The Last Letter from Juliet

by Melanie Hudson

  ‘I only remember the tail end of it.’ She took a sip of gin, the tea now abandoned, and smiled. ‘I do remember the kiddies’ parties up in the hall, though. Christmas has always been a good time in Angels Cove, we all pull together, you see. Did you know this village has done a lantern festival on the harbour wall every year at Christmas since 1918, except for during the war, a course – blackout, you see. But this year …’ she tailed off.

  ‘This year?’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose what with all the goings on with the council and that blooming Storm Katherine pitching up (why they have to go putting a name to a storm these days I will never know) we haven’t even got the lights up, yet. And with half the cottages used as holiday lets now, and not so many kiddies around the village, it all seems to be dying away – first time since the war, too. Tragic really. And with Gerald away, no one’s had the umpf to grip it. It’s such a shame, but there you go.’

  She was right. It really was tragic.

  ‘Not to worry,’ she added brightly. ‘There’s still my gin tasting for the old folks to look forward to. Do you think you could drop by tomorrow evening and help bottle it up, we’ll have a nice old sing-song – no sad Christmas songs, promise.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’d love to.’

  I sipped on my gin and thought of Gerald’s original letter – save Angels Cove for all the little children this Christmas. In all honesty, I was yet to see any children, but that was academic, because Fenella’s face was so full of disappointment, it broke my heart, and when combined with her occasional glances towards the empty dog bed, I couldn’t not want to help – genuinely – and realised that, for all of Gerald’s nagging, Dorothy needed to run back up the yellow brick road, grab her wing men, and take this apostrophe business a bit more seriously, because maybe Gerald was right. Maybe I could save Angels Cove in time for Christmas … but there was one very special lady I needed to see first.

  Chapter 18

  Katherine

  A Promise

  I stood by the gates to Lanyon, chewing my bottom lip, feeling odd. Through Juliet’s memoirs I had immersed myself in this place and my imagination had conjured a Lanyon of the 1940s, but the house standing before me was not quite as I imagined. I arrived during a busy moment involving an ambulance and an elderly gentleman. He was wrapped in a red blanket and strapped to a stretcher and was being loaded (such a dreadful word for the movement of a human being and yet it fitted the scene perfectly) into the ambulance. A woman, perhaps in her sixties, walked alongside, fussing. I continued down the drive and looked on just as a care worker, wearing not only a Christmas jumper but also reindeer antlers, said her quick goodbyes to the gentleman and turned towards the front door. The house, the ambulance, the man – it didn’t seem to all fit together, somehow.

  The care worker was called Yvonne, her badge said so. After signing in, I was led beyond the entrance hall with its tinsel-strewn notice boards, to Juliet’s room past open doors that led into all the other resident’s rooms. The residents were all much older and more infirm than I had imagined. Some were sleeping, some were watching the TV and some were just sitting in the corridor alone. Yvonne explained that some of their more active residents sat in the lounge during the day, to chat and take in the view. But Juliet wasn’t one of them. She kept to her room, which was – Yvonne was quick to add – a corner room with the best view in the house, and where Juliet spent her days, looking out to sea while listening to audio books. We paused at the end of a corridor.

  ‘You’ve never met Juliet before?’ Yvonne asked.

  I hesitated. It seemed odd to say that I hadn’t.

  ‘No, I’ve never met her before in my life. I’m staying in her house in the village. I was asked by her grandson to look for something she’s desperate to find.’

  ‘Yes. The compass? Did you find it.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t. I came to tell her. Sam thought that perhaps I might stay for a chat, if she wants me to.’

  ‘A bit of advice then,’ Yvonne said, putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘She looks younger than she is but she’s frail, really frail, not that she wants anyone to know that. Also, if she thinks you’re talking to her like a child she’ll boot you out.’ Yvonne put her hand on the door handle and lowered her voice. ‘This is a woman who listens to TED talks every day and exchanges emails with the Arch Bishop of Canterbury and that science chap on the telly.’

