Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  I let myself in and called out to Mum, but there was no reply. The house was eerily quiet. Mum usually kept the radio on.

  Tiger, Mum’s latest rescue dog – a mix of terrier and other unidentifiable breeds – flung herself at me, running around in circles, barking, her tail wagging so fiercely her whole body swayed from side to side. I went to the kitchen to look for Mum. It was the place she spent most of her time.

  Everything in the kitchen was as it had always been. The same grey flagstones on the floor, the same kitchen units, the same familiar blend of Handy Andy, lavender furniture polish, and tea. But there was no sign of Mum at her usual position at the kitchen table, a book or crossword in front of her.

  The band of tension around my chest tightened.

  I retraced my steps into the hall and to the sitting room. I opened the door. Mum was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep and covered by a throw. I sucked in a breath. She’d always been petite but now she looked tiny, child-sized in her make-shift bed. Her skin, almost ashen in colour, was stretched over her cheekbones, her hair sticking up in tufts. There was an unnatural flush on her cheeks and her breaths came in small, shallow, rapid puffs. Although it was the middle of summer, the gas fire was on and the room was suffocatingly hot. A carafe of water and a glass, together with a bottle of tablets, sat on the small table that had been moved from its usual position and placed within easy reach. A musty aroma – a mixture of perspiration, stale air, and alcohol rub, along with the dusty smell of pills, permeated the room. Despite the cloying heat, a chill swept across my skin. Mum had always been a fresh air fiend, so fastidious about her appearance.

  Tiger slipped in behind me and before I could stop her, jumped on top of Mum and lay down in the space behind her legs.

  Mum’s eyes flickered open. When they focused on me, the sweetest smile crossed her face.

  ‘Charlotte! I didn’t expect you to come tonight!’ She stretched as if nothing was wrong. ‘I must have nodded off. What time is it?’

  ‘Almost nine.’

  ‘That late!’ She tossed aside the throw covering her and pushed herself into a sitting position, not quite managing to hide a grimace of pain as she did. Very gingerly she lowered her legs to the ground and straightened her back.

  Tiger, roused from her position, rearranged herself on Mum’s lap. Mum rubbed her under the chin and took a sip of water from the glass on the table. She peered at me over the rim, her gaze sharpening. ‘What have you done to your cheek?’

  I had forgotten about the large bruise just below my eye. I’d thought I’d covered it with make-up but at some point I must have rubbed the foundation off.

  ‘I hit myself with my racquet playing tennis.’ Thinking on my feet came easily to me. Experience defending abused women had taught me the ‘walked into the door’ excuse was only ever believed by those who chose to believe it.

  Although Mum didn’t look convinced, she didn’t challenge me. ‘Have you had tea? Something to eat? You are much too thin…’

  ‘Never mind me. What’s wrong, Mum? I can see you’re not well. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She had tried to, I realised. I thought of the blinking light of my answerphone, the missed calls from her I’d meant to get around to returning but hadn’t and a tsunami of guilt washed over me.

  ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew you were in the middle of an important case. But you’re here now and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Have you seen a doctor?’

  Mum patted the sofa. ‘Come sit next to me, Charlotte.’

  I lifted the tossed aside throw from the sofa and folded it, placing it back within easy reach for her. Mum wasn’t quite quick enough to hide her smile. My obsession with tidiness had always bemused her. When I sat down next to her, Mum took my hand. ‘I have seen a doctor. Several actually.’ Her voice wobbled and she waited a beat or two. ‘You’re going to have to be brave, we both are.’

  The creeping dread I’d been feeling since I’d listened to her message on the answerphone solidified and the tight band across my chest became a physical pain. ‘How bad, Mum?’ I whispered, my mouth dry.

  Mum took a deep breath and tightened her grip on my fingers. ‘I’m dying, Charlotte. I wish I wasn’t but I am and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.’

  Mum had cancer. She’d found a lump in her breast months ago but had done nothing about it until Agnes, her old friend, alarmed at how much weight Mum was losing and how exhausted she seemed all the time, had insisted she go to the doctor. Even then it had taken Mum several more weeks to make an appointment. Tests had followed, taking more time, until, when finally a diagnosis of cancer had been made, it had already spread to Mum’s lungs and her bones. I knew enough to realise that when cancer had spread to other organs the prognosis wasn’t good.

  Even as I was trying to absorb what Mum was saying my mind had been racing ahead.

  ‘There must be something they can do. ‘

  ‘Oh, Charlotte! Believe me when I say there isn’t. ‘

  ‘Why didn’t you see a doctor earlier? What’s the name of the consultant you saw? Have you had a second opinion?’

  ‘Charlotte! I’m not a witness on a stand.’ For a moment, the Mum I knew was back. Her voice softened. ‘A second opinion would make no difference. No amount of treatment will change the outcome. You’re quite right. I should have seen a doctor earlier, but I didn’t.’ The pain in her eyes, I knew, was for me.

