She did her best to put aside the dark thoughts that plagued her, and he did his best not to notice she was not her usual self. But there was a different atmosphere now and it had to change, for both their sakes. She had known Peter for over six weeks and, apart from his initial reference to Lisa on the day she arrived, she was no wiser about Lisa’s absence, nor the likelihood of her returning; and now there was another woman to consider, as she had always suspected. The tall raven-haired beauty in the photo with Lisa, the resemblance and intimacy between them unmistakeable. She had to be Lisa’s mother: Peter’s wife.
She refused to believe that Lisa, like Jess, might have run away; at least not for the same reason. Peter was not like Joe, in any respect. It was a horrible thought and inconceivable, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. She needed him to tell her himself and couldn’t understand why he could not simply explain. In any event, she had to be prepared for the day that Lisa, inevitably, would return. She could not carry on playing the surrogate daughter until such time as she was no longer required.
***
One evening after dinner, they took a stroll out into the garden, examining the late autumn blooms and soaking up their fragrance. They sat on the patio with a glass of wine, basking in the warmth of the evening sun and enjoying the scents of autumn. It was early September and the leaves were already beginning to turn, the flowers dying back in preparation for the new season. They sat quietly, absorbed in their own thoughts, awkward, in sharp contrast to the fun they had had before. Jess wrestled with hers. They swirled around her head, chipping away at her confidence, and also, without realising it, their relationship. A festering sore. She could bear the silence no longer.
“I love being out here.” She meant it. “I never knew a proper garden like this.”
Peter shifted in his chair, seemingly relieved to hear the most innocuous of comments.
“Well, I never did much gardening, not with the army,” he said, “just picked it up when I retired. Rather enjoyed it. Still don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he chuckled. “Emma taught me a lot. Great gardener, Emma,” he declared.
She had never thought of Emma getting her hands dirty, but she smiled at the image of Emma in dungarees, wellies and straw hat, secateurs in hand, no doubt issuing endless instructions to Michael as he manhandled the lawnmower. But she saw an opening and took it. She tried to keep her voice as casual as possible.
“She said they were the only family you had.” It was if he hadn’t heard her, but she noticed him stiffen and she knew she had struck a nerve. She needed to know. She hunted around for the words, the right way to ask, without causing hurt or offence or intruding on the private affairs of a self-confessed founder member of M.Y.O.B.S. But there was no other way of saying it. She needed to know.
“Peter …” She tried to tread carefully, but he remained impassive, unresponsive, and she could wait no longer. “What happened to Lisa?”
Peter had always known this moment would eventually come and had thought through many times what he would say when she, inevitably, asked the question. She had a right to know, and it was not as if knowing the truth would harm her. Harming her was the last thing on his mind and he would do anything to avoid it. In fact, he was certain knowing the truth would help her, make her life easier, and he had selfishly withheld it. Why? For what reason?
But he knew why. He dreaded talking about it. He dreaded reliving the torture, admitting the guilt he felt and the responsibility he bore for all that had happened.
She had come into his life through chance, and he had simply merged her with his own past to create the illusion that things could go back to normal. The way they were. But it was no illusion, he realised. It was delusion. There was no past. There was no future. There was only the present. She was here with him now and she was all he had, and she meant everything to him. She had given him a second chance. He could not make the same mistake again.
Jess saw the darkness engulf him, a fierce expression spreading across his face, and was reminded instantly of their initial exchanges on the boat, when he had exploded with rage. He frightened her then and he frightened her now. She had said something terrible to him. She had mentioned Lisa, and she regretted it immediately.
“I’m sorry,” she blustered, “I shouldn’t have asked.” She took a sip of wine to steady her nerves. She needed to change the subject, but it was too late. There was no other subject of any relevance. She was incapable of painting over the cracks; they would reappear in an instant. Her mind was consumed by one thing alone, and only he had the power to release her from its hold.
Peter’s fierce expression, such as it was, reflected neither anger nor irritation at what she had said, no offence at the apparent intrusion, nor reaction to any perceived impertinence. It was borne of no more than a profound sense of self-loathing, and it softened as he started to speak.
“This is my father’s house,” he said, gesturing to the decrepit old manor that had been his home for as long as he could remember. “When he died, I took early retirement and moved here with my second wife. My first wife couldn’t cope with army life. All that moving around, never being able to settle, and all that time I spent away. We didn’t have children, and once when I was away on tour, she had an affair with a young subaltern. She said it was just a fling, just a moment of madness. But I could no longer trust her. We divorced.”
