So Long At the Fair (65 page)

She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘So – Louis knows that I was among those who were saved.’

‘Oh, ah. ’E saw it in the paper – same as me.’

She took this in, was silent for a second, then said: ‘Eddie – I don’t know what’s been happening to me.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I – I seem to have been in such a – a state of confusion. And it seems to have gone on and on. For years now. And while I seem to have found answers to some things, in other respects I seem to be as much in the dark as ever.’

He waited. ‘Go on.’

‘Oh – I don’t know.’ She spoke with a hopeless tone. ‘Do you remember when I came round to see you last winter – and we quarrelled – do you remember?’

He nodded. ‘Ah.’

‘I – I thought I was in love with someone else.’

‘Arthur, you mean. Yes, I know.’

She moved her glance from him and looked off into the distance. ‘It wasn’t so. I wasn’t in love with Arthur. I never was in love with him.’

‘And when did you make this discovery?’

‘Just in the past few days.’

‘A pity you didn’t find it out a bit sooner.’

‘I know. I’ve been a fool.’

He gave a little not of agreement. ‘Ah, you ’ave, I reckon.’ But his voice was kind.

‘And now it’s too late. I’ve made certain – discoveries – found out something of the truth – but it’s all too late.’

Eddie sat looking at her profile as she gazed out across the lawn, then said, ‘Louis and I – we ’ad quite a talk when ’e come round to see me.’

She turned to him at this. ‘What about?’

‘Well, for one thing ’e asked me about our Beatie.’

Abbie took a breath. ‘Beatie? What about her?’

‘He knew next to nothing about what ’appened to ’er.’ He paused, taking in Abbie’s silence. ‘You never spoke about ’er, ’e said. He knew about ’er death, of course, but not what it was connected with – nor what ’appened on the night of the fair.’

‘Eddie – please,’ she protested.

He ignored her interruption. ‘I told ’im what ’ad ’apened and he realized that the – the attack took place right after ’e’d left you both that evenin’.’

‘Please,’ Abbie said sharply, ‘don’t talk about that time. I’m trying to forget it.’

‘Yeh – and per’aps it’s about time you stopped tryin’ to forget it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean per’aps it’s about time you faced up to it.’

‘Faced up to it?’ Hands to her temples she stood up. ‘Don’t you think I’ve tried?’

‘Abbie . . . Abbie . . .’ He rose beside her and put an arm across her shoulders. ‘Come on now. Don’t take on like this. Come on. Sit down, there’s a good girl.’

She allowed him gently to urge her back onto the bench.

‘Abbie,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t your fault.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she said, though she knew well what he meant.

‘You’ve got to stop blamin’ yourself.’

‘Please – Eddie, I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Well, I’m goin’ to – and what’s more you’re gunna listen.’

‘Eddie –’

‘Listen, Abbie. Listen to me.’ He waited a moment then went on, ‘It wusn’t your fault. What ’appened to our Beatie wusn’t your fault.’

‘It was. I made us late. I made us late leaving the fair.’

‘That wusn’t your fault. Good Lord, if you couldn’t find us, that wusn’t your fault.’

She was silent for a moment, then she said in a low voice, hardly more than a whisper, ‘That – that wasn’t what happened.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘It wasn’t that I couldn’t find you. I didn’t lose you in the crowd. I – I went . . . off.’ She could feel him gazing hard at her, but she could not meet his eyes. ‘I went off with Louis. That’s why I wasn’t there to meet you and Beatie when I should have been.’

On the periphery of her vision she saw him nod. ‘You was with Louis,’ he said. ‘Well, why didn’t you tell us at the time?’

She did not answer.

‘Oh . . . You gunna tell me you were doin’ somethin’ you shouldn’t ’ave been doin’?’ There was no censure in his voice.

When she remained silent he shook his head. ‘Well – for God’s sake, Abbie, what if you were? You wusn’t the first and it’s damn certain you ain’t gunna be the last.’ He paused. ‘Was what you did so very bad?’

Still she said nothing.

‘What you did wasn’t a crime,’ he said.

