The Uncertain Joy

by Patricia Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

A compelling classic romance from the inimitable Patricia Robins, first published in 1966 and now available for the first time in eBook. For Dick and Tammy, life is a struggle. Although Dick's family are wealthy, Dick wants to prove to himself that he is capable of supporting his wife and two children himself...but it's his marriage which takes the strain as Dick wears himself thin trying to please everyone. With both finances and marriage failing, Tammy turns to a family friend, Adam, for support when she realises that her baby, Richard, is not responding as he should. After visiting the doctor, all three are devastated to learn that baby Richard is severely deaf. Will this be the final straw, or will love for their son keep Dick and Tammy together?

Release date: April 23, 2015

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

It was nearly six o’clock when Dick Allenton let himself into the flat. He was tired and on edge after an exhausting day. The Labour Government’s plan to nationalise steel had caused a lot of extra work for the stockbroking firm in which he was a junior partner. Moreover, Dick, himself, had invested a considerable amount of money in shares and it was beginning to look as if the gamble he had taken when he bought them was not going to pay off.

He put his briefcase down on the hall table and stood for a moment running his hand through his fair hair. Perhaps, he thought, there was a time when he would have confided his worries to Tamily but now the prospect only flitted through his mind to be instantly rejected. Tam hated town life, even though they were lucky enough to escape every weekend to their lovely farmhouse in the country. They had been saving for years to raise sufficient capital for Dick to give up stockbroking and earn his living farming. Last year, when young Richard was born, Dick’s father, Lord Allenton, had offered to subsidise him but pride had prevented him accepting his father’s generous offer. After all, it had been his father’s idea in the first place that Dick should learn to stand on his own feet financially. One day Dick would inherit the beautiful Manor House that had been in their family for generations and, with it, the two thousand acre farm adjoining his own small house and few hundred acres. As it was, his father was running Dick’s farm in with his own until Dick could afford to take it over himself.

It was bad luck that the rising costs of farming had pushed Dick’s goal further and further out of reach. It was still possible to make money from a large acreage such as his father owned; but much harder to earn a living if you had only a few hundred acres.

The birth of young Richard had also made it more difficult to save. They already had a daughter, Mercia, now nearly five years old. She was, in fact, Dick’s niece. He and Tamily had adopted her when Dick’s sister had died soon after her husband was killed in a motor accident, and they looked upon the little girl as their own.

Dick walked into the drawing-room which was also the dining-room. The carpet was littered with toys and Richard’s playpen took up what little remaining space there was. Dick flopped into one of the armchairs, too tired even to get himself a drink.

But it wasn’t so much physical tiredness, he told himself, as depression. After all, he was still only in his twenties and he had no right to feel so exhausted by a moderately hard day’s work. Depression and worry were responsible for his dejection. He must have been mad to risk so much of their savings on the stock market. No one could know better than he how easy it was to lose as well as to make money on such speculations. He had not told Tamily about it, hoping that he would be able to surprise her when the time came to announce he’d made a nice little profit.

‘Damn it!’ Dick swore softly. It could so easily have gone for him instead of against him. Now, unless things took a miraculous turn for the better, he’d be forced to tell Tamily that it might mean another year before they could give up the flat and go to live permanently at Lower Beeches.

He could hear Mercia’s high-pitched voice from along the passage where she slept with the baby, Richard. Tamily must be putting them to bed. Presently, he would go along and kiss them both and tuck them in for the night. Normally he loved this task. Mercia was a tiny, dainty Dresden-doll little girl – very like his sister whom he had loved devotedly. Sometimes, seeing Mercia, he would find himself projected back into the past when he had been a child. How happy he had been in those days. Life seemed so uncomplicated then. Tam was a funny, longlegged tomboyish child, the daughter of their housekeeper, Jess, and the devoted companion of his sister who was an invalid; his devoted companion, too, for Tam had loved him wholeheartedly and deeply then.

Then? Dick’s eyebrows rose questioningly. For surely Tam had gone on loving him. She had remained loyal through his silly boyhood affairs and finally, when he’d come to his senses and married her she had forgiven him that shameful affair with Carol the American girl. Many young wives would have found it impossible to forgive unfaithfulness such as his; but Tam went on loving him despite everything.

