Act of Will (20 page)

Old bones, old flesh, soon to turn to dust, Audra commented silently, and a little shiver ran down her arms despite the warmth of the room. Audra’s intuitiveness told her that she was probably seeing her aunt for the last time. Frances Reynolds was very, very old now; her life on this earth was coming to an end. It was then that Audra also knew that it would be quite wrong to start probing into her mother’s past. That would be too upsetting to this gentle old lady, who had so adored her mother, who was always so affectionate towards her, and who had made Vincent feel so welcome.

And Vincent is correct in what he said, Audra now thought. Only my mother knew the truth and she has taken it to the grave with her. It suddenly struck Audra that it would besmirch her mother’s memory to start talking about adultery and questioning her own legitimacy.

And so she remained silent.

They spent almost two hours at Bedelia Cottage and it was only when they made motions to leave that her great-aunt mentioned Edith Kenton.

Peering at Audra through ancient eyes, she said in her
whispery voice, ‘When my darling Edith died Alicia removed all of her papers from High Cleugh. But I took them away from her, because I wanted to keep them for you, Audra, until you were grown up.’

Frances Reynolds paused, smiled slightly and shook her silvered head. ‘Ah, dear child, you are looking so eager, but I’m afraid there is nothing of great importance amongst your mother’s papers. Some old letters, her birth certificate, her marriage lines, a few old photographs, nothing much else.’

Audra’s face fell, then she said, ‘But I want them anyway.’

‘Of course you do, my dear, and that is why I kept them safe for you all these years.’ She glanced at Vincent. ‘The papers are in that case over there on the floor. Could you bring it here, please?’

‘Right away,’ he said, leaping to his feet. He was back in a moment, offered it to the old lady.

‘No, no, give it to Audra, the papers belong to her, Vincent.’

‘Thanks,’ Audra said, taking the case from him. She noticed that her mother’s initials, EWK, were stamped in gold on the front between the locks. She snapped these open, peeped inside, touched the papers on the top, then decided to examine everything later, in the privacy of their room, after they arrived at the White Swan Hotel in Harrogate.

‘Thank you very much for keeping the papers for me, Great-Aunt Frances, I’m most appreciative.’

The old lady smiled and nodded. ‘I know you were going to see Alicia,’ she said in her weak voice that slightly quavered. ‘I presume that you did so and that you collected your mother’s jewellery.’

‘Yes,’ Audra said and paused awkwardly, afraid to
say anything more than this. She glanced across at her husband.

Vincent came to her rescue. ‘Everything was fine, and I’ll be driving over with my brothers and a van next week, to get the furniture and the rest of Audra’s things.’

The old lady beamed at him and a satisfied, almost triumphant look entered her eyes. She reached for her cane. ‘Come along the two of you, let us go into the dining room. I want you to choose a piece of silver for your first home.’

‘Please, Vincent, you have to get up,’ Audra said, shaking his shoulder.

He shifted his position in the bed, turned on his back and opened his eyes, blinking in the filtered light coming in through the filmy curtains. ‘Why?’

‘Vincent, you know very well why,’ Audra exclaimed as lightly as possible, trying to sheath her annoyance with him. ‘Gwen’s coming to supper.’

‘
If
she shows up.’

‘It was my fault last Sunday,’ Audra said hastily, ‘I got the dates mixed up.’

He threw her a sceptical look, said nothing.

‘
Please
, Vincent,’ she begged, her voice rising, ‘please get up.’

His answer was to reach out and catch hold of her wrist. He pulled her down next to him, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. He whispered against her cheek, ‘Come to bed with me for half an hour.’

Audra struggled against him. ‘I can’t, you know very well I can’t, there isn’t time.’

‘You mean you don’t want to,’ he said and let go of her at once.

Rising quickly, Audra stepped away from the bed and looked down at him, pursing her lips. ‘You’re being terribly unfair.’

‘Oh no I’m not. You’ve turned cold on me lately.’

She flushed. ‘I haven’t. You always pick the wrong time!’

He looked at the alarm clock on the bamboo night stand. ‘What’s wrong with four-thirty on a Sunday afternoon. It strikes me it’s the perfect time.’

‘We’re expecting a guest.’

‘Ah yes. La-di-da Miss Gwen Thornton.’ He pronounced the name with acerbity, added, ‘I don’t know what you see in her, why you run after her.’

