The Heart of a Child

"I've got all the money needed to do the job." She gave another chuckle, "And it's not from novel writing. My family has been miserly for generations. They've hoarded money until it ran out of their ears. You'll only have to look at the awful, cheap additions they built to see what I mean."

Amanda being sent on her way with Mrs.Armitage, who announced, "There'll be more snow before nightfall," we wrapped ourselves in our parkas and went on a tour of inspection. I saw how right she was about "awful additions."

I took photographs of the house from many angles, and made some preliminary measurements. This and my preparatory notes took up most of the day.

Mrs.Armitage's prediction came true, and about mid afternoon it started to snow again.

Amanda returned in time for the evening meal, having thoroughly enjoyed her day. She came and sat at my feet beside the stove and asked where I came from? Did I have any little children? Would I be staying long? And would I play a card game with her?

The card game was her triumph. She beat me every time.

This little domestic scene reminded me of what I had hoped for with Rosemary, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. I wanted to pick the child up and hold her, but realised this would be an uninvited gesture.

When she had gone to bed, I began a rough outline of what might be done to the place. Meredith listened intently, making intelligent remarks and suggestions. In the process, I learned that she had only recently come into possession of the place and the family wealth. She did not intend to spend all her time in the High Country, and had a house in the city.

I slept well again that night. The senior partner must have been right about getting away to the country, but in the morning, a difficult situation presented itself. During the night, a tremendous snowstorm had come in, and a telephone message had let Meredith know that the road was blocked in both directions and would remain so for some days. This meant I was stuck there.

I still had work to do, and fortunately, it could be carried out inside the house, but I was not sure I relished an extended stay.

For Meredith the snow meant that her domestic helpers were unable to get through, so anything that needed doing in the large house had to be done by those inside it. I questioned the food and fuel supply and was told that this was always allowed for in the high country, and there was plenty of both and would last for at least three weeks. "Three weeks?"

I rang the senior partner and told him of my dilemma.

"Oh well, old boy," he said, "looks like you've got your holiday in the country, doesn't it! See you when you get back. Look after the 'old girl' won't you. Got a lot of business riding on her, you know."

He rang off.

I spent that day investigating the foundations of the place. Everywhere I went Amanda followed me wrapped in her parka. She said very little, but watched my activity with grave attention.

More than ever I wanted to hold her, to give her love, but I dare not. This was the little one I had so longed to have with Rosemary, but all that was dead. O God! Why give us the power to desire that which you so easily take away?

So deep was my hurt, that I could not even allow my self to have a moment of love for a little child. I wanted to be loved and to love, but…even a little one?

I proceeded with my work…"Please God don't let me feel ever again. Take from me this reproach of love. Let someone else love this child…O God, I wanted this so much…!

That night I returned to my pattern of broken sleep. This time not inspired by Rosemary, but by Meredith and Amanda.

My preliminary work was almost done, and if it were not for the snowfall, I would have been on my way. It had continued to snow, blocking the road even more, and the news was, that the snowplough would not be able to clear it at our end for at least three days.

Normally I would have returned to the office, prepared plans and drawn up specifications for presentation to Meredith. Unable to do this, I worked on the kitchen table making rough sketches of what I proposed, and trying to work out what the costs might be.

The kitchen was the warmest room in the house. During my inspection of the place I had passed through cold rooms that seemed not to have been used for some time, but they were furnished with items that would have raised a fortune at an antique sale.

Apart from the kitchen, the only rooms with any degree of warmth were the bedrooms, and even here, the hot water radiators were having a battle to keep the temperature up.

On the afternoon of the fourth day of my incarceration, I was working at the kitchen table when Amanda came and stood by me.

She put her hand on my knee sand said; "Can I sit on your lap?"

I stopped what I was doing, and lifting her up said, "Of course."

Meredith was working at the sink and called across, "Is Amanda bothering you?" "Not at all," I replied, as Amanda snuggled up to me.

The child sat staring solemnly into space, in that way some children have, without speaking. I decided not to disturb her reverie but instead sat silent, looking at her. I could see that in adulthood she would strongly resemble her mother, even, I suspected, in the rhythmical grace of her movements.