  ‘But enough about me. How are you?’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘You must be thrilled with the result of the trial! I’m so proud of you.’

  Proud of me? Proud of her only child who didn’t return her calls, who hadn’t come to see her mother in months? If I’d visited more often I might have noticed she was unwell and forced her to go to the doctor sooner. Then there might have been no need for this conversation.

  ‘Mum, we haven’t finished talking about you…’

  ‘Not tonight, Charlotte. There are things we need to discuss, things I have to tell you, but that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight I want to enjoy having my daughter home.’

  ‘But…’

  She gave me a look, one I knew well. Once Mum had made up her mind there was no shifting her.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ she continued, frowning.

  ‘It’s just that I’ve been impossibly busy. Nothing a holiday won’t fix. Now that’s an idea! You and I could go to the coast for a couple of weeks – to a hotel – or a cottage if you prefer?’ As if taking her away for a few days could make up for all the times I hadn’t spend with her.

  ‘It’s a lovely thought, but if you don’t mind I’d rather stay here. I don’t have much energy these days.’

  ‘I’ll do everything. I’ll book us somewhere lovely, pack for you, I’ll even hire a more comfortable car.’ Mum disapproved of my BMW roadster. ‘We’ll take Tiger. You won’t have to do a thing. I’ll take care of it all.’

  Mum squeezed my hands. ‘Perhaps in a while, when I feel a little stronger. Now, please, just for tonight, let’s talk about other things.’

  Mum refused to say any more about her health. Instead she asked about my journey and whether I’d seen Princess Di and if I thought her second child would be a boy or a girl. Princess Diana dispensed with, she asked me about work.

  I lied and told her it was all good.

  Later, back in my old room which remained exactly the same as it had been the day I left for university, I lay awake, my thoughts whirling as I tried to absorb what Mum had told me. She was only fifty-four. It was impossible that she could be dying. Images spooled through my head; Mum and me in London, Mum applauding when I graduated, us in the library where Mum worked, me reading a book, looking up to find her eyes on me. Her quick smile, how she’d always put me first, made me the centre of her world.

  Another childhood memory popped into my mind. Mum reading to me from Winnie-the-Pooh, a favourite when I was very small. I couldn’t remember the title but I did remember one pa
rticular quote. Winnie asks Piglet what day it is and when Piglet replies, It’s today, Winnie!, Winnie-the-Pooh tells him today is his favourite day. I made her read that story to me over and over again. Then as I grew up, I forgot about it. Tomorrow became my mantra. I’d do it all tomorrow. See Mum, take a holiday, treat her.

  I had been too busy thinking about the next day to make the most of the one I was living, and along the way, I’d forgotten what was really important.

  Now there would be too few tomorrows. Not enough todays.

  The next morning, having barely slept, I was up as soon as it was light. I showered quickly, peeked in Mum’s bedroom to find her still sleeping so tiptoed downstairs. Tiger fetched her lead and looked at me imploringly. I took my Sony Walkman from my handbag, put my headphones on and took her out and into the grounds of the Astley Ainslie Hospital. When we returned I made some toast and spread it with marmalade before setting a tray with a china cup and saucer and a pot of Mum’s favourite Earl Grey.

  Mum was awake but still in bed when I entered her room. ‘I was just going to get up and dressed,’ she said when she saw I had brought her breakfast.

  ‘I thought I’d spoil you for a change.’ I set the tray on her dresser and moved to help her sit up, but she rebuffed me with an exasperated shake of her head. I waited until she’d settled herself against the pillows, before placing the tray on her lap.

  ‘But what about you, have you had breakfast, Charlotte?’

  ‘I’ll get mine in a little while.’ Not that I felt like eating.

  ‘In that case, why don’t you keep me company while I eat,’ she said as I hovered over her.

  ‘Will I open your curtains?’ I knew I was fussing, but couldn’t help myself.

  Mum nodded, popping a tiny morsel of toast into her mouth.

  ‘Right,’ she said briskly, pushing aside her tray. ‘I’ve made a start sorting out my affairs.’

  ‘Mum! That can wait.’

  ‘No, Charlotte. I have to do it while I still have the strength. I’ll feel better knowing everything is in order. Now sit down. Your pacing about is unnerving.’

  Obediently I perched on the end of her bed.

  ‘There is so much I need to tell you. I hardly know where to begin.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  Mum sighed. ‘I received a letter. Perhaps that’s as good a place as any to start. Open the drawer in my bedside table and get it out for me. It’s right on top.’

  I did as she asked.

  ‘I think it’s best if you read it yourself,’ she said, when I held it out to her.

  Mum’s name and address was written in fountain pen in the sort of elegant writing that used to be taught in school. I smoothed out the good quality sheet of paper inside.

  It was headed Greyfriars House.

  Dear Olivia

  No doubt you will be surprised to hear from me after all these years. You may well be equally surprised to learn that I have thought of you often. As has Edith.

