A Time to Tell Read online

  A Time to Tell

  by

  Maria Savva

  First Edition published in paperback by: Pen Press (2006) ISBN-10: 1905621272 ISBN 13: 978-1905621279

  This edition: Second Edition Published by:

  Rose & Freedom Books P.O. Box 55285 London N22 9EU England, U.K.

  Copyright © Maria Savva 2015

  Cover design by Aeternum Designs (http://aeternumdesigns.com/)

  The moral rights of Maria Savva as author have been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental

  Table of Contents

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARIA

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  FOR THE READER

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARIA

  Novels:

  Coincidences

  A Time To Tell

  Second Chances

  The Dream

  Haunted

  Novella:

  Cutting The Fat (with co-author Jason McIntyre)

  Short Story Collections:

  Pieces of a Rainbow

  Love and Loyalty (and Other Tales)

  Fusion

  Delusion and Dreams

  3

  Far Away In Time

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to Pen Press (now indepenpress) for believing in “A Time to Tell” and for publishing the first edition back in the days when there were no online self-publishing tools available.

  Thanks to everyone who ever read and reviewed the first edition of the book.

  Thanks to Susan Buchanan at Perfect Prose Services: perfectproseservices.com for the excellent editing advice.

  Thank you to Darcia Helle for eagle-eyed beta reading and invaluable suggestions/comments.

  Thanks to Laura Smith, Jenny Hilborne, and my cousin Marina for continued support and for taking the time to beta-read the novel.

  Thanks to Julie Aldridge for being a life-saver and proofreading the final version for me!

  Thank you to Kat at Aeternum Designs: http://aeternumdesigns.com/ for the amazing cover design, and for helping out with the blurb (and for being so patient)!

  Thank you to Deena at eBookBuilders for awesome help with formatting my eBooks over the years, including this one!

  Last but not least, thanks to all my readers for encouragement, support, and inspiration.

  PROLOGUE

  Cara opened her eyes and saw a young man with a kind face and spiky ginger hair.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she heard him say.

  He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her like a blanket. ‘It was quite a fall. You’re lucky to be alive.’

  Lucky to be alive. The words resounded in her head. She did not feel lucky to be alive. Trembling with fear as well as cold, Cara looked up at Stoneleigh Cliffs. They were even more imposing from below than they had been before she’d jumped. Her mind boggled thinking about what she had just done.

  The young man distracted her: ‘Someone’s gone to call an ambulance. Hold on, it won’t be long now,’ he said softly.

  Rubbing her eyes to ease the sting of the salt water, Cara stared up at the cliffs again, as if needing to confirm where she was. As she did so, it occurred to her that Frederick might be up there. For a second, she wished he was. Then, feeling nauseated, she remembered what he’d said to her. Turning her head slowly towards the stranger sitting next to her on the stony beach, she struggled to expel the painful memories.

  He smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m Billy. What’s your name?’

  ‘Cara.’ She turned away self-consciously. Did he know she’d tried to take her own life? Shivering at the thought of what could have happened, she gripped the jacket that lay over her shoulders, pulling it closer, trying in vain to dispel the chill emanating from deep inside. Fear and regret taunted her. She didn’t want to die. When she’d landed in the violent, unforgiving sea, she had fought for her life, battling the powerful waves.

  Watching the grey sea as it lashed mightily against the shore, Cara feared for her sanity. She sobbed loudly, her heart full of self-pity and remorse.

  Billy’s arms tightened around her. ‘Don’t cry, love. You’re safe now,’ he said.

  In the distance, she saw the lights of an ambulance approaching them. It was true, she realised, she was safe now, but seeing the ambulance drive onto the beach and the paramedics emerge, she knew her real nightmare was only just beginning.

  FIFTY YEARS LATER…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cara stared out of her bedroom window, through the net curtains. She had a good view of the avenue from where she sat in her bed, a pillow propped up behind her. She watched as the young mother with the small green car struggled to persuade her two children to get into the vehicle. The boy, who appeared to be about five or six years old, was wearing a smart grey school uniform and stripy green and blue tie. He was pulling the little girl’s hair. The two children looked almost identical with their coffee-coloured hair: miniature versions of their mother.

  Cara felt as if she knew this woman and her children. They did not know her. They’d never met, but for the past few months the young woman had often parked her car in the avenue when taking her children to school and collecting them. Cara witnessed it all from her view out of the bedroom window.

  Her thoughts turned to her granddaughter Penelope. She usually arrived home, bringing the boys back from school, about five minutes after the small green car had driven away.

