Lucy Gordon - The Stand-In Bride

‘So how did he turn into what he became?’

‘He didn’t have much head for money, I suppose. He always thought money would turn up, and when it didn’t, well-I had a little, only that disappeared too. I kept thinking he’d grow up, become more responsible, but he wasn’t a boy. He was twelve years older than me. I guess he just couldn’t grow up. And when the money was gone he started to panic.’

‘Did he hit you?’

‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘he didn’t do that.’

He watched her, wondering if she knew what she’d revealed. The speed with which she’d said, ‘No, he didn’t do that,’ implied that it was virtually the only thing he hadn’t done.

‘He liked to take the easiest way,’ Maggie went on. ‘In the end, he couldn’t do any work. I think he’d forgotten how. So the only way to get money was stealing.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘He was quite good at that. So, of course, he went on.’

‘Why did you stay with such a man?’

‘Maybe it was a kind of stubbornness. I couldn’t bear to admit that our love had turned into such a mess.’

‘You loved him?’ Contempt and disbelief mingled in his voice.

‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered. ‘I loved him once. He’d been everything to me, and it was so hard to let it go. And then-I found I was pregnant.’

She was looking into the fire, and didn’t see him start.

‘I had such high hopes when I knew about the baby. I thought Roderigo might change, become responsible.’ She gave the little mirthless laugh again. To Sebastian it sounded almost like choking. ‘As though a man’s basic nature could change. He grew worse. He thought it justified him being a thief. He kept saying, “I did it for you and our son,” until I wanted to scream.

‘He was so sure it would be a son. He kept making grandiose plans for the boy, and then going out to steal. I think that’s when I noticed that his face was changing. It became thinner, withered and-mean.’

‘I remember seeing him at the trial and thinking how like a rat he looked,’ Sebastian said. ‘A miserable, cornered rat, twisting this way and that to avoid his guilt. Luckily he didn’t succeed. Even his own confederates were disgusted with him. One of them gave evidence against him.’

‘Yes, I heard.’

‘I never saw you at the trial or I would have remembered you.’

‘I wasn’t there. The day before it started, I went into premature labour. My baby was born at six months. She lived for a week in an incubator. I stayed with her all that time. I knew the trial was going on, but it was like something on another planet. For me, the whole world was in that little incubator.’

‘Now I understand what I saw in your face when you looked at the crib,’ Sebastian said heavily.

‘That wooden baby was almost the same size as mine. Six-month babies are so tiny-you could hold one in your hand-except that I couldn’t touch her, only look.’ She sighed. ‘Until the end. When she died they took her out and wrapped her in a shawl, and I could hold her. She was still warm, almost as though she were still alive. I kept wanting to tell them there was a mistake. She must be alive because she was so warm. But then I felt her start to go cold, and I knew she was dead.’

When she’d said that there was a long silence. Maggie wrapped her arms about herself and rocked back and forth, her head bent. Sebastian watched her, appalled. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this. He reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away from him.

He too dropped his head and covered his face. Helplessness, frustration, the feeling that he’d done harm and couldn’t put it right, these were things he found hard to handle. Don Sebastian de Santiago always had the answer. That was why people came to him. But tonight she was hurt beyond bearing and he wanted to punish someone for doing it. But the someone was himself, and he didn’t know what to do.

‘She was so tiny, and she fought so hard to live,’ Maggie whispered. ‘I’d have given my own life to save her, but I couldn’t. I was her mother, but I couldn’t help her. My little girl! My sweet, brave little girl! She never had a chance.’ Anguish racked her.

Sebastian reached out to touch her but withdrew his hand at once, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say that wouldn’t seem like a crass impertinence. So he stayed as he was, cursing silently, and after a while Maggie raised her head and spoke again.

‘Nobody cared but me. She was only a girl. José came to her funeral. Nobody else from the family bothered.

‘A strange thing happened then. I stopped feeling. And I was glad, because that way there was no more pain. I knew it was still hurting really, deep down. But I couldn’t feel it. I saw Roderigo in prison and he screamed at me. I know he did, but it was as though I didn’t hear it. I told him I hated him because our baby was dead but I couldn’t feel the hate either, although I knew it was there.

‘I went back to England. José took me to the airport. He was only a boy, but he was very kind. None of Roderigo’s immediate family would help me. They blamed me for not supporting his alibi.’

‘It would have made no difference,’ Sebastian said. ‘Who would have believed you?’

‘That’s true. But José wasn’t like them. He wrote to me when Roderigo died. And that’s when-’ She stopped and a shudder went through her. ‘That’s when I started to feel things again. I began to hear him screaming at me. At night-in my dreams-he was always there-crying out that it was all my fault-’

‘But that’s nonsense!’ Sebastian exclaimed. ‘How can it be your fault?’

‘You thought it was. When you discovered my real name, as far as you were concerned I was just an Alva, one of a tainted family.’

‘I was wrong,’ he said at once. ‘I behaved badly to you. But can’t you forgive?’

‘And who will forgive me?’

‘For what?’

‘He’s dead. Perhaps I should have lied and saved him.’

‘You can’t really believe that.’

‘By day I don’t believe it. But at night, when he accuses me in my nightmares-’ She shuddered and put her hands over her ears.

‘Stop it!’ Sebastian said urgently. He took hold of her and this time she didn’t draw away. He wasn’t sure how much she was even aware of him. ‘Maggie,’ he said, shaking her gently, ‘Maggie, listen to me. It’s over. He was bad and he was punished. It’s over. But you have to get on with your life.’

‘What kind of life can an Alva have? Bad stock, tainted, incapable of good-’

‘Don’t!’ he said, in a torment almost as great as hers. ‘You’re not an Alva. You never were. Your name is de Santiago, and you are my wife.’

‘I’m his wife!’ she cried.

‘No. You belong to me, now. Feel my arms about you. Feel how much I want you. Don’t let the dead claim you. There’s so much life for us.’

He kissed her eyes, her mouth, desperately trying to recall her from the cold place that threatened to suck her in. With all her heart she longed to respond to him. Perhaps Sebastian’s passion could recall her to life.

But almost at once they knew the truth. Sebastian looked into her face and saw not coldness but despair. Slowly he released his grip.

‘It’s too soon,’ he said haltingly. ‘You’re not well. Go back to bed. Try to sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.’

‘No more talking,’ she said. ‘There’s no point.’

She let him help her back to bed and tuck her up, then she turned away at once, closing her eyes.

They stayed a week, skiing until they were exhausted, eating together, talking little but with great courtesy. To their own ears they sounded like strangers shouting across a deep valley. He didn’t try to make love to her again.