Isabel's Wedding Page 2

  He shouted up the stairs and came back into the kitchen. ‘She’s coming.’ He glanced round as he sat down at the large kitchen table. ‘No Mrs Bourne?’ he said, referring to the portly ‘daily woman’. Run off with a sailor, has she? I always knew she had it in her to surprise us!’

  ‘Luke! What a thing to say. Run off with a sailor? At her age – and already married? They taught you some funny things at that art school. A good thing you managed to leave before they threw you out!’

  He grinned and as ever his charm won her over. With fair hair and pleasant features, Luke was the best-looking of the four Fratton children and his easy-going ways made him easy to live with. Now he assumed a grim expression and said mournfully, ‘Little you know about my time at that school. All those terrible beatings . . . and the starvation diet and the monstrous matron who—’

  Isabel’s arrival interrupted his scurrilous description of the boarding school. ‘All lies!’ she told him. ‘You loved that school and everything in it. You were spoilt by Aunt Alice just because you could draw!’

  ‘I didn’t enjoy the cricket,’ Luke said mildly, ‘or the cross country running!’

  ‘You are too lazy, that’s why! Lifting a paint brush is all you can manage!’

  In a belated answer to Luke’s query Olivia said, ‘Mrs Bourne has gone into Canterbury to the chemist to collect some medicine for her husband’s cough. She asked if she might go and I agreed and said she might as well pick up some liver from the butcher for tonight while she’s there.’ To her sister she said, ‘What time is Miss Denny coming to fit your dress?’

  Isabel sat down heavily and rested her chin on her hands and Luke said, ‘Tut! Elbows on the table!’ in a fair imitation of Aunt Alice in years gone by.

  Isabel stuck out her tongue. ‘You can talk! You would never have dared to come down to breakfast in your pyjamas if Aunt Alice was still here!’

  Olivia set the eggs and fried bread in front of them and Luke poured the tea.

  Before Isabel could tell her about Miss Denny, Luke said, ‘Look at this letter, Izzie. It’s addressed to “the Fratton family”.’

  Isabel held out her hand for the envelope and stared at it. ‘So why don’t we open it?’

  Olivia plucked it from her hand. ‘Because Theodore’s not here and nor is Cicely. I think we have to open it when we’re all together. It says “the Fratton family”.’

  ‘We’ll never be all together,’ Luke argued. ‘Mother and Father are gone . . .’

  Isabel broke the yolk of her egg, spread it carefully over the fried bread and ate hurriedly. Between mouthfuls she said, ‘Cicely’s not a real member of the family,’ and immediately regretted it because they all suspected that she was a little jealous of her sister-in-law. In truth she had enjoyed her position as the baby of the family and big brother Theodore had always made a fuss of her. It had been hard to bear when Cicely came into their lives and ‘stole’ Theo’s affections.

  ‘Of course Cicely is one of the family!’ Olivia gave her a sharp glance. ‘She’s married into the family, she is now Cicely Fratton and the child will be a Fratton.’

  Luke said, ‘Aunt Alice isn’t here.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘She is not family. Not a real aunt – that is just a courtesy title. She was Mother’s best friend and is our godmother. Her name’s Alice Redmond – no relation.’

  Isabel’s face lit up suddenly. ‘I know what it is! It’s someone somewhere has left us some money! You know how it happens – the solicitors have to notify people when they have been left a . . . a bequest! I think someone who knew Mother, perhaps, or even Father, has left us something in their will. And we all share it!’

  Luke looked hopeful, wanting to believe it, but Olivia hesitated. ‘It sounds too good to be true. But just in case you are right, Izzie, we certainly must wait for Theodore and Cicely because it wouldn’t be fair if we knew before they did.’ She looked at Luke who nodded reluctantly.

  Isabel asked what time they were coming.

  ‘About seven, the same as usual.’

  Luke grinned. ‘And let me guess – we’ll be having liver and onions, mashed potato and gravy because it’s Theodore’s favourite and Cicely doesn’t care for it so her mother rarely cooks it!’

  Olivia had the grace to blush but changed the subject adroitly. ‘We really need a bottle of champagne – just in case “the Fratton family” have been left some money.’

