Sinners and Shadows (46 page)

‘Another month and you should have good news to tell him.' Rhian looked at Julia's swollen body. ‘Mrs Williams said the doctor was pleased with you when he called today.'

‘He was,' Julia glanced over at the table where Mrs Williams was playing cards with Bronwen and four new girls who had recently moved into the boarding house. She rubbed her aching back and rose stiffly and awkwardly from the bench seat. ‘I know it's early, but I think I'll go to bed and read. Come in to say goodnight?'

‘I will,' Rhian promised.

‘Goodnight, everyone,' Julia called out, before lighting a candle and leaving the room.

She went into her comfortable bedroom on the first floor and moved, as restlessly as someone her size could, around the furniture. She opened the small wooden travelling desk she had bought and checked the letters she had written over the past few months and filed carefully away. Taking a clean sheet of paper, she folded them into it and wrote on the outside in her elegant sloping hand,
To be sent only in the event of my death.

She felt silly and melodramatic afterwards. Sali's solicitor, Mr Richards, had assured her that all her affairs were in order. Her new will, drawn up by him, was simple, clear and couched in terms Geraint would be unable to challenge. She had left her entire estate, with the exception of a small, one-off bequest to Geraint of £5,000, to her child. And in the event of both her own and the child's death – she had found it unbearable to discuss the possibility of her baby's demise – she had arranged for her estate to go to Rhian.

The baby stirred within her, she smiled absently and patted her abdomen before sitting in the easy chair beside the fire, freshly stoked with small coal for the night.

‘Come in,' she called at a knock at the door.

Rhian opened it.

‘You going to bed this early?' Julia asked.

‘It's almost nine o'clock and I was tired today. Probably just winter. I hate waking in the dark, and coming back here in the dark. You know how little daylight we see in the factory.' Rhian sat on the dressing-table stool. ‘Are you really all right? You seem quiet tonight.'

‘Battered and bruised by this one kicking me.' Julia patted her bump. ‘But apart from that, just tired. I want it all to be over and to see him sleeping in there.' She nodded to the cot she had sent for from a catalogue. It stood in the corner, stocked high with nappies, sheets, linen and the layette Rhian and Mrs Williams had helped her sew and knit.

‘Sali says the last few weeks before the birth are always the worst. But I am only repeating it, I have no idea if it is true,' Rhian said.

Julia lowered her voice. ‘Geraint is divorcing me.'

‘Why ever would he do that?' Rhian cried indignantly.

‘Isn't it obvious?' Julia asked.

‘Not to me.'

‘He is not my baby's father.'

‘Not … oh …' Rhian faltered, not knowing what to say or how to react. The thought that Julia had been unfaithful to her husband had never crossed her mind.

‘Sali knows that her brother isn't the father, and as you've agreed to be the baby's godmother too, I thought you should know that your godchild will be, what's the expression?' She gave a wry smile. ‘Born the wrong side of the blanket?'

‘It's a horrible expression and what you've just told me makes no difference to the way I feel about you, or the way I'll feel about the baby,' Rhian said stoutly.

Julia wondered if Rhian would be quite so certain of her feelings if she knew the identity of her baby's father. There had been several times during the past months when she had almost – but never quite – found the courage to confide her secret.

Even if Rhian didn't feel anything for Joey now, the knowledge that he still loved her had stopped her from telling her about her short-lived affair. Because if Rhian and Joey did ever see one another again, she didn't want Rhian to tell him about the existence of a child he would undoubtedly feel responsible for, even though she wanted nothing from him.

‘Will you marry the father after Geraint divorces you?' Rhian asked.

‘No.'

‘He doesn't want to marry you?'

‘No, I don't want to marry him. He has given me what I wanted more than anything else in the world, a child. And I am wealthy enough not to have to worry about money. The only cloud on the horizon is Geraint. When he divorces me, and that is a “when” not an “if”, I hope to persuade him not to announce to the world that my child is a bastard. It's certainly not the best way for someone to begin life.'

