Reluctantly Home

by Imogen Clark

Rose had far more sophisticated tastes than she allowed Pip to have, and none of her London finery had made its way up to Suffolk.

morphing from Rose back into Pip.

Even though I’m Joan’s sister and Scarlet is her niece,

It breaks my heart that the role should have been my big break and yet here I am, no longer an actress – no longer anything at all except a single mother. I know that’s a really important job and I wouldn’t be without my darling S, but I don’t see why I couldn’t have had the job and the baby. I’d have made it work if I’d only been given the chance. But no. I had to up sticks, leave it all behind and just accept that’s the way things work.

Pip’s mind was all questions. Who was the diary writer, and her horrible sister? What had happened between the two of them to so damage their relationship? There was clearly a child involved, Scarlet, but where was the father? Ted was mentioned, but it wasn’t him. And who was Rory MacMillan? The whole thing read like a soap opera.

in her mind she was with Scarlet and Joan and the writer of the diary.

She watched Jez through the window as he hopped into the waiting Land Rover. Yes, she really would like to spend a bit of time with him.

The casting couch

Evelyn seemed to live a quiet life, not dissimilar to hers in fact, although where Pip’s days had been curtailed by the accident and what had happened since, it seemed that Evelyn’s world had been shrunk by the presence of her child. It felt a little as if Evelyn was too big for the space she was occupying, as if there were more of her than there was room for in the house with Joan. And yet Pip had the impression that her spirit was being slowly crushed with each day that passed. The diary seemed to have three themes – how much Evelyn loved Scarlet, how much she hated Joan and how unfair her life’s

events had been, although Pip was struggling to work out exactly what had happened. It was something to do with why she’d left London and the fact that she was an unmarried mother. There was very little mention of her former life as an actress, but Pip could feel Evelyn’s sense of claustrophobia, her urgency to get herself and her daughter back to where she felt they belonged, together with her frustration at not being able to do so. There was also a sense, though, of making the most of the situation. Yes, Evelyn Mountcastle was unhappy at being trapped in the house with her sister, but she was still managing to find joy in little moments spent with her daughter.

It couldn’t have been easy to be a single

mother in 1983. Pip hadn’t even been born until 1989, but she instinctively felt that the stigma Evelyn faced, particularly in a small, conservative town, would have been challenging. There was something about the way Evelyn described their days that made it sound like it was her and Scarlet against the world. What was also crystal clear was that Evelyn’s sister Joan didn’t approve of the situation, or of anything about Evelyn’s life. There were rarely any kind words for her in the diary.

When we go back to London it won’t be so easy. But they had never made it to London. Audrey had told Pip that Evelyn was still here.

For all her talk of moving back with Scarlet and picking up her acting career again, she seemed to have become trapped in Southwold. Scarlet would be nearly forty by now. Pip hoped that she, at least, had spread her wings.

‘Just for a quick drink,’ replied Pip, hoping against hope that this would be an end to the questions but knowing that it wouldn’t be. ‘That’s nice. Who with?’ It was like going two rounds with the Gestapo sometimes. Pip knew it was perfectly reasonable for her mother to wonder where she was going, particularly when she had so rarely left the farm in the evening since her arrival, but constantly having to account for her movements made her feel claustrophobic and she resented the intrusion. She was tempted to lie, but that would only backfire on her. Better to be honest and ignore the raised eyebrows. ‘Just Jez,’ she said without meeting her mother’s enquiring gaze. ‘Oh,’ replied her mother simply, but Pip could hear the pleasure oozing from the single syllable. Her parents had always thought she’d have been better marrying a nice local boy instead of running off to London, and to be fair, it was starting to look like they might have been right.

‘Not sure what time I’ll be back,’ she added. ‘Don’t wait up.’ It was a deliberatively provocative parting comment. She knew she’d be home long before they went to bed, but she was irritated by her mother’s trespassing into her privacy. She strode out of the kitchen without looking back, letting the door bang behind her. ‘How will you get home?’ she heard her mother call after her. Damn. She hadn’t thought about that. In the past, she would just have hopped in her car, but obviously that wasn’t an option. The car had sat in the yard untouched since her father had recovered it from the police. Even if she were up to driving it, the battery would probably be flat by now. ‘I can get your dad to run you down,’ her mother continued. ‘And pick you up.’ It was like being a child. No privacy, and now no independence, either. ‘No, thanks. I’ll go on my bike,’

know. I’m sorry,’ she said, deciding in that moment to go for raw honesty. ‘I have no excuse. I went to London, got ideas above my station, came a cropper, and now I’m back with my tail between my legs.’ It felt so incredibly wrong to dismiss what she had done in these terms, but making light

of it was generally the best way to prevent the conversation going in a direction that she wasn’t ready for.

