The Family Affair Read online

  Steeling herself for what she had to do, Beth walked as confidently as she could towards the door of the nursing home, where she was greeted by a smartly dressed woman in her fifties.

  After a few pleasantries about the resplendent effects of sunshine on the spirit following a winter of rain, the receptionist asked Beth to go and wait in an elegant sitting room at the end of the main corridor.

  A sophisticated and dignified place to live out the end of your days, Beth thought as she scanned the room full to the brim of beautiful art and antique furniture which looked far too good to sit on.

  Mesmerised by the morning light, she wandered over to a beautiful old wooden dresser which looked strangely like the one that used to be at Highlands, her grandparents’ former home. Even the decanter and silver tray on top of it looked the same.

  Running her hand lightly across the top, she moved to a large bay window that opened out onto a dramatic view of the cliffs and stared ahead.

  Blinded by the golden rays of sunshine ricocheting through the wooden window slats, Beth turned and sat down in one of the faux French chairs. Relaxing into the deep cushion, she heard a familiar voice making its way slowly down the corridor.

  And after what sounded like a lot of effort, Beth’s great Aunt Ada appeared at the doorway of the sitting room out of breath on the arm of a smiling nurse.

  Still immaculately dressed with her hair and make-up freshly done, she looked much frailer than the last time Beth had seen her but just as charismatic. A life of wealth and privilege gave her an aura of assured confidence.

  “Beth darling how lovely to see you,” Ada said, her hands wobbling as she momentarily let get go of the nurse to greet her great-niece.

  “Hello,” Beth replied, smiling broadly as she got up and hugged her Aunt, inhaling a strong scent of dusky lavender that aroused memories from the past. “It’s wonderful to see you again. You look well.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Ada smiled. “If I start talking about my health we’ll not get round to speaking about anything else. Now let me take a good look at you. It must be about ten years since we last saw each other.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” Beth grimaced, as she thought about the last decade, the approximate length of her career which had largely kept her from Yorkshire.

  “I was so sorry to hear about your father,” Ada continued, sounding pained. “It was a huge shock to hear he’d just gone like that. However is your mother coping?”

  “Mum’s being as stoic as usual,” Beth answered, as the nurse eased her great Aunt into a high armchair covered in a vibrantly coloured peacock fabric. “I mean life has toughened her up. As difficult as it sounds, I just think she’s become used to loss.”

  “Yes I dare say,” Ada winced both at Beth’s words and at the obvious pain in her limbs as she finally sat down.

  “It’s quite incredible,” Beth continued. “That she hasn’t broken down once. I just don’t think it’s sunk it yet. It all happened very quickly. One minute Dad was ok. The next he was in the hospice and we’d lost him.”

  “I had heard it was all horribly rapid,” Aunt Ada said sympathetically, shaking her head. “I do hope she’ll come through it alright? She’s too young to be left on her own especially …”

  And at that moment their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a delicious selection of afternoon cakes – scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, mini cup cakes with a range of different coloured toppings and dainty sugared doughnuts, all arranged on a beautiful cake stand.

  “Well what I’m hoping is that Mum will pick up some of her old hobbies,” Beth continued, as the nurse put the cake stand in-between them so they could get a better look. “I keep telling her she needs to get her watercolours out again.”

  “What a good idea,” Ada enthused, as she eyed the cake stand. “She used to paint a lot before she married your father and I think she could have made a career of it.”

  “I know. It’s crazy. Mum’s way too talented not to pick up a paint brush again,” Beth responded. “She’s put everyone else’s life ahead of her own and somehow her painting got totally lost in the process.”

  “Well, yes I’m aware of that,” Ada nodded sadly. “I was sorry not be able to get to your father’s funeral to support her.”

  “We didn’t expect you to come,” Beth said, watching the nurse pour out Lady Grey tea from a china teapot.

  “If it had been up to me,” Ada whispered conspiratorially, “I would have done. But I’m basically not allowed out of here unless it’s into the gardens. I get the feeling they think I might escape if left to my own devices.”

  “Well you were there with us in spirit, which is what matters,” Beth smiled back, as she nodded in thanks to the nurse for the tea and helped herself to a cup cake.

  “Your father was a good man,” Ada continued. “There aren’t many people left like him anymore. He was a bit of a one off.”

  “I know,” Beth answered, her eyes welling up as she spoke. “I certainly took him for granted over the last few years whilst working all hours.”

  “I’m sure he understood,” Aunt Ada replied. “He was an extremely patient person and understood the human condition more than most.”

  “I hope so,” Beth sighed sadly. “I didn’t realise how lucky I was until it was too late.”

  “And that’s precisely why I would have liked to have attended his funeral,” Ada went on. “When someone has had such a good and honest life, it’s important to pay your last respects. Your father didn’t have it easy, but he never complained about anything.”

  “Well, that’s kind of the reason I’m here,” Beth interrupted, seizing the opportunity to delve deeper into her suspicions that Bertie had given her some kind a message from beyond the grave.

  “What do you mean dear?” Ada asked, her eyes widening as the nurse handed her a plate containing one of the doughnuts.

