Blue Smoke (39 page)

There was no chance of her, Jake and Daisy packing up and going to live somewhere else: there was simply not the money. Leila could have asked her parents for help, but she wouldn’t, and Jake never asked her to. And he made it quite clear that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave his father to run the farm on his own. Leila had accepted this, and even reluctantly admired him for it.

She opened the window and lit a cigarette. A scent wafted in — she thought it might have been magnolia. In spite of everything, it might have worked if Jake had not changed so much. Physically he had been the same, except for his problems in the bedroom,
but mentally, or spiritually, he was a different man. The essential, vibrant, New Zealand Jake had gone, leaving behind only a person who looked like him. Because of her Uncle James, she knew that the root of the problem lay in what had happened on Okinawa, but he flatly refused to talk about it. Every time she cautiously raised the subject, he either changed it, or simply walked away. His face would close over, and his eyes would take on a distant, disconnected look, and that would be that. It had been hurtful, and terribly frustrating.

So after three months, she’d come to a decision. When she told Jake, he had not argued and had not defended himself. He had cried, but he hadn’t tried to stop her. The next day, he’d driven her and Daisy into Alva, where she purchased tickets for the train back to Philadelphia. They said goodbye and he’d driven off. Leila stood on the platform and waited and waited, but the plume of dust rising up behind the truck had not faltered, and finally it had disappeared altogether.

She had sat down and put her arm around her daughter.

‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m so sorry it hasn’t worked out the way we wanted it to.’

Daisy had Ginny on her knee. ‘It’s all right, Mummy,’ she said as she stroked and stroked the soft, sleek fur. She looked up. ‘But we tried, though, didn’t we?’

Leila blinked back tears. ‘Oh, yes, sweetie, we tried.’

‘That’s all right, then.’

The train had pulled in an hour later, and Leila and Daisy had been very pleased to see a familiar face waving at them from the engine.

They boarded and found themselves an empty compartment, and Leila had to physically restrain Daisy from tearing through the cars to find Jackson, whom she was sure would be busy at the moment. But he appeared five minutes later, knocking on the
compartment door and waving through the glass.

‘Jackson!’ Daisy cried, and bounced out of her seat.

Leila’s heart hurt a little as it occurred to her that Daisy had never greeted her father with such enthusiasm.

Jackson came in and took off his brakeman’s cap. ‘Mind if I sit, Missus?’

‘Not at all, Mr Phelps, please,’ Leila replied, indicating the seat opposite.

He sat down, elbows on his knees and hands dangling, and watched Leila thoughtfully. Daisy was busy extracting Ginny from her box to show her friend how much the cat had grown.

After a moment Jackson asked, ‘Heading back to Philly for a vacation?’

Leila knew full well that he knew, but was grateful he was too polite to let on.

‘No, we’re going home. My sister in Philadelphia is getting married in a week’s time, then we’re going back to New Zealand.’

Jackson nodded wisely. ‘Best time for a wedding, summertime.’

‘Yes, my sister’s future mother-in-law thinks so.’

‘Hope it works out for her. Your sister, I mean.’

‘I’m sure it will. Her fiancé is a very nice man. Very decent.’

Jackson sat back and stretched his old legs out in front of him. He was wearing one black sock and one grey one, which Daisy thought was hilarious.

‘Sometimes, though,’ he said eventually as he patted Ginny’s grey head, ‘it don’t make much difference. Even if the man and the woman is both decent, it still ain’t going to work. Sometimes, it just ain’t meant to be, no matter what.’

Leila stared at him.

He went on, softly but surely telling her what she so much needed to hear. ‘And when that happens, according to my old momma any way, and she did know about these things, there can’t
be no blame. The things that was there to start with just ain’t there after a while. No one’s fault, it just is. So you just got to pick yourself up and keep on going, ’cause there’s always something better around the corner. For them that wants to believe that, anyway.’

‘Thank you, Mr Phelps,’ Leila said in a wobbly voice, then burst into tears.

Jackson extracted a large, meticulously folded mauve handkerchief from his uniform pocket and handed it across to her.