Why, then, should he suddenly doubt that love? Was he only imagining it or had Tammy changed in some indefinable way?

‘Be patient and undemanding, Dick,’ the doctor had said after their baby was born. Tam had had a very bad time giving birth to Richard, and for weeks after she had been terribly depressed. The worst part of all, was that she had seemed to turn against him, her husband. The perfectness of their physical relationship was suddenly gone. Tammy had not wanted him near her.

‘Give her time, Dick!’ the doctor said. ‘Give her lots and lots of love and understanding but don’t expect too much from her for a little while. It’ll come back if you are patient.’

He had not understood but he’d done what the doctor advised and been gentle and understanding. When Richard was three months old, Tam had agreed they should once more share a bedroom and the baby’s cot should be moved into Mercia’s room. But even then, she had not been willing to return to their earlier wild passionate love-making.

‘If you want to, Dick!’ she said, and he had been desperately hurt, knowing that she herself felt no desire for him.

Since then they had returned to a more normal married life but somehow it wasn’t the same. He always felt that he was the one who needed her; that she would have been quite happy if he left her alone. Unfortunately, they never talked it out. When Dick brought up the subject, Tammy somehow managed to avoid any discussion about it. It was as if all the love she had to give was lavished now on the children; on the baby in particular.

‘People who are mature are not jealous of their own children,’ he told himself. But it was small consolation. He did not mind how much love and time Tammy gave the children provided she still had some left over for him. But she gave herself to him now as if it were a duty rather than a pleasure and, because of this, they made love less and less often. If she noticed at all, Tammy did not seem to mind and this hurt, too.

They never rowed or argued. Sometimes Dick wished they did. At least it would show Tammy had some emotions he could touch. As it was, he never seemed able to reach through the barrier of her quiet reasonableness; her preoccupied manner. It was almost as if she were living in a private world of her own, excluding him.

She was never like this with the children. He could hear her now singing to them, her voice young, gay, unguarded. He knew that presently she would hug them in turn, kissing their soft warm cheeks, cuddling them in her arms. Yet when she came back into this room, she would offer her cheek for his kiss and ask him politely what kind of day he had had. How long a time it seemed since she had come rushing to him, flinging himself into his arms, warm, eager, loving…

Dick got up and poured himself out a drink. As a rule he would push such thoughts out of his mind. He was not by nature given to introspection. He liked life to be gay, to be fun, to be full of excitement and, above all, to be carefree. Perhaps it was the aftermath of a thoroughly unpleasant day. No man could be carefree at the thought of a couple of thousand pounds chucked down the drain. He was probably exaggerating the problem of his relationship with Tammy.

He downed his drink and lit a cigarette, feeling better. Viewing it sensibly, he told himself, there was no problem. He loved Tammy and she loved him. They had Mercia and the baby son they both adored. All marriages had to quieten down after their honeymoon phase wore off. He was probably the unreasonable one, expecting Tammy to have the same physical desires as himself. The fact that in the earlier days of their marriage she had met him on equal terms in this respect, was no reason to suppose she had stopped loving him just because she did not want to make love any more. She was probably tired with the children to look after, the shopping and cooking to do. Not that Richard was any trouble. He was an amazingly good baby, half the trouble Mercia had been at the same age. She, too, was easy enough to manage now. Since her fourth birthday she had been going to a nursery school nearby during the week and she was far less spoilt and demanding than she had been in the past. All the same, he must not forget Tammy had been very ill after Richard’s birth and the doctor had warned him it would take time for her to recover fully.

‘Oh, Dick, you’re home!’

Tammy came across the room and, as Dick stood up, presented her cheek. Some strange impulse made him kiss her suddenly and unexpectedly on the mouth. Her lips, though soft and unrejecting, were nevertheless not responsive. There was a faint look of surprise in her brown eyes.

Dick grinned disarmingly.

‘If you will come near me smelling of baby powder, soap and everything wholesome, you can’t complain if your husband wants to kiss you properly.’

She did not reply and, watching her, Dick wondered suddenly if she had heard him. Then she said abruptly:

‘Would you go and say good night to them? Mercia won’t settle until you’ve been in.’