It was matter of fact, but he knew he sounded subdued, regretful that he had not done more to recognise the pressures and strains the army had placed on them both. But then, as he told himself, he would not be here now, and here was where he wanted to be, more than anything else. He looked up at her and she turned her head away, vaguely embarrassed that she may have made him relive that painful experience. But then he felt a glow of warmth and his face suddenly lit up.
“I met Janica in Yugoslavia, as was, when I was serving with the UN Protection force back in ‘92. She was a translator, some years younger than me. Montenegrin, very beautiful,” he said, basking in the memory.
“What she saw in me, someone twice her age, God only knows, but I was besotted and we married. Then, within a year, we had Lisa.” His eyes glowed. “She was a joy. Life could not have been better when she was growing up.” And then, without warning, the darkness returned. “You would have thought army training would teach me to expect the unexpected,” he said with a profound bitterness.
“Janica died, three years ago. Leukaemia.” Jess sucked in her breath. She didn’t know what to say. “She and Lisa were like sisters, went everywhere together. So Lisa took it very hard. Just couldn’t come to terms with it. She once asked me, “Daddy, why did it happen?” And all I could say was, “Because it happened, get on with it.”
The regret was written all over his face. If only he could turn back the clock, rewind and relive the moment. Take it all back and do it all over again. “I didn’t mean to sound heartless,” he pleaded, craving understanding and forgiveness, “and it wasn’t that I didn’t feel anything. Quite the opposite; I was torn apart inside. I just thought I had to be the strong soldier for her. Lisa withdrew into her shell and I couldn’t bring her back. We drifted apart.” He had agonised over this time and time again. What could he have done? If he had a second chance, he would throw his arms around his daughter, hug and kiss her, never leave her side, battle through the pain together and she would still be with him.
But he thought back to those early years, just the three of them. Perhaps it had been the age difference, but he had always been in the shadows and it was somewhere he was content to be. The women in his life were a true partnership, full of love, utterly committed to one another, bonded as one, whilst he watched from the side-lines, always there to protect and serve, but somehow disengaged. And then there was his own personality. Garrulous and officious in his professional life, yet reticent, reserved and humble at home. A commanding presence in a uniform yet withdrawn and pliable within the family. But without question, the rock on which they all depended. Someone willing to lay down his life for them. For them all. That was the way he was.
“Then she announced she was taking a gap year to Nepal with a friend from university. Initially I was quite worried but then I thought it might be good for her, give her a different perspective on life. And death.” Peter was more animated now. He had judged this a positive step and he had been pleased Lisa had taken the initiative, optimistic this might have been a turning point. Jess was studying him intently now, as absorbed as he was in the telling.
“She called me when she got there, and seemed like her old self: happy and full of life.” He smiled, remembering the way Lisa had talked so enthusiastically about the Himalayas and how she had plans to travel the country and learn more about Nepalese culture.
“But after a while, contact dwindled, and although I worried about her constantly, I decided it was better that I leave her alone. Better she found her own way.” The regret was evident in his voice.
“She didn’t come home as planned and she didn’t answer my calls. So I got in touch with her friend who said Lisa had decided to stay on a while longer.”
Jess had been listening closely to him speak, articulate; concise and largely matter of fact. But she watched as the rock on which they had all depended, herself included, began to shake.
“Then …” He was staring into the abyss, reliving the news reports, the footage of temples and apartment blocks shaking and collapsing, people screaming and running in all directions in a desperate attempt to save themselves and their families. “…Nepal was hit by the earthquake.”
Jess vaguely recalled the incident, but the seriousness of it did not register with her at the time. She had other things on her mind: Mo’s disappearance with Leila, her own little world collapsing around her, while out there in real world, disaster unfolded on a monumental scale for others. But it was now all dropping into place, and she shared the despair he must have felt not knowing where Lisa was and fearful that she may have been injured, or worse. She remembered the agony of losing Leila, not knowing where she was, not knowing why she had been taken and the desperate helplessness and impotence she felt. Jess had been there too.
Peter continued.
“I contacted the embassy, all the aid agencies, but there was no sign of her. I did all I could from here, and finally, in desperation, flew to Kathmandu. I asked around, following her last known movements and found a mountain guide who remembered her. He said she had gone to teach children in a village called” – and here he paused, seemingly unwilling or unable to say the name – “Langtang,” he said at last, with solemnity and finality. She looked at him, expectant, fears growing, and saw he was trembling. She didn’t know the significance so she hesitated, but he was stuck in the moment. She needed to know.
“And, did you go to .... Langtang?” she asked gently. He paused and the full horror unfolded.
