by Beth Corby
The months grew into a year, and not long after she turned eighteen, I heard on the grapevine that Judith had become engaged to a colonel, who was much older than her. Her family were very proud of the match, and it was the talk of the village. Feeling the threat had passed, they even started to use our shop again, though they never sent Judith. They smiled and nodded, acknowledging our lack of fuss, and none of us ever mentioned the affair. It was like a crime that no one wanted brought up.
One year became two, and I grew taller, more muscular and assured. Now eighteen, I was handsome (even if I say so myself), and well read. I was always well turned out, polite and well mannered. The girls began to flock, not that I paid them any attention, and my parents started to worry. They hated that I kept to myself and treated Betty as if she were dead. They told me life moved on and that it wasn’t really Betty’s fault. It would always have ended, they assured me. They urged me to try walking out with other girls, and for their benefit, I tried, but none of them interested me.
Then I met a girl called Mabel. She was quiet and didn’t expect anything from me. She didn’t giggle, which was a mercy, and I found her soothing. She kept my parents happy without making any demands on me. By my standards, she was good company.
Then one day, as we were walking by the river, I asked her what she was thinking. I don’t know why I asked, perhaps it was because she was so quiet, but it was a defining moment because she told me every thought in her head. I remember the shock. She told me how she was actually attracted to Jimmy Bartle (remember him?) who never looked twice at her, how she liked me, but was sad for me, that she was worried about her sister’s baby, how she couldn’t like making jam because she was scared of the hot sugar, and so many odd and varied things that I found it amazing that so much could be whizzing around behind her quiet countenance. She fascinated me.
After that, we spent hours together. She educated me in her thoughts and feelings, what she liked and disliked, dreamed and feared, and I helped her to get Jimmy’s attention by going out with her and making it clear what a wonderful person I thought she was. Jimmy began to take notice, and when I insisted she throw me over very publicly, which was not in her nature to do, he very soon showed his interest. I was pleased for them when they started courting, and I was very careful not to make him jealous, making do with the gossip I heard in the shop. What I heard made me very happy.
They eventually married, you know, and had six children. They are content and are still very good friends of mine, and I admit their happiness is precious to me. You know them as Jim and May.
Every year since then, May has sent me a pot of jam. It arrives, unmarked, and it always makes me smile. To be honest, I’m very glad I shall never have to see the year when it doesn’t arrive.
Your next task is to visit the theatre in London. Now doesn’t that sound like fun? Why London? Because that is where my story goes next. You will find out more after that.
Reminiscently yours,
Uncle Donald
As I finish reading, I shake my head at myself. Here’s me, getting all het up over one kiss with Alec, when Donald had it so much worse: Judith actually married someone else! He must have been devastated. I actually think he had a lucky escape, because even though I know he loved her, I can’t help disliking Judith – she seems callous and unfeeling. But then I guess neither of them had much choice, in the circumstances.
As for Grandma Betty, I know Judith and Donald’s relationship would probably have ended anyway, but I’m starting to think of her not so much as Blast-off Betty, but as Blabbermouth Betty. And given what I know now, I’m no longer surprised Donald and Alec took such pains to make a backhanded reference to her lack of trustworthiness and loyalty in the eulogy. I can’t even say I blame them.
And Jim and May – if anything, I love them even more now that I know Donald’s history with them, and I can just imagine Jim grinning impishly in motorbike goggles.
I lie back, my head swimming with everything he’s told me, and focus on the best bit: a trip to the theatre. I can’t imagine a better task. I adore the theatre and I’ve seen everything from Shakespeare to Sweeney Todd, Tennessee Williams through to Agatha Christie. Going to the theatre was always my birthday treat, so for once this task is completely within my comfort zone. It’s just what I need.
Though, now I come to think of it, wasn’t Donald aiming to expand my horizons? Have I unintentionally ruined one of the tasks? I flush guiltily. I suppose I could pretend it’s my first time, and try to experience it like I’ve never been before? I’ve never been with Alec . . .