Still staring Amanda said in a dreamy sort of voice, "When he's not busy my daddy will come to see me."

I had wondered about Mr.Blye-Smyth, if there were such a person and where he was.

Amanda followed up her statement with a question; "Do you think he won't be busy when the snow goes away?"

I felt rather than saw Meredith tense and not knowing the situation, but sensing distress, I played it safe, or at least that was my intention.

"I don't know, darling." The term of endearment was out before I could check it. "O God, why can a little child bring tumbling down our resolve never to love?"

Amanda drove the sword of her words even deeper. "Perhaps he will come soon!" There was a choking lump in my throat, so I simply said, "Yes."

She got off my lap and left the room to look for the cat.

Meredith spoke. "I suppose you've guessed that he won't be coming? She wonders why she hasn't got a daddy around like the children she plays with. Every day she asks me, 'Will he come today?'"

Without probing into what was not my business I felt I had no way of responding adequately, so I tried to return to my work, and found myself staring at the paper with tear blurred eyes.

On the fifth day I was still shut in, so I sat with Meredith for a couple of hours going over what I proposed for the house, and showing her my rough sketches.

"When I can get back to the office I shall draw everything up properly and send it to you for approval."

"No need to send it," she replied, "We shall be back in the city for a while when the snow is cleared."

I asked her where she lived in the city, and she gave an address in a suburb adjacent to mine.

I had reached the limit of what I could do until getting back to the office, so I had another prowl round the house, followed as usual by Amanda. There were books everywhere, and among them, I came across a novel by Meredith. I decided to read it. I might get some more insight into her, though why I should want to…? Well, what ever my reason, I tried.

The senior partner had been right, it was heavy going, but as I had started to read it in the kitchen and Meredith had seen what I was reading, I felt I had to slog on. Amanda had taken to either playing near me, or sitting on my lap and leaning against my chest. This evening she was playing with the cat, teasing it with a piece of wool.

Struggling with the thick text of the novel, I found my mind starting to wander. It had been over a month since I had last had sex with Rosemary. Since then, I seemed to have lost interest, but now I felt the pressure beginning to mount. I began to contemplate Meredith.

In the warmth of the kitchen, she wore only jeans and a cotton shirt. As she went about her tasks, I could see the movement of unbridled breasts, and I admired her slender waist, gently swelling hips and high tight buttocks. I wondered what her legs were like.

Since first meeting her, I had tried to find a word that would describe her. As I have said, she could not be called beautiful or pretty. "Attractive" somehow did not cover the case. The only word I could come up with was "Harmonious."

Even this did not really say what I wanted to say, but it was all I could think of. Her looks, movements, voice all seemed to be in harmony, regular, just right. The one exception was the wild array of her hair. It tumbled in waves and curls, shining and maddening. The very contrast to the rest of her made it seductive, and I wanted to bury my face in it, to feel and smell its sparkling cleanliness.

Amanda climbing on my knee interrupted my musings. When she had burrowed against me she asked, "You're not my daddy are you?"

"No, little one, I'm afraid I'm not."

"I wish you were my daddy."

"Oh God, I wish I was," I thought, but said, "That's a lovely thing to say."

"Would you like to be my daddy?"

How heart rending the innocent questions of a child can be! I said, "It would be nice."

"Would you come and see me when you weren't busy?"

Tears pressed against the back of my eyes. I knew Meredith was listening intently.

"Yes, darling, I'd come and see you even when I was busy."

"I thought you would."

She burrowed deeper, like a little animal hiding from a predator. We sat in contemplative silence for half an hour. What she was thinking I did not know, but there beat through my brain over and over again, "The child I might have had!"

Meredith said, "Time for bed, Amanda. Say good night to Mr.Carter."

"Good night, daddy."

It was too much, and pretending to go to the toilet I gasped, "Goodnight, darling," and fled.

I hid in the toilet for nearly fifteen minutes, weeping for her and myself. We had both lost something precious, and while I knew mine was lost for good, she still tried to cling to her hope.