‘No, it isn't.' Rhian hated herself for agreeing with Julia but she was a hopeless liar and she knew Julia would see right through her if she tried to be anything other than honest.

‘Call in before you go to work in the morning?'

‘At six o'clock?' Rhian asked in surprise.

‘You always wake me going down the stairs anyway.'

‘If you like. Sweet dreams.' Rhian kissed Julia goodnight, closed the door and left.

Julia had no idea why she felt so edgy, she only knew she did, and she wanted reassurance that Rhian was close by and would help her should she need it.

‘Mrs Williams! Mrs Williams!' Rhian screamed down the stairs the next morning.

‘Is the house on fire?' The housekeeper came puffing up the stairs, the wooden spatula she used to turn the bacon still in her hand.

‘It's Julia.' Rhian ran to the bed where Julia lay, red-faced and cramped in pain.

Mrs Williams gripped Julia's hand. ‘When did the pains start?'

‘I think about half an hour ago,' Julia gasped between contractions.

‘Why didn't you call me?' Mrs Williams demanded.

‘Because the doctor warned me yesterday that I might go into false labour before the birth.'

‘Even so, I think we should send for him. If it's false labour I doubt he'll mind coming out, and if it's the real thing, it will be as well to have him on hand.'

‘But the baby isn't due for another month,' Rhian reminded her.

‘And probably won't put in an appearance until then, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Will you drop into his house on your way into work and ask him to call here, Rhian?'

‘I will, Mrs Williams.' Rhian continued to look anxiously at Julia.

‘Go downstairs. The sooner you wash, dress and eat breakfast, the sooner you'll be on your way.' Mrs Williams tried to sweep Rhian from the room, but she clung to Julia's hand.

‘It's probably false labour.' Julia returned the pressure of Rhian's fingers. ‘See you tonight?'

‘I could stay here –'

‘You'd be better employed making bullets for the boys to fire.'

‘If you're sure,' Rhian said doubtfully.

‘I'm sure, and if we're lucky, we'll have a new parcel of books to read tonight. I sent for them over a week ago. They should have arrived yesterday.'

‘You'll be all right while I go downstairs and finish making the breakfasts?' Mrs Williams asked, after Rhian reluctantly left.

‘Of course,' Julia retorted, feeling stronger because her pain had temporarily abated.

‘I'll be back as soon as I've got the girls off to work.'

The pains started again before Mrs Williams reached the bottom of the stairs but Julia stifled her cries. Knowing how busy the housekeeper was in the mornings, she rose gingerly from her bed and inched her way towards the commode that she hadn't used since her morning sickness had stopped.

A horrendous pain tore through her and she stooped and gripped the arms of the chair. Gasping for breath, she looked down at her feet and saw that she was standing in a widening pool of bloody water.

‘It may be early, Mrs Watkin Jones, but there's absolutely no reason why your baby shouldn't be perfect, just a tiny bit smaller than usual,' the doctor said briskly. He looked up when Mrs Williams bustled into the room.

Julia lifted her arms above her head and gripped the headboard as hard as she could while Mrs Williams set a pile of clean towels and a jug of hot water on the washstand. The housekeeper filled the basin and set a scrubbing brush and bar of soap beside it.

‘Thank you, Mrs Williams.' The doctor began to scrub his hands. ‘Now, we all know that babies, especially first babies, can take their time coming into the world, but something tells me this one isn't going to keep us waiting too long. So, what do you want, Mrs Watkin Jones, a boy or a girl?'

‘I don't care,' Julia gasped, writhing on the bed when another pain took hold. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying out.

‘There's only the doctor and me in the house, Miss Julia, so you scream as loud as you like.' Mrs Williams had to brush tears away from her eyes at the sight of the woman who had once been her young mistress in so much pain.

