Chapter 34

28th of January 1897

Despite the late of the morning - the time was nearing close to midday - the woman who held this tiny baby in her arms, being all bundled and covered up, felt the cold to cling on her face like a second skin. Her quick breathing came out her nostrils like clouds inside the speeding carriage. Everything was frozen and quiet outside. Bathed under a glorious winter sunlight which despite its brilliance, it wasn't strong enough to thaw the frost which sparkled on the trees and the grass blades on the fields like myriads of minuscule diamonds.

The little baby kept quiet inside his blanket cocoon. So quiet in fact, that made Abigail Fowler quite nervous. Was he alive...Perhaps he'll die by the time they reach their destination. Newborns aren't really fit to travel and this one had only left the womb of his mother not more than two hours ago. She knew, she was there. She had helped the doctor, being one of the assistant midwives.

She took a small mirror out of her dress pocket and put it right in front of his pink squashed tiny nose. Waited for a moment. When she saw the mirror fogging up, she let a sigh of relief. Soon they would be inside the train to London and it would be warmer there.

The confirmation that the baby was still alive brought however a new wave of guilt that stood in the middle of her throat like a stone, making it difficult for her to breath. Despite the dense cold, she felt the back of her neck damp with sweat. With a hurried move, she took out of her coat pocket a delicate pearl white handkerchief.

The guilt that was tormenting her there and then, had been born the moment this child had taken its first breath.

It was already planned from the start. She knew the doctor was to take this baby away from the mother. A young woman she was, in her early twenties, just like Abigail. Although there was where their similarities ended. That woman who Abigail only knew her as Mrs. Graham was a stunner. Abigail would have sworn, she hadn't seen any other woman so beautiful. Having a good nature to match her looks, made Abigail's task even the more difficult to excuse internally. If only her family didn't need the money. Dr. Gardner was giving her.

The new born grimaced and stirred in her arms. He opened his eyes and looked at her. They were as dark as the waters of the North Sea were. She felt as if she was examined by this dark blue stare. Instinctively she caressed his forehead and pulled down the tiny woollen hat, to cover as much of his face as possible. They would be warmer in the train to London but for now, she tried to keep him as warm as possible. She shouldn't feel guilty. This little boy would have a good life. He was going to have loving parents, who weren't blessed by nature to have their own. Instead, they would pour all their love to this little one, they were so desperate to have. The young mother...she was young...and giving birth in a secluded place such as the Old Vicarage...didn't spell a good fortune for her. She had seen those cases before. Impressionable young women with faces like a rose in bloom, blinded by Cupid's works, in love with some aristocrat more like, not believing their good fortunes...Abigail hadn't seen a husband there, a man even that was supposed to be her partner. There was no one. Mrs. Graham...she tried to hide it as best she could, but Abigail wasn't fooled. She could tell, she was being distraught, frightened. She was to give birth to twins. The birth as such wasn't to be an easy one as Dr. Gardner had informed her. One of the twins had turned the wrong way around and would need to be delivered in the breech position. He informed that the infant may not survive this ordeal but he would do his best...

Abigail had to admit, her heart tightened when she saw the expression of worry inside Mrs. Graham's eyes. But her contractions were shortening in frequency. It was one way from here onwards. The babies were coming. All they could hope for was for God's blessing and with the good doctor's abilities to deliver both babies safe.

Dr. Gardner was an advocate of modernity where births were concerned. After all, if Queen Victoria used chloroform to ease the birth pains and have a less stressful experience, then it wasn't to be frowned upon as many of his colleagues did, however their number was getting smaller, with every successful delivery. Abigail and Prudence, the two midwives had arranged for everything to be in place. Hot water, towels. There was a magnificent fire roaring in the fireplace. The owners of the Old Vicarage were very discreet. They had kept the room next to Mrs. Graham's empty and had limited the movements and the noise in the main house so not to disturb the birth.

"It'll be all right Mrs. Graham" Abigail had said to her as the woman squeezed her hand tight when the next wave of contractions was taking over her body. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. The midwife felt the heat in the room too. Dr. Gardner had put the necessary dose of chloroform with the dropper on a cotton napkin which he gave to the expectant mother to breath in by covering her nose and mouth with it. She followed all his instructions to the letter.

The effects of the chloroform were obvious almost immediately. The features of the woman's face relaxed. When the next wave of contractions came, the doctor was already positioning himself for the birth. The drug had taken off the edge of the pain, making it easier for the mother to go through the final stages of labour.

Abigail patted her flustered face. "It is much better now isn't it, Mrs Graham?" She asked. The woman turned. Her sky blue eyes shone just like the winter sun that had come up from the horizon. Dawn came late in the winter, but it looked like it was going to be a bright day that morning. The woman nodded while catching her breath, after the first few pushes. She caught Abigail's hand and squeezed it again.