I picture the two of us sat in the red velvet seats with the lights going down and the curtain going up, but then my stomach does a little dip as I imagine Lauren there as well, smooching up on Alec’s other side. I have to face it – now that they’re together, she’s bound to join us. I close my eyes, trying to keep a lid on my disappointment, then take a deep breath. I’ll make the best of it – for Donald.
Chapter 19
I trail down to breakfast, bracing myself for Lauren and Alec’s happy faces, and almost fall over Lauren’s case at the foot of the stairs. Checking no one’s about, I give it an experimental lift, and it’s gloriously heavy. I put it down again and feel like I’m going to float up in the air. I quickly hunt for any reason for the case being here, other than Lauren going home, and come up with nothing.
‘Good morning!’ I trill as I enter the dining room. Lauren smiles at me, but Alec is hunched over his plate and doesn’t even look up.
I sit down and Mrs Crumpton comes in and dumps a bowl of porridge in front of me.
‘How can you eat that stuff?’ demands Lauren, cradling her cup of coffee, and Mrs Crumpton leaves without comment.
‘Have you tried it?’ I ask, liberally pouring golden syrup over it and reaching for the cream. ‘And isn’t breakfast the most important meal of the day?’ Mum and Dad nag her about this constantly, and Lauren pulls a face.
Mrs Crumpton comes in with my coffee, and I put a spoonful of porridge in my mouth.
‘Mmm, it’s delicious. You should try some, Lauren. Breakfast of champions!’
Lauren’s eyes narrow, but Mrs Crumpton gives a trace of a smile as she walks out.
‘So, I have some bad news,’ Lauren says, glancing at Alec, but he’s still staring moodily into his breakfast. ‘My landlord called and there’s been a leak in the flat above mine. I need to assess the damage, so I have to go.’
‘I hope nothing’s ruined,’ I say, feeling a bit guilty now.
Lauren shrugs. ‘They said they caught it quickly, but they need me to make sure none of my personal property is damaged for the insurance claim.’ She pouts, glancing at Alec again. He gives absolutely no reaction, so I guess he already knows.
I eat another spoonful of porridge. ‘So, when do you set off?’
‘Pretty soon.’
I was hoping for an estimate in minutes, perhaps even seconds, but she’s still sipping her coffee, so I concentrate on my breakfast.
‘So, what’s your next task? Will it wait for me to get back?’ she asks, fixing me with a look.
I stare at her. She’s not serious, is she? ‘It’s complicated actually, and I don’t have all the details – which reminds me Alec, I’ll need to have a chat with you after Lauren’s gone.’
Alec nods mutely.
Lauren grimaces, but for once she doesn’t force the issue. ‘In that case, I suppose I had better be going.’ I hurry to finish my porridge in case she’s waiting for me, and push my bowl away. Lauren gives Alec a long glance. ‘Coming to see me off?’
‘No, I’ll let you sisters have a proper goodbye.’ His tone is frosty and my heart lifts.
‘Well then, I guess this is our goodbye.’ She leans in and gives him a long lingering kiss on the cheek, and as she gets up she smirks at me. Alec has gone bright red, and he flashes me an uneasy glance as he picks up his coffee. Lauren flaunts a delighted smile as I follow her out to the hall.
/> ‘See you, then,’ she says absently, and I shrug, never sure what to say in these moments of artificial sisterly affection. I contemplate hugging her, then pick up her case. ‘I’ll carry it out for you,’ I offer, though it weighs an absolute ton.
‘Thanks.’
We stroll out – or rather, she strolls, and I stagger – and as I heave her case into her boot she gets in. I stand back, ready for her to drive off, but her window buzzes down. I plaster on a quick smile and go to her window.
‘I’ll give Mum and Dad your love,’ Lauren says.
‘Thanks.’
‘And I’ll be back to see how you’re getting on. I have unfinished business,’ she says, glancing back at the house. ‘And now that we’ve kissed . . .’ She gives me a loaded look that smacks into me at ninety miles an hour.
‘Drive carefully,’ I say weakly, and somehow manage to hold onto my smile as, with a scattering of gravel and a cursory wave, she drives away.
I stand very still.
Alec and Lauren aren’t my problem – I’m here for Donald and the tasks, I remind myself. It’s almost becoming a mantra.
