âMy dear boy,' it was Sue's turn to sound exasperated, âI love you and Tessa far too much to want either of you to be unhappy. I certainly
don't want you to marry Tessa because she's been like one of the family. On the other hand â¦'
âQuite,' said Sebastian, correctly interpreting the pause, âif she does want the wedding to go ahead we've got problems. I don't want to hurt her.'
âYou'll hurt her more in the long run,' said Sue, âif you don't love her.'
âI've told you,' he said wearily, âI simply don't know.'
âHave you ⦠you know ⦠slept with her?'
âOf course I have, Mother,' he said crossly. âFor heaven's sake! She enjoyed it as much as I did. And yes, I took precautions. It was good but then it's been good with other girls.'
âOh, Sebastian,' she said. âI'm sorry. I know it's not my business. I was just thinking that if you hadn't ⦠with Tessa, then it might be quite sensible. Probably get your feelings sorted out more clearly. But since you have â¦'
âThen it's not going to help us either way,' he finished.
âYou know the old test?' she said at last. â“Do you want to touch her; do you want to see her; do you want to hear her”? I might have that the wrong way round but you get the sense of it. Do you?'
âNot often,' he said frankly. âSometimes. Honestly, Mother, I can't answer the only necessary question. So what do I do?'
âYou must go and see her,' said Sue at last. âGo and talk to her and tell her what you feel.'
âShit!' he muttered. âWhat if she ⦠Oh Christ!'
âI know. But you've got to,' she said. âIt's the only way. I can't help you except that we'll try to back you up without abandoning Tessa.'
âThanks.' He gave a short laugh. âSorry about all this.'
âDon't give it a thought. I just want you both to be happy. When can you see her?'
âWe're going down to Devonport next week for sea trials. She's in Devon, too. I'll see her then. No chance before. She's up in Wales somewhere. If we do decide to go ahead would you be able to cope?'
âOf course I could. Don't worry about that but ⦠Oh, Sebastian, I don't know what to say. Stay in touch.'
âI will. Thanks. 'Bye.'
The line went dead and with a heavy heart Sue went to hang the washing out in the hot sunshine.
Â
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ON AN OVERCAST MORNING in July, Helen arrived at the cove. Since first light Isobel had been wandering about her cottage; tidying, smoothing, puffing up cushions, rearranging the roses in the living room, straightening pictures. Her fingers shook a little and she drank numerous cups of coffee and wished that she'd never given up smoking. Just before ten o'clock she saw Will and Bea emerge. She had taken Bea aside some days before and asked if it would be possible to have the cove to herself just for that particular morning.
âI know it's pushy,' she said, âbut I'm afraid that Will might be over-anxious. Helen's such a strange girl and I'm terrified of anything going wrong. I know it sounds melodramatic â¦'
âI quite understand,' Bea had said. âYou'll be able to relax better. Don't worry. I want to have another look at Tavistock. Pray for a cool day so that we can take Sidney.'
âI can cope with Sidney if necessary,' Isobel said, relieved that Bea wasn't offended. âIt's just that I'm so uptight about this. Bless you for understanding, Bea.'
Now she watched Bea encourage Sidney into the back of the hatchback whilst Will stowed the hamper on the back seat. Presently the sound of the engine died away and there was silence.
Except, thought Isobel, as she drifted back into the living room and stood staring aimlessly out of the open window, that it's never silent when you live this close to the sea.
The tide was running out, the wet sand gleaming under the grey
sky. The dark, opaque surface of the sea was splashed with pools of dazzling silver which showered down through breaks in the thick blanket of cloud. A seagull balanced on a newly exposed rock, one yellow leg drawn up as he watched the waters receding. The soothing, rhythmical shushing of waves calmed Isobel and she turned back into the room, feeling relaxed and able now to prepare herself for the coming meeting.
It was just after eleven when she saw the carâSimon's carâemerge from the track and hesitate. Controlling an impulse to run out, Isobel waited. She saw the car pull in beside the Morris and presently Helen climbed out and stood looking about her.
She looks like I did at her age, thought Isobel, watching from the kitchen window. She took note of the dark hair cut in a short shining bob, the slim square shoulders beneath the baggy cotton shirt, the long legs in faded denim. She recognised the quick nervous gesture as Helen pushed back her hair and came on long, easy strides towards the cottage. With a deep breath Isobel went to meet her.
âHi.' She stood looking down at her daughter who had paused at the bottom of the steps. âThis is ⦠wonderful. Come on in.'
