Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 05

She read my anguished entry and thoughts, then I put the photographs in front of her.

"These, along with a letter containing all you did, including that lie of yours about being at Derek's on the Friday, were what your dear mother intercepted and destroyed. They speak for themselves, don't they? Now you know what you did to me."

Penny went and sat down next to Connie on the sofa, and shut her eyes.

I glanced at Connie who to her credit was showing real worry, registering disbelief at the deception, fear and dawning guilt at her own reaction to it. About time, I thought.

"So," I concluded to no one in particular, "either this investigating agency has knowingly falsified these events under orders, or the report has been concocted by someone else, who had the agency's report and dated a rewritten one at random.

"The report constitutes deception and libel, since they have been shown to other people to discredit me, and ensure that our engagement stayed ended.

"What do you know about it? Who really rewrote it and who falsified the dates? You can ask them why they did this horrible thing to me and to you, Penny."

"It was mother who said her brother had commissioned the report for her," said Penny, now visibly distressed. "So either she or my uncle altered the report's dates, or the agency she used did it. Either way she's behind this."

"Most of the events are 'true', I said. "I did all those things, but after we broke up, not before. The report about Zena is a straight lie, and I'll bet you won't find anyone in her flats who actually made those allegations: she gets on well with all her neighbours on each side and above and below - I've met them, and those flats are well built and pretty soundproof. I never heard any noise from the other flats, and Zena and I have never made love."

Penny was now distressed.

"Why did she do that? At that stupid engagement party I was ready to go to you and apologise and beg you to forgive me. It was she who stopped me, telling me she had all this 'evidence' that you had concocted an elaborate lie with your friends.

"Actually, I know why she did it. She was afraid because I got a job in the Manchester area near here, and she knew I was now keen on bell ringing. She needed more telling evidence than hearsay as ammunition. She knew it was likely we would meet and then the truth would come out."

She scowled. "She would use any trick in the book to stop the marriage, or any danger I would get back with you. She'd be sure she was doing me a favour - protecting me from 'an unsuitable match...'

An anguished Connie broke in, "The lying bitch! Who in their right mind would want to be her kind of 'suitable'? Why the fuck did I ever go home? Wait until Daddy gets home, I'll see to it he knows everything.

"I left home that first time to get away from that bitch, and it nearly destroyed me, and the man who's 'not our sort' rescued me, and his friends welcomed me and they were so generous and... and..." Here she broke down in sobs, and Colette, bless her, went over to her, sat on her other side and had an arm round her.

The two sisters sat with Colette on the sofa together, breathing hard, pale faced and trembling. They had their eyes cast down. Neither looked at me. Colette left the room to top up the teapot. In the meantime there was silence in the room.

Colette served them some more tea and they absently thanked her.

It was Penny who first turned her eyes in my direction. She gave a wan smile of shame. I could see she was thinking, or trying to think of what to say. At last she sighed.

"I was going to see you after that party," she said woodenly. "She produced that garbage," she pointed at the booklet, "and I should have seen through it. Why didn't I see through it? It reinforced everything she told me before, when Patty came up with her suspicions. I never checked the dates at all, except they were winter dates mainly."

She sighed again. "I'm just so... sorry, Graham. I don't know how to tell you how sorry and upset I am. You did nothing wrong and I never gave you a chance. Why, oh why didn't I talk to you when Patty and Annette told me what they'd seen?

"Instead I went home to mother and she reinforced what Patty had told me. She said my Uncle knew all about you and a number of girls, and you were known to be a sexual hedonist and a disgrace to the profession but you wouldn't be in it for long. She said she'd tried to tell me about you when you first brought me home, but I wouldn't listen. She'd phoned Uncle Kieran and he'd told her you were totally unreliable, would be unfaithful and would bring me nothing but misery. I'm just so... sorry I hurt you so badly. I..."

She lapsed into silence.

I said nothing. I felt wrung out, depressed at the stupid mess we were in, and the effort to show the report for what it was. I looked at Penny, who was glancing at me hoping for something from me.

I had to say something.

