To Love and Be Loved(90)
‘Jarv just told me Loretta came here.’ Ruby glanced at her, her tone carrying the vaguest hint that she was aggrieved Merrin hadn’t told her.
‘She did.’ Heather spoke softly, but unapologetically. ‘I worked for her for the longest time and we used to talk. I think she saw me as her friend, believe it or not.’
Merrin shifted in her seat. ‘And did you see her as a friend?’ She knew the answer might be conflicting: how could anyone treat a friend’s daughter in the way she had treated Merrin?
Heather drew breath. ‘I felt sorry for her; I don’t think she had many people to talk to, still doesn’t.’ She took her time. ‘She’s a foolish woman, a vain one, a snob too, but I don’t think she’s evil. Your dad never liked us being friends, but yes, I think we were. Think we are,’ she corrected. ‘She used to talk openly to me while I cleaned. And I never made too much comment, just got on with the job, which I think suited her too.’
‘I didn’t know that, Mum.’ It felt strange to see their relationship in this new light and she suspected Heather had played down their friendship, because she was right, her dad would have had a strong opinion on it.
‘There are things, Merry, that . . .’ – her mum paused and looked to the fire, as if that was where the words might lurk – ‘. . . that happened a long time ago that reflect on her and on us in some ways. Things that maybe Digby is unaware of and that a woman like Loretta, for whom reputation is everything, might have felt too difficult to face.’
‘Could you be any more vague?’ Merrin was curious.
‘Why are you defending her? What kind of things?’ Ruby was, as ever, more direct, but still asked with a respectful softness in recognition of their situation, when on any other day, Merrin guessed, she would have yelled.
‘I’m not defending her, Ruby, just trying to explain. And as for what things, it’s not my story to tell, but know that for Loretta Mortimer one of the worst things in the world would be the feeling that she was second choice, second best. She’s spent her whole life trying to run from that very thing.’
‘Because she was born in a swamp?’ Ruby asked without sarcasm, but rather with emotion to her tone, as if her mother’s words had resonated.
‘Something like that.’ Heather smiled sweetly at her girls. ‘Anyway, I didn’t ask you both to come in to talk about Loretta; there’s something I need to do.’ She shook her head and slowly reached for her glasses and a folded piece of paper that lay on the table. The clock ticked loudly on the wall.
‘This . . . this is a little bit odd, but I’ve been given my instructions.’ She managed a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I have a letter to read to you, so pop another log on the fire and both get comfy. And don’t speak until I’ve finished – that’s part of my instruction: “Don’t let them speak until you’ve finished.” It says it right here.’ She pointed at the sheet of paper now nestling in her hands.
‘A letter from who?’ Ruby asked the question Merrin had wanted to, before putting a cushion behind her back on the sofa while Merrin did as she was asked and jumped up and retrieved a log from the wicker basket with the frayed edge and tossed it into the grate, before settling back under the blanket.
Heather held her gaze and answered slowly. ‘It’s . . . it’s from your dad. A letter from your dad.’
‘Oh!’ Merrin felt her stomach fold with loss and didn’t know if she could bear to listen. Ruby whimpered softly and buried her face in her hands.
Heather Kellow cleared her throat and began.
Bloody doctors! I told them this heart has faced storms, the wildest seas you can imagine, and even the wrath of my missus when I’ve come home late and dinner is spoilt! It’s seen me right every day of my life and now they’re telling me it’s failing? Load of old baloney! But just in case, I figured I’d better get some stuff down on paper and send a copy off to our shark of a solicitor!
Heather paused to catch her breath, and looked briefly at her and Ruby sitting close together as she smoothed the letter in her palm. The wood in the grate flared into life. Merrin, like her sister, was in tears before her mother read another word. The ache to see her dad was physical.
My Girls, this is a letter I don’t want to write; in fact, I hate writing all letters, as you know, and I ain’t too keen on receiving them, neither. But such is my love for you all I will give it my best. First thing to say, that Dr Levington is a born idiot! I need to put that in writing so that when I might find these sheets of paper tucked away in my bedside drawer as I wait for me telegram from our trusty monarch, I can rightfully say, ‘I told you so!’ But that aside, Levington reckons me old ticker is on the blink. I did suggest a good old squirt of WD40, as in my experience it fixes most things, but he looked at me like I was the idiot, if you can believe that!
Heather shook her head and took a moment, as if to let a chirp of happiness form in her breast. Ruby let out a half-laugh and Merrin joined her. It was some skill that Ben had: the ability to make them laugh in this, the saddest of moments, to raise their spirits and offer some small relief when they needed it the most.
All joking aside. What will be will be, my loves. I been doing a lot of thinking recently and I know I would be hard pushed to say which was the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen, the best day of fishing, the best roast potato or the sweetest pint in the pub – all of these things I love! But I can, without a moment of hesitation, tell you when I am the happiest: and it’s when I am sat at our little table with a fire in the grate and your three faces in front of me.