"You are doing fine Mrs. Graham." Abigail encouraged the woman, and held her hand tight as she started pushing again, under the directions of the doctor.

The first baby was born at just after eight thirty. Straight forward, textbook birth as the doctor had put it. The cries of the infant boy filled the room the moment he came into the world as Dr. Gardner lifted him up with a smile. He looked like a red, wet prune with a patch of dark hair stuck on his forehead.

The coach arrived at Cambridge rail station. The train to London was leaving in ten minutes. Careful not to trip on the frozen pavement, she reached the platform with the aid of the coach driver. She thanked him and gave him a generous tip for his help and discretion. Friday morning and the train was busy despite the bitter cold. A thick veil of engine smoke had surrounded the train coaches. Abigail was very careful. She felt her heartbeat quicken inside her chest.

Mrs. Graham's husband hadn't showed up at the house and no one could guess whether he was on his way. Perhaps he had disembarked this train just at that moment. The little baby looked startled by all the noise and the commotion. It wouldn't be long before he would start crying. The effect of the chloroform was almost gone. She found the carriage where Dr. Gardner had booked a cabin for her. She went in and headed straight for the cabin. She came in and closed the door behind her, muffling all that noise. Stood still for a moment, with the baby in her arms and took the opportunity to compose herself. She steadied her breathing. Her heart beat quietened down. She took a deep breath and tried to compose her thoughts.

—

26th of June 1925

Terry didn't have the strength to turn and face her but he didn't need to do so in order to know his actions were pushing him away from Candy. Wasn't it her he had crossed the ocean for? Revisiting his past. If he had come to tell her he loved her still, he had failed in a spectacular way. In fact he had gone so far off track, he didn't know whether he could get back on track, or even if he wanted to.

"You messed up royally, my boy." He brought Robert's voice in his mind whenever he had done something wrong. His deep, tenor voice when it sounded serious. But not serious enough to not allow his eyes to mellow as he used to put his hand on Terry's shoulders.

"You can still step away from the edge...you haven't fallen off," he would add and just as he was getting away, he would conclude "Not yet anyway..." That last part was always putting the fear in Terry. All those years growing up without anyone paying any attention at him, apart from only the verbal and physical abuse, had left him without any compass in his life. Whether he was doing right or wrong. Everything he did up to a point was just to get a reaction, to make himself present. That is how he had come to even perversely enjoy sometimes the punishments he received.

Candy had been the first one who showed him what it meant to choose the right from the wrong. His actions weren't standing alone in the world. He hurt people with them. He hurt her, he hurt his mother, feeling vengeful towards her. Abandoning him to his father, not wanting to recognise him as her son in public had hurt him too when he was growing up.

When Candy left, the compass broke. He spiralled down a very dangerous and dark road with no breaks. If it wasn't for this vision he had of her, inside that derelict dump of a theatre in the God forsaken place he had wandered himself into. Acting on that stage, out of his head, in a drunken stupor, he really don't know what would have become of him. With the years, he sobered up but if there was a relapse to his old ways, and he had a few of those over the duration of ten years, Robert was there to remind him.

He felt a squeeze on his arm and a set of eyes on his face. Marion came back into focus.

"Terry...?" He heard her asking his name. Her eyes searched his, as he brought himself back to the moment. "I hope my kiss didn't turn you into stone..." She said, in a half mocking, half puzzled way. He tried to find words but they weren't coming. It was as if he had forgotten how to speak.

"We should get back." He managed to say while all the playfulness in his stare had melted away. Marion didn't expect such an abrupt change in his behaviour and it fell like a bucket of cold water had fallen on her cheerful mood. She opened her mouth to say something but he already had started walking to the door. He stopped and turned back to check on here.

"Shall we?" he asked her, the tone in his voice remaining as serious as his expression was. She realised she had remained with her mouth open. His gaze didn't leave space for any further discussion. She closed her mouth and filled her lungs with a deep breath, before admitting out loud with clear annoyance in her voice that "Actors...there's certainly a screw loose in your heads" and her eyes nailed his face while she walked towards him.

"I'd say, it takes more than one screw darling to lose one's mind..." he whispered to her as they both entered the big room where everyone else was and whatever protesting Marion had in her mind could do nothing more than drown in the loud hum of people's conversations. He scanned the crowd for Candy but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Christian was missing too.

Inside the spacious living room, John Barrymore had created his own entourage. Led by Marion's father, they all wanted to hear the legendary thespian recite something, anything. Just to hear even a few words from Hamlet's famous soliloquy.

"To be or not to be..." This wasn't just Hamlet's question, but also Terry's own. Something he wondered many times. Like a flipping card, it came and went from his mind during all those years apart from the girl who had stolen his heart on a dark New Year's eve on board of the Mauritania. Rejected by his mother in New York, on his way back to Britain, the waves of the Atlantic that mirrored inside his eyes, had looked so inviting. He remembered the coldness of the night fog caressing his face and the tears making their own bitter pathways down his cheeks.

