo, oh, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.’
Sibbie had a radiant, if tearful smile on her face as she let go of Paulo’s wheelchair and rushed at Marjie. Tears wet their faces and their hair tangled together in the wind, as their bodies swayed in a hug of love, sorrow and, yes, hopefulness.
There were so many hugs after that, with Paulo, Aunt Ella and Lonia; Rosie, Aunt Mags and Uncle Jerome; and Beth, looking so grown-up, and Belinda, too. And, of course, Susan, Rory and Angus. When they reached Mags’s house, their chatter went on and on.
Rosie was telling them of her new job, and how much she was loving it.
‘Aye, and she’s done what I told her not to do, an’ all – she’s fallen in love with a doctor. By, how I’m going to live up to his family, I don’t knaw.’
‘Ma, you daft ha’p’orth! They’re naw different from us. I told you, Walter surprised his parents by turning out to be a clever-clogs, and wouldn’t be where he is but for a helping hand from the kindly lady who lived in the Grange in his village.’ Rosie told them all then how Wally had been a gardener’s boy at the Grange, and the lady of the house had taken him under her wing, educating him in so much that he hadn’t learned at the village school. She had recognized his ability and helped him to university and paid for his medical training. ‘His training was interrupted by war at first, but he copped a bullet or two at Dunkirk. He only has one leg, like Paulo,’ Rosie told them. ‘But Wally continued his training, once he could. He has a false leg. You will have one of those one day, Paulo.’
‘Well, young lass, you never told me owt of this before!’
‘Because you wouldn’t listen, Ma. I did try.’
‘Eeh, I’m sorry, our lass. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. Now I don’t want him to. Is Walter working over Christmas? If not, I’d be honoured if he’d join us.’
‘Oh, Ma. Ma!’ Rosie jumped up and hugged her mother, and for a moment it seemed that everything was going to come right for everyone.
‘Well, I’m to get back to me duties or Cook’ll be scalping me.’ They all laughed at Betsy saying this. Aunt Mags had brought lovely Cook with her, now retired from full-time work at the Manor, but considered one of the family; and between them, Betsy and Cook were re-creating old times when they worked together.
When dinner was served, it was a wonderful meal of that day’s catch, which had been proudly presented by Angus.
No one remarked on how tipsy Betsy and Cook appeared to be as they tripped around the table, their movements made in such a way as not to drop the food, but to stay upright. Afterwards they all sat around the blazing fire and chatted some more, to the noise of Betsy and Cook snoring gently.
‘Och, I’m thinking I’m going to have to buy another bottle of sherry, as I ken those two have drunk most of the one I had ready for Christmas. But it’s good to see me lassie so happy. It’s something I couldn’t ever see happening again. She’s had her heart broken. But Lonia and our Rosie are helping it to mend. And all of you visiting has made Christmas less of an ordeal for Betsy.’
‘And being with her is helping us all, too,’ Flors said. ‘Betsy’s a tonic and I’m so glad to have met her at last – well, all of you: Angus, and you, Susan; and Rory and Rosie and Roderick. I feel as though I’ve known you forever.’
‘And us you, Flors. Aunt Mags is allus going on about you. But it’s lovely to be with you all at last.’
‘Thank you, Rosie. I can see why you want to stay up here, Ella. Lonia is so happy and relaxed, and you say you’re ready to start nursing again now, and that’s wonderful.’
‘Yes, I’m really looking forward to it. And it will help me. Remember, Flors, you always said that we find help in helping others.’
‘I did. And I haven’t done that.’
‘Darling, although you can’t talk about our work, it’s very valuable to the war effort, and once we get back to it in the new year, that will help us, too, I’m sure of it,’ Cyrus said.
With this from her papa, Marjie looked at her parents and knew their pain was healing a little. But, she wondered, would her own pain ever heal?
When she and Sibbie, and Wills and Paulo, found some time alone later that night, their laughter helped them all. Wills was so funny. His antics, as he told tales of his upbringing and some of the strange things their servants got up to, kept them from talking about the inevitable, although Marjie knew that one day they would have to.