‘So, what are you going to do?’ he asked her. ‘How are you going to fix it?’

She was unmarried, without a boyfriend or even any relationship with the father of her child, and no steady income. Anyone could see that she wasn’t best placed to bring a child into the world. She could just take herself off, get it sorted, and no one need ever know. But she would know. She would know, and that knowledge would eat away at her for the rest of her life. Children had always been in her future.

Now she had to pack up her stuff and get herself back to Southwold, back to Joan and the life she had fought so hard to escape.

Jez hadn’t been sure which sister had died in the accident, but Pip really hoped it was Joan. Wishing one sister dead over the other was an unworthy thought, but Pip’s affection for the chirpy, positive Evelyn grew with every diary post she read.

She pushed the idea of getting stuck out of her head. It made for uncomfortable thinking, and instead she pulled her thoughts back to the house over the road and the reason she had come. There was only one way to find out if Evelyn Mountcastle was still living there and discover what had become of her. She was going to have to knock on the door and introduce herself.

It wasn’t just the parallels she could see between their lives. There was something else about her: a drive, a thirst that Pip recognised in herself. If she knocked on the door and got her into conversation, she felt sure they would get along rather well.

Yet I’m the one who was punished and is still being punished to this day. He doesn’t even know that he has a daughter – not that I would ever tell him

won’t ever tell S about him. She doesn’t need to know anything. She has asked me about her father once or twice, but she’s so little and it’s easy just to distract her. Obviously, I shan’t get away with that forever, though. One day she will want something more. This had been the first comment she had come across about Scarlet’s father, and Pip had scoured the entry for any clues as to his identity, but there weren’t any. She assumed it was just the usual old story – boy meets girl, girl gets into trouble, boy runs for the hills, and Evelyn clearly didn’t want him to have any part in Scarlet’s life, despite how hard her own life appeared to be as a result.

Pip felt forced to draw comparisons between Evelyn’s situation and the way her own mother sometimes asked, very nicely, if she could perform a particular task for her, only for Pip to fail to do it. The thought made Pip ashamed and her insides squirmed at the contrast between her own behaviour and Evelyn’s.

And yet, as the two women stared at each other across the street, it felt to Pip as if there were some connection that she couldn’t quite fathom.

Scarlet. Lovely little Scarlet, not yet at school. Scarlet, the light in Evelyn’s life, the centre of her universe. Scarlet was gone.

Tears pricked at Pip’s eyes and then, before she could control them, came streaming down her face. Poor Evelyn. Pip knew that to lose a child was the worst that could ever happen to a parent, causing the most unbearable, unhealable pain. She knew because she had been haunted night and day by how much it must hurt. Nausea rose fast in her throat

To lose a child. To kill a child. They were

two sides of the same coin. Evelyn had lost Scarlet. She had killed the boy.

But it wasn’t the same pain. Evelyn had lived through the hell that the boy’s mother must be enduring now. Pip’s hell was different. She had been the cause of pain....

All I was told were the tragedies. Poor, poor woman. Losing a child. You never really get ov—’ Her mother stopped, a blush flying across her cheeks like a wildfire. ‘Oh, Pip. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’ But Pip just waved her comment away with her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Mum. It’s true. You never do.’

this was also the point where the parallel paths between herself and Evelyn diverged. Pip was crippled by guilt for what she had done. It haunted her day and night, and had destroyed everything she had built. And yet there was no such remorse in Evelyn’s thoughts. It was grief that had blighted her life, not guilt.

She had no idea why Scarlet had been out on her own, why Evelyn seemed to feel so little guilt nor whether she had actually killed Joan. She would have to find out the truth, though, or she was going to drive herself mad with speculation.

‘Sir,’ Audrey said, clearly struggling to maintain her temper, ‘this is a charitable donation establishment. Generally, people bring us the things they no longer want. We put the items out for sale. Items are sold. It is as simple as that.’ The man’s shoulders slumped a little. ‘That’s just it,’ he said with a sigh, the fire going out of him. ‘This wasn’t an item that was no longer wanted. It came to your shop in error and it is of the utmost importance I get it back.’