‘Perhaps not, but . . . look what came of it. Because of me, Beatie and I were late going home. And because of that we met the men. And . . . that led to Beatie’s death. It was all because of what I did, Eddie. It was all due to me.’ Briefly she paused, looking off into the past. ‘It was my fault that we were set upon by the men. It was my fault, but I was the one who got off almost scot-free. Beatie had done nothing, and yet she was the one who . . . And I did nothing to help her. Nothing.’

‘God Almighty, Abbie,’ he said, ‘what could you ’ave done? You against them monsters – them bastards – what could you ’ave done?’

Her hands began working in her lap. ‘I’ve been having a dream,’ she said after a while, her voice very low.

‘A dream . . . ?’

She nodded. ‘For ages now. And it’s nearly always the same. It hardly changes. Sometimes there’s music too. And then this weight is in my arms – that I dare not put down. Last night it came again and it was clearer than before. I know now what it is – what it was – in my dream.’

She turned to him and he saw the torment beyond her tears. She lifted her hands in fists before her, her face distorted with her grief.

‘When I went into the bedroom that day, Eddie, all I saw at first was a shadow on the wall. Beatie’s shadow – her body, hanging from the hook. It was still moving, swaying.’

He reached out and took her hands. ‘Abbie – don’t.’

Pulling her hands free, she said, ‘I thought – I prayed that she was still alive. And I ran to her, and held her, to support her weight. And Eddie – oh, I stood there for so long, holding her in my arms. But I couldn’t keep it up – and in the end I had to let go. I had to. I know she was – was dead. I could see it, but even so I’d thought that somehow I could save her.’ She bent forward on the bench, hands to her face, her body racked by her sobs. Eddie remained quietly beside her, one hand on her shoulder. He made no effort to stop her tears.

At last her weeping ceased, and she straightened and sat looking ahead of her again. Eddie thought that he had never seen such misery in one face before. Her eyes looked dead, without hope.

‘Listen to me, Abbie,’ he said. ‘Are you listenin’?’

She gave the shadow of a nod.

‘It was not your fault,’ he said softly, but firmly. ‘It was not. Are you going to punish yourself for ever?’

‘It – it’s what I deserve.’

‘No!’ There was a note of passion in his voice now. ‘No, it is not what you deserve! You was more of a mother to us children than our own mother. You did everything for us that was in your power. A slip of a girl like you. God knows, none of us can be perfect, Abbie. And you can’t live your ’ole life denyin’ yourself everything because of what you thinks of as one mistake. Certainly our Beatie wouldn’t want it so. She wouldn’t want to see you ruin your life.’

‘I already have.’

‘No. No, you ’aven’t. You mustn’t say that.’

‘I almost ruined the happiness of Jane and Arthur – and I’ve certainly ruined it for Louis.’

‘Have you?’

‘Yes. Oh, God – I hurt him so. I’ve almost destroyed him.’

‘Maybe ’e’s stronger than you think.’

She gave a little shake of her head. ‘It’s too late for us now. I’ve done too much.’ Her voice was very low. ‘It’s ironic; it really is. I had to come through all of this just to realize how much he means to me.’

‘Does ’e? Mean summat to you?’

She nodded. ‘Everything. Everything. Oh, I love him so much. And I realize, now that it’s too late, that I always have. What happened to Beatie, it – it all somehow –’

‘I know,’ he broke in. ‘I know.’

‘What have I done, Eddie?’ She turned and looked into his eyes. ‘Through my guilt because of what happened that day at the fair I couldn’t allow myself to accept his love – or to show love in return. And so I took a good man, a kind man, and made him as bitter and unloving as I.’

Now when Eddie took her hands in his own she made no move to withdraw them. He looked at her steadily.

‘Abbie,’ he said, ‘I said just now that Louis might well be made of stronger stuff than you reckons.’ He paused. ‘’E loves you too.’

‘What? No, no – he couldn’t. Not now.’

‘Believe me, ’e does. I know.’

She frowned. ‘Eddie, you don’t know what I said to him. You don’t know what –’

‘’E’s ’ere,’ he said.

‘What . . . ?’

‘’E’s ’ere.’

‘Here? Here in Plumstead?’

He jerked a thumb back in the direction of the building. ‘’E’s waitin’ in there right now. We come up to London together.’