I take a deep breath right down to my toes to release the tension, and realise I haven’t breathed properly for days. I walk slowly back to the breakfast room and pick up my coffee from the table. Lauren’s gone. I finally allow a forgotten calm to settle over me, and let out a relieved sigh.
‘Are we good?’ asks Alec, probably worried about it being awkward with him seeing my sister. Not sure how to answer, I watch him for a moment. But the truth is, if I want to do justice to Donald’s hard work, I have to be fine with it.
‘Sure,’ I agree, despite my every cell screaming to the contrary.
Alec frowns at me doubtfully, and I attempt a reassuring smile.
Mrs Crumpton bustles in. ‘Has she gone?’ she asks, collecting up the plates.
‘Yes, back to her flat and her recruitment job.’ I say, turning from Alec’s interrogatory gaze.
Mrs Crumpton nods approvingly. Alec gives a little grunt, and Mrs Crumpton turns her beady eye on him.
‘And you’ve no reason to be pleased with yourself,’ she says firmly.
‘What did I do?’ he asks indignantly.
She gives him a penetrating look, smiles at me and carries out the dishes.
‘She used to like me before you came,’ he says accusingly, but I can tell he’s only half-serious. ‘Tell me about the next task,’ he says, deftly changing the subject.
‘We have to go to the theatre in London,’ I say, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice. ‘I’m hoping you know more?’
Alec nods knowingly. ‘Yes, Donald told me about this one.’ He gives a ghost of his old smile and looks at his watch. ‘Let me check the theatre times, and depending on when it’s on, we could take the train down today and stay overnight?’
Overnight? ‘Erm, great,’ I say, though I’m unsure how I feel about that. ‘What are we going to see?’
‘Didn’t Donald say?’
I shake my head.
Alec’s eyes narrow speculatively. ‘Oh, well let me have a quick look and I’ll get back to you.’
‘But what are we going to see?’
‘Just a minute,’ he says, heading off to Donald’s study. I’m still sipping my coffee when he comes back. ‘You’re in luck,’ he says with a grin. ‘It’s on tonight, and since Donald had an arrangement with the theatre, I’ve been able to get tickets. We’ll need to catch a train to London this afternoon, though.’
If we go this afternoon, we’ll definitely be going without Lauren. ‘And you’re sure can book the train tickets and a hotel?’ I ask, desperate not to have my hopes dashed.
Alec nods. ‘I’ve already booked the hotel, and I’ll do the train now.’
‘So, what are we going to see?’ I ask again.
‘Oh, didn’t I say? How odd.’ He picks up his coffee, and grinning, he heads back to the study.
‘But what is it?’ I call after him.
He laughs. ‘You might want to pack,’ he calls, and I growl.
Chapter 20
We’ve been on the train for over an hour now, and Alec has already tried several times to talk to me about Lauren. Mostly I’ve deflected him with a change of topic.
‘Last night with Lauren—’ he says starting again, and I realise it’s time for me to close the subject, because if he wants to know my feelings about whether he and Lauren are right for each other, he can go boil his head. And if he wants to know her feelings for him, he can go boil the rest of himself as well.
‘It isn’t any of my business what the two of you get up to.’
‘But I just want to check—’ says Alec.
‘We’re fine,’ I say firmly. ‘You’re fine, I’m fine, Lauren’s fine and honestly, I’d really rather not discuss it.’ I resolutely lift my book, but I still catch him giving me searching glances in my peripheral vision.
Arriving in London it’s a relief to have the distraction of getting off the train and into a taxi, and as we arrive at our hotel I’m almost fizzing with excitement. We check in and, as we grin at the incongruity of the smart porter carrying my tatty holdall into the lift, there’s a hint of how we used to be.
We follow the porter to my room first, and I stop dead in the doorway. It’s huge! I swallow my amazement and try to look serene as I take in the modern furnishings, massive TV and white sheets. Alec’s eyes are crinkling – he knows I love it. I want to explore, but the porter is showing me the television, flicking through the channels, and pointing out the phone. I want to discover it all for myself and glare at Alec, who coughs pointedly. Luckily, the porter gets the message and they head off to Alec’s room.