When I mastered myself, I returned to the kitchen. Meredith was there, and without looking at me said, "I'm sorry about that Brendon. It must have been very embarrassing for you."

I said something trite to the effect that it was quite all right, then Meredith said, "I haven't asked you, are you married, Brendon." "No," I replied shortly, then in a burst of imprudence asked, "Where is Mr.Blye-Smyth?"

She hesitated for a moment then said, "Mr.Smyth" (emphasising the Smyth)," is no longer in our lives, if he ever was."

I said nothing, waiting to see if she would go on. She did.

"He left me when I was five months pregnant with Amanda. Went off with a nineteen year old girl from his office, and has never even bothered to see his child…(she choked)…his lovely child…"

The tears came, the awful wrenching tears forced from the depths against one's will. I wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but could not bring myself to invade her private space. Coward, I feared she would repel me, add one more rejection to my life. So I sat, helpless to be of use.

She controlled herself and said, "Sorry, I don't often talk about it."

"It's okay," I said lamely.

Soon after I retired to bed. There went buzzing through my head thoughts of Amanda and Meredith. The focus finally came down to Meredith and I got an erection. I had to relieve myself with my hand, and as the pent up sperm shot out of me I had the vision of her before me, and I cried, "I want you, Meredith."

Next day the snow had stopped and we learned that the road would be clear within an hour.

I knew I had to flee this place. I was getting too involved. The child had got under my armour plating and I must get away. Worse, I had actually started to desire Meredith. I who would never desire woman again – never love again.

As soon as I had packed the car, I shook hands with Meredith and kissed Amanda on the cheek. "You'll come and see me when you aren't busy, won't you?"

I fled, barely able to see the still dangerous icy road.

I have no recollection of the journey home, but two days later I was back at the office a week before my leave was up. I wanted to bury myself in work, to excise the memories of those two in the High Country.

There was much hearty back slapping from the senior partner, "Got yourself snowed in did you?" As if I'd manufactured the snow!

I raced through the work and when the plans were complete got the office secretary to ring Meredith to let he know she could examine them and decide. The call to Blye Manor got no response, but the call to her city home did.

The secretary dropped me in it, because Meredith must have asked if I was in the office, and she said I was. "Mrs.Blye-Smyth would like to talk to you," she called out, so I had no alternative but to speak to her.

"Hello Brendon. I wonder if you'd like to bring the plans round to my house this evening, if you're not otherwise engaged. Come have dinner with us."

I was about to make some excuse not to go, but then she added, "Amanda keeps asking when you won't be busy."

The knife to the heart. I accepted.

The house proved to be a modest but well designed affair. I rang the bell and heard little feet running to answer it. There was a struggle to get the door open, and then Amanda was there.

She extended her arms to me to be picked up. She kissed me and said, "You're not busy tonight, are you."

"No my sweet, I'm not busy tonight."

She pointed the way and we ended up in the kitchen, where Meredith was presiding over cooking pots.

"Sorry I didn't answer the door, but Amanda was so excited because you were coming, I had to let her answer."

We exchanged the usual "How are you?" formalities, by which time we were ready to eat.

Amanda kept up a barrage of questions and relating her own doings, so Meredith and I had little chance to talk.

After dinner, it was time for Amanda to go to bed. On Meredith's return, we got down to studying the plans. She seemed genuinely pleased with my suggestions and despite the huge cost that would be involved, asked me to put the job out for tender. She went on to explain that she did not intend to live there, but once the work was completed, would advertise the place for lease. It'll suit some rich guy admirably," she said with a wry smile.

The business completed, I made to leave, but Meredith stopped me.

"Brendon, you ran away from us at Blye Manor, didn't you? I know because you told me you had a fortnight's leave, and you haven't taken it. You must have gone straight back to work. And you didn't really want to speak to me on the telephone did you?"

I tried to find a response that would not hurt her, but before I could get started, she went on:

"What I'm going to say isn't for me, it's for Amanda. You must see the effect you've had on her, and unless I am a very poor judge, I can see the effect she has had on you. She knows in her heart that her daddy is never going to come and see her, so she chose another daddy she thought would come. She chose you."