"You perhaps now have some idea, Penny, how much you tore me apart. I ached for you and had no answers, just your lie about going to Derek's. I assume you were seeing Martin Greaves, and of course it was hell to see you arm in arm with him, kissing him with such love and affection, spending the night with him. You can have no understanding of how much that hurt.

"Now months have gone by, and there's no chance of saving what we had. It was over, dead, months ago, and I was over it and over you. Never ever do that to anyone else, Penny."

She looked even more woebegone at that.

Then she sat up. "Yes, you're right. It's beyond repair, but I want you to know that I'll always regret what I've done."

She stood. "Can I have a hug? Can you forgive me? I so want you to forgive me."

I stood and she came to me, and we embraced. It felt different, she was different, a different shape, more mature. She held onto me, and I enfolded her in my arms. She gave a little sob.

"Put it behind you," I said, "I have no hard feelings any more; they are long past. Yes, I can forgive you. Now you have to forgive yourself, but only for that first refusal to talk. The rest is down to your mother and that uncle. You mustn't take responsibility for what she's done. You were lied to, viciously so. Incidentally what's your uncle called? I might need to sue him."

"Uncle Kieran." she said. "I think he's a lawyer like you. We rarely see him, he disapproves of Mum's marriage to a divorced man."

I started and stiffened. Their mother's maiden name was Walsh. Kieran Walsh?

She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I think I know the man," I said. It seemed neither of the daughters knew the connection I'd just made. "I'll make some further enquiries. See if he is the one I think he is."

I would keep this knowledge to myself. Being well aware of Kieran Walsh's antipathy to me, I thought this knowledge might be of use to me in future. I suspected that he had reinforced Penny's mother's opinion of me and firmed her resolution that her daughters would never be allowed to marry me, for their own sake.

"Penny, Connie, please don't mention the report to anyone, not even Derek. I might take action about it, and I don't want anyone forewarned."

They both agreed.

"Just so you know," Penny said, "When I believed you cheated and was really down, Martin did comfort me, but he is so like you; he did sleep in my bed with me, but he wouldn't do anything until I broke off our engagement."

She paused and searched my face, "Actually, Martin is teaching in Manchester as well, and we're going out. He's very nice, but-"

"Don't say it," I said. "First love is always unique, but later loves can grow much deeper. Is he the one for you, d'you think?"

"I think so," she said quietly, "I hope so. Nigel was a big mistake."

"I'm surprised I haven't come across you both because of bell ringing."

"Oh, first year teaching. We haven't had time yet to join a tower."

We disengaged from our hug, and our meeting was over.

"I'd better be going," she said. "I'm really glad I came over now. I should have-"

"That's enough," I said. "We've made our peace. It's finished now."

It was faintly depressing this talk of a failed relationship, but while she was distressed, guilty and unhappy, I just felt deflated. I picked up her coat and helped her on with it.

"Thanks," she said and turned for the door.

"Sis?" came a plea from Connie, who had said nothing the whole time. She had stood in her turn, "Can you put me up for a few more days? Just till I sort out where to live?"

"If you can stand the sofa," Penny said. "You're welcome to stay."

Connie's voice prompted me to turn towards her.

"I did exactly the same as Penny, didn't I?" she said to me, dully. "I didn't give you a chance, and after all you did for me. I feel so embarrassed, so humiliated. If you don't mind, I'll collect some stuff another time."

She fished in her handbag and extracted the keys, laying them gently on the coffee table.

What did I feel? I'm not exactly sure. I think I told myself I had a duty to her since she was still homeless, though I was not sure I wanted her to stay: I was deeply unsettled by her behaviour, so like her sister's, as she had just admitted. I knew that realistically she had nowhere to go. What could I do? The words came out without further conscious thought.

"Where are you going?" I asked her. "I thought you lived here."

She froze and looked at me with some astonishment.

"What's the matter?" I asked her. "You live here, don't you? We agreed that, didn't we? Have I said anything different?"

She seemed dumbstruck, but then stammered, "I-I don't know if I can live here after what I've done. I knew what Penny had done and I still did the same. Then I came creeping in here to take the lovely clothes you all gave me. I was only taking what I needed to wear; these clothes are all I've got. I despised you and I wasn't even going to thank you for what you did do."