‘I'll be all right,' Julia panted. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The second hand was moving around inexorably but slowly. It was ten o'clock and she had been awake at half past five. She felt weak, aching, battered and exhausted, and wasn't at all sure how much more pain she could take.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs Williams pulled the curtains against the twilight and lit the oil lamps. She had made the fire up twice during the course of the day and the room was hot. Julia was damp with perspiration and her face was red from the effort of pushing.

The doctor rolled up the sheet from the bottom of the bed and bent over her.

‘Just one more push, Mrs Watkin Jones, and your baby will be here. I can see his head.'

Julia strained with all the strength she could muster. Seconds later she felt as though something was tearing away inside her. A moment later the doctor lifted a baby in his arms. He held it upside down, tapped it and the child screamed.

‘An excellent pair of lungs, I think, Mrs Watkin Jones. Would you like to hold your son while I cut the cord?'

Mrs Williams bundled the baby into a towel before handing him to Julia. ‘He's beautiful, Miss Julia. What are you going to call him?'

‘Edward Gerald …' Julia smiled down at the miniature being in her arms. He was so small, so perfect. ‘Larch,' she murmured. She touched one of the soft tiny black curls on his head. ‘He looks just like his father.'

Mrs Williams took the baby and washed him while the doctor dealt with the afterbirth. Julia lay back on the pillows and watched her.

‘I have never felt so happy.'

‘Or so tired, I'll warrant.' Mrs Williams concealed her emotions beneath a veneer of briskness. ‘As soon as the baby's tucked up beside you, I'll make us a nice cup of tea. With a drop of brandy in it?' She looked questioningly at the doctor.

‘I wouldn't say no, Mrs Williams. I think we've all done a fine day's work here.'

He went downstairs to smoke his pipe. Mrs Williams changed Julia's bed, and washed and changed her and dressed the baby in his first nappy and nightshirt. When Julia and the baby were clean and comfortable, the housekeeper took advantage of the doctor's return to carry the soiled linen and slop bucket downstairs.

She had only just put the kettle on when the doctor shouted. She ran back upstairs, the doctor had turned back the sheets on the bed and she stared in horror at the blood pooled on the draw sheet she had put over the bottom sheet to protect the mattress.

‘Oh my God! Please God, no!' She couldn't have said with any certainty if she was praying or blaspheming. ‘Not Miss Julia! Not after her brother and father! Miss Julia, you have the baby to think of! Miss Julia!'

Julia's grey face turned to her. ‘The desk.' She lifted her hand, intending to point at her travelling desk, but it fell weakly back on to the bed. ‘The desk … letters …'

‘Please.' Mrs Williams grabbed the doctor. ‘Do something!' she screamed. ‘You have to do something!'

He stepped back, shaking his head. Mrs Williams lifted the baby from beside Julia and stood helplessly, watching while the last vestiges of life ebbed from his mother's eyes.

Mrs Williams was standing, oblivious to the cold, in the open kitchen doorway when Rhian, Bronwen and the other girls walked into the yard at the end of their day in the factory. Rhian took one look at the housekeeper's face and she knew. But she still refused to accept it.

‘Julia.' Breaking the cardinal rule, which was to wash before going into the house, she pushed past the housekeeper and went into the kitchen.

‘Is already in her coffin. The doctor did what he could for her, but it was hopeless. She haemorrhaged after the birth. There was nothing he could do to stop it.'

‘Julia?' Rhian called out hysterically, not wanting to believe it.

A baby's thin wail answered her cry.

Mrs Williams reached out to her. ‘It's a boy, a fine boy. She saw him and named him before he died. Edward Gerald … Larch. She said he looks just like his father.'

Rhian tore her beret from her head, ran to the inglenook and looked into the cradle. The baby's eyes were open and she saw something of Julia's expression in them.

‘He's beautiful, isn't he?' Mrs Williams stood beside her. ‘And as you agreed to be his godmother, you owe it to Miss Julia to look after him for her now.'

Chapter Twenty-four

‘Package and letters for you, Lieutenant Evans.'

