Chapter 25 #2
Stella turned away and crouched down to put more wood in the stove. Her hands were trembling as she tried to relight the fire. Three times, she tried to strike a match, and each time they snapped in half. She dropped the box of matches and put her hands to her face.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Clementine. ‘I didn’t come here to upset you, or cause trouble. But honestly, if you think you’d like to meet the family, if you’d like Ted to meet his grandparents, I can help you. I can make it easy for you.’
Stella picked the box of matches back up and tried again. This time, the match came alight and she held it to the kindling. Once it was aflame, she shut the door carefully. Then she stood up.
‘It’s been a shock,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent so long hiding myself away, and now what I feared might happen, has happened, I’m not sure what to think.
And it’s not that I don’t trust you. I can see that you care.
But I’m not sure you truly understand my position.
There’s a lot that could go wrong if I make myself known to the Arbutus family. ’
‘But there’s a lot that could go right. Foxwood is a wonderful place for a young boy. They could give him—’
‘I can give him everything he needs,’ Stella cut her off, suddenly angry. ‘Ted wants for nothing.’
‘I didn’t mean to offend you. Or mean that you weren’t giving him the very best life. My goodness, I can see what a happy little boy he is, and how much you love each other.’
‘Well, maybe we’re best left as we are, then.’
Clementine realised she had pushed too far. Stella hadn’t had time to come to terms with being recognised. It might take her a while to think it all through.
‘Look, let’s pretend this didn’t happen for now. I didn’t feel I could let it go without talking to you, but I promise I won’t say a thing to anyone without your permission. You have my word.’
Stella crossed her arms. She was shrinking away from Clementine, as if trying to make herself invisible. It was time to go.
‘If you need me, come to Foxwood and ask for Clementine. Otherwise, you won’t hear from me again.’
‘All right,’ Stella said gruffly, but that was all Clementine was going to get out of her, so she buttoned up her coat and made her way to the door.
Moments later she was out in the cold November air.
She stood for a moment on the deck, looking down at the still water of the canal, at the clumps of mistletoe in the bare branches overhead, breathing in the smell of damp leaves on the path.
What was it like here for Stella, living out here on her own?
It must be so dark and silent at night. Yet inside the boat had been a little haven – once the fire got going it would be warm and snug and cosy, so perhaps she felt quite happy there.
Either way, Clementine admired her spirit and her courage, bringing up Ted on her own when she must be bereft at losing Edwin.
Clementine wasn’t sure she would be so brave in the same situation.
She had no idea if she had done right or wrong, trying to bring Stella and Ted into the family fold. But action was always better than inaction. Of that Clementine was certain. She set off back down the towpath, wondering if Stella might call after her, but she didn’t.
After Clementine had gone, Stella lay on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling that was only a couple of feet above her.
She felt both sick and resigned. She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t envisaged something like this happening one day, even though she’d done her best to stay out of the limelight.
Being in Breverton had been dangerous, but she’d cut off all her hair when she’d come here, to avoid the slim possibility of someone recognising her from the Underground posters and linking her with Edwin Arbutus – although even if they had, what of it?
Eventually she’d become complacent, letting it grow full length again, for the posters had become a distant memory, so she’d thought it very unlikely anyone would make a connection.
But in the past couple of years, Ted’s similarity to his father had unsettled her.
She didn’t move in Arbutus circles, she was careful and watchful when they shopped together, she was cautious about who he befriended at school – it would only take a brush with a member of staff at Foxwood for someone to ask questions.
Perhaps she should have moved them, but the boat was their home, his home, and she didn’t see why they should be uprooted.
She had done nothing wrong. Nothing but love the wrong man.
A week after their night together, as she had crossed the threshold into the shop one morning, Stella had known immediately, by the way Monsieur Corbières looked at her, that the worst had happened.
He had heard on the artists’ grapevine, for it wasn’t in the news yet.
A sunken boat. Edwin on board, eager to capture the excitement of a reconnaissance mission.
It had plunged into the icy sea, no bodies recovered and no survivors.
She slumped into Monsieur Corbières’ arms. He held her tight but it was he who shook with sobs, burying his face in her shoulder as he wept.
She felt numb, not a tear inside her. She was rigid with shock, wondering how many times she had imagined this very moment, and now it was here, she had no idea what she was going to do.
How could she live without him? She wanted to slide into the depths of the freezing water and join him.
She shivered now, at the memory. Clementine’s visit had unnerved her.
She looked over at her typewriter. That was the key.
She must press on, finish the rest of The Towpath Gang, and hope and pray that it would give her the means to escape, to allow her and Ted a new life somewhere with independent means and a bright future.
She sat down and wound a fresh new piece of paper into the typewriter, rubbed her fingers to warm them up a little and began to type.