As I stepped off the train onto the platform at King’s Cross, my kit bag over my shoulder, I felt weary and apprehensive. I’d kept to myself on the long train journey down from Aberdeen, although the carriage had been packed with servicemen and women on leave, spending most of my time pretending to sleep, or smoking and reading the same page of my newspaper over and over without really taking any of it in.
It was almost a month since we caught Mackay at Svarta Wick. He had now been charged with high treason and sentenced to death under the Treachery Act. My leg had been painful for a couple of weeks as the bruising came out, but the wound healed quickly. I was more relieved than I cared to admit; the thought of facing another slow recovery had preyed on my mind for the first few days, when my leg had hurt so much I was barely able to walk. I’d lain in bed in the medical bay, staring up at the ceiling and cursing Mackay to hell and back for putting me here, and having unpleasant flashbacks to being stuck in the hospital in Ely.
As soon as I had recovered, Doctor Gaudie recommended I finally go on leave for a couple of weeks. ‘A change’ll do you good,’ he’d said in his gruff voice. ‘A nasty business, all this.’ He shook his head, looking pensive. ‘It’s Mackay’s mother I feel sorry for, really. I’m not sure she’ll ever recover from this.’
I’d been granted the leave the following day. To be honest, I was relieved; every time I thought about Hedda I remembered that moment when our gazes had connected, and felt that same sensation inside me, my stomach going hollow. The day I left to take the ship to the mainland, I bumped into her at the harbour; all the old awkwardness between us had returned and she would barely even look at me. It hurt more than I cared to admit. Had I imagined that look? I was sure I hadn’t, so why wouldn’t she speak to me? Even small talk – something to try to recapture a sense of the easy friendship we’d had before – would have been better than that. I felt as if I’d done something wrong, but I couldn’t for the life of me work out what that might be. Her behaviour made me feel completely rejected.
I made my way out of the station, gazing at the bombed-out buildings. It wasn’t a shock to see them, exactly – there’d been just as much damage when I’d visited London before leaving for Shetland six months ago, and I’d seen the photographs in the newspapers since. But insulated by Fiskersay’s remoteness and relative peace, I’d forgotten just how bad it was here. How did people stand it, being pounded by bombs night after night? They were all going about their business as if nothing was happening, but it couldn’t have been easy.
As I looked for a taxi, pushing my way through the crowds and breathing in the grimy air, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of homesick longing for Fiskersay: for its wide-open spaces, rolling hills, its vast expanse of sea and sky.
Damn it, Gauthier, get a hold of yourself, I told myself as, at last, I spotted an empty taxi. I hailed it, told the driver Rose’s address and settled myself in the back with my bag on the seat beside me, closing my eyes and pretending to sleep again so I wouldn’t have to talk.
I hadn’t told Rose I was coming. I hadn’t even written to her. As we approached her street, my mouth was dry. What if she wasn’t in? Or still staying with her parents? I hadn’t really thought about that; hadn’t thought about anything except getting to London and confronting her. If the formidable Mrs Cooke wouldn’t let me in, I guessed I’d just have to sit on the front step and wait, until she got back, or I could find someone who knew where she was.
I paid the taxi driver and got out, taking a deep breath before pressing the doorbell for Rose’s flat. A few moments later, I heard a window open above me and her voice call, ‘Hang on a minute!’
I looked up, but she’d already gone. I drummed my fingers against my leg, unable to keep still.
The door opened. ‘Bill!’ Rose exclaimed. I saw a fleeting expression of shock pass over her face; then it was gone, replaced by a wide smile. ‘Oh, how lovely! But I wasn’t expecting you – why didn’t you write, or send a telegram?’
‘Thought I’d surprise you,’ I said, as she leaned in to kiss me. At the last moment, I turned my head and her lips landed on my cheek. She didn’t seem to notice.
As I followed her up the stairs, I heard a door open along the hallway somewhere and looked round to see a scrawny woman with her hair covered in a brown headscarf watching us through narrowed eyes.
‘Mrs Cooke,’ Rose hissed, and I marvelled for a moment at just how close the picture in my head had come to the reality. ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t let her see you looking at her whatever you do!’
Once in Rose’s flat, I sat down heavily in an armchair.
‘Tea?’ Rose called from the little kitchen. ‘I don’t have anything stronger in I’m afraid, although we could go out somewhere if you like.’
‘Tea’s fine,’ I said, listening to her opening cupboards and turning on the tap to fill the kettle.
‘You’re lucky you didn’t turn up a few days ago!’ she said. ‘The water got cut off after a bomb hit the water main, and they’ve only just managed to restore it.’
A few minutes later, she brought out a tray, placing it on a little table by my chair. ‘Shall I be mother?’
I watched her as she busied herself pouring the tea. She was wearing a light-blue frock and matching cardigan, her hair immaculately waved as always. The diamonds in her engagement ring – there were three – caught the light as she moved. I stared at them.
‘You’re awfully quiet,’ Rose said with a little frown. ‘Is something bothering you?’
I cleared my throat. Come on. You have to do this. ‘What’s going on with Clive?’ I said.
I was not sure what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t the shock and guilt that flashed across her face. She tried to rearrange her expression into something more nonchalant, but it was too late – I’d already seen it.
‘I saw pictures in a newspaper,’ I said, trying to keep my voice even. ‘You two looked very… close.’
Rose pressed her lips together. Deny it, I pleaded with her inside my head. Say it’s not true – that it was just the camera angle.
‘How long?’ I said, when she still hadn’t answered me.
