Full Circle (30 page)

And so it turned out. Five minutes later, holding Harold firmly by the arm, Leo steered him in what he guessed to be the direction of the field that divided Ridgeway from The Retreat. It was after eight o'clock and Bella would have had their usual light supper ready for ages. This was certainly not the way he had planned to spend the evening. Now, as they came nearer to the edge of the wood, he frowned, sniffing the air.

‘Smells like smoke. Can you smell smoke, Dad?'

Harold didn't answer. His muddled mind was unsure what his reply ought to be. He was aware that Leo was walking faster, having no regard for thorns on the bushes or tree roots that threatened to trip them.

‘Christ!' Through a momentary gap between the trees Leo saw the lights of the fire engine. ‘Christ!' This time is was hardly more than a whisper.

Harold began to whimper. What was going to happen? Would Leo know about how he had set light to the bedspread and the curtains?

‘This way.' Holding tightly to his father's arm, Leo pulled him to the left as they came out of the wood and made towards the stile into the lane. ‘We'll take her home with us. There can be no going back into that inferno – not tonight or ever from the look of those flames.'

‘Come on, come on, let's go and see.' Harold sounded unnaturally excited, but that didn't make any particular impression on Leo. ‘That's
our
house, Vi's and mine. She had to be got rid of. Don't you see, boy, she spoilt everything. Remember how it used to be. Who does she think she is, coming there, trying to be like Vi?'

‘Don't talk rubbish. Come on, we've got to find Louisa.'

The previous day, when Bella had been walking home with her shopping, she had met elderly Edith Cunningham, whose husband kept the fish and chip shop at the end of High Street. From her first days in Lexleigh she had known that Edith was her friend, even though some of the other village folk had whispered amongst themselves that no nice girl would have been so eager to show off her growing bulge, especially with a wedding ring only recently on her finger. Out of respect for Alice Carter they had only said these things to each other. But Mrs Cunningham had been excited for her and had even knitted a white matinee coat in readiness for the baby's arrival.

When they met by chance that morning, having talked with genuine sadness about Ali's death, Edith Cunningham had said, ‘There's going to be talk in the village, wicked talk—'

‘How could there be? It was an accident.' Bella had found herself defending Harold.

‘No my dear, never about dear little Alicia.' She looked around as if she thought someone might be listening even though the street was empty. ‘It's our little Sheila, my grand-daughter. Well, not so little now, she's sixteen and done with schooling. People say it's the goings-on at the youth night in the village hall, but to my mind it never did anyone any harm to have a dance, young or old. Trouble is she's told her mother, my Emmie, that she's two months gone. She'll be a mother before she's seventeen and the lad is only a year older. They haven't told me who he is, only that he's not in the village any longer.'

‘Perhaps that's a good thing, Mrs Cunningham. If he still lived here perhaps they would have wanted to get married, and they'd be far too young. Now the baby will belong just to the family. And whether they're planned or slip-ups they bring so much love.'

‘That's just what I told my Emmie. But Sheila is little more than a child herself, hasn't had the chance of earning a penny yet, and as if that's not trouble enough, Jack, her dad, lost his job last week. He used to work at Ryders, in town, doing the deliveries, but from out of the blue he fell in a fit – epilepsy, they called it. Never had one before and Emmie blames Sheila for it, says he's worried out of his mind and it's enough to give anyone a fit. Any road, they stopped him from driving so bang went his job. Of course, me and Cliff will help the girl – she's the only grandchild we've got.'

For Bella it had been a moment she knew would stay with her, for with no warning she had known exactly what she must do. More than that, it was a moment when Ali had seemed so close she could almost feel the weight of her in her arms. And Ali had been laughing; Ali had been putting the words in her mouth and telling her that this was the way never to lose her.

‘I've always kept everything of Ali's, right from her first vests and her terry towelling nappies to her two-year-old sizes – and her toys, and pram and baby crib. Everything.'

‘Very wise of you, child. I know it's hard to imagine now, but you'll have other children and be glad. To see her little things on the tiny body of a brother or sister might ease the hurt.'

‘No. I know what I have to do, what I
want
to do. There won't be any more children and I would like to give everything to Sheila. She wouldn't mind – I mean, she wouldn't look on it as a bad omen or anything silly? It's what Ali would want, what Ali
does
want.'

And so it was that on that early evening when the fire at The Retreat started, after Bella had laid the table for a cold meat and salad supper she went up to Ali's room to continue sorting the clothes that she had started earlier. She had made up her mind she would do it while the nearness of Ali was fresh in her mind.

It was getting dark, and she would be late arriving at Louisa's. She had expected Leo to have found his father and brought him home ages ago, for his wanderings usually took him either towards The Retreat or to the edge of the farm by the wood. But Leo must have looked in the usual places and then had to go into the village or even right into the wood. If she had known they would be so long she would have offered to search too, but it was too late now to do anything about it. So, holding close to so many memories as she folded each small garment and added it to the piles in the cot, she pushed the thought of Leo's fruitless search from her mind and concentrated on Ali. It was as she switched on the light and crossed to the window to draw the curtains that she saw the smoke billowing high in the air. Had Louisa gone home and lit a bonfire, then let it get out of hand? With a concerned frown she drew a chair to the window and climbed on to it; from her new vantage point she ought to be able to see exactly where the smoke was coming from. It may not have been from The Retreat at all, but from one of the cottages opposite.

‘Oh, no! It can't be.' There was no reason behind her exclamation, for clearly she could see the thick smoke blotting out her vision of the roof of the house. Her one thought was to get to the scene of the fire, to make sure Louisa was safely outside and to bring her home to the farm. The affair between Leo and her didn't even enter Bella's head. She simply wanted to help her friend. Taking a shortcut through the field where the recently turned ground was uneven, she climbed the stile to the road where by that time the original small group had swelled to become a crowd. lt was seldom Lexleigh saw such excitement.

