Wife And Mother Forever

CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER that they didn’t speak of it again. He had said as much as he could bear to, and Evie’s instincts told her to leave it. She must start getting to know this man again from the beginning.

Everything she had thought true about him was now reversed. Instead of the harsh bully, manipulating her for ulterior motives, there was a forlorn child desperately wondering what he’d done wrong to be so unloved. That child would remain a part of him all his life, making him so vulnerable to slights and rejections that he could only cope by being the first to attack.

She smiled to think how annoyed it would make him to be seen in this light. It was something she would have to keep to herself.

They didn’t tell Mark why the atmosphere had suddenly become happier, and he never mentioned the nights he awoke to find Justin’s bed empty, and went contentedly back to sleep. His air of strain fell away and he smiled more, but, like his father, he knew how to keep his own counsel.

One night, as they lay peacefully in bed, Justin said, ‘So what was all that about Andrew?’

She gave a gasp of laughter.

‘Don’t remind me what a fool I was. I guess I wanted to believe I was in love with him, and the effort to convince myself was tying me in knots.’

‘But why?’

‘You once said that no man had ever offered me lifetime commitment-’

‘I once said a lot of tomfool things. You shouldn’t listen to me.’

‘I try not to, but you’re hard to shut out when you get going,’ she said indignantly. ‘And you really annoyed me that time, talking as though I’m some Victorian wall-flower grasping at her last chance. I’d kick you if I had the energy.’

He grinned and kissed her. ‘So what’s the real story?’

‘I’ve always been the one fleeing commitment. It sounded so boring. I love my life, the freedom, the variety-’

‘The motorbike.’

‘Yup. There was never a man who made me want to change it, but I thought, if I waited long enough, I’d meet one. And suddenly I was nearly thirty and Andrew was such a sweet guy that I-well-’

‘You decided he’d “do”.’

‘You make it sound terrible, but yes, I suppose that’s true. I was starting to feel lonely, so I decided on Andrew. But I was always forcing it, and of course he knew something was wrong.’

‘When you’d stood him up often enough he got the message?’ Justin said with the amiable derision of the conqueror for his defeated rival.

‘Well, I’m glad he did, and found someone who suits him better.’

‘You can’t be sure he has.’

She gave a soft chuckle. ‘Yes, I can. Anyone would suit him better than me, and that girl sounded as though he’d made her very happy.’

They lay in sleepy contentment for a while. She was wondering how to broach the subject on her mind. At last she murmured, ‘Have you told Mark that you bought the cottage?’

‘No. I wasn’t sure what to say, when you were so mad at me.’

‘Only because I misunderstood. I thought you were-never mind. I was wrong. I heard from the lawyer this morning. He’s paid all Uncle Joe’s debts and sent me a cheque for the balance.’

‘So I suppose you’re going to throw that back at me?’ His tone was deceptively light, but now she could hear the dread beneath.

‘Nope,’ she said cheerfully, snuggling up to him. ‘I’m going to put it in the bank and make whoopee!’

‘I’m glad.’

‘Seriously, I’ll use it to do some repairs to the cottage-that is-if it’s still mine.’

He’d seized her into his arms before she’d finished speaking, using his mouth to incite and tease her towards what they both now wanted. But through his desire she also sensed passionate relief that she had finally accepted his offering, taking the sting out of her earlier rejection.

It would be good to believe that the revelations had made everything right, or at least given her the key to helping him. With her he’d found a kind of happiness, but that alone could not slay the demons of dread and insecurity that were devouring him inside. The darkness was not so easily defeated.

He still flared up about small things. His temper always died quickly, and he would apologise in a way that revealed his fear that he’d drive her away. She forgave him readily, but she worried about him.

Even more troubling were the times that he controlled his inner turbulence and went away to suffer alone, returning with a bright smile and an air of strain.

Once, when Mark had gone to bed and a chilly spell had made them light the log fire and stretch out on the old sofa before it, she asked him, ‘Justin, how long can you go on like this?’

He shrugged. At one time it would have seemed dismissive, but now she understood his confusion.

‘As long as there is,’ he said. ‘What else can I do?’

‘The first time I saw you I thought how angry you were. As I came to know you better I realised that you were angry all the time. No matter what happens it’s always there below the surface, waiting for something to trigger it, never giving you any peace.’