  We would like you to come to Greyfriars House as soon as you can. We have a great favour to ask of you. I shall explain everything when we see you as it is not something that can be put in a letter.

  I imagine that you will be reluctant to come and I should not blame you. But do. I beg of you. Before it is too late.

  We have no phone so telegram your reply. Greyfriars is still only accessible by boat therefore I shall have to arrange for someone to bring you across.

  Your aunt,

  Georgina.

  I read it twice more before I looked up. ‘Aunt Georgina, Mum? You have an aunt?’ I’d always believed that I was Mum’s only living relative. Her parents had died during the war and Mum, like me, was an only child. ‘And who is Edith?’

  ‘Edith and Georgina were my mother’s sisters.’

  ‘How come you’ve never talked about them?’

  Her brow knotted and for a moment she seemed far away. ‘I’ve not seen or heard from them in years. Not since you were a baby.’

  ‘What do you think they want from you now?’

  Mum sank against the pillows and I was struck anew at how pale and thin she was. ‘That’s just it! I can’t imagine what they want, after all this time. It’s not as if either of them have ever shown any desire to have anything to do with me – or you. Although at one time I believed them fond of me… or at least I believed Georgina fond of me.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Mum. What is Greyfriars? A nursing home?’

  She shook her head. ‘Greyfriars House has been in our family for generations. My grandfather bought it as his hunting lodge.’ She closed her eyes and smiled. ‘We used to go there every summer when I was a child – right up until the war. I wish you could have seen Greyfriars and how it was back then.’ When her eyes flickered open, they were shining. ‘I’ve never forgotten a moment of that last summer, perhaps because it was the last time I remember being truly happy as a child.’ She took a shaky breath and the light in her eyes dimmed. ‘The war changed everything – people, places. Nothing, and no one, was ever the same afterwards.’ Mum looked so sad I ached for her.

  Although I had been born only a few years after the war had finished, it had always seemed so far away – almost inconceivable – and nothing to do with my generation. We were much more concerned with the cold war and the prospect of being nuked into oblivion by twitchy-fingered politicians. Mum had never spoken about her experience during the war, and to my shame, I had never asked.

  ‘We’ve never really talked about so many things, have we, Charlotte?’ Mum said, reading my mind. She sighed. ‘So much I never told you.’

  ‘Tell me now, Mum,’ I urged her.

  That was when I learned about Greyfriars.

  Chapter Two

  Olivia

  July 1939

  Olivia gave a loud whoop as she jumped from the boat and turned to take in her first sight of Greyfriars. It was every bit as wonderful as she remembered. Almost three times the size of their London house, and with a turret, which was to be her bedroom this summer, its pale sandstone glowed in the sunlight.

  Too excited to wait for Mother and Father, she ran through the arch in the rhododendrons that shielded the garden from the nearby mainland and across the springy, clover-scented manicured lawn, past the summer roses and towards the front door where the servants were waiting to greet them. Stopping just long enough to say a quick hello, she scampered past them, across the polished floorboards of the hall and up the wide jewel-blue-carpeted mahogany staircase. She couldn’t wait to see the turret room again and make it her own. They’d been coming for the summer for as long as she could remember, which, given she was only nine, wasn’t really that long when she thought about it. But she’d always loved the turret room and, finally, Mother had decided she was old enough to have it.

  She raced along the first-floor corridor to the end and then up the narrow windy steps to the turret room. Her room! For the whole summer!

  It was circular, with one half of the circle taken up by windows. Father had told her they’d once been tiny but his father had replaced them when he’d built the house, with these big ones that let the light in and allowed anyone looking out to see almost the entire front and side of the island. She gazed with delight around the room, noticing the pink-flowered quilt on the enormous four-poster bed and the tiny posy of pale pink peonies in a crystal vase on the dark wood bedside cabinet. Once she had her books and puzzles on the shelves, it would be truly perfect. Especially since she wouldn’t have Nanny breathing down her neck morning, noon and night telling her what a young lady could and couldn’t do.

  This year, Nanny wasn’t with them. Olivia was to go to school after the long holiday and Nanny had gone to another family to take care of their children. She was supposed to have come to Greyfriars before going to the other family but her mother had become unwell and Mother had given her some time off to visit her. It was difficult imagining that Nanny’s mother could still be alive – Nanny surely wasn�
��t that far off going to join God herself. Olivia couldn’t help but be glad Nanny wasn’t here – even if it wasn’t nice to wish someone’s mother unwell.

  She had a whole week before the first guests, Aunt Georgina and a few friends, were to arrive. Kerista might be an island but there was so much to do; miles and miles of it to explore, croquet on the lawn, or bathing on their private beach. There was even a yacht to take them to Oban or to the other islands and Mother had promised they would go for a sail on her once Aunt Georgina and the others arrived. Then, later on in the summer, more guests were expected and with everyone gathered, there was to be a party.