She put her teacup down with a hand that trembled just slightly.
‘Rose.’
‘It’s just a – a thing,’ she said at last.
‘So it’s still going on?’
‘Yes – I mean, no – I – Oh, you’ve no idea what it’s like, Bill! No idea at all!’ She stood up and went over to the window, looking out, her back to me, her shoulders tensed and her arms folded around her middle.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m so lonely! You’re all the way up there, in that – that place, and I’m here with no one! I mean, this is the first time you’ve even bothered to come and see me in London since you went there!’
‘Hey, there’s no bothered about it – I tried to get leave and I couldn’t! I told you that when you came to the island with ENSA. Have you been seeing Clive the whole time I’ve been away?’
She didn’t answer me.
‘Were you seeing him while you were in Shetland?’
She still didn’t answer. That told me everything I needed to know. Sadness wrenched through me; anger, too, but not at Rose. I was angry at myself: for being such an idiot, and for not seeing what was going on even when it had been happening right in front of my nose.
‘Why?’ I said.
‘I told you why. I’m lonely, Bill.’
‘I thought you loved me.’
She turned her head to look at me. There was a small frown line between her eyebrows. ‘I do! Of course I do! But – oh, it’s complicated!’
‘Complicated how?’
She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t understand!’ she said, her voice trembling a little.
‘Try me, for God’s sake.’
She stayed where she was, staring out of the window again, and didn’t answer me.
‘Rose, please,’ I said, hating the pleading note that had crept into my voice. ‘Is it because we might have to go to Canada?’
‘That’s part of it, yes,’ she said at last, sounding reluctant, as if it cost her a great effort to get the words out.
‘You don’t want to go.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well, what do you want to do, then? Because every time I’ve tried to talk about it, or written to you about it—’
At last, she whirled round to face me. ‘I want that house in Surrey!’
‘I can’t afford that damn house in Surrey! And I thought you wanted to get away from your parents!’
‘Not by going all the way to bloody Canada!’
I gazed at her, winded. I didn’t know what to say.
Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. ‘I was so lost after Derek was killed, Bill. You have no idea. I thought my life was over. And then you came along and—’
‘And what?’ I said. ‘You heard I’d had my accident and thought, here’s a willing victim?’
‘No. No! It wasn’t like that at all!’
‘No – I’ve got it now – it’s because I told you I’d inherit my father’s factories one day, isn’t it?’
‘No!’
‘You sure? You didn’t think, Well, his old pa’ll shuffle off soon and then he’ll be loaded. Better get hitched before that happens so I get written into the will?’
‘No! Oh, Bill, how can you say such a thing?!’
‘Why, then? Tell me, Rose, because I’m struggling to understand here.’
‘I thought…’ she began, then covered her face with her hands.
‘Yes?’
‘I thought if I tried hard enough, I could make it work with someone else. That was one thing,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘You were so easy to talk to, that first time we met, and so different from the sort of men Mummy and Daddy kept trying to introduce me to after Derek died—’
‘So that was one thing. What’s the other?’ I asked. I could feel despair kindling inside me, mixed with a low, dull anger. I felt a bit sick, too. She’d picked me so her parents would stop trying to marry her off? Was that all?
At last, she looked up at me again. ‘You were so charismatic, Bill. So good looking,’ she said softly. ‘I could tell as soon as I met you that you were the sort of man who only had to click his fingers for every girl in the vicinity to come running. It was sort of a thrill at first, knowing you were interested in me when you could have had your pick of any woman you wanted. After you got hurt and we continued to see each other, I began to think perhaps I was the one who could get you to settle down – that I was different to all the others. You helped me forget about Derek. You made me feel as if I had a future again.’
‘So why throw it all away on an affair with Clive?’
‘I told you, I was lonely! It doesn’t mean anything – he’s just been keeping me company while you’re away. When you come back, we can forget all about him and start again. I’m sure you’d be able to get British citizenship – there must be a way.’
I closed my eyes. We’d been in love with the idea of each other, I realised. I’d needed hope; to feel whole again. She’d seen me as a means of escape, as someone she could mould into an ideal to make up for losing the man she’d really loved. Perhaps, under different circumstances – if we were different people, with different lives – we could have made it work.
But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want a marriage built on something that had never existed. I wanted something honest. Something real.
Once again, the memory of the moment my gaze met Hedda’s rose in my mind, and I felt that dropping sensation in my stomach again.
But I couldn’t have her, either, could I? She was married to someone else.
I got to my feet. ‘Well, that’s that, I guess.’
‘Where are you going?’ she said as I made for the door.
‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘We both know it’s over.’ But there was no heat in my words.
‘No! Bill, you can’t leave me!’ Rose began to cry again, but there was anger flashing in her eyes and she had a petulant set to her mouth, like a child.
‘You’ve still got Clive, haven’t you? Why don’t you marry him?’
‘I can’t! He’s already married!’
I shook my head. ‘Jesus, Rose.’
I opened the door. I knew I had to get out of there before she reeled me back in; already, I was feeling guilty, as if I was the one in the wrong here. As I went out into the hall and closed the door behind me again, I heard Rose shriek, and something smashed against the wood on the other side: probably one of the teacups.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Cooke popped up again. ‘What was all that noise?’ she said sharply.
‘She’s exercising her lungs before her next concert,’ I told her, leaving the sharp-faced landlady to stare after me as I let myself back out onto the street. As I walked away from the flats, I decided to go and find a bar.
I needed to get drunk, fast.