‘I’m sorry I lost it today-’

‘That’s all right. You said sorry at the time, and you bought Mark that computer game to make up for it.’

‘Yes, and he put it on my computer and I couldn’t get to it for hours,’ he said with resignation. ‘Be fair, I didn’t lose my temper about that.’

‘No, you showed the patience of a saint. You even let him teach you the game and beat you.’

He managed a faint grin. ‘I didn’t let him beat me. He beat me. And he enjoyed crowing at my expense. He’s a great kid, Evie. I even think-’

‘No,’ she said urgently. ‘You’re not going to change the subject. It’s you we’re talking about. You’re not happy-’

‘Yes, I am,’ he said, tightening his arms about her. ‘A little more of Dr Evie’s Magic Balm and I’ll be sweetness and light all the time.’

‘Not in a million years! Besides, I don’t think I’d like you as sweetness and light. I wouldn’t recognise you, for one thing.’ He gave a muffled laugh against her hair. ‘Besides, a magic balm only works on the outside. You need something to work on the inside.’

‘Evie, I’m not ill.’

‘You’re being devoured alive, and that’s a kind of sickness.’

‘You do the psycho-babble very well,’ he said lightly.

But she would not let him put her off. ‘Stop that,’ she said urgently. ‘I know what you’re trying to do.’

‘You know everything, don’t you?’

‘I said stop it. You’re trying to distract me because you don’t want to confront it.’

‘All right, I don’t,’ he growled. ‘Why the hell should I want to?’

‘Because you’ll never resolve it otherwise.’

‘What is there to resolve? It’s the situation. It’s my life. It can’t be resolved.’

‘Maybe it can.’

‘Evie, listen. I know you mean well, but you have to play the hand you’re dealt. You can play it well or badly, but you can’t change the hand you start with.’

‘But you can investigate it. And then, maybe, you’ll discover you weren’t dealt the hand you thought.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean you should find out about your real mother, who she was, and why she couldn’t keep you.’

He stared at her. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘No, but you might be if you try to carry this burden any longer. I think you’re already starting to break under it.’

It was a risky thing to say. She waited. He gave her a black look, but he didn’t deny it.

‘Haven’t you ever tried to find her?’

‘Why would I want to find her?’ he growled. ‘So that I can say, “Hey, why did you toss me out with the junk? C’mon tell me, and that’ll make it all right”?’

‘But there might be things she could tell you that would make you understand her better. Perhaps she had no choice. She was probably a young unmarried mother and it was very much harder for them in those days. At least try. It might make more difference than you think.’

‘How could it? She gave me up. There’s no way past that.’

‘There is if she didn’t want to give you up. She might have been pressured beyond endurance.’

‘I’d like to see anyone try to pressure me to give up my son.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she blazed. ‘That is absolutely the stupidest thing I have ever heard anyone say. We’re talking about a vulnerable girl. You’re a grown man at the height of his powers. Nobody can bully you.’

‘You’re not doing badly.’

‘I’m not bullying you, I’m just pointing out facts.’

‘Right now I’m not sure there’s a difference,’ he said, eyeing her cautiously.

‘Just because you can stand up to people it doesn’t mean everyone else can. Honestly, Justin, that remark was plain idiotic.’

‘All right,’ he said harshly. ‘I admit it. I was trying to get you off the subject. Do you think I want to let strangers poke and pry into my private life? Can you imagine how hard it was even to tell you? Suppose she wasn’t a vulnerable girl. Suppose she was someone who just didn’t want to bother.’

‘All right, it’s possible, but then I don’t think she’d have given her baby away in secret. She’d simply have called social services. But neither of us really knows. That’s why it’s vital to find out.’

‘You’re forgetting that she never registered my birth. In a sense I never existed. All those agencies for reuniting people with their mothers can’t help a man whose mother’s name isn’t on his birth certificate.’

‘That’s going to make it more difficult,’ she conceded. ‘But not impossible. I’ve got a friend that I’d like to give this to. He’s a private detective, and he’s brilliant.’

He was silent, racked by doubt. Evie could almost feel the violence of his feelings tearing him in opposite directions.