He turned away from her, trying not to feel hurt. Perhaps, he thought as he walked down the passage, he’d picked a bad moment. She would be wanting to go and put the supper on; her mind would be on domestic matters.

He went into the children’s bedroom. The baby was nearly asleep. His starfish hands were spread out palms upwards above his curly fair head. The blue eyes looked dreamy. Dick felt his heart melting. The child was beautiful. Actually, he had hoped before he was born that their baby would look like Tammy. He’d been disappointed that Richard had arrived nearly an exact replica in miniature of himself! But now he no longer saw the likeness. Richard was just his son, tiny, perfect, defenceless, needing his love and his protection. In that tiny body lay the power to bring out everything that was best in Dick. He was more than just a son; he was the living proof of his and Tammy’s love for one another.

‘Good night, boy!’ Dick said, touching the soft cheek with his hand.

‘You didn’t kiss him!’ Mercia whispered from her bed.

Dick smiled down at the little girl.

‘He’s nearly asleep,’ he whispered back, sitting down on the fluffy pink blanket and permitting the child to climb out of bed on to his knee.

‘Have you been a good girl today?’

The blue eyes looked wide and innocent.

‘And has Richard been a good boy?’

‘No! He burst my balloon. He did it on purpose. He wasn’t even sorry!’

Dick smiled.

‘I’m sure he was. I expect he got a nasty fright when it went off “bang”!’

‘He didn’t!’ The little rosebud mouth screwed into a pout. ‘He didn’t even cry!’

‘Well, I’ll buy you another balloon tomorrow. One of those long sausage balloons. How about that?’

‘With a face?’

‘With a face!’

He lifted her back into bed and tucked her up. She clung to him, her thin little arms round his neck as she hugged him tightly.

‘Do you love me best in all the world, Daddy?’

Laughing, he shook his head.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I love Mummy as much as I love you and because I love Richard as much as I love you, so you see, I just can’t love you best.’

‘But I want to be loved best!’

‘One day someone will come along who will love you more than anything in the whole world!’

‘A prince?’

‘Maybe!’

‘Will he love me the way you love Mummy?’

‘Yes! Now go to sleep.’

‘I think you should love me more than Mummy!’

‘Go to sleep, Mercia. You’ll wake Richard.’

‘Well, it’s true. I love you best so you ought to love me best!’

‘Well, I love you best of all the little girls in the world. Now, go to sleep!’

He turned out the light and walked back down the corridor smiling. Not yet five and yet already she was a little woman, full of coquetry, playing up to him. Strange the way kids sensed things. Young as she was, she knew Tammy meant more to him than anyone else.

Tammy was in the kitchen. He paused in the open doorway and stood watching her as she stood with her back towards him decorating the pastry on a pie. He longed to go up and put his arms round her and kiss the back of her neck which looked white and thin and vulnerable beneath the dark brown hair. But something prevented him from this perfectly natural action, keeping him silent and unmoving in the doorway.

‘That you, Dick?’ She did not turn round. ‘Put the oven on for me, will you? 400 degrees. Thanks!’

‘Shall I bring you a drink?’

‘Not just now – I’ll have one in a minute.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘No, thanks. I’ve laid the table. I won’t be long.’

Feeling dismissed, he wandered back to the drawing-room and began to tidy up the toys. He folded away the playpen and poured himself another drink. Depression was settling down on him again.

‘Thank goodness we go down to Lower Beeches tomorrow,’ he thought.

He and Tammy loved the farmhouse. All their most treasured possessions remained there and this flat was furnished with odds and ends. It was merely a convenient home. At the weekends they had Sandra, a local girl, in to help with the children and the housework and the cooking and Tammy could relax; have the rest she needed. He, Dick, would be able to wander round the farm with Adam Bond, the bailiff, renewing contact with the land, discussing the progress of the barley or the rise in the price of wheat. He could go into the cowsheds and stand contentedly watching the electric machines effortlessly extracting the milk and passing it down the pipes to the cooling machine and from there into bottles. A modern, efficient dairy herd of prize Guernseys.

Bond was a first-class fellow.. . .