44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
As May walked into the cabin after helping Margot close up the café for the day, her stomach flipped. Alice’s car was outside, and her longing to see her sister was overwhelmed by how nervous she was of the reaction she’d receive.
‘Ah, here she is,’ said Jack from his chair by the unlit fire.
‘Hello, May.’ Alice stood and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
‘Hello, Alice.’
Alice shook her head, smiled, and rushed across the room, pulling May into her arms. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as May allowed herself to be comforted by the familiar smell and warmth of her sister.
‘It’s me who should apologise,’ said May into Alice’s shoulder. ‘I lied to you about Cambridge.’
‘Yes.’ Alice held May at arm’s length, and frowned.
‘We need to talk about that, although I know you didn’t do those things they said in the paper.
You’re not like that. I learned that a long time ago.
’ She offered a sorry smile. ‘With all the wedding stress and having Mum around, I lost my judgement for a moment.’
‘The paper was very convincing,’ said May. ‘And if I’d told you the truth as soon as I got back, none of this would have happened.’
‘Are you ready to tell me about it now?’ asked Alice, taking May’s hand and leading her to sit on the sofa.
‘Can I get you ladies a drink?’ asked Jack. ‘I have a rather fine Malbec I brought up from the cellar in the old house. It’s been breathing on the counter for a couple of hours, so should be rather delicious.’
‘How can we say no to that?’ Alice smiled. ‘Although I’ll need to leave the car here and walk home. I know how strong your fancy wines are, Jack.’
‘Fancy wines,’ muttered Jack as he left the room. ‘These girls need a few lessons in oenology.’
‘I will tell you everything,’ said May, ‘but can we not talk about it now? I’d rather Jack didn’t hear as it’s embarrassing.’
‘Of course,’ said Alice.
‘So what made you change your mind about me?’
Alice leaned back against the sofa. ‘Mum. She gave me a right dressing-down when she found out what had happened.’
‘She stuck up for me?’ May frowned.
‘Yes, she did. Whatever she’s done in her past, I’ve no doubt she loves us, May.’
‘If she loved us that much, she wouldn’t have left.’
Jack walked back in, carrying a tray laden with wine and three glasses. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘This is your house.’ May laughed.
Jack smiled and laid the wine and glasses on the coffee table. ‘Good, because I might be able to offer some insights into your mother that may help you understand her a little better.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll ever understand Maz,’ said May as Jack handed her a glass of wine.
‘Your mother is a complicated woman,’ said Jack.
‘There’s no doubt about that.’ He handed a glass to Alice.
‘And a lot of that is down to me and mistakes I made.’ He bent down beside the bookshelf and pulled out a photograph album.
Its age became apparent when he opened it, and the cellophane pages stubbornly crackled as he prised them apart.
‘What’s this?’ asked Alice, setting down her glass as Jack handed over the album.
‘Your mother’s childhood.’ He perched on the arm of the sofa beside them.
‘Look, May, Mum looks just like you did when you were little.’
‘And you’re both the spitting image of your grandmother Mary. It was very kind of you to invite her to the wedding, Alice.’
‘I’m desperate to meet her,’ said Alice. ‘I get on so well with the three grandparents I have, it would be nice to add another to the collection.’
‘And I’m sure she’s desperate to meet you.’ Jack shook his head. ‘It’s such a shame she’s been stuck over in America the past few years, but her husband has been so unwell it’s been impossible for her to travel.’
‘How are things between the pair of you now?’ asked May. ‘You don’t talk about her much.’
Jack wriggled on the sofa arm, rolled his eyes, and returned to his chair.
‘What’s there to say?’ said Jack. ‘Mary and I have been divorced far longer than we were ever married. She’s been living her own life for years.
We email from time to time and are on friendly terms.’ He grinned.
‘I’m rather looking forward to catching up with her at the wedding.
Anyway, I digress. We’re talking about your mother, not your grandmother. ’
The first few pages of photographs had been taken on Saffron Manor’s private beach and showed a pretty, happy little girl who, by the look on her parents’ faces, was adored and probably spoiled. One photo was annotated with the words Mathilda’s first sandcastle.