  “Well you know. I mean all those awful things that happened to Dad,” Beth ventured carefully. “He never spoke to me about the early years. I always got the impression he held things back.”

  Auntie Ada put down her teacup, with a look of anguish. “You’re right about that. A lot of the really difficult things happened during the early part of his married life. Your mother’s had to put up with a lot for a long time.”

  “What I didn’t understand though,” Beth continued, “is why Dad was so averse to talking about the things that had gone wrong? I mean being so closed has had consequences.”

  “Well, losing your twin Alistair changed everything in my view,” Ada said sympathetically after a few moments pause. “It’s the one event in your father’s life he never got over, and he certainly had a few tough things to deal with. He locked away the pain so deep down inside I don’t think even he could get to it.”

  “But now Dad’s gone, the void feels even bigger than it did before. It was bad enough to have lost my twin brother, but to lose Dad as well …” Beth replied stopping mid-sentence to compose herself.

  Looking up, Beth’s dark blue eyes became moist and her throat tight as she spoke about the death of Alistair, the twin she never really got to know. The one who came into the world minutes before her but who left it all on his own nearly four years later.

  “I’m not surprised,” Auntie Ada nodded sympathetically. “It must bring back a lot of difficult memories of your brother and the dreadful years after he died.”

  “Well one of my biggest problems is I have very few memories,” Beth said quietly. “But Dad’s death has given me an urge to find out a bit more about the past. It just all seemed to go so wrong for us as a family after Alistair drowned.”

  “Oh Beth,” Ada sighed sadly. “Is it really wise to go looking back into the past like this? I mean you have your whole life in front of you. Your father would want you to be looking forwards, not backwards.”

  “That’s
what Mum keeps saying to me,” Beth countered. “But I feel I have to set a few things straight in my own head. The period after Alistair died always seemed so sketchy.”

  “I dare say,” Ada said, as she struggled for the exact words she needed to adequately express herself.

  “You see,” Beth continued. “I desperately wanted to talk about stuff and find out what exactly happened but my parents always seemed intent on blanking me.”

  “When you wrote and told me you were coming,” Ada continued slowly, the full weight of a long life on her shoulders. “I suspected you might have questions.”

  “If you don’t want to talk please say,” Beth interrupted anxiously, aware of her Aunt’s frail health.

  “Look, I don’t know the full story of your father’s life,” Ada went on helpfully. “But I don’t mind telling you a few of the things I do know. I’m not sure how much help it will be though.”

  “Anything is better than nothing,” Beth sighed. “As I said to my parents, the main problem I have, is not knowing much at all.”

  “I remember your father quite clearly as a young man, and the happy times we had as a family before Alistair died,” Ada recalled, her eyes flickering nostalgically. “That’s one of the few benefits of old age. You can remember the distant past as if it were only yesterday.”

  “What was Dad like back then?” Beth enquired. “You know, before tragedy struck?”

  “He had a wicked sense of humour. And he was incredibly bright,” Ada smiled. “He was famous for his practical jokes.”

  “What kind of jokes?” Beth asked, sitting forwards in her seat.

  “Oh silly ones,” Ada smiled even more widely. “If he was angry with people he’d leave notes in Latin knowing they wouldn’t be able to understand what he was saying. But even back then he had his struggles.”

  “What do you mean?” Beth probed, feeling slightly anxious.

  “Well he had a deep conscience,” Ada said eventually. “He found dealing with people who didn’t see things the way he did trying. He was simply too nice. And when you’re too nice people can take advantage.”

  “Do you think he was too nice to Uncle Richard?” Beth asked.

  “Well your Uncle Richard was certainly very different in character to your father,” Ada ventured, looking surprised by the question.

  “But do you think that Uncle Richard inherited everything simply because Dad just rolled over and let him take it?” Beth continued.

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely true,” Ada responded, clearly slightly taken aback. “But I think a major reason why your father never fought harder to keep the business and Highlands was that he and Richard clashed. To be honest I’m not sure they could have ever worked together.”

  “I guess Alistair’s death must have caused a lot of tension between them both,” Beth half-asked, desperately wanting her great-Aunt to seize the bull by the horns and expand.

  “Yes,” Ada sighed eventually. “Without a doubt it put a big strain on things.”

  “Do you think Uncle Richard felt guilty about what happened?” Beth asked, trying her best not to sound in any way accusatory.

  “It was a terrible tragedy. An appalling accident,” Ada replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “It traumatised the whole family at the time and for years afterwards. That sort of thing leaves a huge scar which never really heals.”

  “Well it’s certainly never healed for me,” Beth said, looking out of the window towards the sea. “I think about Alistair’s death every day.”

  “I can imagine,” Ada replied softly.

  “It’s strange and I can’t help it,” Beth ventured. “But I’ve always had this feeling that Alistair was alone when he died and that Uncle Richard wasn’t with him.”

  “Beth,” Ada replied looking shocked. “Don’t torture yourself like this. However tragic, and I am not minimising what happened, Alistair’s death happened a long time ago.”

  “I know,” Beth continued. “But I can’t help feeling this way – the sensation never leaves me.”

  “Tragedy sometimes takes us to dark places,” Aunt Ada answered philosophically. “The mind is a delicate instrument. I have strong feelings about this place.”