‘I don’t run after her!’

‘Yes, you do. I’m beginning to think you prefer her to me.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Audra exclaimed, staring at him in total astonishment, ‘you know that’s not true.’ She felt a sudden surge of anger towards him and went on crossly, ‘Anyway, I’m not in the mood to… come to bed, to make love, not after your behaviour these past few weeks.’

‘
My
behaviour! What the bloody hell are you talking about?’ He sat bolt upright in the bed and glared at her, his brilliant green eyes flashing as his temper flared.

Audra shook her head, very slowly, swallowing her exasperation with him, suddenly comprehending. ‘You just don’t
know
what you
do
, Vincent, do you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh Vincent,
Vincent
, you’re impossible. And you make me so cross at times. For one thing, I’m getting impatient with your performance every Sunday at lunch time. You go off to the pub with your brothers, think nothing about strolling in well after two o’clock, having promised to be back by one at the latest, and then you turn nasty on me because lunch is spoiled… as if that were my fault.’

‘I didn’t turn nasty today.’

‘Yes, you did. Actually, alcohol doesn’t agree with you at all, it brings the worst out in you, makes you belligerent and touchy.’

He was about to ignore these criticisms, since she had lately developed a habit of carping, but changed his mind. ‘Don’t start giving
me
a lecture,’ he snapped, ‘I don’t like it. I’m a man not a kid. I’ve always gone to the pub on Sundays, ever since I was eighteen, and I’m not going to stop now. Not for you or anybody else. And anyway, everybody goes to the pub on Sundays, it’s an old English tradition.’

Only with the working-class, she thought, and instantly hated herself for even thinking this; she despised any kind of prejudice in others. She said, ‘There’s something else… you left me alone to mark time at your mother’s
again
last night, whilst you went off carousing in the pubs with your brothers—’

‘It was our Bill’s birthday,’ he cut in indignantly, all of his defences going up.

‘That’s true, and I don’t begrudge it when you celebrate a special occasion of that kind. But it wasn’t Bill’s birthday last Saturday, or the Saturday before,
or
the one before that, when you also went off on your own.’

‘You didn’t have to stay at my mother’s last night, you could have gone to the old-time dancing with Laurette. After all, she invited you.’

‘I’m not married to Laurette, I’m married to you.’

He sighed heavily and his mouth tightened in aggravation. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean that I’ve got to be tied to your apron strings twenty-four hours a day for the rest of my life, because believe you me, I won’t be.’

Audra bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue, asking herself why she was bothering to argue with him at this particular time. Gwen was due to arrive within the
hour and she wanted the atmosphere in the house to be tranquil. All she needed was for Gwen to think there was some sort of trouble between them.

And so she walked to the bedroom door, said softly, ‘I still have a few chores,’ and ran downstairs before he could say another word.

Pushing aside her worries about the recent changes in their relationship, she busied herself in the parlour-kitchen of their four-room cottage in Pot Lane. After covering the deal table in the centre of the floor with her best lace cloth, she took out several pieces of the beautiful china dinner service the Bells had given them as a wedding present, and went about setting the table for supper.

Once she had finished she glanced at the grate in the centre of the Yorkshire range, wondering whether or not to light the fire yet; these September nights soon turned cool. On the other hand, it was still sunny. Thinking of the weather reminded Audra that she needed fresh flowers for the table and for the console in the tiny sitting room next door. She hurried across to the work table next to the sink under the window, found the scissors in the drawer, took the flower basket off the set-pot and went outside.

The cottage did not have a name, only the number thirty-eight painted in white on its green door; it was one of three in a cul-de-sac behind The Towers in Upper Armley. Each house had a small garden, but Audra’s was the most flourishing and resplendent because the previous tenants had cultivated it well over the years. Also, she had tended it diligently herself since they had moved into the cottage in June, and had made some new plantings and other improvements.

The last of the summer roses were full blown, tipped heavy and luxuriant heads down to the dark earth, and
as Audra bent over the bushes she breathed deeply of their scent. It was rich and sweet, and just a little heady, and it made her feel slightly dizzy. She began to cut the roses with great care, not wanting to destroy the fragile blossoms by knocking any of the petals off. She selected mostly from the pale yellow and pink blooms, since these seemed to be fading faster than the others.

