After The Silence...

Cornwall, 1921

The young woman was a picture of motion. The bag looped over one narrow shoulder swayed with every tap of her hip. A hat swung loosely in her hand as her arms matched the rhythm of her forceful stride. The material of her skirt stretched taut across her legs and then relaxed once again with each step. Yet as she walked down that carefully cobbled path it seemed to her as if time itself had ceased to move at all. The flower-heavy stems of wisteria still gently brushed across her shoulders, releasing its thick perfume as she twisted sharply to the right to reach the front door.

She rapped immediately, her fist rubbing more of the peeling blue paint off the tired wood. The decision having been made several days ago in London she did not pause to consider her actions now. After a short wait the door opened and a familiar voice spoke with quiet reserve.

“Good afternoon Madeline. I wondered when you’d come.” The young woman fidgeted with the brim of her hat, her smile of greeting merely a fleeting curve of her painted lips. She had been mildly taken aback by the other woman’s appearance. Age had given her a softness that had always been absent before. Grey strands muted what had once been dazzling gold, though the elegant twist of hair above her nape stayed the same. There was tiredness and resignation in the lines and discolouration of her skin, but the stiff peaks of her collarbone remained proud.

“I’d like to see Kit.” There was little discernible change in the other woman’s expression, but Madeline had known her well once. “I only wish to say goodbye, Rose.” Her tone was gentle and reassuring. “I shall be leaving England very soon. My fiancé works for the Foreign Office. You know I always dreamed of my very own Grand Tour when I was a girl.” Some of the tension eased around Rose’s mouth and she nodded her acknowledgment of what had truly been meant by those words. Madeline would not be taking Kit away again.

“I’ll make us some tea.” The benign statement was as polite an invitation as would ever be possible between the two women. As they settled in the well-appointed cottage kitchen Madeline felt yet again how precarious the passage of time could be. It had been almost seven years since she had first sat in this kitchen, Rose clattering about with the tea things and asking her how hellish the journey down had been. It was simply to have been a short holiday with a distant cousin to escape momentarily from parental disagreements. Neither of them could have perceived back then how such a small act of kindness could have fundamentally changed all their lives.

“You have to understand he’s not the same man anymore.” They both looked unconsciously towards the staircase when Rose’s solemn utterance rose above the chimes of their cups and saucers. “When they brought him back from the Front it’s as if they left a part of him there. He can’t see of course. Gas. But his mind wanders and he can be very...different.” Rose had been studying hard the score marks on the table as she spoke but now she looked directly at the younger woman. “He says things he doesn’t mean. He’s always sorry for them later. I just want – I just want you to know that.” Madeline fumbled for the right words, yet none of them seemed adequate.

“I am glad he is here with you.” She said finally, impulsively clasping the older woman’s hand. “I am so very glad he has you Rose.” Rose sat stiff and uncomfortable before extracting her hand carefully. There were some bonds that could never be mended and some actions that could never be forgiven. “You have always loved him so much better than I.” Madeline said softly as she toyed with a delicate teaspoon.

“He was never yours to love.” The words were sharp as was the metallic scrape when the ring on Rose’s finger caught on the tea tray. Madeline stood abruptly in an attempt to end the argument before it had begun. All the accusations and recriminations had been aired many years ago the night that Kit and Madeline had left together. It had been a short, idyllic summer for the lovers before the nightmare of war began. It was a war that had eventually returned the husband to his wife.

“I shall go see him now.” Madeline turned back uncertainly, however, when she reached the doorway. “Rose, I would never leave if I didn’t think he would be happiest here with you. Let go of the past. Our hearts have an astonishing and resilient capacity for love.”