‘I can see to everything,’ she urged. ‘You give me all the details and I’ll talk to him. You won’t even have to meet him if you don’t want to.’

‘All right,’ he said softly. ‘If I can leave everything in your hands, I’ll do it.’

She held him close, praying that she’d done the right thing for him. If it turned out badly, she might have made his troubles a thousand times worse. But she knew that he couldn’t go much longer.

It was time to leave the cottage and return to London. Evie took a last look around, thinking of how she’d arrived here meaning to pack up and say goodbye. And now there were to be no sad goodbyes. At least, not to the cottage. What the road ahead held for her and Justin she could not tell.

So that they could travel together he arranged for a driver to collect her van. As they drove home he said, ‘It’ll be very late when we reach London. Why don’t you stay with us tonight, or maybe a few days?’

And she said that would be lovely, almost as though they hadn’t planned it between them earlier. Mark grinned. He was a child who saw and understood a lot more than he was told.

Justin left for New York a couple of days later. Before going he showed Evie his office and all the files that concerned his birth. They were pitifully few, but they were a start.

When Justin had gone she contacted David Hallam, the private investigator who was a good friend.

‘You’re not giving me much,’ he complained when he saw the material. ‘Never mind. It’ll be a challenge.’

On the night before Justin was due home David called her and said, ‘You’ve really stirred things up.’

‘You don’t mean you’ve found something?’

He told her what he’d discovered, and she could barely contain her excitement. But she must be patient. She and Mark went to meet Justin at the airport, and she held back, letting the moment belong to father and son. Her time would come.

It came later that night when they were finally alone.

‘I don’t know how much it amounts to,’ she said, ‘but David has someone he wants you to meet.’

He tensed. ‘Not-?’

‘No, not her. A man. His name is Primo Rinucci, and his English stepmother had a son who was taken away from her at birth. For years he’s been trying to find him for her. He’s had feelers out with dozens of organisations and detective agencies, asking them to tell him if anyone with the right details contacted them. There’s a chance that you’re the man he’s seeking.’

He turned pale. ‘Dear God!’

‘Justin, just think. If this works out, it means that she’s been looking for you.’

‘Don’t!’ he said in a harsh whisper. ‘Don’t encourage me to hope. Evie!’

‘Yes, darling. Yes, yes!’

This might be the answer that would make him complete at last, and if they did not pursue it the doubt would torment them both. But she knew also that Justin was standing on a dangerous edge, and disappointed hope could destroy him. If that happened she would blame herself for ever.

‘What else do you know about this man?’ he asked.

‘He comes from Naples and he’s flying over here to meet you. I’ve provisionally set it up for the day after tomorrow.’

‘I’ve got a meeting-’

‘Change it.’

‘Where do we go?’

‘You want me to come with you?’

‘I can’t do it without you. Sometimes I don’t think I can do anything without you. It’s as though you’re what links me to life. If that link were broken I’d just-’ he fought for the words ‘-sink into a black hole and never come out again.’

It dawned on her that he was making what, in any other man, she would have called a declaration of love. But this man did nothing like the others.

He saw the understanding in her face and spoke in self-mockery.

‘I’m making a pig’s ear of it, aren’t I?’

‘Not really,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m getting the message.’

‘I’m glad, because there are some things-I can’t do the “three little words” stuff.’ He sounded desperate.

He might never say that he loved her, she realised. But her life had been full of men who could do the ‘three little words stuff’ easily, and she had wanted none of them. What she wanted was this clumsy bear of a man with his tortured, painfully expressed need.

‘Do you remember the evening we collected Mark from the cemetery and you came home for supper?’ he asked. ‘The dogs were there, and their carry-on made you laugh.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘I’d never heard anyone laugh like that-such a sound-rich and warm-as though you’d found the secret of life. It seemed to-I had to follow-’ he grimaced ‘-whether you wanted me or not.’

‘A takeover bid,’ she said, smiling fondly.

‘Are you making fun of me?’ He said it, not aggressively, but almost meekly, like someone who was trying to learn.

‘Maybe just a bit,’ she said, touching his face.

‘You’re being unfair. I do know that women are different from stocks and shares-’

‘If only you could work out exactly how,’ she teased.

He weaved his fingers through hers, drawing her hand to his lips, then resting it against his cheek.