  “Why?” Beth asked, startled by Ada’s comment. “I’m sure it’s not where you most want to be, but it seems like a beautiful place to be in old age. I was only thinking that when I was waiting for you in the lounge.”

  “Well not everything in here is as it seems,” Ada whispered. “The décor and the afternoon tea are all wonderful. But what you see as a guest is surface deep.”

  “Really,” Beth said surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “Smoke and mirrors,” Ada replied in hushed tones. “The owner makes a lot of money out of us. And the food we get in here every day doesn’t bear any resemblance to what we’ve just eaten. And as for the care, well I’m afraid it’s hit and miss most of the time.”

  “That’s terrible,” Beth said, forgetting the reason she’d come to visit. “You hear a lot about this sort of thing happening. Do you want me to raise your concerns with someone?”

  “No,” Ada winced. “It would only make things worse. My friend Ella tried kicking up a fuss to her relatives but, without going into any of the gory details, let’s just say it backfired in the most horrible possible way.”

  “Goodness,” Beth gasped, “what exactly do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it further Beth,” Ada retorted with a forcefulness and finality that Beth didn’t even contemplate challenging. “I learnt a lot time ago that you can’t change other people, only how you deal with them.”

  “But if you’re at risk here?” Beth interrupted.

  “Look all you need to know is that I’ve had my life,” Ada replied. “I am perfectly alright here, but the point I’m trying to make is that many things aren’t what they seem in this life, this nursing home included. Now what were you saying about Alistair?”

  “Just that I believe he was alone when he died,” Beth said, picking up the threads of their previous conversation. “And yet he was supposed to be with Uncle Richard. My parents refused to talk about it. I just want some kind of closure.”

  “Well I can tell you everything I know about what happened that day,” Ada said more cautiously. “But only if you really want me to?”

  “Yes, if you feel up to speaking about it,” Beth replied. “As a twin it felt unnatural not to be with him. I’d like to find out everything I can.”

  “I understand,” Ada continued, her eyes haunted with painful memories. “Edward and I were away on holiday in Egypt at the time, and your parents were visiting you in hospital the morning Alistair drowned.”

  “Yes I remember the hospital vividly,” Beth said, closing her eyes to remember.

  “You were in for observation,” Ada went on. “You’d become very dehydrated very suddenly and so your parents left Alistair at home with your Uncle Richard.”

  “The only thing I remember,” Beth interrupted. “Is that at the exact moment Alistair died I couldn’t breathe. The hospital staff thought I was going to die. I always believed it was synchronicity and I somehow knew that he was in trouble … and alone.”

  “Well he wasn’t alone. I can tell you that,” Ada said, looking at her great niece with great sadness.

  “And what about the day itself do you happen to know what the weather was like?” Beth asked, eager to get the conversation back on track despite Ada not taking the bait.

  Ada moved slightly in her chair. She looked increasingly uncomfortable at the details she was being asked to recall.

  “By all accounts it was a glorious scorching hot August day,” Ada continued. “Your Uncle Richard had taken himself off for a swim in the pool, and taken little Alistair with him.”

  “This is the bit I could never make sense of,” Beth interrupted. “I just can’t understand how
my twin brother could just die in the pool at Highlands. It’s not like it was a huge swimming pool.”

  “By all accounts, Richard left him momentarily by the side,” Ada continued, her head slightly in her hands.

  “But why?” Beth asked. “I mean why do that with a child who was so small?”

  Ada shook her head before replying. “Richard told everyone afterwards that the water had looked so inviting in the sunlight that he couldn’t resist doing a quick length. He never imagined that such a tragedy would happen on his watch.”

  “That was reckless,” Beth murmured. “But if Uncle Richard had only switched off for moments, how did Alistair just die like that?”

  “It took milliseconds Beth,” Ada replied sounding weary. “Alistair simply disappeared from view. The mistake was to leave him on his own even for a second.”

  “You can say that again,” Beth replied, trying to swallow her growing anger.

  “People make mistakes,” Ada interrupted. “Richard told me that the same sunlight that had invited him into the water prevented him from seeing things as clearly as he needed to when Alistair started to get into difficulties.”

  “Um,” Beth uttered, clearly unconvinced.

  “Your brother was a determined little soul,” Ada continued. “In fact he was the exact replica of your grandfather both in terms of looks and character. He wanted to start swimming in the pool and had no intention of waiting for your Uncle Richard to finish his length. And the rest you probably know.”

  Beth’s face started to crumble as she listened to words that described her twin brother. If only she hadn’t been sick, if only she hadn’t left his side even for a minute she would have been with him in the water.

  How different her life would have been if she had simply stayed well and been around for the one person who mattered most to her. If only she could turn the clock back. The guilt still crucified her.

  “It was good that the family didn’t seek to blame Richard for what happened,” Beth said eventually, but privately amazed that he had got away with things so lightly.

  Ada looked up and stared at Beth before answering, her steely grey eyes as cold as slate. “Whilst it’s true that Alistair was too small to be left unattended even for seconds,” she argued. “In his defence, Richard could never have predicted what would happen.”