  ‘Science chap?’

  ‘Can’t remember his name. She’s been trying to argue the case that quantum physics can actually prove that heaven exists … or something like that.’

  Yvonne knocked and without being beckoned we walked into a beautiful, baking hot room. I took off my coat and draped it across my arm. A large chair sat with its back to us by the corner window, the kind that has wings for resting the head. Juliet was sat in it, her eyes closed, her body so small inside a chair so big – a beautifully dressed, tiny, white-haired doll with perfect skin. She was wearing an indigo blue cashmere jumper with a contrasting wrap draped around her shoulders. A blanket rested on her legs.

  Here she was. The fearless. The death-defying. The Juliet Caron. The woman who dashed around the country flying Spitfires and Hurricanes. The woman who fell in love with a stranger in a field a couple of miles away. The woman who once owned this large stately house. I could have bowed down at her feet and kissed them.

  Yvonne leant forward and moved as if to wake her. I placed a finger to my lips and shook my head. ‘Let her sleep,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll wait.’ I sank into a matching and equally deep, high-backed chair, the arm of which touched the arm of Juliet’s and was set to a perfect angle for conversation. I looked out across the lawns to the sea. A line of cedar trees framed a view of the sea to the west. I watched as the pink/blue hues in the sky deepened as our little bit of the Earth slowly turned away from the sun. I felt swaddled and cosy. My eyelids, feeling heavy suddenly, closed. I rested my head against the wing of the chair and slowly, very slowly, drifted away.

  Goodness knows how long I slept, but it was completely dark outside when I woke up. I glanced around. The room was lit by a scattering of lamps. Juliet was awake. She was smiling at me.

  ‘Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry,’ I said, stifling a yawn and shuffling to sit up straight. ‘It must have been the heat. I never normally sleep during the day.’

  Biggest lie of my life.

  ‘I’m Katherine,’ I offered, still shuffling and trying to sound bright. ‘I’m staying in your cottage for Christmas. How rude of me.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Not at all.’

  I began to babble.

  ‘Your Grandson asked me to have a good look in the cottage for the compass, but I …’

  Juliet reached across and patted my hand with long, knotted fingers. Her watery eyes were so very bright.

  ‘Don’t worry about that just for a moment,’ she said, her weak voice narrowly betraying her years. ‘Give yourself a second to come to and I’ll ring for tea.’ She picked up a wire with an orange button on the end that was tucked down the side of her chair. An alarm began to sound. Yvonne appeared in front of Juliet’s chair, breathless. She was still wearing the antlers but now sported a tabard that had the words, I’m doing the drug round. Do not disturb me, written across the front and back.

  ‘Ah, Yvonne,’ Juliet began, putting on glasses that were draped on a chain across her chest. ‘Could you arrange for tea for two, please, and on the silver set with the china cups.’ She glanced at Yvonne over the top of her glasses. ‘And make sure we get the pink wafers this time, not that dry shortbread you’ve been pawning around all week.’

  I saw words that were perhaps not quite Christian forming in Yvonne’s headspace. She buttoned them in.

  ‘But what about your dinner? You’ve not had a bite yet what with this one …’ – a pointed look in my direction – ‘… falling to sleep.’

  Guilt splashed over me like a sogg
y flannel.

  Juliet waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘Life is full of meals, Yvonne. Missing one won’t kill me.’

  Yvonne looked at me with a frown and said, ‘I’ll tray it up, then,’ before managing a weak smile and disappearing out of the door with a chunter. I’d never been to a home for the elderly before, but I was pretty sure the care workers didn’t tend to do on-demand silver service tea trays when visitors arrived. Juliet turned to face me.

  ‘I hoped you’d come,’ she said, her demeanour having returned to sweet older lady status. ‘Sam emailed and told me all about you.’ She patted my hand again. ‘What a time you’ve had of it. But, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.’

  I made a mental note to text Gerald and find out just how much all these people knew!