  Most days were the same for Cara now. She often felt lonely sitting in bed for hours on end. She would follow the daily rituals of the people in the world outside the window. Some she recognised, such as the neighbours or regular visitors to the avenue like the young mother in the small green car, others she did not. They were all unaware she watched them.

  For five years, she’d stared out of this window. She was bedridden, due to illness, having been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis over thirty years earlier. The doctors told her there was no cure for the condition and it would probably get progressively worse. Her only obvious symptom over the next twenty years was that she’d suffered from a slight li
mp. People had sometimes said she seemed drunk, as she’d walked unsteadily at times. Not being the sort of person to dwell on an illness, Cara had led a more or less normal life for many years.

  In the past ten years, her mobility had gradually reduced. She put it down to the worry over her son’s disappearance and her husband’s death. Those stresses, no doubt, had weakened her immune system.

  No longer able to look after herself, she lived with her granddaughter Penelope. As much as Cara loved her granddaughter, she often wished she could leave this place. She could not bear to hear the constant fights.

  Almost as soon as Penelope’s husband, David, walked through the door after work, the shouting would begin. Cara often heard things being thrown around downstairs, and the sound of furniture and crockery breaking. Penelope never talked about it. Cara wondered whether the girl had perhaps convinced herself that her grandmother couldn’t hear the noise from her room upstairs.

  At just seventeen years old, Penelope had married David Truman. They were a happy young couple, in love with each other—at least that’s how Cara remembered it.

  It seemed like only yesterday that she’d stood beside Penelope in front of a mirror, both of them beaming with pride.

  ‘It fits you perfectly.’ Cara discreetly wiped a tear from her eye as unexpected emotions assailed her. ‘It could have been made for you.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Nan, it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing it survived for all these years in such perfect condition.’ Penelope stroked the silky white fabric of the skirt and kissed Cara’s cheek. ‘I can’t wait until Dave sees it!’

  Memories of her own wedding day fought their way to the forefront of Cara’s mind. She recalled the bright smile on Billy’s face as she’d walked down the aisle towards him wearing this very dress.

  Cara had established a routine of switching on her portable television as soon as David came home each evening, turning up the volume in an attempt to smother the sounds coming from the rooms below. She suspected Penelope might need help, but she didn’t want to be seen as nosy or interfering.

  On one occasion, two years before, when she had been truly worried after hearing loud banging noises downstairs during the night, she’d tried to broach the subject.

  ‘Is everything all right between you and David, dear?’ asked Cara, when her granddaughter brought her breakfast tray.

  ‘Yes, fine,’ Penelope said.

  ‘I heard a noise last night…’

  ‘A noise?’ Penelope shrugged. ‘Maybe it was the boys; they’re always getting up to mischief.’ She turned around quickly, heading for the door.

  Cara watched her go, wishing she would stop and talk. Penelope did not look happy but, more than that, she’d once been so proud of her appearance. The brown sweater she wore today was tatty, and she’d worn the same grey skirt for the past few months, alternating between that and an old pair of jeans. She didn’t wear make-up anymore and didn’t bother dyeing her hair, which was starting to turn grey.

  As she grasped the door handle ready to exit the room, Cara called after her: ‘Penny, if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here.’

  Penelope remained rigid facing the door.

  ‘I hear him shouting sometimes,’ a last-ditch effort to keep her granddaughter in the room.

  Penelope faced Cara and rolled her eyes. ‘Dave and I are fine,’ she said with an extended sigh. ‘He has a bit of a temper. He works hard and he likes to let off steam when he gets home.’ She didn’t meet Cara’s eyes, but before leaving she looked back at her and said, ‘I’d rather you let me make my own decisions in my marriage. If I need your advice I’ll ask for it.’

  After that, Cara resolved to let matters lie. Penelope’s two sons, Carl, eight, and Andrew, six, did not appear to be disturbed or affected by any of their parents’ arguments. She felt comforted by this: if there were real problems, surely the children would show signs of distress.

  Whenever she was feeling low, Cara couldn’t help pondering whether Penelope and David’s marriage had been all right before she’d moved in. Would they really have offered to let her live with them knowing she’d hear their fights and quarrels?

  One morning, a few months back, Cara tried to talk to Penelope again, without mentioning her concerns about the arguments.

  ‘Are you sure this house is big enough for me to stay here with you, dear? The boys are growing up so fast, and soon they’ll need their own bedrooms.’