Joey took his post from the sergeant on mail duty, removed his cap and sank down on the low wall that fenced in the yard. He had been in the front line for two weeks, and he was in dire need of a bath, meal, drink and bed, in that order, but the rooms the billeting officer had requisitioned for officers were still being cleaned after the last occupants and he had opted to wait outside in the cold rather than inside the gloomy farmhouse that stank of sour milk and overripe camembert.

His letters were from his brothers. He read the back of the package and recognized the address as the boarding house Rhian was staying at, but there was no name and the writing was new to him. When he opened the package he found a large tin, a sealed envelope and two sheets of paper. He opened the tin and his mouth watered at the sight of a rich fruitcake. He picked up the first letter.

Dear Joey,

I don't know if you remember me, Lizzie Williams, I used to be the housekeeper at Llan House. Miss Julia died giving birth to a son yesterday afternoon. The last thing she did was point to her desk and I guessed that she wanted me to send the letters in it. After seeing one addressed to you and talking to my sister, Mari, who told me that Miss Julia's husband was divorcing her, I can guess why.

I can only say what I've said to you so often, handsome is as handsome does, and in this case I hope you will prove more handsome in your dealings with the boy than you were with Rhian and Miss Julia.

The baby is beautiful and unfortunately for Miss Julia's poor husband, the image of you. Rhian is his godmother and she is going to take care of him. Miss Julia asked her and she agreed, I think she will make a good mother. Time will tell whether or not you make a good father.

Lizzie Williams.

The cake isn't for you but the other brave boys over there. I trust you will see that they get it.

Joey looked at the envelope. He didn't recognize the writing on that either, and the thought occurred to him that he and Julia had produced a son together and he didn't even recognize her hand. A second letter fell out, and he set it aside.

Dear Joey,

I'm sorry, it would have been wonderful if we could have cherished the memory of our night together and forgotten it until old age, when we could have used it to warm our memories, but it is not to be. If you are reading this then our baby has survived and I have not.

Please, do not mourn for me; it would be ridiculous because we didn't really know one another. I have left my estate to my baby, and an annuity and the use of my houses to Rhian
so she can bring up the child.

I do not know if you would like to see your son or own him. When I wrote and told Geraint that I was having a child, he replied that he didn't want to see me again. I have left him a cash settlement in my will. I hope neither the child nor Rhian hears from him again. He was divorcing me, although that hardly matters now.

No one knows the child is yours, although I think that Mrs Williams may suspect, if she sends this letter on. But knowing Mrs Williams as well as I do, I am certain that she will keep our secret.

I enclose the letter you left on my pillow. It is the only evidence that we spent the night together. I could have destroyed it but I thought you might wonder whether I had or not. This way you can do with it what you will.

Thank you again for a beautiful memory.

Yours gratefully,

Julia

Joey picked up the letter that had fallen out on the grass and re-read it.

Dear Julia,

I can't explain what happened between us last night. It would be easy for me to blame the brandy, the beauty of the snow-filled night, the moonlight,
or the thought of going back to the Front and possible obliteration, but none of those things are responsible.

Despite the brandy, I wasn't so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing …

He opened his pocketbook and a card and a letter fell out: the card he had received from Julia after that night. The letter was from Rhian, telling him that Julia was pregnant; he had never found the courage to answer it. He picked up all the letters and carefully folded them into one envelope. Taking a sheet of paper from the notebook in his breast pocket, he wrote:

Dear Rhian,

Perhaps these will explain why I never answered your letter. All my love now and always,

Joey

He tied the envelope with a piece of string he found in his pocket, then went in search of a postage stamp – and his colonel.

‘I feel dreadful leaving you here all alone with Edyth and Eddie while we go off to enjoy ourselves,' Sali apologized to Rhian after Mari had chased Bella into the hall where Harry was already impatiently holding her coat.

‘Pantomimes are for older children.'

‘Like me.' Lloyd stood holding the front door open.

‘Daddy, you came home!'