‘It’s a book,’ the man said. ‘A diary, in fact. It’s about this big.’ He indicated the size with his hands. ‘And it has flowers on the cover. Daisies, I think. It was accidentally swept up with some other books I brought in, but that was a mistake. It should never have been in the box in the first place. I really need it back.’

Pip suddenly sounded very childish. Rose is my middle name so about three weeks into the course I decided to switch. It felt more polished, more suited to the person I was trying to be . . .’ Pip paused, and looked towards Evelyn sheepishly. ‘It sounds so silly now,’ she confessed. ‘Superficial and . . . Well, anyway, at the time it felt very important.’ Evelyn’s expression altered minutely, and Pip had the impression that she was with her, that she understood. ‘You were reinventing yourself,’ Evelyn said, and Pip nodded urgently. That was exactly it. Evelyn had hit the nail on the head. ‘Don’t we all do that,’ Evelyn continued, ‘to a greater or lesser extent?

‘I know,’ said Evelyn. ‘But the mess isn’t really the problem. If I cleared it all away it would just come back. I need to sort out in here first . . .’ She tapped the side of her head with her hand. ‘Or there’ll be no point.’ Pip nodded. She knew exactly what Evelyn

‘The damage done by sudden death is devastating and irreversible,’ Evelyn continued, her voice low and very calm as if she were preaching or delivering a sentence. ‘Attaching blame can only take you so far. Believe me, I know. Just because everyone says it wasn’t your fault doesn’t mean that you can move on. But you do owe it to yourself to try. You’re young, Pip, with your whole life ahead of you. You mustn’t let that one terrible moment blight your entire future. Yes, you’ll feel guilt. That’s only to be

expected. It’s misplaced, but it’s unavoidable. But you can’t let it define who you are for the rest of your life. I let that happen to me. At the time, I couldn’t find any other way through the pain, but now I see that it might have been a mistake. I urge you to look at things differently and not to do what I did.’

Was there a way to rank levels of guilt?

She didn’t let that affect her daydream, though. She continued to picture herself existing quite independently of her family in her own world on the pier, and even under it when the tide went out. And then one day, she just forgot. Other things took up space in her head and her childhood fantasies got left behind. How had that happened?

then sat quietly contemplating the sea beyond the window. Pip had missed moments of peace and stillness. The pace of life was so fast in London and she loved being in the thick of it, thriving on the stress and dancing on the competitive knife-edge without losing her balance. But she had been playing the game by the wrong rules, she realised now. The lifestyle, the competition, having just the right thing or eating in just the right place – it had grown out of proportion, like a cancer that just kept multiplying until there was no room for other, less urgent things. And she hadn’t made any space for quiet – had scoffed at it,

would never have fallen,’ Evelyn insisted. ‘It was my fault. I screamed at her and she stepped backwards and missed her step.’ ‘But that doesn’t mean you were responsible for her death,’ said Pip. ‘It was just a horrible and very tragic accident, but you can’t blame yourself. You mustn’t feel responsible.’ Pip reached out and put a hand on her forearm, resting it there. Evelyn could feel the pressure of it through her clothes, warm, comforting, secure. ‘It’s all right. I’ve never regretted what happened,’ she said, her voice and her eyes both low. ‘You might be shocked by that, but it’s the truth. She got what she deserved. It’s always felt like a kind of karma to me. My sister took the most precious thing in my life and then fate intervened and took the most precious thing in hers.’

‘Well, precisely,’ replied Pip. ‘It was an accident. Nobody’s fault, and least of all yours.’ Evelyn lifted her eyes to meet Pip’s. ‘You know, I could say much the same to you, Pip. It was just chance that that little boy ran out in front of your car. It could have been anyone that hit him, but it just happened to be you. I suppose the only difference between the pair of us is that you are tortured by a sense of guilt about what happened, and I am not. Two sides of the same coin.’

wanted to know how you managed it,’ she said, her voice faltering. ‘I needed to know how you could live with that level of guilt and not let it consume you. I just can’t do it. I’m crumbling under the weight of what I’m carrying. I can’t get out from under it. And yet you seemed untouched by it. I just wanted to

Evelyn reached for Pip’s arm for support without comment this time, and Pip’s heart warmed at the intimacy of the gesture. It felt good to be trusted like that, to be needed.

its tail ribbons dancing like little butterflies. Did you ever get too old for things like that? Rose would have thought you did, but Pip definitely didn’t agree.