‘You’ve no idea how bonny you look, love,’ Vincent said from the doorway of the cottage.

She glanced up.

He flashed her one of his most beautiful and winning smiles.

She smiled back, understanding that he now wished to make up. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Rising, she picked up the flower basket, walked towards him down the flagged garden path.

His eyes did not leave her face. When she came to a standstill in front of him, he put his arm around her affectionately and led her inside. After closing the door and taking the basket out of her hands, he drew her into his arms, kissed her deeply and with growing passion.

Audra responded, held onto him tightly, returned his kisses. And she did so willingly now, all of the resentment which had been building up falling away from her suddenly, unexpectedly. She thought: I love him, he loves me, and that’s all that matters really. We’ll work out our differences. Somehow we will.

After a moment he stopped kissing her, tilted her face up to his, looked down into her startling eyes. It seemed to him that their bright cornflower blue had turned to the deeper hue of the violet, and as always they reflected her innermost emotions. His own gaze was intense, searching. ‘Do you have any idea how much I want you at times?’ he asked finally, in a hoarse voice.

‘Yes.’ She hesitated, then whispered, ‘I feel the same way.’

Vincent smiled to himself, knowing how difficult it was for her to talk about such things. Trailing a finger down her cheek, he said, ‘Perhaps Gwen won’t stay too late?’ A dark brow lifted hopefully.

‘No, I don’t think she will. It’s Monday tomorrow.’

Vincent leaned closer, murmured in her ear, ‘Let’s make a date to have an early night, Mrs Crowther.’

‘Yes, let’s.’

He hugged her to him, then released her. Swinging away, Vincent walked over to the front door. ‘I’ll be back in time for supper.’

Surprised, she asked, ‘Where are you going?’

‘To my mother’s.’

‘
But why?
’

‘I promised Frank I would help him to fill in his military papers… Dad’s finally given him permission to join the army, and he’s very excited, our Frank is. You know how badly he wants to get into a cavalry regiment and go out to India. Can’t say I blame him, either. Not the way things are in this bloody country right now.’ He made a face. ‘So many men on the dole and more being laid off work every day.’

Audra held herself very still. ‘You’re all right at Varley’s, aren’t you? They’re not having problems too, are they, Vincent?’

‘No, no, of course not.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘We’re in the middle of building that ruddy great house for old man Pinfold and his missus. Anyway, don’t
you
worry your little head about such things, that’s my job, as the man of the house.’ He blew her a kiss, flashed his cheeky grin. ‘Ta’rar, love, I’ll see you a bit later.’

‘So you did get a sofa.
Finally
,’ Gwen said, stepping into the little sitting room from the parlour-kitchen.

‘Yes,’ Audra replied, following sharply on her heels, frowning at her friend’s back.

Gwen marched up to this piece of furniture, which stood in the centre of the room facing the fireplace, and promptly sat down on it. She crossed her legs, settled against the cushions and made herself comfortable.

Audra hovered in front of her, studying her face intently. It was bland, as always, and innocent enough. And Audra knew at once that Gwen had not meant anything mean or unkind by the remark, even though the way she had said finally had sounded a trifle catty, as if she thought they hadn’t been able to afford one before.

‘We bought the sofa two weeks ago,’ Audra volunteered in her usual quiet way. ‘We’d been looking for that particular style for quite a while, since before we were married, actually.’

‘Oh, had you,’ Gwen said and swung around, brought her face closer to the back of the sofa, the three strands of cheap beads rattling as she moved. She sniffed the material. ‘Mmmm.
Leather
. Very nice too, Audra. I must admit, I do like the genuine thing. Nothing imitation for me, either.’

Audra bit back a smile, walked over to the fireplace.
She was amused by the incongruity of this last remark, in view of Gwen’s penchant for fake jewellery. Always dripping in it, and a walking advertisement for Wool-worth’s, she had really outdone herself today. She was bedecked in a curious assortment of coloured rhinestones and paste; none of it matched and she glittered like an out-of-season Christmas tree. But that’s my Gwenny, Audra thought with a rush of real warmth, her deep affection for her friend surfacing. She just wouldn’t be the same without her beads and bracelets and dangling earrings; they’re her trademark, and I don’t suppose I would change her, even if I could.