  Isabel pushed back her chair. ‘But we will not be having any champagne because we cannot afford it. We’re impoverished, poor, without funds, penniless, on our beam ends . . .’

  Luke said, ‘I think we get the point, Izzie.’

  Isabel was halfway out of the room before she remembered her sister’s question. ‘Miss Denny? She’ll be here at eleven.’

  That evening, as soon as the visitors arrived, the family informed them, in a confusing chatter, about the mysterious letter; they settled in the front room in an excited flurry of expectation. Only Cicely waited with something akin to anxiety. Theo had already resigned himself to disappointment but the others were hoping for good news of some kind.

  As Theodore carefully slid his finger under the sealed flap of the envelope, he caught sight of his wife’s expression. ‘Don’t look like that, dearest,’ he told her with a reassuring smile. ‘It’s only a letter. It can’t do us any harm and it just might be good news.’

  ‘Good news about money!’ cried Isabel. ‘Just open it, Theo, for heaven’s sake!’

  Luke held out his hand. ‘Hand it over. I’ll open it if you won’t!’

  Olivia said nothing but her hands were clenched in her lap and her throat was dry. She was trying to hide her unreasonable sense of approaching disaster although she had not the slightest idea what form this might take. To her knowledge they had no serious debts, her brothers and sisters were well and presumably happy, and no one they loved was sick or likely to die.

  Theo said, ‘I wonder why they have written the address in capital letters.’

  Luke groaned. ‘Open it and we might find out!’ He turned to Cicely. ‘Tell your husband to get on with it. The suspense is killing me!’

  She looked at her husband appealingly but said nothing.

  Seconds later the letter was being taken from its envelope and Theodore held it aloft in mock triumph. Instead of murmurs of satisfaction the room was suddenly silent. Cicely covered her face with her hands and Olivia drew in her breath.

  She said, ‘Who is it from, Theo?’

  They all waited as he turned to the end and read the signature. His face paled. ‘I don’t know,’ he stammered. ‘That is . . . it says it’s from Father. It’s signed: “Your loving father, Jack Fratton!”’

  Isabel saw that his hand shook.

  Luke snorted indignantly. ‘Seriously, Theo! That’s not funny. Let me see it.’

  Olivia said, ‘I don’t believe it. It must be a hoax. But who would do such a thing?’ Her voice was husky, her eyes wide.

  Cicely began to cry and Theo put an arm round her. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, silly goose!’ he told her. ‘It’s just a joke but not very funny.’

  Only Isabel was smiling. In fact, she was beaming. ‘From Father? Oh Lord! It’s like a miracle!’ She clasped her hands. ‘After all this time he’s alive? I always thought he must be dead although I didn’t want to . . . I mean, didn’t you?’ She looked at the others for confirmation but no one answered, still stunned from the shock.

  Then Luke said, ‘You didn’t say that you thought he was dead.’

  ‘Because I didn’t want to say it aloud. Because that might have made it be true.’

  Olivia said, ‘Read it, Theo!’

  But now he was frowning. ‘Coming home after all these years? How long has he been away? Nineteen years – or is it twenty? He’d have been in touch long ago if he were still alive. I’ll read it but let’s not be fooled by it.’

  Luke nodded reluctantly. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s too good to be true.
I must admit I came to the conclusion some years back – talking to Aunt Alice about him. She was sure of it. Some sort of accident, she thought, and no one knew how to reach us and let us know.’

  Olivia said, ‘I just thought he didn’t care.’

  Isabel shook her head in disbelief. ‘What’s wrong with you all? Father is alive and well and none of you want to believe it!’ She tossed her head. ‘Well, I want to, so there! Read it out, Theo, or give it to me!’ She thrust out her hand.

  Theodore shrugged, gave Olivia a helpless glance and began to read: ‘My dear family, I fear this letter will come as a complete surprise and for that I am truly sorry. Setting a fox among the pigeons comes nowhere near, I’m sure, to how you will feel when you read this . . .’

  He glanced up. ‘He’s right there! It takes a bit of believing that he would stay away from us for twenty years, knowing that we would think the worst. I wonder what Mother would say if she were still alive.’

