Chapter 29 #2
‘The last time he came here. The last time we saw him. He came to see me, to tell me he was breaking off his engagement. He told me he’d met someone else, and he wanted to marry her.
I was furious. I felt he’d let us all down.
The Engadines, and poor Meg. We had an awful row …
’ Michael’s voice broke. ‘He accused me of only being interested in Meg’s money.
He told me he was writing to Meg, and he was going to marry whoever this girl was, and if I didn’t like it, then he wouldn’t come back and work for the factory. ’
‘But you never said anything. And he never told me any of this.’
‘I told him not to. I told him to go back to London and think very seriously about what he was doing. I told him he was a fool and he’d been dishonourable …
’ Michael sat down on the sofa and put his face in his hands.
‘It was the last thing I ever said to him. My wonderful son. It was only because I thought he was making a mistake. That he’d had his head turned because of the war, and was being rash … ’
He looked up, anguished.
‘Oh, darling.’ Elizabeth came and sat next to him. ‘He would have known you didn’t mean it. That you were just trying to protect him.’
‘But would he?’ Michael looked at his wife. His face was as pale and drawn as it had been when they’d heard the news of Edwin’s death, and there were tears in his eyes. ‘It haunts me, to think he died thinking I didn’t love him.’
‘Darling, he absolutely knew you loved him. The last thing he said to me was “Look after the old so and so”.’ She could remember it so clearly, standing in the hall, Edwin dropping a farewell kiss on her head then heading out of the door.
She’d had no idea he and Michael had had a row.
And why hadn’t Edwin told her of his plans?
They’d often talked about affairs of the heart.
She would have been the obvious confidante.
But perhaps he thought it was a formality, to tell his father about breaking off his engagement.
Poor Meg. That’s how everyone referred to her.
Elizabeth had thought the girl charming, but, on reflection, perhaps she and Edwin were never kindred spirits.
They had, after all, met and got engaged before Edwin had made his name, before he had become a war artist. Both of those things would have changed him.
‘Every morning, when I wake up, all I can remember is my last words to him,’ Michael said. ‘It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made. It’s a father’s duty, to love his son unconditionally …’
Elizabeth couldn’t bear watching her husband’s heartbreak.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could.
Her noble husband, who had kept this revelation from her for all these years, so she could preserve her memory of her son.
And it explained so much. Grief was not measurable.
One person didn’t suffer more than another after a tragic loss.
Yet she had often felt that Michael had worn Edwin’s death more heavily than she had; that there had been something weighing him down, yet he had never wanted to talk about it.
And she felt ashamed, that her solution had been not to try to heal him, but to turn to someone else for comfort.
She shut her eyes for a moment to work out the best thing to do. This was what she was good at. Weighing up what everyone needed, and the best plan of action. She didn’t need to think too hard. It was obvious.
‘Darling,’ she said, ‘you know what we must do. For Edwin. We must make this girl of his welcome, and our grandson. We must look after them. It’s what he would have wanted.’
Clementine hurried upstairs to find Alfie. She was conscious of Stella and Ted waiting in the kitchen, but Alfie needed to be told what was happening. She found him in their bedroom, getting changed into a clean shirt for dinner.
‘What is it?’ he asked, when he saw her face.
‘That girl,’ she said. ‘That girl I saw on the train, with the little boy.’
He frowned. ‘What about her?’ There was wariness in his voice.
Clementine swallowed. She was going to have to confess, that she’d been to visit Stella behind his back. And that her hunch had been correct. She explained it all to him, as quickly as she could.
‘So they’re here?’ he said.
‘In the kitchen. With Daisy. Your parents are talking it over. They seemed rather shocked. Of course …’ She frowned. Alfie was staring at her, but the look on his face wasn’t what she’d expected. It was … guilt?
‘I knew,’ he said softly. ‘I knew about her all along.’
‘Stella?’ Clementine tried to take in what he was saying. ‘You knew about Stella? But when I told you about her, you got angry. As if you didn’t believe me—’
Alfie put his hand up. ‘I know. And I’m sorry, but I was only trying to protect Edwin. I didn’t want anyone rummaging in his past. I didn’t want my parents to be upset.’
