Chapter Thirty-Three
After four days at her dad’s, Alison felt it was time to get Will back into his routines, and as she passed people on the short walk to his nursery, she kept her head held high.
She noticed Mrs Moran do a double take, the cogs turning in her head as she worked out that Alison was coming from her dad’s house rather than the new housing estate, and Alison knew that the news would soon spread.
At the nursery, she explained as briefly as she could what had happened.
She said she needed to talk to a lawyer, but in the meantime, she didn’t want Roy picking Will up from nursery.
She’d expected the manager to bridle at this, but instead she pulled Alison in for a hug.
‘I knew something wasn’t right,’ she said.
‘People get ill, of course they do, but there was something about his manner. You know when you just get a vibe?’ Alison nodded.
Her own instincts had been way off for a while, but she was learning to trust them again.
Her next task of the day was to pay a visit to Evelyn’s museum, because one thing her instincts had managed to tell her was that her dad’s outburst at the exhibition and that embroidered picture were inextricably connected.
Down at the quay, she sneaked past Della’s ice cream parlour and stepped into the musty museum.
By some miracle, Evelyn wasn’t at her desk and Alison found herself alone, standing in front of an array of wooden stands for the Second Chances exhibition.
It looked good and she felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been around to help.
She looked at Evelyn’s piece of lace, a small painting and the framed fishing knots with Michael’s words printed below, which gave her a swell of pride. And then she saw it – the embroidered picture of a ship at sea.
As she took in the words printed beneath it, her first concern was for her father and how he might have felt, reading them with his friends and neighbours milling around.
It revealed a betrayal by her grandfather, there was no doubt about that, but Alison was surprised that reading them herself she felt no anger.
Maybe it was because she’d had her fill of rage for a while, or maybe it was because the words she read spoke only of sadness and love.
A boat at sea, embroidered on sailcloth, with text submitted by S. West
I lost track of this beautiful piece of embroidery around thirty years ago after a house move, when my daughter threw it out. It is wonderful to see that it has been rescued.
It was sewn in 1968 by Frederick Blake of Portheast. Frederick and I loved each other, but we were both married and we couldn’t be together.
I am ‘SW’, which is stitched in initials almost too tiny to see, marking the spot where I lived.
Freddie made me this picture as a token of his love.
The fact I could only gaze at it in secret made it all the more precious.
Now, I hear it will appear in an exhibition and, after all these years of hiding our love, I want people to see our story.
Freddie and I met when we were young, but he was already engaged and I followed soon after. When it was impossible for us to meet, Freddie would ring and say, ‘Look at our boat. Imagine we’re sailing away together, just you and I’ and I did.
I will be ninety-two this year and I cherish the memory of Freddie. He was the love of my life.
Steven West, St Mawes
As Alison turned to leave, she saw that Evelyn was back at her usual place behind her desk.
‘Good to see you,’ Evelyn said warmly. ‘I heard you’ve moved to your dad’s. Sariah told me – I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Yes, I’d prefer people to know,’ Alison said. ‘I should have left ages ago. But you adapt, don’t you? To awful situations.’
‘This is true,’ Evelyn replied.
Alison knew all about Evelyn and her piece of lace, but this made her wonder what other secrets had kept this woman hidden in this dark museum for so long. She gestured to the exhibition. ‘Looks like it all came together really well.’
‘Yes, it did,’ Evelyn replied. ‘Thank you for your help.’
‘Oh, I got all fired up at the start, but then I kind of fell out of the loop.’ Alison summoned her courage.
‘And, if I’m being totally honest, my motives for getting involved weren’t very admirable.
Mostly, I wanted to keep tabs on that embroidered picture and see who this SW was.
’ She nodded towards the framed piece of sailcloth.
‘But then I started to enjoy being part of the committee. It felt important.’
‘And you were good at it,’ Evelyn said.
‘Until I stepped back. Went AWOL.’
Evelyn give her a rare smile. ‘That was why I took matters into my own hands,’ she said proudly. ‘I saw you admiring that embroidery and I followed it up on your behalf.’
Alison’s mouth dropped. She wasn’t sure Evelyn grasped the consequences of her actions.
‘Well, I think it gave my dad a bit of a shock, seeing those words in black and white for all the world to see. Not necessarily something you want to announce to the whole town in one go, that your father was in love with someone else all through his marriage. And another man at that.’
She watched Evelyn’s face change, turning from pride to horror.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Oh, no.’ She began to back away, as if she could distance herself from what she’d done. ‘Blake,’ Evelyn mouthed. ‘Keith Blake, Alison Blake . . .’ and with each word she smacked her palm against her own head. ‘How could I not realise?’
‘Yep. Frederick Blake was my grandfather.’
‘I didn’t make the connection.’ Evelyn’s words came in gasps. ‘I thought I was helping, that you’d taken a shine to that embroidery. Oh, I’m such an idiot. I had to go meddling, didn’t I?’ She smacked her head again. ‘Idiot, idiot.’
Alison reached out and pulled Evelyn’s hand from her face. She let go of her own frustration, feeling it deflate like air from a sliced tyre. ‘No, you’re not. I should have said it was by my grandpa at the start, instead of trying to be sneaky.’
‘I’m so sorry. Please, tell your dad. I didn’t mean to embarrass him.’
‘I’ll explain.’ Alison said. ‘It seems so ridiculous now – the way they couldn’t be together.’ She began to zip up her jacket, an all-weather number she’d borrowed from her dad. She glanced at Evelyn, whose arms were still wrapped around her long body.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Evelyn repeated.
‘Worse things happen at sea,’ Alison said with a thin smile.
‘For what it’s worth, Steven West seems like a lovely man,’ Evelyn said. ‘He’s a retired accountant, still lives in St Mawes.’
Then Alison had an idea. ‘Do you think he might like it back? The embroidery. Perhaps that’s a solution. It’s probably what my Grandpa Fred would have wanted.’
Evelyn walked her to the door. ‘I wish I’d never started this whole Second Chances thing,’ she said wretchedly.
‘I mean, I really appreciate how everyone pitched in to help. But now, the stories we’ve unearthed have revealed far more than we bargained for.
I mean, secrets have been exposed. I’ve disrupted lives. ’
She began counting on her outstretched fingers.
‘I’ve upset you and your dad. Then there’s Sariah, whose mum got in touch after fifteen years, which can’t be easy.
Someone got my hopes up, looking at my lace, but it’s come to nothing.
Even that little painting that belonged to Jacob’s grandmother is problematic in more ways than one.
Not even accounting for the other things in here which are of dubious provenance.
’ She cast a nervous look towards the dark recesses of the shed.
‘And I still don’t have a clue what to do with them.
Honestly, I wish we’d never started this. ’
The old Alison would have soothed Evelyn with words of sympathy, but she was done with keeping the peace. ‘I disagree,’ she said. ‘It’s hard when secrets come out. But it’s a lot worse when they stay hidden. I think this exhibition has been good for the town. It’s been good for all of us.’
It was time to go. ‘Anyway,’ she added. ‘I’ll talk to my dad, but you have a think too, about returning the embroidery. Because Steven West won’t be around forever.’
Evelyn nodded, but she wasn’t looking at Alison anymore. She was gazing towards the back of the shed. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Do you know, I think returning things could be a very good idea.’