  Luke said, ‘I wonder what Aunt Alice will say.’

  Olivia said quickly, ‘We must find out first if it’s genuine before we start telling everyone. We must keep our heads until we’re certain.’

  Theodore peered at the writing. ‘Is this his handwriting? We must have some old letters somewhere, to compare it with.’

  Isabel gave him a spiteful look. ‘You are determined not to believe it! Why, I don’t know. Anyone would think that after all this time you’d be cock-a-hoop to discover that your father—’ She broke off. ‘Where is he? Does he say? He might be coming home and if so –’ her voice rose almost to a shriek – ‘he can walk me down the aisle when I marry Bertie!’

  Olivia said gently, ‘You mustn’t get your hopes up, Izzie. If this is all . . . Well, just don’t rely on this until we know more.’

  Without prompting, Theodore read on: ‘I don’t know how the world has treated you but I realize that you are no longer children and I hope when we are reunited that I can explain my long absence, and you will forgive me for what must have seemed like my abandonment of you all. We will have a lot to talk about!’

  Luke said slowly, ‘Does that mean that he expects to come back to England? To come home here? To live here with us?’

  Olivia said, ‘He can’t just assume that . . . That is, he doesn’t belong here!’

  Isabel gave a short laugh, her face still bright with excitement at the prospect. ‘Most certainly he does! This is his home, isn’t it? He lived here once and now he wants to be part of the family again. He’s never seen me, remember. I was born after he went away the second time. He must be wondering about me – as I’ve wondered about him.’

  Cicely spoke up suddenly. ‘And he hasn’t met me, either. He doesn’t know Theo and I are married and expecting a baby! His first grandchild!’

  There was a short silence as Isabel stared at her, taken aback by the unexpected challenge, but before she could rally, Luke shrugged.

  ‘You’re his daughter-in-law. No denying that.’

  Isabel gave him a sharp look but hesitated.

  Theodore said, ‘Should he expect to return here? Twenty years is a long time to stay away and then take it for granted that you can simply walk back in. Isn’t that up to us?’

  Realizing that the conversation was taking an unfortunate turn, Olivia said, ‘Finish reading it, Theo. We have plenty of time to mull it over.’

  Isabel cried, ‘I shall answer it even if you don’t!’ She glared around her. ‘This is my home as well as yours and if I want to live here and be with my father . . .’

  ‘It won’t be your home much longer, Izzie,’ Luke reminded her. ‘In a few weeks’ time, after the wedding, your home will be with Bertie.’

  Visibly shaken by this obvious truth, Isabel hesitated. ‘Then he can come and live with us!’

  Luke raised his eyebrows. ‘I think Bertie might have something to say about that!’

  Theodore said, ‘I fear none of us will be answering the letter because there is no address but if you can all stop bickering I’ll finish reading it. ‘I hope it will not be too long before we are all together again and I can fill in the past years for you – and you can do the same for me. In the meantime, take care of each other. You have always been in my thoughts and I cannot wait to see you all again. If only Ellen could be there too. Your loving father, Jack Fratton.’

  Olivia was finding it almost impossible to grasp as her mind churned with unanswered questions and with intangible fears for the future. She wanted to be thrilled and delighted, like Isabel, but for some reason the euphoria escaped her and instead the unexpected news weighed on her senses like an unknown threat that had suddenly materialized. In fact she had long since given up expecting her father’s return and the family had adjusted, she thought, rather well to his prolonged absence.

  Lost in deep confusion, she jumped to her feet. ‘I must see to the meal,’ she cried and fled the room.

  In the kitchen she closed the door and leaned against it. As she did so she realized that she was still shaking and that shock was doing strange things to her. Forcing herself across the room she opened the oven door and, reaching for a thick cloth, pulled out the dish containing the liver and onions and then stared at it blankly.

  ‘Oh yes!’ she muttered and rose to fetch a skewer with which to test the liver. ‘It’s fine . . . Yes. It’s . . . going to be very nice.’

  She thought that if it was not nice it would be her father’s fault and not hers. Springing such a surprise was unforgivable, she told herself indignantly. Closing the oven door, she adjusted the heat downward and straightened up. She stared unseeingly around the kitchen, unsure what to do next. How could he write so boldly, she asked herself. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. How could he not even say how sorry he was for the way he had treated them? And the comment about Ellen was so hypocritical. There was not a hint of remorse.