‘How old was Mum there?’ asked May.
Jack frowned. ‘I think she must have been at least three. She hated the beach as a toddler, couldn’t bear the sand and was terrified of the waves. It’s ironic to think she’s ended up living on one.’
‘I showed him the photos of Mum’s yoga retreat,’ explained Alice.
There were more pages of a growing Mathilda – birthday parties, Christmases, playing in the grounds of Saffron Manor. Then, suddenly, the photographs skipped forward several years. The smile was gone from Maz’s face, and two much younger children had joined the family.
‘Why is there such a big gap?’ asked May. ‘Did you lose any photos in the fire?’
Jack sipped his wine, and May was giving up on him answering when he finally spoke.
‘After having Mathilda, Mary struggled to conceive. It was a difficult time for us. Then Rebecca and Harriet came along.’ He paused, balancing the wine glass in his hand.
‘I’ll never know if it was the pressure of all those years trying to have another baby, or something chemical in her brain, but after Hatty was born, Mary struggled.
And when I say struggled, I really mean it.
In the beginning, I and the doctors and nurses thought it was no more than post-baby blues.
’ He shook his head. ‘Things quickly progressed to the point she needed to be hospitalised. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak, but leaving Mary at that institution still counts as one of the worst moments of my life.
She was distraught, begging me not to leave her.
’ He sighed. ‘I had no choice. She was a danger to herself and possibly the girls, and I had to do what was right.’
‘That must have been terrible.’ Alice had tears in her eyes, and May patted her sister’s arm.
‘It was, and although she said she understood, I’m not sure Mary ever really forgave me for leaving her that day.
Anyway, I was left having to raise three little girls alone, and I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of it.
’ He sipped his wine, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Our marriage had always been rather … traditional, I think you say these days. And while I loved my daughters, I’d not had much of a hand in raising them, or any domestic duties for that matter. ’
‘How did you manage?’ asked May. ‘It must have been such a difficult time.’
‘It was. And as I said, I dealt with it badly. I hired in help, a nanny, a cleaner, babysitters for the evenings, and I threw myself into work. I told myself it was in the girls’ best interests, when I knew that burying myself in work was an excuse, and I neglected my fatherly duties to the detriment of my children.
’ Jack shifted in his chair. ‘Rebecca and Harriet were so young I’m not sure they were aware of what was happening.
Mathilda, however, being older, was a different story.
At first, she retreated into herself, and there were several months when she didn’t utter a word.
Then the bad behaviour started, and it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. ’
‘What happened to Mary?’ asked Alice.
‘She was at that institution for six months all in all. I don’t think it would happen like that these days, at least I hope it wouldn’t.
She could have come home sooner with support in place, but I didn’t fight for it.
’ Jack hesitated, carried on. ‘As much as I missed her, I was scared about her coming home. It was bad enough trying to hold things together for the girls, and I didn’t think I could cope if Mary had a relapse. ’
May’s heart went out to him. She couldn’t imagine the pressure. Her own problems, ephemeral as they might be, shrank beside these longer-lasting and deeper troubles.
‘By the time Mary got home, Mathilda was well on the way to going off the rails, and I’m ashamed to say our focus was on the younger two and getting Mary back to full health.
By the time we realised how bad things had got for Tilly, I believed the only option was to send her away to boarding school. I’m not sure she ever forgave me.’
Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. May perched on the edge of his chair and wrapped an arm around him. ‘Thank you for telling us,’ she said. ‘It can’t have been easy.’
‘Does it help to know more about your mother?’
May smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, it helps a lot, thank you.’
‘In that case,’ said Jack brightly, ‘perhaps it’s about time we all buried the hatchet. After all, the wedding is just around the corner, and I want it to be the family celebration Alice deserves.’
‘To healing family rifts,’ said Alice, raising her wine glass.
‘To healing family rifts,’ chorused May and Jack. As May sipped her wine, she hoped for Alice’s sake the toast would be easier to enact than she feared.