"I have no right to dictate how you should respond, but please understand that Amanda has focused her love on you. You have reached the heart of a child, and there is no more tender place than that in the world."

"I'm not trying to blackmail you, Brendon, but as her mother I felt you should be fully aware of what Amanda feels for you. She's even been boasting to her friends that her daddy was coming to see her today."

She stopped. Did she know how she had torn me to pieces, telling me what had been so glaringly obvious to me?

She spoke again, very low.

"Let me make it easy for you. Would you like to come and visit Amanda from time to time?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you could give me a ring just to make sure we are here when you call…"

"Of course."

"Do you want me to stop her calling you daddy?"

"No."

There was a long silence as we both contemplated what had been said, then: "If at any time you'd like to tell me what it is that has hurt you so badly, I'm a good listener."

"Thank you, but how did you know?"

"Because you ran away from us."

"Oh."

Thus began my regular visits to Amanda. In time, the three of us went out together – to the zoo, picnics, things like that. As trust grew, I was allowed to take Amanda on her own.

I made no move towards Meredith. After that sexual contemplation of her at Blye Manor, I had fought to set aside that aspect of our relationship. "No more women," I told myself for the hundredth time.

A turning point came one day while the three of us were out shopping. We had set out to buy a tricycle for Amanda. It was to be a fifth birthday present from me. Meredith decided she needed some item of clothing, so we went on to that department.

Meredith was just holding up a rather fetching piece of nightwear, when she froze. "What is it?" I asked.

"It's him!"

I did not need to be told whom she meant. It was her ex-husband. I looked over at the next counter and saw him.

I had once asked Meredith why she had married him, and she had answered very simply, "I mistook what I saw on the outside for what I wanted to be on the inside." I saw what she meant now. A tall, handsome man with dynamic looks about him. He glanced in our direction then began to turn away only to suddenly turn back. He focused on Meredith, then his eyes swiveled to me. I was holding Amanda's hand and I saw his eyes turn on her, dwell for a few seconds, and turn away.

A slight sneer flitted across his face and he turned to a young woman, pretty, but with a blank sort of face. He said something and she gave a brief laugh.

"You fool," I thought. "Don't you know what you're missing? The joy of having a child's little hand in yours. Trusting you, loving you. The privilege of guiding into life, to gradually open ever expanding horizons. The sincerity of a child who in its naivete speaks the truth, good or bad, whose words of love are the most precious treasures one can receive."

In that moment I pitied and hated him. Pity because of all he had thrown away and hate because he had once had what I so dearly wanted.

"So that's the woman he left you for?" I said.

"No, she's the third since then. You see, he's empty inside."

Meredith was white faced and shaking.

"Come," I said, "Let's get you home."

By the time we arrived at her house, she had recovered some of her usual equanimity, but was still pale. Amanda went into the garden to race around on her new tricycle, and Meredith spoke.

"I always thought it would happen some day. I would see him. It's been a sort of dread, not knowing how I would react. Its over now and I don't have to fear it any more."

"What was it you feared, " I asked, being fairly sure I knew.

"I feared that the old love I had for him would still be there and I would have to go through the grief of loss all over again." "And now?"

"It was a shock, but when he could not even greet me, I only had confirmed what I had discovered long ago. He is a straw man. He looks good on the outside, but there's nothing of value within. In a way seeing him has finally set me free."

I wondered if I needed the same liberation from Rosemary, but I thought not. The circumstances were different. Meredith had been deserted when she was at her most vulnerable – the time when a woman needs care and security.

I had walked out on Rosemary and there was no unfinished business …or was there. Was I not still a rejecter of women? But if I was, why did I associate with Meredith. Of course! It was for Amanda's sake - my beloved child…Mine?

Work on Blye Manor dragged on. I had to visit it frequently to keep an eye on the quality of the work and the progress. Amanda and Meredith would accompany me at times.

About twelve months after the work began, it was finally pronounced complete, and Meredith started the process of leasing it.