  ‘Potatoes,’ she said dully, and collected some from the basket in the pantry and put them into a bowl and ran cold water over them. Frowning, she wondered uneasily if perhaps her father had been drunk when he wrote the letter, and actually had no intention of coming home.

  Peeling the potatoes more slowly than usual, she continued to probe her own feelings and those of the others. Isabel had been immediately delighted at the prospect that her father might be back in time to escort her down the aisle. Well, Theodore might not object to relinquishing that particular task although Izzie would need to be very diplomatic about rejecting her brother so willingly.

  The potatoes were cut into quarters and were soon simmering on the hob. Carrots were found and dealt with while she thought about Luke’s reaction to a situation which, had he been a few years younger, he would have described as ‘a bit of a lark!’ Now, a little more mature, he might resent the intrusion into the family of a ‘prodigal father’ who might or might not see eye to eye with him – and might even try to advise him on his future! The problem was that none of them knew what sort of man Jack Fratton was.

  There was also the nagging problem of why their father had suddenly taken it into his head to return to his ‘long-lost’ family. Was he in some kind of trouble in California? Was he trying to escape the long arm of the law? Even if he had done nothing wrong, was he someone they would want to live with?

  Try as she could she found it impossible to remember much about him – except that he didn’t like fish. No recollection of his voice. No memory of his smile. Not even a distant echo of his laugh . . .

  ‘Calm yourself, Olivia,’ she told herself and poured herself a glass of cold water which did nothing at all to lessen her anxiety.

  Footsteps sounded and Theo came into the kitchen. He sat down beside her and reached for her hand.

  ‘We mustn’t panic over this,’ he said, squeezing her hand sympathetically. ‘By tomorrow it will seem easier to deal with. We’ll sleep on it tonight and—’

  ‘But suppose he just turns up on the doorstep?’ Her voice rose a little. ‘What should we do? We might . . . H
e might be someone we can’t . . . admire. Then what will we do?’

  ‘Mother loved him,’ he said. ‘He must have had some good qualities or she would never have married him. Cling to that thought.’

  ‘But twenty years have passed,’ she protested, ‘and we have no idea how he has lived or where . . . or who he has lived with. Haven’t you ever wondered about him?’

  He sighed. ‘I suppose most days I think about him only briefly if at all. He made Mother very unhappy. Aunt Alice says she tried always to speak kindly of him because she hoped he would one day come back to us – and maybe he would have done eventually. He must have known that Mother had died. Aunt Alice wrote to him . . .’

  ‘But no one knew whether or not he received her letter.’

  Theo opened the oven door and inspected the liver and bacon. ‘Smells good. I’m starving.’

  Olivia ignored the comment. ‘If he thought Mother was still alive that makes it worse. It would be very cruel to abandon a wife to bring up four children on her own.’ She shook her head, exasperated. ‘All these questions I never expected to be answered. Now I’m totally bemused – not to say demoralized. I don’t know what to think!’

  ‘But if he knew we were motherless . . .’ He frowned. ‘Unless he was in touch with Aunt Alice and we knew nothing about that.’

  Olivia, thoroughly confused, opened the cutlery drawer and stared unseeingly at the knives and forks. Then, with a jolt, she rallied and began to lay the table. ‘I suppose we shall hear nothing else now from Izzie except Father’s homecoming. She’s determined to look on the bright side and I dare say we all should but . . .’ She sighed then abruptly smiled. ‘Fancy Cicely piping up the way she did! I think she’s coming out of her shell a little which is wonderful.’

  He laughed. ‘No one was more surprised than me!’ he confessed. ‘It must have been the so-called mothering instinct – protecting the rights of her child. The first grandchild. It certainly gave Izzie something to ponder.’

  After a moment Olivia said, ‘As long as we all stick together. I mean we have to agree on what to do and say, as a family. And be guided by what Mother would have wanted for us. Aunt Alice said that a gypsy woman told Mother once that she and Father would one day be reunited – but she was wrong.’