‘But how did you know? What did you know?’ Clementine was trying not to let this revelation rankle. ‘Were you trying to put me off the scent?’
‘No.’ He sighed. ‘Jasper and I went to clear out the flat after Edwin’s death. To make sure there wasn’t anything there that might upset Mum or Dad. It’s the worst part of the job, when someone dies, to see evidence of the last thing they were doing when they were alive …’
‘Oh, Alfie.’ Clementine softened immediately. How terribly sad for him.
‘We put everything in order. His clothes. Tidied up. You know. The last coffee cup he’d used. His shaving brush. Jasper was an absolute brick. I couldn’t have done it without him.’
Clementine didn’t say anything, but this made her think a little more kindly of Jasper.
‘Anyway, I was hanging up his blazer and I found a letter in the pocket. It was addressed to Meg. He must have meant to post it. Anyway, I opened it. I wanted to see what it said before I forwarded it to her. I thought it might have been of some comfort, but it was lucky I checked.’ He took in a deep breath.
‘He was breaking off his engagement to her. Of course, being Edwin, it was the most beautiful, gracious letter. Explaining how the past few years had changed him, and how he didn’t think he was the right person for her any longer. ’
‘Oh,’ said Clementine. This was heartbreaking.
‘I burned it. Of course. Meg knew he was dead – my mother telephoned and spoke to her, but because of the war she wasn’t able to come over. And I wanted her memories to be intact. I never wanted her to know Edwin didn’t want to marry her.’
‘Of course not. And it was the right thing to do.’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. Even Jasper. And then I found the painting.’
‘What painting?’
‘The painting that explained it all. Of a girl, with red hair, sitting on a bed, reading Wuthering Heights. There was a little pencil sketch with it. I knew everything when I looked at it. This girl was the reason for the letter. I could feel Edwin’s adoration in every brushstroke.
And the look in the girl’s eyes as well – they were laughing, but there was …
something else in them.’ He managed a smile.
‘You know, that look when you know you’ve fallen head over heels with someone, even if you haven’t admitted it even to yourself. ’
Clementine nodded. ‘Do you still have it?’
‘I hid it away. It’s at the flat, in an old portfolio of sketches. I didn’t want to destroy it, but I thought if I mixed it up with other stuff it wouldn’t seem so important. She could have been anyone from any time.’
‘And you never told anyone?’
‘No. I never felt any of it was mine to share. It would all cause too much hurt and speculation. And I never knew that she’d had a child. That Edwin had a son.’
‘I wish you’d told me,’ said Clementine. ‘I wish you’d trusted me, when I told you I’d seen her. You must have known it was Stella.’
‘I was afraid, of upsetting people. I wanted his memory to stay intact. For everyone to have their memory of him untainted …’ He trailed off, looking miserable. ‘I never wanted to be the keeper of his secret.’
‘I understand,’ said Clementine. ‘It was complicated. And confusing.’
‘I’m sorry if you feel as if I didn’t trust you.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Because she’s here now. And Ted is all the proof anyone needs. Let’s go and find your parents. We can’t keep them waiting in the kitchen all night. It’s unkind, after what they’ve been through.’
Alfie gazed back at his wife. ‘I love you so much,’ he said. ‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ he paused, his voice wobbling. ‘My nephew.’
She walked over to Alfie and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, wait until you see him, Alfie. He’s a dear little boy. He’s going to mean the world to your parents. Their first grandson.’
He squeezed her hand, knowing what that word meant to her. He was in awe of how she could be so overjoyed about finding Ted, after losing their own baby so recently. How lucky he was, he thought. How lucky they all were, to have Clementine in their lives.
In the kitchen, Stella was getting agitated.
Fifteen, then twenty minutes went by. Ted had finished his cocoa and had polished off half a dozen biscuits from a tin of Carr’s – there was a pile of wrappers next to his plate.
He was falling asleep at the table. Daisy was trying to keep up a conversation, but it was obvious she wasn’t quite sure of her role in all of this, except to keep them fed.
‘Can I make you boiled eggs?’ she asked. There were pork chops waiting for the family dinner but she wasn’t sure she should offer those up.