“Langtang was buried in a landslide. Totally wiped off the face of the earth.” She gasped, a hand clasped over her mouth to stifle the cry. “I have to assume she’s dead, but I don’t know for certain. I just hope, wherever she is, she’s at peace.”
Abruptly, he stood up. He had to be alone, had to deal with his grief privately. It would not do to show his emotions to anyone. He stepped away but only got two paces. Jess launched herself at him and threw her arms around his broad shoulders, clutching him tightly and pressing her body against his, burying her cheek into his back. They stood together as one, each afraid to let go.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, distraught. Sorry for his loss and for his pain, and sorry for doubting him. He stood ramrod straight, gripping her hands in his, holding on to her for support. He would once have felt awkward at the physical contact, the tenderness and the unbridled display of emotion, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and in that moment the mists cleared.
“I loved her dearly. I can’t bear to think she may not have known that.” Jess, still holding on tightly, struggled to understand.
“How could she not?” she said, though her tears were flowing and it was difficult to speak.
“I don’t think I ever told her.” His confession was absolute and she clamped her eyes.
Peter had always known he was to blame. Lisa had gone to find a love he could not give her, was incapable of giving her because of who he was. She had needed him to hold her and comfort her, to cry with her and laugh with her and remember Janica with her. But instead he had shut away his grief, buried his feelings in the mistaken belief that they would simply go away. And in doing so, he had driven Lisa away, to her death. The grief, the guilt, the lesson learnt. It was done. That was who he was.
He carefully unclasped her hands and turned to face her, a gentle, giant hand on each shoulder. Her eyes were wet and she prayed for the inspiration to help him, but he was back in control. Back in command. Protect and serve.
“Enough,” he said, addressing them both. “It’s just life. Everyone has a sorry tale to tell and everyone just needs to get on with it.” He was smiling at her now. They were together now, and would stay together. He leant forward and gently kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes. He released his hold and the parade ground beckoned. “Onwards and Upwards!”
She watched him march up the garden path towards the house, arms swinging in military fashion, and she felt emotionally drained. Now she knew. They had trusted each other and the way ahead was finally clear. Alice was home at last.
***
She reflected on Peter’s story as she lay in bed that night, and how, like her, the things he loved had been taken away from him, even though their circumstances could not have been more different.
She had always considered herself a victim, and although she had eschewed self-pity, she never sought help and had never given up despite all she had endured. Her troubles were a direct consequence of the actions of others. Joe’s alcohol-fuelled depravity, Mo’s perverted criminality, Derek’s selfish inhumanity and Dave’s twisted predilections. All men. All takers.
But Peter was a man, and he too was a victim. A victim, but not of anything done to him by his beautiful girls, Janica and Lisa. He was a victim of circumstance, and it was no more or less tragic for all that. And what they had in common was that they both had lost a daughter, a daughter they loved but were powerless to protect. Lisa was dead. Leila was lost. But it was a fine distinction. Neither would return.
She was also torn. Since she had arrived at Chalton Manor, she had been looking over her shoulder, living in Lisa’s shadow, feeling guilty about using Lisa’s possessions and dreading the day Lisa returned to reclaim them. The threat had gone, but she could feel neither relief nor satisfaction given the circumstances.
But the one thing she could not do was impersonate Lisa. She could not be Lisa. She was someone else. She would use the money Peter gave her to buy her own things, gradually replacing Lisa’s, and eventually help him lay her to rest.
Finally, she was surprised by her rush to embrace him, to hold him and not let go, a precious feeling that had been lost, taken from her by the other men in her life. She had trusted him and he had not let her down. She loved him, like a daughter loved a father, should love a father. She vowed to redouble her efforts to help and support him, to repay the kindness he had shown her. She slept soundly.
***
Peter, too, lay awake in contemplation. He had finally been forced to confront his demons, and it had been Alice who had helped him come through it. He had been stricken by grief at the loss of his darling Janica, and then racked with guilt that he may have driven Lisa away by failing to show her the love she needed, when she needed it most. He had always meant to explain to Alice what had happened to his family. His beautiful wife and daughter.
But from the moment he had laid eyes on her and seen not only a vulnerable and desperate young woman in need of help, but one who also bore a striking resemblance to Lisa, he had become obsessed with making amends for his failings. He could not have known the extent to which Alice had suffered at the hands of the people she should have been able to trust, but when he discovered her awful truth it seemed to justify his actions.
Lisa was gone. He resolved to quash the delusion that Alice could replace her. To do otherwise would both undermine his precious new relationship with Alice and defile Lisa’s memory. He loved her like a father loves a daughter, like he loved Lisa. He vowed to make sure she knew it, whatever it took.