He sat with her for an hour, occasionally saying something quietly to Daisy who was amusing herself by trying to put a nappy on Ginny made from her own handkerchief, and simply waited.

Then he asked Daisy to go along to the dining car and order a cup of coffee for her mother and a soda for herself, and to say it was to go on Jackson T. Phelps’ tab, and it had all come out.

Leila felt immensely better afterwards, mainly because it had been the first opportunity she’d had to talk to anyone who hadn’t actually been involved. Hearing the story out loud in her own words, it all sounded quite hopeless and naive, and in retrospect doomed to failure, but she understood that what she knew now she hadn’t known then, and that made it a little easier to accept.

Jackson went away after a while, but he made sure that no other passengers encroached on Leila’s compartment, and over the next seventy-two hours she had plenty of time to think. By the time the train reached Philadelphia, she was feeling somewhat better. Still desperately sad and bereft, but a little less raw.

Bonnie and Danny were at the station to meet them, although they’d had to wait for some minutes while Daisy went to look for Jackson to get his address so she could send him a postcard from New Zealand.

Mr and Mrs Hartman had been very understanding, and offered to put Leila and Daisy up until after the wedding. Nothing was
said about what had happened, although everyone knew, but Leila took care to limit her discussion of recent events to her sister and occasionally Danny, because she just didn’t think it was anyone else’s business.

Bonnie and Danny’s wedding had been truly spectacular, with Bonnie in a gorgeous white satin dress and long lace veil looking exactly like the sort of bride the twins had marvelled at in magazines, and Danny in a smart grey morning suit and top hat. It had been decided at the last minute that Daisy would be a flower-girl and she too looked delightful in a pale apricot lace dress that would have done justice to a Christmas-tree fairy.

But Bonnie and Danny had gone now, off on their honeymoon, and there was not much left for Leila to do except pack for the voyage back to New Zealand. She had written to her parents and told them briefly about what had happened, with a promise of more detail when they got home, and that she and Daisy were well and very much looking forward to being back at Kenmore again.

So when the Hartmans’ maid knocked on the bedroom door with the message that a Mr Spano was on the telephone for her, and did she want to take the call, she was surprised to say the least.

He was telephoning, he told Leila, because he thought she might like to know how Jennifer was settling in.

‘When we met you said you weren’t on the telephone, but I thought I’d call your sister for your address so I could drop you a line. I had no idea you were back in Philadelphia yourself.’

‘Yes, we are,’ Leila replied, ‘but only for a few more days. We’re going back to New Zealand very soon.’

There was a short silence at the other end, then Anthony Spano said, ‘Would you and your little girl like to come and see Jennifer? She’s doing very well, as it happens, and she’s very happy, but I know she’d like to see you.’

Leila paused. She would love to see Jennifer again, but didn’t
know if a visit to Anthony Spano would be appropriate, or if indeed it was what she felt like doing.

‘Look,’ he said as she dithered, ‘why don’t I bring Jennifer to see you? What about tomorrow? It’s only a short drive from where I live.’

In the end Leila said yes, knowing that Daisy would probably be cheered up by seeing Jennifer too. But before she hung up, she asked, ‘How did you know the telephone number here?’

‘Oh, that was easy. I rang the shipping company you came over with and asked for the forwarding address given by Miss Bonnie Morgan. Then I checked in the phone book.’

‘Why didn’t you just ask for my forwarding address?’

Another short silence. ‘I thought it best to check with your sister first. I thought your husband might not appreciate you receiving letters from strange men. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodbye.’

Leila replaced the telephone, sensing that Anthony Spano had just changed his story somewhere along the line, though she wasn’t at all sure where.

He had been right about Jennifer; she was thriving, and dashing about madly in the most adorable little pale yellow dress with matching Mary Janes and white socks with lace around the tops. The colour suited her perfectly, a lovely foil for her shining black hair and blue eyes. She was talking well now, too, and chattered on to Daisy as they both played with Ginny on the lawn.

Leila and Anthony sat on the patio and drank coffee. She complimented him on how well Jennifer looked, and he explained that he couldn’t take all the credit as he’d recently hired a nanny, with whom Jennifer seemed to get on very well.