She spoke the truth; she was not her own best advocate, but I suspected her mother was the driving force behind it all, and her mother had the same vested interest in keeping Connie safely away from me, as she had for Penny. I couldn't fault Connie on her confession and her honesty about what she'd done, and at that moment I knew I really did want her to stay.

"Up to you," I said. "You have a room here, and I said it was yours as long as you wanted it. I gave you my word on that, and I won't go back on it. Of course, if you don't want to stay..."

Penny looked on, bemused about this development. Connie was also so surprised that she was undecided. Penny broke the spell.

"Connie," Penny said with a flash of a glad smile at me, "Don't be stupid. You know you want to stay. Graham's made you an offer you really can't refuse!"

"I don't know how you can do this," Connie said to me dully, "after what I've done."

"Connie!" I said impatiently. "Are you staying or not?"

She looked startled. Then made up her mind. "Yes," she said. "Yes please, in any case I've nowhere else to go. Penny's right about the sofa." There was a transient grin, gone in a second.

Thereafter there was no smile: her face was creased with worry and uncertainty. I had similar feelings. How would we live together after this? I only knew I wanted her with me, and hoped somehow to find a way to get over it or round it.

Penny moved to the front door and I followed her, leaving the other two in the living room.

She smiled at me, and I remembered our first meeting at the carol service. The smile hadn't changed and now lit up her face as before. She was just as beautiful, but there was no answering attraction or emotion in me at all. All too long ago and too much hurt. Also, one could add, someone else had taken her place decisively, though I'm not sure I was conscious of it at that moment.

"You're a star," she said to me, then sotto voce, "Look after her, won't you?"

I nodded. She embraced me again and kissed me on the lips, sighed, looked vaguely confused, and left.

Am I supposed to know what was going on inside her head? I hadn't a clue, and still haven't. I know I felt that nostalgia for a past relationship which had so much promise, so perhaps she did too. Move on: you can't go back.

--

Chapter Twenty-one

I went back to the living room to find Colette and Connie sitting very still and saying nothing. They both seemed relaxed enough. Darkness had fallen so I went to the window and closed the curtains, switching on the electric fire's coal effect. The red effect gave out no heat, but made the room feel warmer, in any case it was plenty warm enough from the central heating.

When Colette suggested to Connie that she go and settle back in since she was staying, Connie seemed relieved to have something to do and immediately made her way to her room, closing her door behind her.

"How d'you feel?" Colette asked me. "What d'you think?"

"I don't know. This is all a bit sudden."

"What about Connie?" The question was inevitable.

"What about her?"

"You took her back." Her words were weighted.

"You make it seem as if we were an item, as if she had been unfaithful and I had forgiven her."

"Well, nearly," she said, and I thought she was gaining the upper hand. "She did what her sister did before, and you took her back. She would have been gone long since if we hadn't had the day off. She'd have gone for good and you know it."

"We don't really know that; who knows, after coming back here she may have had second thoughts. It seems you're saying that I'm wrong to let her stay?"

"No, of course I'm not. We precipitated a confrontation which cleared up all the misunderstandings. Both of those girls now know how wrong they were to react against your supposed cheating by refusing to confront you. Penny has realised she threw away something good which she'll never get back.

"After what happened years ago when Connie was effectively thrown out by that mother of hers, she then too easily believed her mother's lies against you and all our kindness. A bad error of judgement and a worse reaction. She could have phoned you and told you what she'd found out. She didn't. At least she hasn't slept with anyone else."

"So?" I urged, "What are you getting at?"

"Graham, my darling," she said patiently, "You had a week together. One week. I'm sure you were more than flatmates when the week was over. I don't know whether you slept together, but you were definitely more than newly made friends sharing a flat, and, before you deny anything, we all saw what happened to you after Christmas: at the New Year's party you were just as you were after Penny cut you off. So, I'm wondering what you're going to do now. Think about it."