  She saw something in Penelope’s eyes then. Was it fear?

  ‘I love having you here, Nan,’ Penelope had said, sitting on the bed and taking her hand. ‘Promise me you’ll stay with us for ever.’ It sounded like a plea.

  Since then, Cara had suspected that Penelope needed her there.

  Given the choice, Cara would have left. If she were far away she could pretend Penelope and David were happy.

  She often thought of asking one of her children if she could move in with them. But how could she? She didn’t want to upset Penelope, and she wasn’t sure they would have room for her or even be able to make time to look after her.

  Unable to find a solution to the dilemma, Cara stared out of the window as if searching for an answer in the street below.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Please, try to keep your voice down,’ said Penelope meekly, unable to meet her husband’s hard stare, fearful of what his reaction might be. ‘Nan will hear you.’

  ‘Huh!’ David slammed his fist down on the dining room table, causing the gravy boat to spill some of its contents onto the white tablecloth. ‘That’s what you always say.’

  ‘W-well… it’s true,’ she stammered, eyes down, as she soaked up the spilt gravy with a napkin.

  ‘Why did you ask that old cow to come and stay here in the first place?’ He leaned across the table.

  ‘I didn’t ask her,’ she said, slowly, quietly, in an attempt to calm him down. The edges of her lips trembled as she tried to hide her fear with a smile. ‘She had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Don’t make me angry, Penny. Don’t treat me like I’m thick.’ His voice was gradually rising.

  She instinctively looked up towards her grandmother’s bedroom.

  David had started complaining as soon as he got home because his dinner was not on the table. She told him the food would be ready in a few minutes, but that didn’t placate him. Recently, he picked on every little thing he could find to argue about. Weary and afraid, Penelope was at her wits’ end. Nothing she said or did made a difference.

  Penelope heard the sound of her grandmother’s television, which had become louder since David came home.

  He followed her eyes. ‘Are you worried the old bat’s gonna hear me? You must be as crazy as she is. She’s fuckin’ deaf. She has her TV so loud! What the fuck’s wrong with her? I’m gonna complain about the noise. It’s about time I said something. I didn’t want her to come and live here anyway. It’s my bloody house!’

  ‘Dave, don’t…’ Penelope took a sharp intake of breath.

  He turned around, his features contorted into a gnarled grimace. ‘She’s been living with us for five bloody years, and I’ve had enough. If she can’t respect my need for peace and quiet when I come home from a hard day at work, she’s out! D’you hear me?’

  Penelope shivered. ‘Dave, stop!’ she called out, as he opened the door.

  ‘What?’ he shouted, turning back to face her.

  The look in his eyes was the one she associated with the beatings. As he approached, her whole body tensed up as if waiting for the punch, not quite sure when it would come.

  Just then, their eight-year-old son, Carl, walked into the room.

  Penelope’s shoulders loosened slightly. There was one thing she could count on: he wouldn’t hit her in front of the children.

  ‘Daddy!’ The boy grinned.

  ‘Carl, my son.’ David’s whole posture changed and he became a loving dad. It was a Jekyll and Hyde transformation.


  She wished she could freeze this moment so he’d remain this way: smiling and calm. He acted like a wild animal sometimes. Uncaged and dangerous. She shook her head, as if to discard the memory of what had just occurred, and went into the kitchen to serve the supper.

  As she walked away, she remembered his threats to Cara. She would never forgive herself if he hurt her grandmother. She’d taken Cara in to her home hoping David might change his ways if someone else was living with them.

  It hadn’t always been this way.

  Penelope met David at college where she was taking a secretarial course and he was training to be an engineer. She’d noticed his eyes first; they were the deepest shade of blue she had ever seen—deep and mysterious. He usually sat outside the college on a bench under an old oak tree to have his lunch, alone.

  Whenever she walked past him, they exchanged a glance. They were strangers, and she felt sad about that. This boy intrigued her. He was distant, withdrawn. She grew increasingly curious about him.

  One lunchtime, she joined him on the bench with her sandwich. She said hello, and he nodded back but remained silent. They sat there not saying a word for a whole hour.

  He’d said hello to her the next morning. ‘My name’s David,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘I’m Penelope… er… you can call me Penny,’ she offered.

  They shook hands.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise. I’ll see you on the bench at lunchtime then, Penny,’ he’d said as he headed off in the direction of the engineering block.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, but he had already walked quite far ahead and wouldn’t have been able to hear her. His behaviour confused her, but she assumed that maybe he was shy.