There was no sign of Louisa but she caught a brief glimpse of Leo ushering Harold on to the track and back home.

‘Is Louisa safe?' she blurted out as soon as she came within earshot of the gathered spectators.

‘Yes. She looked right as rain. She'd got her car out and put it up the lane out of the way for safe keeping and was outside here waiting for the firemen,' one of the village women Leo referred to as the Lexleigh Ladies replied.

‘Where is she now?'

This time it was the opposite neighbour with a reputation for missing nothing who replied, ‘That gardener chap came – not five minutes after the engine arrived he was here. How he heard the good Lord knows, but he was in a right bother. I was just telling your husband, they stood along there talking, then she got into her car and off they went, Miss Harding first and him following in his van. Not a word of explanation to anyone. He'll take her home with him for the night, I wouldn't wonder. He comes sniffing around here often enough.'

‘Nothing wrong with Hamish McLaren,' one of the others was quick to his defence. ‘A nicer young fellow you wouldn't find.'

‘Maybe she thinks so too,' the neighbour who had so much trouble with her net curtains replied, ‘or maybe she doesn't. I only know what I happen to see.'

‘Well, she can't spend the night here,' Bella said, her authoritative tone surprising her and, no doubt, the rest of the group too. ‘I came to tell her there's always a place for her at the farm. But it seems I'm too late.' Then, changing the subject, ‘Do you know what happened, how it started?'

‘From what we can gather it's mostly the upstairs and the roof space. They'll be here a long time getting it out and damped down. She'd not been home many minutes – well, you know she hadn't. I heard the car and happened to look out as she turned it on to the track, so I saw you'd been having the afternoon together. A funny thing, though, and this is just between ourselves (her glance took in the rest of her cronies). When she came running out and rushed up the road, I suppose to dial for the engine, she was carrying one of those smart cases they keep papers and things in just as if she'd had it waiting handy for when she had to get out.'

Ignoring the innuendo, Bella said to the group at large, ‘If she isn't here I'll go home and give the others their supper. I would have expected her to come to us. Anyway, if you just happen to see her come back – although I don't see that Hamish would let her come back to this, but if he does, will you tell her that we are expecting her at the farm and there is a bed waiting for her.'

‘I reckon she knows that without having to be told by us.' This was spoken by one of the group with a guffaw that left no one in any doubt of what she was suggesting. Choosing to ignore the remark, Bella made for the track and home.

Sheer chance had brought Hamish through the village, taking a shortcut home from where he had been working. It had taken him no more than a few seconds to take in the situation and know he would offer to take Louisa home with him. Well, before he reached the scene of the fire he recognized her car parked, so he left his van next to it and walked the distance to where she was standing, a little apart from the group.

When he told her he wanted her to come back to the nursery with him, she hesitated.

‘I can't just drive away and leave the house like this,' she protested. But neither could she sleep at The Retreat. He spoke to one of the firemen who came from his own village, and after a minute came back to her with the news that the fire wasn't yet under control. As it spread so it burst into fresh life, something they couldn't understand. The roof was in danger of collapsing.

‘They'll be there for hours and they won't let anyone inside, not even you. I told him I was trying to persuade you to come home to Mags and me for the night. It's a really bad fire, Lou. Once it's all over there's going to have to be a lot of work done on it before it's habitable. Come to us. We've got plenty of room and you can work from there. What if we go home and have something to eat, then I can leave you with Mags while I come back and see the situation? Tomorrow you can see what the damage is.' Then, with that optimistic smile so much part of his character, ‘Tomorrow is another day and nothing looks as bad in the morning light.'

‘You're a dear, Hamish, but I can't do that. One night, yes, and I'm grateful, but then I must find somewhere to rent.'

The Retreat had been a symbol of her independence, the end of her days being ruled by the clock: nine in the morning arriving in the office; twelve thirty until one thirty a quick lunch in Millie's Café, then back to the dingy office until six o'clock. Yet, driving towards McLaren's Garden Centre she had the strangest feeling, almost as though she were lifted out of herself and could look down on each section of her life: childhood and working hard at school driven by determination to prove herself; years at the accountancy firm working always with that same determination; a taste of freedom in this most recent chapter – a short span of years in which she had learnt to be at peace with herself. It wasn't simply because she had proved that she could make her own way without the backing of a male-dominated situation; that was but a small part of it. With Leo she had learnt the joy of being a woman. She thought of the expression ‘giving herself to a man', and knew she had never ‘given herself'. Yes, they had both exalted in wonderful, glorious hours of lovemaking, lovemaking that had made her a whole person, the equal of any woman, married or single. From the start he had said his relationship with her would make no difference to his marriage, and she had determined that that would be the case. It hadn't been a husband she had yearned for; it had been the hunger for something beyond her reach and understanding. With Leo she had found freedom; she had rejoiced in her womanhood and discovered joy beyond belief.

Yet, was she in love with him? Had she ever been in love with him? Driving the few miles to the nursery she dug into her heart honestly. Did she respect and admire him? As a lover, yes. But as a man? As a husband, even if that had been possible? They discussed articles they read in the newspaper, usually sharing the same views but occasionally sharpening their wits on each other when they saw things from different angles. She was never bored in his company. But, if he were free, would she want to spend her life with him? Had she fallen in love with love? And what about Leo? Honesty told her that there had been many women in his life and there would be others. None would make any difference to his marriage, even though what he felt for Bella was no more than affection and appreciation of the security she brought to his life.

Then there was Hamish, her very dear friend. Friendship would endure. Yes, they could grow closer with the years, of that she was sure. Except that marriage surely should be based on something far deeper than the affection she felt for Hamish.