There was a meaningful pause. Then she added, "You do remember we were going to London tomorrow?"

I had quite forgotten in all the kerfuffle. She had not quite finished.

"Graham, I'm not trying to pry, but what are your feelings for Connie? Don't answer right away. Think. But I want an answer tonight before I go: I need to know if we're still going to London together."

She got up and went to Connie's room, shutting the door behind her. I could hear their voices, but through the door I could not tell what they were saying.

Then Colette came back.

"Connie needs to collect her stuff from Penny's. The clothes she took from here are there. I'll take her."

I nodded and the two left, without Connie coming near me.

Well, what were my feelings for Connie?

I reprised what had happened since I first met her. I remembered how she looked, how beautiful she was even in her downtrodden rather dowdy state. I remembered her constant worry that she could not pay me for what I was doing.

There was her settling in, cooking, bringing me tea, running with me, coming to ringing, her contagious happiness when she was kitted out, and her delight in showing me everything, including her body! How overwhelmed she was on her reception by the family and the romantic moments on Christmas Eve. Oh, and our lovemaking; definitely our lovemaking.

Then Boxing Day, Geoff, and her departure. She was happy to be reconciled with the family and promised to come back in a few days, but she didn't return; she cut me off.

It came to me that thanks to Penny my feelings of rejection and hurt were more acute than they otherwise would have been. So, if I pretended Penny had never met me, what had actually happened?

Connie had been deceived by her mother who hated me. Connie had been loyal to her sister, who she then believed had been mistreated by me. That loyalty made her angry with me, and I saw how deep that sisterly love was for Penny whom she had lost for so long. I wondered if I could add that perhaps there was something genetic in both sisters' refusal to confront me.

Then there was her history. Men used her, deceived her. She distrusted men, and I seemed too good to be true, and she gave in to her feelings of relief that she had at last met a man she could trust. Then the bombshell back home that I was a philanderer and a liar, and was swilling around with a group of 'tarts' as her mother would have put it. No wonder she cut me off!

In fact her response wasn't really so bad after all if I looked at it that way from her point of view, with her history. Then there was her reaction when she found out she had been deceived by her own mother! She was livid at having been hoodwinked into rejecting me by her mother's lies, and that those lies had deprived her of our relationship. That was a more a quality than a deficiency; it seemed from her reaction that she really loved me a great deal.

I took a deep breath. Where did that leave me? It did not seem so serious now it was over. Would she cut me off again? That was always going to be an unknown, but I thought it highly unlikely. If we were to grow closer, that must be one of the ground rules, one of the most basic ground rules: talk before action. Every time. Talk as soon as there's a problem: no bottling things up.

Did I want her to stay? Of course. As more than a lodger? Oh yes indeed! Could I risk committing myself to her? Hmm.

The girls returned and again were closeted in Connie's room. Then Colette went and made tea, bringing me a mugful.

"Connie unpacking?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes, there's really not that much, but she's not coming out just yet. You know she was only taking what she absolutely needed? She was going to leave the rest. So, do you love her?"

The question was arresting. I'd not allowed the 'L' word into my deliberations.

"Don't know," I said, "I am very attracted to her as a woman, she's very good looking-"

"You can say that again!" exclaimed Colette.

"I'm very attracted to her as a woman, she's very good looking," I repeated doggedly, and got a half-smile for it. "She's also thoughtful, she looks after me, she enjoys what I enjoy-"

"So you have had sex then!" she said mischievously, then, "It's all right, she told me you had."

"You've been talking about me to her."

"With her," she corrected. "Anyway, how do you feel towards her?"

"I feel happy when she's around, I feel warm and protective towards her, I desire her, I enjoy her hugs and kisses, I really enjoy making love with her. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes," she said gaily, "and you certainly satisfy her from what she told me! Yes Graham, you love her, and you're in love with her already, but you're cagey about committing yourself out loud so soon, taking that risk, especially after the last couple of weeks. She's really undermined everything by staying away. It's a trust issue. True?"

"Her mother has undermined everything," I corrected her. "That about sums it up: been burned before? Be more careful near the fire-breathing dragon!"