Left on my own, I wait for the door to click closed, and throw myself onto the gargantuan, pristine bed, feeling wonderfully grand and shabby all at the same time. I throw my arms wide and make a snow angel in the swathes of Egyptian cotton, loving the fact that my fingers can’t reach the edge.
There’s a tentative knock at the door and I struggle upright.
‘Come in,’ I call.
Alec comes in and starts at the state of the bed. ‘Have you been jumping on it?’ he asks gravely.
‘I couldn’t help it. It was just so perfect and big and mine!’
‘Not so perfect now!’ he says, shaking his head and breaking into a grin. ‘I just came to say our tickets are booked for an hour’s time, so if you want to get ready and meet me down in the lobby, we should leave in forty minutes.’
‘I’ll see you down there,’ I say cheerfully, and then wonder if I’m supposed to act like this is a date. I frown, then dismiss the thought. It’s a task – end of. I’ll treat it as if I’m going with Donald.
I’ve changed, done my hair and make-up, and I’m ready to accept whatever Donald has arranged for me. I take the lift down to the lobby and check my watch. I’m only a few minutes late, but that’s the lady’s prerogative, isn’t it? Or is that only for weddings?
‘Hi,’ says Alec, getting up from one of the plush lobby sofas and coming over to meet me in a crisp clean shirt and jacket. He has a languid grace that I’ve never fully appreciated before, and my heartbeat picks up.
‘Hi,’ I say, feeling oddly shy.
‘You look lovely,’ he says.
I glance down at the dress I’ve put on, glad I’ve made the effort, and resist the urge to say ‘this old thing?’ ‘Thanks,’ I say instead.
‘Ready?’ he asks, offering his arm, and he escorts me out to a waiting taxi.
I watch the London streets whizz by, and after a short ride we pull up outside a theatre with Romeo and Juliet emblazoned across its billboards. My stomach sinks. It’s not that I don’t love it – of course I do – but I’ve seen it so many times, including twice with school and once in Stratford-upon-Avon performed by the RSC.
As Alec pays the driver, I read the poster to see which company it is, hoping to salvage something from my disappointment, and I’m brought up short by
the name of a ballet company. Only now does it sink in that the lovers on the poster are wearing ballet shoes. This is Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet! It’s nothing like the versions I’ve seen before.
‘It’s a ballet?’ I ask Alec.
‘Yes. Have you been to one before?’
‘No, never. I haven’t even seen one on TV.’ It’s not the sort of thing my family watches.
‘Another new experience, then,’ he says smiling, taking me inside.
I realise he’s right, and although a small part of me is worried I won’t like it, another part is pleased that I haven’t inadvertently ruined one of Donald’s experiences.
Alec escorts me up the foyer stairs, and I’m about to go through the large double doors into the auditorium when he redirects me along a narrow corridor, up some even narrower steps and in through a small door on our left-hand side. My breath catches as I see the auditorium and realise we’re in a box. I rush forward as an usher greets Alec, and look down over the balcony. A sea of people are seated below us and I can see straight into the pit where the orchestra are tuning up. To my right is the stage and I’m so close I could almost touch the curtain. I sit down on a springy red velvet chair feeling both overwhelmed and conspicuous.
Alec sidles between the seats and hands me a programme.
‘Why the ballet?’ I ask.
‘Donald loved it and thought you might like it. Or perhaps “hoped” might be a better word. He always said you could tell whether someone had a soul by how they reacted to a ballet.’
‘Oh,’ I say, a little taken aback. What happens if I don’t like it?
‘Don’t worry,’ says Alec, perhaps seeing the concern on my face. ‘I won’t tell anyone if you hate it – and I’m sure it wouldn’t mean you don’t have a soul. Plus, I’m pretty sure he was joking. But he was insistent about you seeing Romeo and Juliet, so here we are.’
I suddenly realise that Donald mentioned the play in his letter, and lean forward to tell Alec, but the lights are dimming and the orchestra are starting to play the introduction to Act 1, so I settle back in my seat.