‘Laugh at me if you like,’ he said, ‘as long as you don’t leave me.’

The meeting was set up in neutral territory. David hired a room in a London hotel and the four of them met for lunch, Evie carrying the file with all the paperwork.

Primo Rinucci turned out to be a tall man with slightly shaggy mid-brown hair, in his early thirties. Despite his name he spoke perfect English, with no trace of an accent.

Evie was prepared for anything, but in fact the truth was clear almost at once. When Primo first set eyes on Justin a stillness came over him and he drew a long breath. After that she knew.

She couldn’t tell whether Justin had seen and understood. His manner was stiff and awkward and he scowled more than he smiled. David, with blessed tact, departed almost as soon as the introductions were made.

‘Give me a call later,’ he whispered to Evie.

When he’d gone the two men regarded each other warily.

‘You are wondering what I can have to do with you,’ Primo said. ‘Let me tell you a little about myself. I was born in England and lived here for the first few years of my life. My father’s name was Jack Cayman. He was English. My mother was Italian, and her maiden name was Rinucci.

‘She died while I was a baby and my father married again, a young English girl called Hope Martin. She was a wonderful person, more a mother to me than a stepmother. Sadly, the marriage didn’t last. When they divorced, my father insisted that I remain with him. Later he died. I went to Italy to live with my mother’s parents, and took their name.

‘But then Hope, my stepmother, learned where I was and came to see me. My family welcomed her, and my Uncle Toni fell in love with her. I was very happy when they married, especially as I was able to live with them. I felt I had regained my mother.

‘It was years later, when I had grown up, that I learned that she’d had a child before her marriage to my father. She was only fifteen and her parents wanted her to give up her baby for adoption. They were furious when she refused.

‘In the event she never even saw her child. They told her it had been born dead, which was a lie. It was a home birth and the midwife was her aunt. She took the boy away to another town, many miles away. Hope knew nothing about it.’

Justin said nothing, only stared hard at Primo. It was Evie who exclaimed in horror at what she’d just heard.

‘Yes, it was wicked,’ Primo said, looking at her warmly. ‘Hope grieved for her “dead” child, but she grieved a thousand times more to think that he was alive and living apart from her, perhaps thinking she had abandoned him.’

Justin gave a small, convulsive jerk, but he didn’t speak.

‘How did she find out?’ Evie asked.

‘The aunt died. At the end she sent for Hope and tried to tell her what had happened, but she was too near the end to make much sense. Hope understood that her child had lived, had been stolen, and nothing else. She didn’t even have the name of the town, because the aunt had gone to a place where she wasn’t known. Apart from that, all she had was the date of his birth. This.’

He pushed a scrap of paper across the table. The date written on it was exactly two weeks before the date on Justin’s official birth certificate.

‘I began looking for him fifteen years ago,’ Primo resumed. ‘It took years to find the place where a baby boy had been abandoned soon after this date. At last my investigators narrowed it down to one possibility. Then I thought the search was over because this boy had been adopted by a couple called Strassne.’

There was silence in the room for a moment. Justin did not speak, but his grip on Evie’s hand became painful.

‘For several years he lived with them as Peter Strassne,’ Primo said. ‘But he assumed a new identity twenty years ago, and that was when the trail went cold. The deed poll said that Peter Strassne had become Frank Davis, but nobody ever heard of Frank Davis after that.’

Because he’d changed his name again, Evie thought sadly. And then again and again. And every time the trail grew a little colder. By the time he became Justin Dane there was nothing left to link him with his earlier identities.

‘Once he’d seemingly vanished into thin air,’ Primo resumed, ‘my only hope was if he too was searching, and I might pick up his search. That is why I am here. I think I already know the answer, but will you tell me if your name was ever Peter Strassne?’

Slowly Justin nodded his head. Then he pushed the file of papers across the table. Primo examined it briefly, and nodded.

‘I am satisfied,’ he said.

‘As easy as that?’ Justin asked hoarsely. ‘What can a few papers prove?’

‘I told you I already knew the answer. I knew as soon as I saw you. Your resemblance to your mother is remarkable. There are tests that can establish your blood tie once and for all, but there is no doubt in my mind that you are Hope Rinucci’s firstborn son.’