‘I promised I would, tiger.' Lloyd ruffled Harry's hair and caught Bella by the waist when she hurtled towards him.

‘You are not to do a thing,' Sali cautioned Rhian. ‘You have been up every night with that baby for the past two weeks and now he's finally sleeping, you should get some rest yourself.'

‘Nothing?' Rhian asked innocently.

‘Nothing,' Sali reiterated sternly.

‘Not even put a few presents under the tree?' Rhian glanced slyly at Harry who had managed to excite Bella to the same pitch of Christmas anticipation as himself.

‘Not a thing. Mari,' Sali turned to the housekeeper, ‘after you have put Edyth down for her afternoon nap, you and Rhian are to sit in the drawing room and open a bottle of sherry.'

‘And sing drunken ditties to the babies?' Mari questioned in amusement.

‘If you like.'

‘I've already promised the two new maids that I'll show them how to make Christmas biscuits.'

‘Yummy,' shouted Harry who loved Mari's Christmas biscuits.

‘We have all the food we need and more,' Lloyd commented.

‘But the maids' families might like some biscuits,' Sali guessed. Unable to compete with the wages being paid in the munitions factories, they had lost Robert and three maids in the last two months. Mari was running the house with only their elderly cook, even more elderly butler and two thirteen-year-old girls. And although she and Rhian did what they could to help, and they had shut off half the rooms in the house, Lloyd was already talking about asking the trustees to sell the house or rent it out, so they could look for a smaller, more easily run place.

‘Enjoy yourselves.' Rhian ushered Bella to the door.

‘You really will take it easy?' Sali asked.

‘I found a copy of
Our Mutual Friend
in the library. It's the only one of Dickens's books that I haven't read and I will have a great time until Eddie's next feed is due.'

Lloyd helped Sali on with her new loose coat that did little to conceal her burgeoning figure. The new baby was expected in the spring and she and Lloyd had resumed their usual argument as to whether it would be a boy or a girl, but like everyone in the house, Rhian thought that Sali had resigned herself to having another girl.

She gave Harry a last wave, closed the door and returned to the drawing room where the baby was sleeping in his day cot.

She looked down at him, tucked the blanket over his tiny shoulders and dropped a kiss on the woollen bonnet Julia had knitted. She loved Eddie and not only for his mother and grandfather's sake. She remembered Edward's request that she call him Eddie and she used the name more than Edward because it was more suited to such a small bundle of humanity.

A few times she had even caught herself speaking about him as if he really were her son and she had felt guilty, and disloyal, although Lloyd and Sali kept telling her that the best tribute she could pay to Julia was to take care of her child as if he were her own.

She pulled the easy chair close enough to the cot for her to be able to look into it without moving, curled up and opened her book. She hadn't read more than a couple of pages when the doorbell rang. She went out into the hall, but Mr Jenkins had opened it. Joey was on the doorstep, in a pristine uniform.

He took off his cap. ‘Hello, Mr Jenkins.' He looked past the butler to where Rhian was standing.

‘Joey.' Mari came down the stairs. ‘I'm glad to see you're cleaner than when you turned up here on your last leave. Do you have any little friends under that spotless tunic?'

‘I managed to abandon them in France this time.'

‘Good. I suppose you're hungry?' she enquired.

He heard the frost in her voice and knew that Julia had been wrong. Mari's sister hadn't entirely kept all her suspicions to herself. ‘I can wait until mealtime.'

‘I've just cleared lunch but I dare say I can find some bacon and bread if you fancy a sandwich.'

‘That would be much appreciated, Mari, thank you.' He took off his greatcoat and cap and handed them to Mr Jenkins.

‘I'll get the maid to bring it to you in the drawing room. Would you like tea, Rhian?'

‘No, thank you, Mari.' Rhian stood back and allowed Joey to walk into the room ahead of her. ‘Sali and Lloyd have just taken the children to the pantomime.'

‘I saw them. Lloyd stopped the car at the gates. Sali wanted to come back but I told them I was tired.'