  ‘That’s Sam’s chair,’ she said, a glow of absolute pride across her face. ‘I ordered it for him especially, for when he visits. Comfortable, isn’t it?’

  I let out a deep and relaxed sigh.

  ‘It certainly is. I could live in it!’

  ‘People never spend enough money on mattresses and chairs,’ she added. ‘But they’re so important. Get you mattress right and your day will be better from the get go. So, tell me,’ she began in earnest. ‘How do you like my cottage?’

  I smiled.

  ‘I love it. Thank you so much for letting me stay.’

  She nodded her agreement and we made polite conversation about Angels Cove until the tea arrived, which was when, once settled with my teacup in one hand and pink wafer biscuit in the other, I tried to turn the conversation back to the missing compass. She stopped me again.

  ‘All in good time,’ she said. ‘I’d like to hear about you first.’

  I was about to protest but her eyes were so kind and her body so frail, it really did seem I must.

  ‘But it’s your life we should be talking about,’ I said, twenty minutes later, having given Juliet a quick rundown on the past few years of my life.

  ‘Sam said in his email today that you’re reading my memoirs.’

  ‘Yes. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. Nice to know someone else other than Sam will remember the old days once I’m gone. I’m glad I wrote it all down. My memory isn’t what it was, which is why I simply cannot remember where the compass is … and it’s so very important.’ She glanced out of the window. ‘So very important.’

  Juliet turned her attention away from the view to glance beyond me. She was looking at a photo on a side table. It was a picture of a woman, I guessed in her thirties, standing by a car on the drive, in front of Lanyon, something from the 1950s perhaps, a young girl stood with her. The woman had her arms around the girl. They were smiling. Happy. She seemed to study the photo before sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes. She was so very tiny. I finished my tea and stood. It was time to go.

  Sensing my departure, she opened her eyes and held out her hand to take mine. Her hands were cold.

  ‘Love doesn’t have to last a lifetime, to last a lifetime, does it?’ she said, kindly.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  ‘But as I said to my grandson after his heart was broken,’ she went on, ‘there comes a point when it’s time to …’

  ‘Believe in love again?’

  She smiled. ‘That’s it. See, you’re half way there already. Don’t go yet,’ she said, still holding my hands. ‘There’s something I want to ask you. I would ask Sam, but he’s still away. We were supposed to have a few days together before Christmas, he was hoping to be back to take me flying for my birthday, but …’ A cloud crossed Juliet’s face before she rallied. ‘There’s a picture of him, over there. He’s the man with the ridiculous beard …’ she rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Pass it to me, will you Katherine?’

  I handed her a photograph of a man wearing a Royal Navy uniform. He was standing next to a fighter jet, his flying helmet in his hand. Juliet stroked the man’s face, kissed the photo and handed it back.

  ‘You’ll know what he looks like now, when he pitches up.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, thinking of Sam’s blog. ‘I suppose I will.’ I returned the photograph to its prime position before being despatched with a conspiratorial whisper to close the door.

  ‘Loose lips sink ships,’ she said, as I lowered myself back into the chair. ‘The thing is,’ she began in a semi-whisper, ‘… and I know you might find this a bit odd – but Gerald said you wouldn’t mind helping out with something while you’re here …’

  I had to smile. He’d clearly pimped me out to the whole village.

  ‘Of course. Just ask. Anything at …’

  ‘I want to escape!’

  ‘Escape?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s impossible to get the staff here to take me out, but there are a few things that I need to take care of, before I go.’

  Go?

  ‘I was going to ask Sam to help, but what with him being detained, and Gerald did say you’d be the perfect person to help me …’ she widened her eyes, ‘to help me go out with a real bang!’

  Go out? My eyes narrowed to help my confused brain attempt to understand.

  ‘I’d like you to drive me around – just to a few places nearby. I’ll tell you where I want to go tomorrow, when we set off.’

  My eyes betrayed my concern. She was practically one hundred years old and so very frail. What if she fell? What if she …

  ‘Oh, stop fretting and relax,’ she added with a sniff, reading my mind. ‘I’m asking you to take me for a run out in the car, not strap me into an abseil and throw me off Gunwalloe cliffs!’