A nanny, Leila thought, raising her eyebrows. But Anthony Spano did seem to be quite well off, judging by his clothes and the
car he’d arrived in. He hadn’t said what he did, but she’d gathered it was something rather profitable. He hadn’t mentioned Gail either, so she thought it best that she didn’t herself; she had the distinct feeling that he was more than happy to put the whole episode behind him. Except for Jennifer, of course, whom he clearly adored.

He did ask her about Jake. Leila said as little as possible, other than to state that her marriage had ended owing to irreconcilable differences, and that she had decided to take Daisy back to New Zealand. He hadn’t said anything else on the matter, but when it was time for him to take Jennifer home, he had asked if he could write to her at her parents’ address. She saw no harm in it, so they parted on friendly terms after a very pleasant afternoon. During the voyage back to New Zealand, however, Leila found herself thinking about Anthony Spano more and more as the days went by.

Kenmore, March 1947

T
homas and Catherine had moved back to Napier at Christmas time, and had bought a rather nice house in town, one of the stylish, modern ones built after the earth quake. Thomas was still practising law, but only two days a week, and Catherine was resting, enjoying the summer warmth that gave such relief to her arthritis.

Robert had also come home, and was working with Joseph and Owen on the station again, and thoroughly enjoying himself after his long sojourn over seas.

Ana married David Leonard, and was now living at the Leonard farm. They were expecting a baby in September, but Ana, characteristically, was refusing to let her ‘condition’ hamper her activities and was belting about on Mako and helping David and Jack get the farm back into some sort of order.

As he’d promised in his letters, Jonathan Lawson had come back to New Zealand, and he and Kathleen had set their wedding date for October. Jonathan was occupying himself helping out on the station, and was staying in one of the little shearers’ cottages, James having decided that it wasn’t quite the thing to have your future son-in-law sleeping under the same roof as your daughter before they were married. After they were, though, Jonathan was taking
Kathleen to England on an extended honeymoon so she could meet his family. They would decide after that where they wanted to make their home. Jonathan was seriously considering joining the regular air force, given that he’d been trained as a pilot during the war and couldn’t really do much else, but whether it would be the RAF or the RNZAF, he hadn’t decided. He adored Kathleen, and would do anything to make her happy, so it was highly likely that he would make his decision around her.

Duncan had settled into life as an orchardist remarkably easily. James and Lucy had at first thought he might not take to the slow pace of the work but he was adapting very well. He had to wear a hat all the time to keep the sun off his damaged face, and gloves to prevent the thin skin on his hands from being scratched by branches, but his enthusiasm for the propagation, cultivation and harvesting of the various fruits James grew was increasing by the day. Rather than becoming bored, he seemed to enjoy the gentle, reliable rhythms of horticulture and watching day by day as leaves went from bright green to the darker hues of maturity, and blossoms became fruit. The war had changed him, as it had changed everyone else, and he seemed to revel in Claire and their new baby.

Now and then he would tell hair-raising tales of his flying exploits during the war, stories that made his mother go pale at the very thought, and very occasionally would mention the names of men who had died — Terry Finch who had gone down in flames, his plane a fiery coffin, and Jacko Ebbett, who had been caught on the runway when the Luftwaffe bombers had flown early one misty morning over Biggin Hill — but, like Liam and Robert, he kept most of his war experiences to himself. Every few weeks they would pile into the farm truck and go into the RSA in town, and join the new, younger generation of veterans who had started congregating there to talk about things that no one else would have
a hope of understanding, but generally the war had been relegated to a private and increasingly sacred place.

Duncan’s contentment was a great comfort to James and Lucy, who had been deeply and profoundly bereft when Drew had taken his own life. It had helped just a little to learn that he had been suffering from a terminal illness, but the knowledge that he had not been able to share that with them had been another heavy blow. He had not wanted to worry them, and there was nothing they could have done, but they grieved intensely for him nevertheless. Their greatest regret was that he might have died thinking he was alone, and the thought ate away at them for months until they were finally able to accept that they had done what they could for him — and that had to be enough.