Rhian stood next to the cot. ‘Would you like to see your son?'

‘You got the letters I sent you?'

‘Yes.'

Unable to meet her steady gaze, he looked down at the child. ‘Can I pick him up?'

‘You don't know much about babies.'

‘Not at this age. Harry was two when Sali moved in with us, and I've only made fleeting visits to Bella, Jack, Tom and Edyth since.'

‘The first thing you should know is that you never, never wake a sleeping baby, because you have no idea when you'll get your next five minutes' peace.'

‘He's beautiful.'

‘He has your colouring, black curly hair, dark eyes and unfortunately a very strong pair of lungs. When he screams, he screams.'

He continued to look down at the baby. ‘I rehearsed so many speeches on the journey here. Thought out what I was going to say to you a hundred times, but now I'm actually here I can't remember one of them.' He passed his hand in front of his eyes. ‘I'm sorry, excuse me. If I'm going to eat, I have to wash my hands.'

Rhian sat in the chair, gazed into the cot and thought back to last Christmas when Edward had been alive, and they had spent the day together.

So much had happened in two short years: she had lost her first real home, her fiancé, her lover, her friends Jinny and Meriel – and Julia.

If she had learned anything, it was that life was transient and uncertain, and the slightest chance of love had to be seized and cherished because it was the most precious treasure anyone could give or be given.

Joey returned with a tray of sandwiches and tea that he set on the sofa table.

‘It's Christmas – we could have sherry,' she suggested.

‘Or brandy.' He went to the drinks tray and poured two brandies.

‘How long are you home for?'

‘Two weeks.'

She smiled. ‘That's wonderful. Your father and brothers and the children will be so pleased.'

‘And you?'

‘And me,' she echoed, holding his steady gaze.

‘It's embarkation leave.'

‘But you're already at the Front.'

‘There are other fronts besides France.'

‘Do you know where you're going?' she asked apprehensively.

‘Yes,' he said shortly.

‘But you can't say.'

‘I am not supposed to tell anyone, but bearing in mind that you could have me shot if you divulge my future whereabouts, I trust you to keep them secret. I'll be sailing for India.'

She smiled in relief. ‘Then you'll be out of the war.'

‘Not quite.' He didn't have the heart to tell her that he had ‘bought' his leave by taking a commission in a regiment detailed to relieve the siege at Kut al Amara in Iraq. A conflict that was proving to be more bloody and costly in terms of lives than even the Western Front. But he had wanted to see her so much; it had seemed a small price to pay when it had been offered to him. ‘Rhian, about the baby …'

‘Edward Gerald Larch. Julia named him after her father and brother. You might think his name is a permanent reminder of my indiscretion, just as the fact of his being here is a reminder of yours.'

‘What can I say, except sorry?'

‘When you made love to Julia, I was sleeping in Edward's bed.'

‘I meant what I said in that letter I wrote to you. My feelings towards you have never changed.'

‘Mine towards you have, but then I have done a lot of growing up this last year. There is one bit in that letter you wrote to Julia that I have to know if you meant.'

‘“Perhaps a desire to live every moment of life to the full would be closest to the truth of last night”,'
he quoted from memory.

‘No.
“I love Rhian. And even though she no longer wants me I will never love anyone the way I love her.”
'

‘You know that is true.'

‘Yes.' She looked him in the eye. ‘I do now. And I have discovered that the people we love have to be taken the way they are. The mistakes that were made were more mine than yours. I tried to take refuge from my feelings for you and my fear of being hurt by you, by running to Edward.'

‘I'd ask you to marry me, but I'm going halfway round the world and I have no idea when or even if I'll come back. I –'

She placed her finger over his lips. ‘Let's just take this next hour and day and week and fortnight.'

‘And afterwards?'

She kissed him. ‘For us, this is the afterwards, Joey. The present and the future rolled into one because I refuse to think any further. And we'll make it last for ever and ever.'