With the same anxious gesture, Helen ran her hand through her hair and climbed the steps.
âWhat a terrific place.' Nervousness sent her voice up the scale a little. âThat's some view.'
âPretty good, isn't it?' Isobel was determined that no hysteria should creep in. âIt's the light that gets me. Like living at the bottom of the sea. Although it's a bit dull today ⦠Coffee?'
âThanks. Got any decaff?'
âI have.' Isobel gave silent thanks for her foresight. âMilk? Sugar?'
âNo thanks. Just black.' Helen looked around the kitchen. âOh, you've still got the picture of Soot.'
âOf course.' Helen had drawn the sketch of the family cat when she was just fifteen but it was a very accurate and charming portrayal and Isobel had had it framed. It hung on the wall beside the dresser. Isobel
made coffee, sensing that Helen was examining the photographs on the shelves beside the plates; photographs of Helen as a little girl, posed alone and with Simon. The silence lengthened but Isobel refused to blunder in with foolish observations. âHere.' She passed Helen her mug. âLet's go into the living room.'
She led the way, sitting down at the table under the window and gesturing to Helen to sit opposite. She slid on to the chair, staring about the room, taking it all in. It gave Isobel the opportunity to study her more closely; to see the drawn look and the tiny frown between the dark level brows. Helen's gaze came round to meet her own and they looked at each other for a long moment.
âSo,' said Isobel lightly. âWhere shall we start?'
She had resolved that there should be no more apologies and explanations; that Helen must try to accept what had happened and be prepared to move forward. It was a pointless exercise to dig up the old bones of their relationship and chew on past grievances and recriminations. Nevertheless, she was not nearly so calm as she appeared and she sipped quickly at her coffee.
âIt's difficult.' Helen glanced away, out of the window. âI'm not sure I know where to start.'
âThat makes two of us.' Relieved that the old antagonism was absent, Isobel relaxed a little. âYou've changed so much. Grown up.' She laughed a little. âStupid thing to say. Of course you have.' She became serious. âIt really is very good to see you, Helen. Thank you for coming.'
âI wanted to.' She continued to stare out of the window. âI know that I behaved like a prig. I wanted to say sorry. I understand better now.'
Isobel swallowed, crushing down a longing to explain all over again; justify her feelings, explain her actions. âI'm ⦠glad,' she said. âAt least ⦠I'm glad if it means we can be friends. Not so glad if you understand as a result of some problem of your own.'
Helen looked at her, studying Isobel's face, the frown more in
evidence as she concentrated. Isobel met the scrutiny steadily, wondering if Helen would be candid with her. Suddenly the meeting had moved on to a much deeper plane and Isobel felt the stirrings of panic. Helen pushed her hair behind her ears and picked up her mug in both hands.
âI couldn't understand, you see,' she saidâand took a tiny sip of the black liquid. âIt was terrible to have to believe that you loved that man more than you loved me. That you could leave me for him.'
Isobel's heart sank. So the bones were to be disinterred yet again; she prepared herself for battle. âI tried to explainâ' she beganâbut Helen shook her head.
âI know you did. But it wasn't that simple. Not then. I think it was something I had to experience for myself. I understand now what you meant when you said it was like an illness. It sort of possesses you and when it goes you can't think what came over you.'
âYes,' said Isobel sadly. âThat's about it. And then it was too late. For me, that is. Not, I hope, for you.'
âI'm sorry,' said Helen again. âReally sorry. About Dad and ⦠Sally.'
âYes.' Isobel bit her lip. âIt was a shock. Are they ⦠happy?'
Helen nodded, watching her, and Isobel nodded back and tried to smile.
âDo you still love him?' she asked compassionately.
âOh, yes.' Isobel tried to sound matter-of-fact. âI always did. The other was just a kind of madness. A very cruel and expensive madness. So. How about you? It's all over now, is it? Was he at university?'
Helen nodded, staring at the Indian cloth. In the silence Isobel wondered how far she should go. She dreaded to pry or open old wounds but how could she help if she did not know the facts? Helen had said that it was finished; that she did not know what had come over her. If she no longer loved whoever-he-was then it shouldn't be painful, unless â¦
âIs he married?'
Another nod; the frown deepened.
âWell,' said Isobel comfortingly, âbeing married never made anyone immune. Does his wife know?'
A shake of the head; the lips were pressed tightly together. Isobel was puzzled. So what could be the problem? She guessed the answer at exactly the moment that Helen told her.
âI'm pregnant,' she saidâand began to weep.
