After You Left(94)

Life hasn’t been easy lately. I should have handled some things differently, and I will try to put it all right as best I can. But I suppose this is my long-winded and rather clumsy way of saying that I want you to know I have no regrets about us. You are part of the fabric of me. If you hadn’t been in my life, I would have lost out on knowing so much of what I now know about myself, and about my capacity to love, and I will hold this belief until my dying day. My hope is that you feel the same – that you don’t regret a thing that happened between us, or how it turned out, and you never will, no matter what happens down the road.

I’m sure it’s unlikely we will ever meet again – though I personally will never say never, because that’s just how I like to think. But, nonetheless, I will always love you, and knowing you’ve loved me will always brighten my days.

Yours, Eddy

‘The date . . .’ Evelyn looks at me. ‘March 10. He wrote this eight days before he was beaten up.’ Her face turns grey, in a way I’ve never seen before, not on any living person. ‘He said he’d been thinking of me more so than usual, and he hoped there was nothing wrong. Well, it was impossible for him to know this, but I was quite sick.’ She is clutching her fingers, and I can tell she’s working herself into a small frenzy. ‘I had to go in for surgery. The magazine must have forwarded the letter to my home.’ She is looking at me with wide, riveted eyes. ‘Obviously, Mark must have received it. He’d have seen the postmark and guessed who it was from.’

‘But he didn’t open it.’

‘No. Mark would never read someone else’s post.’ Her face floods with tenderness when she speaks of her husband.

‘But he didn’t throw it out, either.’

She is off looking into space, clearly trying to piece together the more elusive bits of the puzzle. ‘Of all the places he could have put it . . .’

‘He put it where he knew you would find it, Evelyn. Because like you said many times, he was a good man. Do you think he knew that Joanna Smart was you?’

Evelyn gasps. ‘Good heavens! I don’t know! The book wasn’t published then. I was finishing it while I was convalescing.’ She’s frowning. ‘I suppose it’s possible he knew. I never told him I’d written it because I didn’t want to hurt him, or embarrass him. But he did have friends in high places. It’s possible he knew someone at my publishing house.’

‘Or maybe he’d just seen that the book was special to you somehow.’

‘I kept it on my desk for a long time. It’s possible he knew it was special to me.’ The anguished look comes back. The one I will forever associate with Evelyn. ‘Eddy said things hadn’t been easy for him. That’s because by the time he wrote this, he’d have split up with your mother. Everyone would have known . . .’

‘But he was trying to say that, despite the enormous price he paid, you were still worth it.’ I gently stroke her slender forearm.

‘At that point he didn’t even know that the worst was to come.’

‘No. But he said that he regretted nothing, and neither should you. No matter what happens.’ I grip her hand. ‘Perhaps it was prophetic of him. You have to believe it. Personally, I do.’

Evelyn shakes her head. I can tell she recognises the time has come for her to stop tormenting herself, as have I: to put the past in the past and close a door. ‘I always imagined he wished he’d never set eyes on me . . . I held on to that idea for years.’

‘It’s amazing what we assume, and how wrong we can be. I, for one, will never assume what I can’t possibly know.’

‘He said he was going to try to put things right, as best as he could.’ Her eyes brim with wonderment and tears. ‘But he never could. Circumstances didn’t allow him to!’

‘Maybe not. But you did. You put it right for him. You helped him do what he couldn’t do himself. Isn’t that the measure of true love?’

Evelyn’s eyes go back to the letter. I watch her. I can’t take my eyes from her. It’s the face of that young, go-getter girl that Eddy talked about, reading her very first love letter.

When she looks up again, she is flushed.

‘He forgave me,’ she says.

I smile. ‘Of course he did.’





FORTY-FIVE


Before She Left

Evelyn

Northumberland. 1963

They had just entered the church. Evelyn’s eyes were still adjusting from the bright sunshine to the dim, dust-mote-filled interior. She had noticed him immediately. Noticed him in the way that a young, single woman is always subconsciously sifting through the gravel hoping to come across a diamond. It was second nature to look without necessarily expecting to find. So, on finding, her faculties had taken a short holiday.

She was aware of her friend Elizabeth prodding her. A young usher, who appeared overly keen on doing a good job, was waiting to escort them to their seats. It was a small gathering, at this point weighted to the bride’s side. The robust scent of lilies still couldn’t overpower the musty smell of church that always turned Evelyn a little morbid. She could see hats, some with more feathers than a peacock, others like colourful flying saucers. But who cared about hats? She was pleasantly thrown by something else she was seeing.