That day came the very next day: Christmas Eve. The four of them went for a walk. It wasn’t easy on the hilly terrain, with Paulo in a wheelchair, but Wills managed him well, and without making Paulo feel as though he was a burden. Sibbie took them to the churchyard to visit the grave of her stepfather, Montel.
It was then that they had talked.
‘Marjie, dear Marjie. How could it all have happened?’ Sibbie held Marjie’s hand and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘The lovely Monty. How could he have turned out as he did?’
‘I don’t know, Sibbie. I’m so sorry for what he caused you and Paulo. I’m so sorry.’
‘No, none of this is your fault, Marjie.’ Paulo took her other hand then. He was sitting in his wheelchair facing them, as the three of them sat on the bench. ‘Monty always did anything to get what he wanted – you know that. We heard such horrendous tales of what was happening to those on forced labour, from those who escaped and joined us. Monty must have seen a way to save himself. He was so young. The consequences wouldn’t have occurred to him.’
‘And now that you know it was Monty who betrayed us, which led to all you went through, you can forgive him?’
‘We’re at war, Marjie. Things happen in war that none of us know how we will react to. I loved Monty like a brother. He was my shadow, as you know. If he’d known that this would have happened to me, as a result of his actions, he wouldn’t have done it. I’m sure of that.’
Marjie couldn’t take this in, but she was so grateful to Paulo for thinking like that. It helped, just a little, to ease her pain and guilt. But when she told them of how she’d ordered Monty’s death, it all came rushing back and, no matter what they said, it didn’t stop a shadow being cast over the next few days, which only Marjie could feel.
At night, she and Sibbie slept in the same bed. This was a comfort to them both. ‘Will we ever forget, Sibbie?’
‘No. And nor should we. But we will learn to live with it all, I’m sure. We’ll help each other – the three of us. And Wills will help us. He’s lovely, Marjie.’
‘He is – I adore him. I’m finding it hard not to be with him, as we were before I left.’
‘I know. Paulo and I have done it.’
‘It?’ They both giggled at this.
‘Well, what can you call it? I don’t even know the proper word, but I know it was wonderful.’ Marjie didn’t ask how Sibbie and Paulo managed to make love; she was just so happy for them both.
‘Marjie, shall we go to them? Everyone will be asleep. No one will know. I’ll creep along to the room they are in and send Wills to you. But we must make a pact to be back in our rooms by around three in the morning. Your father sometimes walks the landing then.’
‘I know; poor love, he hasn’t slept well for a long time.’
‘He’ll sleep even less if he finds out that his daughter is sleeping with her man before they’re wed!’
Once more they giggled, as Marjie hit Sibbie with her pillow.
‘No time for messing around, Marjie. I’ve more important things to do.’ With this, Sibbie jumped off the bed and waved goodbye, before slowly opening the bedroom door and looking each way along the landing.
In no time Wills had slipped into her room and Marjie felt all her dreams come true, as he came to her and held her. ‘Marjie, my Marjie.’
In his arms making silent love, she found her heaven. Her peace. Nothing intruded on the feelings Wills gave her when finally, after four weeks of wanting him so badly that she’d ached for him, he entered her. Marjie’s world exploded, and her love for him overwhelmed her. She whispered, ‘Wills. Oh, Wills, I love you.’ It was for his ears only, just as his words of love were for hers.
By the time Easter came, Marjie knew that everything in her world was going to be all right. That the memories would stop haunting her and would be replaced with logic and understanding.
She’d visited her brother’s memorial and, despite the ice clinging to the grass, had sat down and talked to him. ‘I’m sorry, Monty. I so wished everything had been different. I miss you more than I can say.’ The schism in her heart, which she’d not been able to heal, had opened up again.
Looking at Alice’s inscription – ‘A child loved dearly, now with Jesus and safe from pain’ – she’d wished with all she had that she’d been able to know Alice. And thought how wonderful it would have been to have an older sister to talk to and turn to. But then she’d read the inscription on Monty’s vase, and her heart and conscience slowly began to heal. Yes, Monty had lived by his own decisions, and it was those that had led to his death – not her. As Arnie had said, she had only saved lives with her decisions.
With this new way of looking at everything, Marjie turned away with a lighter heart. And now she knew that she could truly look to the future. A future not haunted by the things in her past that she couldn’t change.