Her voice had come right out of that fog. Like a sea siren, she had grabbed his attention, and shattered his bleak thoughts. Anger had risen, lit a fire inside these eye of his. No one had seen him crying before. He hadn't allowed it. He had approached her as he had approached everyone in his life. With his teeth bare, defending by offending. With hard a stare and a knife sharp tongue. Called her crazy, blind, was she dumb questioning him whether he cried? And what was wrong with her face? Smeared by a forest of freckles, having a squashed nose.

She got him surprised however. She didn't flinch, nor did she run. Stood her ground and sharpened her words to match his. In the half light of the ship's deck, green flames burned in her eyes, while the bell rung twelve. Moments later the merry sing-a-long from the salon of the ship travelled in the wind.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne?"

There they stood, sizing each other. He had turned and left her with saying nothing else. But she had already etched herself inside his mind for ever.

His stare caught Robert's eyes who nodded to him, to join their group. Truth to be said, apart from helping with the practicalities of preparing for the play's opening, Terry hadn't participated much in the promoting part. He didn't think he had to, since Barrymore's name was on the marquee. He glanced to his side. Marion had distanced herself from him. Annoyed as she was by him letting her down, cutting their brief interlude short in the most abrupt ways, she was now looking like she was enjoying the company of another man, giggling, obviously flirting...

He was not surprised by her stance. He knew all those little games some women played with him. By no means he was taking advantage of women, nor he played with their feelings. If he liked someone, he would show it. And he liked Marion. Perhaps a little more than he would under other circumstances, just by being pushed by Candy's attitude towards him, the carefully exercised indifference of hers towards him. When she caught him kissing Marion, she didn't sound that indifferent.

So if Marion got a little upset, in fact, that made him feel relief. Because he needed to find Candy. Already some time had passed since he was in London. He had moments when he was ready to fight for her, to get her attention. But then again, Christian looked like a decent bloke. He too seemed to harbour secrets but his attitude towards Candy seemed genuine enough. He did love her. Those moments, Terry was ready to throw the towel. Accept that enough time was passed under the bridge, so much so, that there was no turning back for him and Candy.

But... and that but loomed big in his mind, when he lay sleepless on his bed at nights. All those black and white thoughts he had, it was his own. He had never managed to speak intimately with her, to get to the bottom of what kept him going for ten years now. He had to find out whether she had any feelings for him or not. Then and only then, he could move on either way, to pursue her or leave her be.

"Terrence my lad, here you are!" John exclaimed with his deep voice. He opened his arms, making space for Terry to enter their circle. He placed his hand over his shoulder while he addressed the people around him.

"Now, if you want to hear Hamlet saying those famous words, you should listen to this young man", he said and turned to see Terry who smiled to John's winking.

This was the worst time to be asked to recite Shakespeare but in that particular situation, there was no saying no to it. Although he did gently tried to get out of it. A wave of enthusiastic protesting however pushed his objections back. Marion's interest had returned to him, as he looked at her. The wicked arching of her brows told him, she enjoyed this. He had already made it known to her, he didn't enjoy being in the limelight of any social situation.

Just before clearing his throat, he saw Archie in the distance looking preoccupied and not in a good way. He felt a clench in his stomach, thinking that still Candy hadn't made her presence, not to mention that Christian's absence was even more noticeable. It had been a fair amount of time, he had stepped out to take some air. He took a deep breath in. The show indeed had to go on.

The doors suddenly opened and a wave of damp, cold air rushed in, in the same manner the two men, dressed in police clothes did as they followed a servant, who was taking them straight to Sir Edward. He made a gesture with his hand, asking for Lord Wooster to come closer. Their words were spoken discretely and despite the effect this sudden entrance had on the party, as everything stopped momentarily, including Terry's recital, it was only the faces of the two men that turned as white as the walls of that room. Lord Wooster left very much in a hurry with the policemen, while Sir Edward's eyes looked around, as if he was searching for someone. Elizabeth, his wife and Marion rushed to his side immediately.

An air of uneasiness grew in the room, like moss on a river bank.

"I'm afraid there has been a robbery at Lord Wooster's house next door and a man has been seriously injured", Sir Edward announced in a quiet room. A collective gasp of horror rose in the room.

Just then, Terry's eyes met with Candy who stood on the other side, having joined the crowd at that moment. By the look on her face, he immediately realised the same thing she did. Like a gunshot she left running towards the main door of the mansion.

Without another thought he turned to follow her, on the same second, Marion's words reached his ears.

"Christian has been stabbed"

Terry reached the door with fevered movement. The rain fell down relentless. He shouted her name but she didn't stop. He run after her.

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