  I laughed.

  ‘Trust me,’ she went on, ‘I’m stronger than I look. I just want to go on a little trip down memory lane, that’s all. There are some things I need to … let’s just say, retrieve.’ Juliet nudged my arm. ‘Just two days together before Christmas, you and me. What do you say?’

  I smiled. Hadn’t that been exactly what I had wished I’d had when I thought Juliet had died already? Hadn’t I wished that I had been given the opportunity to get to know this incredible woman in person, before …

  ‘And if you don’t have a car, we’ll take Fenella’s,’ she added firmly. ‘She never uses it and she’ll be too busy with her gin this week to need it.’

  Her eyes pleaded now.

  ‘Please, Katherine, stop seeing me as an old lady and see me as I really am. The body you see before you does not represent the mind or the soul. I have things I need to do. It’s so very important …’

  I rubbed my forehead. Would it really be too bad to give this amazing lady the gift of freedom for a few hours?

  There was nothing left to say, other than.

  ‘I’d love to spend two days with you. Of course, I’ll take you out.’

  Juliet relaxed into her chair with a smile. I stood one final time and grabbed my coat.

  ‘Have you ever felt that you were guided somewhere for a reason?’ she asked as I pushed an arm through a coat sleeve.

  I sat back down, coat half on half off.

  ‘It’s funny you should say that, but when I found your memoirs, I felt that maybe … oh, it’s silly, I suppose, but I felt that maybe I was supposed to read them.’

  Juliet nodded her agreement. ‘I know exactly what you mean! When Gerald told me you were coming and staying at the cottage, I had such a feeling that we – you and I –would get along. And when Sam was delayed at sea, I knew for certain that you were the one who was supposed to help me to move …’ She paused. ‘Well, to help me. That’s all.’

  I knelt beside her and tucked the blanket down the sides of her legs.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I said, standing up. ‘Shall we say ten ‘o clock?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  I went to leave. Juliet grabbed my hand.

  ‘And would you keep looking for the compass,’ she said. And then quieter. ‘It’s so very important, you see.’

  Chapter 19
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  Juliet

  Oh, Marie!

  May Day 1941, I remember, was the first day that year we didn’t wear a coat as we cycled to work. I also remember that particular day for another, more important, reason.

  Anna and I began our day by going through the usual motions – checking the programme next to our names on the chalk board and glancing into the pigeon holes for the day’s flying delivery chits. Then came the met brief, then the planning of our navigational routes and if there was time, a quick cup of tea before take-off. Taking advantage of the fact that neither of us planned to be airborne before eleven, Anna and I sat outside of the mess and took in the sunshine. We were just chatting about everything and nothing when a sleek, black car rolled up. The first thing we saw were two very long, shapely stockinged legs appear from behind the driver door. The voice gave the driver away before the blonde hair or the face did.

  ‘Hey, what’s all this laying around in the sunshine, you damn work-shy, British – oh, and Canadian – assholes!?’

  Anna jumped up.

  ‘Marie! It’s Marie!’

  We ran towards her like she’d just landed from a Battle of Britain dog fight.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ I asked, watching Anna throw her arms around Marie.

  ‘And it’s wonderful to see you too!’ she chided, before turning to Anna with a smile. ‘Get me a coffee, will ya, honey? And a cigarette, too. I’m all out.’

  Anna trotted off. She turned suddenly to shout back.

  ‘All right, but don’t talk about anything until I get back. I want to hear everything!’

  I took Marie’s arm and we walked together towards the mess.

  ‘It’s fabulous to see you! But, come on, tell me, why are you here?’

  Marie paused at the door.

  ‘I just wanted to get the old gang back together again – the Spitfire Sisters – my best gal pals in the whole world. That’s OK, isn’t it?’

  I tilted my head to one side and took her in. This was Marie – Marie who wanted to live as close to London as possible, despite the relentless bombing during the Blitz.