‘Oh, God, no.’ She got to her feet, hands fluttering. ‘Eddie, you should have told me. You –’ Her words broke off as she saw that he had also risen and was turning to walk away. ‘Eddie,’ she said, ‘– where are you going?’

He did not answer, but strode on down the gravel path. With panic rising within her she watched his figure vanish around the side of the building. He was going to fetch Louis, she knew. Her heart thudding in her breast, she stood waiting. Then, fear and panic overtaking her, she spun round. She could not face him, not now. Perhaps at a later time – when she was able to prepare herself for such a confrontation – but not now, not yet.

Turning with the building behind her, she was faced only with the lawn and the kitchen garden and the wall beyond. There was no escape that way. Turning back again she started off in the direction taken by Eddie, to go around the side of the house into the front yard.

But she had left it too late.

As she drew nearer, Louis emerged from a side door, and saw her. In the same instant they came to a stop. Then, after a second of hesitation he started forward. A dozen yards from her he came to a halt again. For a few silent moments they stood looking at one another, then he came nearer until he stood just a few feet away.

Standing before him in the light of the bright afternoon she looked at Louis almost as if seeing him for the first time. And gazing at him she thought of how he had looked at the fair that day – a handsome young man, with no trace of care or concern touching his clear, open features. Now she saw the care etched into his face, the weariness in his eyes. She lowered her gaze.

‘Abbie . . .’

She did not look up when he spoke her name, but the sound of his voice tightened her throat and she had to strive to keep the tears from springing to her eyes again.

‘Abbie,’ he said. ‘Come on . . .’

As he spoke the last word she heard the sharp intake of his breath – as if he found it hard to keep his self-control.

At last she spoke. ‘I couldn’t believe it – when Eddie told me that you were safe.’

‘I got off the boat again – when it pulled into the pier at Gravesend.’

‘So he said.’

‘I saw you – with him – Arthur Gilmore. And I thought, there’s absolutely no purpose in going on with it, in trying. So I – I got off the boat and caught the train.’

‘You saw me with him – Arthur?’

‘So close – you were standing so close.’

She realized that he was referring to the moment when Arthur had tried to take the grit from her eye. ‘Oh, then,’ she said. ‘That meant nothing. Nothing at all.’ She paused. ‘I know now that with Arthur and me it – it never did.’

A little silence between them, then he said, ‘I love you, Abbie.’ He spoke the words as if offering up a simple observation of the truth, as if saying, this is a fact, this is the way things are, do with it what you will.

She gave a little shake of her head. As though she had not wept enough, the tears flooded her eyes, distorting her view of the gravel path as she stared down.

‘Too much has happened between us that is wrong,’ she said. ‘In the end you reach a point where it’s too late to start over.’

Unheard by either one of them a thrush began to sing in the branches of a nearby cherry tree.

‘Just now,’ Louis said, ‘when Eddie came to fetch me, he told me what you said. That you love me. Is it true?’

‘Oh – Louis . . .’

‘Is it true? Do you love me?’

‘Yes.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘Oh, yes, Louis, I love you. I love you. But – but sometimes love is not enough.’

‘True. But there are other times when it’s the only thing in the world that matters.’

He stepped towards her and his hand came up, touched her chin and gently lifted it. ‘The only thing in the world that matters,’ he said again.

‘Oh, if I could believe that . . . I’ve done so many things that are . . . I’ve hurt you so much. How could I ever make it up to you?’

‘Hush,’ he said, briefly putting a fingertip to her lips. ‘There’s nothing to make up for. I know the truth now. When Eddie told me what took place after the fair that day I realized what had happened and what was happening still.’ When he spoke again there was a faint note of wonder in his voice. ‘You carried that within you all this time, while I – the one person whom you should have told – knew nothing of it.’

He lifted his arms, wrapped them around her and drew her towards him. She made no sound of protest; she was aware only of the safety and love that were there.

Moments passed, then she said, ‘Our baby, Louis. With the accident – I lost our baby.’ Her tears were flowing unchecked now.

He held her more closely, his arms warm, strong. Then after a little while he drew back slightly, just enough to enable him to look down into her tear-streaked face. Raising his hand he brushed his fingertips across her cheeks, wiping her tears away.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘let’s get your things together. I’m taking you home.’