Liam, who had rather naively thought that once the war ended all the dying and the grief would stop too, had been shattered by Drew’s death. He had been sliding inexorably into depression when Violet and Sam had arrived on that September afternoon. Since then, he had perked up markedly, and had taken Sam under his wing as if the boy were his own. Despite Violet’s fears, Erin and Joseph had been delighted to discover that Billy had a child, particularly one who looked so like him, and that their son had had the comfort and pleasure of a genuine love affair before he’d died. They had asked Violet to consider staying on in New Zealand. At first she had very politely said no, explaining that her life, and Sam’s, was in England, and that they had only come out so that her son could meet the other half of his family. She was very grateful for the offer, but her parents were expecting them back, and she was needed to help with the family business.

But as the weeks passed, she found she was beginning to change her mind, for two reasons. The first was Sam; since their arrival, and after he had overcome his initial shyness, he had flourished. He had suffered from asthma all of his life, but there had been
no sign of the ailment here in the hills of Hawke’s Bay, not even when it was cold and damp. He was spending much of his time with his grandfather now, and had learned to ride a horse (after a fashion), could tell the difference between various types of sheep and had decided he knew all about dagging and shearing and docking. He could also make an eel trap, one that actually caught real eels, which was his proudest achievement to date. He’d met some of his cousins and aunties and uncles from the settlement at Maungakakari, the village that Billy had spoken of with such fondness, and had been awed to discover that his grandfather was a real, live Maori chief, even though he wasn’t covered in tattoos and went around in ordinary work pants and a tatty old hat. He had been a happy child in England, but here he seemed really at home, and a whole new side of him was beginning to emerge. Violet didn’t know whether she could deprive him of all that now, by taking him back to England.

The second thing was Liam. Violet had assumed, vowed even, that after Billy had died, she would never be interested in another man for as long as she lived. Billy had been the one for her, and if she could not have him then she did not want anyone else. But, to her surprise, she was changing her mind about that too. Liam was almost the complete opposite of Billy, in looks as well as character. Billy had been assertive and quite loud and very sure about everything he did, and the power of his personality had swept her off her feet, literally. But Liam, who was as fair as Billy had been dark, was a much gentler soul, though equally kind and generous. He was attractive, though, because of it, and becoming more so as the weeks passed. She knew without even having to ask that he had been through some very unpleasant times during the war, and Kathleen had told her that he had once been married to a woman who had taken him for a complete patsy and treated him very badly. She sensed, too, that he was a sensual man, or at least
that’s how she felt when she caught him looking at her. Her own body’s responses told her that beneath his calm and thoughtful exterior, he was a man who could be very passionate, and she also knew that if she went back to England, she would never discover exactly how passionate.

Leila, too, had settled in well again at Kenmore, and was slowly recovering from her disastrous marriage. Daisy seemed to have put the whole experience behind her and was back to her happy, cheeky and inquisitive self, but she talked often of Jackson T. Phelps, and had recently sent him a photograph of Ginny now that she had grown into a proper, and rather fat, cat. Leila realised that the old man’s kindness, patience and words of wisdom had been exactly what the child had needed at the time. They certainly had been for her, and she would be forever grateful for what he had said to her on that train returning to Philadelphia.

She had her family and was in regular contact with Bonnie, who was thoroughly enjoying being Danny’s wife, and there was never any shortage of beaus wanting to take her out. She said yes now and then, and enjoyed the odd night out in Napier, but she suspected that the old days of carousing and dancing until dawn might be behind her now. She had not grown up during the war, she had to admit, but she had come back from America with a new maturity and the knowledge that, whatever happened to her in future, she had the strength to survive.

This was something she had written to Anthony Spano not long ago when she’d replied to one of his many letters — always accompanied by photos of Jennifer and amusing stories, told with pride and affection, of what she had been up to lately — and his response had given her a lot to think about. She believed she knew Anthony better now than she had ever known poor Jake, and she very much liked the person he was turning out to be. She was not yet ready to make a commitment, but she knew that Anthony
Spano would be waiting when she was.