Instinctively Isobel pressed her hand to her lips; the next moment she was kneeling beside Helen, her arm around her. âI'm sorry, so sorry.' She murmured the words over and over whilst Helen wept, her head buried in her arms. When she straightened up, Isobel hesitated for a moment and then went back to her chair. She felt she must leave Helen her space and her dignity.
âI want to keep the baby,' said Helen rapidly. âI can't bear the thought of an abortion or adoption.'
âNo,' said Isobel. âNo ⦠I see. Does he ⦠the father know?'
âNo,' she answered fiercely. âI don't want him to know. It's
my
baby. He has children. I don't want to get rid of it.'
She stared desperately at Isobel whose brain, behind her deceptively calm expression, was desperately seeking some kind of solution.
âBut your job?' she said. âYour job in Bristol? How will you manage? Oh, if only I could help you.'
âOh, Mum.' The old familiar word slipped out and Isobel's heart lurched with tenderness. âWould you help?'
âBut of course I will,' said Isobel. âIt's just I don't see quite how. I have to work myself, you know. I could try to help out with the baby.' She frowned, wondering how this could be achieved. âDoes Daddy know?' she asked suddenly.
âNo.' Helen looked defiant. âI don't want them to know yet. I can only handle telling you at the moment.'
Isobel experienced another stab of tenderness but it was mixed
with a less generous emotion. She felt a triumphant sense of pride that Helen had turned to her rather than to Simon and Sally. Helen was watching her anxiously and she smiled at her.
âLet's not panic,' she said. âWhen is the baby due?'
âDecember. At Christmas. I've been thinking about it,' said Helen, âand I've thought of a way through. It's an awful lot to ask, especially after ⦠after what's happened. I feel very badly but I don't know what else to do. I don't expect you to agree to it.'
âTell me,' suggested Isobel, wondering if she was going to ask if she and the baby could come to the cove. How would they manage? She felt anxious and even frightened. âTell me what your plan is?'
Helen began to speak very quickly, her fingers pleating and repleating the cloth, her eyes on the sea. âWhen I knew for certain, I panicked a bit but after a while I began to think it all through. I spoke to the research department at Bristol University and they agreed to give me time off to have the baby, providing that I go back afterwards full time with no problems. There are all sorts of crèches and babyminding agencies so I told them that I'd got it all fixed. There were a couple of small flats that go with some of the university posts so I've taken one. It's quite nice and it's cheap â¦'
âSo what's the problem?' asked Isobel gently, when Helen fell silent. âIt sounds as if you've got it all sewn up. Do you want to come here to have the baby?'
âNo. No, I don't want to stay round here with all my friends nudging each other and Dad and Sally fussing.' Helen looked at her mother. âI'm moving in to the flat next month and I want you to be with me when I have the baby and to look after him when I start work. I don't want to shove him into a crèche or with some baby-minder. How can I bear to leave my brand-new baby with strangers?' Her eyes filled with tears. âI wouldn't mind if you were with him.'
âBut ⦠but how could I?' Isobel sounded dazed. âI'd have to give up my job and â¦' she looked around her as if seeing it for the first time, âand my home.'
âI know.' Helen wiped her tears on the back of her hand. âThat's why it's such a lot to ask. It's just that I'm not sure that I can cope with it all. A baby and a new job. I know that it's all my fault and I have no right to ask anyone for help but I feel so terribly alone.'
âOh, darling.' Isobel stretched her hand across the table and Helen took it and gripped it tightly. âOf course I'll help. I'll do everything I can. It's just ⦠It's just such a shock.'
âI know,' said Helen miserably. âIt's been awful, trying to concentrate on exams with all this hanging over me. But it was my fault, you see. I pestered him and wouldn't let him alone. I was sure I could make him happy. I had all these silly fantasies. And then one night we were both at a party. He was on his own. We drank a bit and then we ⦠You know.' She frowned, smoothing out the cloth. âI can't explain but after that I felt differently. It was all gone. All the excitement and the feverishness. I didn't even like him much. And then when I realised â¦' She shook her head and lifted her hands in despair.
âI'm sorry,' said Isobel inadequately. âI understand as far as anyone can understand another person's predicament.'
âI knew you would.' Helen pushed the cold coffee aside with a sigh. âAnd I know how selfish I'm being. I'm asking you to give everything up for my stupidity. Other people manage alone in these situations, why shouldn't I?'
âI don't want you to manage alone,' Isobel told her, but her heart was heavy. âWe must think it through carefully. Don't worry. You won't be alone. I'm going to make us some more coffee.'