So life at Kenmore was as good as it could be, given the enormous upheavals and awful losses of the past six years, and the Murdochs, the Deanes and the Morgans were beginning to adapt again to a life without war, one that promised long stretches of calm, stability and prosperity, and opportunities for their children and their children’s children to grow up in a happier, more settled world.

It was a terrible blow, therefore, when Tamar, at the age of eighty-seven, had another major heart attack, and Doctor Fleming pronounced that she only had a matter of weeks to live.

Leila telephoned Bonnie in Philadelphia straight away, pacing backwards and forwards next to the phone in the hall waiting for her call to be connected to the international operator in New Zealand, then to America, then to the operator on the exchange at Bonnie’s end.

Bonnie, distraught, had agreed to come home as soon as she could. She arrived from Sydney five days later on TEAL Airlines, after having flown there from San Francisco in a DC-6, part of British Commonwealth Pacific Airlines’ new air fleet. Danny was with her, and as soon as they landed in Auckland they flew on in a rather noisy twelve-seater passenger plane to Napier’s Beacons aerodrome.

It was almost dark when they pulled up in a rented car in Kenmore’s driveway, and Bonnie barely stopped to greet anyone before rushing upstairs to her grandmother.

Tamar was lying in her bed, her head propped against pillows that were the same shade of white as her face, and Bonnie gasped in shock at her appearance — she had deteriorated so much over last twelve months. Her skin seemed as fragile as tissue paper and she had lost a significant amount of weight, so she now looked
more ethereal than human. She wasn’t moving at all, and Bonnie wondered, but was too scared to ask, whether she was in fact too late.

Keely read her daughter’s mind. ‘No, darling, she’s still with us, but barely. Doctor Fleming came this morning, and told us we must prepare ourselves.’ She retrieved a crumpled and sodden handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her puffy red eyes. ‘He thinks it won’t be long now.’

Bonnie moved across to the bed and looked down. Tamar stirred then, and opened her faded eyes.

‘Bonnie, dear,’ she said in a voice that was barely audible. ‘You came. I’m so pleased.’

Bonnie took her hand, which felt smooth and cold against her own. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t, Gran?’

‘I knew you would, if you could. You’re a good girl, Bonnie, you always were.’

Bonnie lifted her free hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. ‘I want you to get better, Gran,’ she blurted, as Keely lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘No, dear, it’s time.’ Tamar closed her eyes again wearily, or perhaps they closed by themselves. ‘I’m tired, darling, it’s time.’

Bonnie burst into tears then, and Keely led her out of the room and downstairs to sit with the others.

They waited another four hours, fortifying themselves with cups of tea, and brandy when necessary, each suspended in their own grief and the memories that grief always summons. Everyone was there, filling the kitchen and the parlour, and they all — Tamar’s children, her grandchildren and her two great-grandchildren — said their goodbyes to her over the course of the afternoon. Doctor Fleming would not be coming back, he had advised them earlier, because there would be no point unless it was to sign the death certificate. He was not being cruel, merely pragmatic. It was a
wonder she had hung on for as long as she had, he said, and it would be unkind to interfere medically any further. Better to let her slip away when she was ready. She was not in any real pain, but her heart was gradually slowing down as the hours ticked past, and when it finally stopped, she would go.

The atmosphere was sombre but from time to time there was a ripple of laughter as someone told a funny story involving Tamar, or an anecdote she was particularly fond of herself. She had not quite gone yet, but they were girding themselves with all the good things she meant to them before she did, so that it might be a little easier to bear.

At a few minutes before seven o’clock that evening, Keely came down and asked James, Thomas and Joseph to accompany her to their mother’s bedroom. They filed upstairs in silence and arranged themselves around her bed, trying very hard not to cry in front of her as, even at this late stage, they did not want to do anything that might cause her anguish.

After several minutes Tamar took a deep hitching breath, opened her eyes and said quite clearly, ‘I love you all, very much. You have been my life and I want you to remember that.’

They waited and watched, and when a bright, dancing light came into their mother’s eyes they hoped against hope that the inevitable was not, after all, going to happen.

And then she smiled, a small, private smile, and raised her hand as if to place it into the hand of another.