by Katie Flynn
That had been months ago, and things could not have worked out better. Arla took care of the house and the kitchen garden whilst Archie tended the vines under the watchful eye of Monsier Dubois, who taught him how to recognise and cure diseases which left untreated could wipe out the entire vintage.
Now, making her way into the kitchen, she sat down at the table and started to read her letter.
Dear Arla, Good news! Aidan is to be demobbed in April next year, so we’re having the wedding on 15 June, same day as Mam’s birthday. Connor’s going to be Aidan’s best man, and I want you to be my maid of honour. Gwen’s already agreed to be a bridesmaid so it would make the wedding complete if you were to say yes!
I must admit I was a little worried that you might be on grape-stamping duties around that time of year, but Aidan says you don’t harvest grapes until later on, so no excuses!
Because I have no one to give me away, Uncle Kieran said he’d do the honours. I must admit I choked up when he suggested it. They’re such a lovely family, and I know Mam would have been thrilled. Do have a word with Archie and let me know asap whether you can make it or not, won’t you?
The barn’s coming on slowly, and Uncle Kieran reckons it’ll be ready for us to move into by the time we’re married. Aidan wants to do the fireplace himself. I can’t think why, but he’s insisting we work around it. You know what men are like!
Gwen and Connor have been talking about marriage. The distance is getting to Gwen and she misses him dreadfully. It won’t be long until she’s passed her clerical course so she’ll start looking for a job in Liverpool soon. As for Connor, he’s left the electrical engineering programme; reckons it reminded him too much of when he first joined the RAF. He’s starting an apprenticeship in car mechanics any day now.
Arla jumped as the door to the kitchen opened. Archie strode across the room and leaned down to kiss her cheek. ‘How’s my best girl?’
Arla held the letter up for him to read. ‘Looks like we’re off to a wedding!’
‘June next year, eh?’ He said after a moment. ’Are you going to tell her that she’ll have to make room for three of us?’
‘I’m not telling her anything just yet. You know what the doctor said: best not to tell folk until I’m three months along.’
Archie sagged. ‘All this waitin’ will be the death of me! I feel like I’m goin’ to burst I’m that happy, an all I want to do is shout it from the rooftops! Have from the moment we found out.’
Arla giggled. ‘Your time will come, Archie Byrnes, but until then you’ve got to keep mum, ha ha.’ She placed a hand on her stomach. ‘Goodness only knows I’ll find it hard enough writing to Ellie without letting it slip that she’s going to be an auntie in seven months’ time.’
‘I must admit, I always thought you had a gob like the Mersey, but you’ve proved me wrong these past few weeks.’ He dodged the back of Arla’s hand. ‘I’m sure Monsieur Dubois’s gettin’ a bit suspicious, though – I caught him giving you a very funny look the other day.’
‘Archie Byrnes, stop teasin’,’ said Arla. ‘It’s not good for me in my condition.’
Sitting in the chair beside hers, Archie took her hands and kissed her knuckles. ‘In your condition! Me mam’s gonna flip when she finds out.’
Arla grimaced. ‘So’s mine. It’s going to be her first grandchild and we’re living in a different country.’
‘No kid of mine’s goin’ to grow up in the courts.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the window. ‘Fresh air and freedom to run around: what more could you ask for?’
Remembering how she had once wanted to marry an officer, she looked into his dancing blue eyes. ‘All the time I was searching for my knight in shinin’ armour to take me away from the courts and there you were, right under my very nose all along.’
Ellie smiled at her reflection. The war might have been over for a whole year, but money was still tight. Her wedding dress had belonged to Connor’s mother, and after a lot of adjusting they had got it to fit perfectly. Swaying her hips from side to side, she admired the way the floor-length skirt swirled around her. She ran a finger over the delicate pearl buttons which adorned each sleeve and noted with satisfaction how small her waist looked in the A-line dress.
Gwen and Arla had worn different suits of palest blue, which they had bought from Paddy’s Market, and together the three women had looked captivating.
Aidan, Connor and Archie had all worn their service uniform and Ellie’s bouquet had been a mixture of wild lavender – in memory of her mother – and gypsophila.
Aidan’s father had wanted to hold the wedding reception at the farm, but Auntie Aileen had flat out refused.
‘Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. Before you know it you’ll be getting married in the cowshed and havin’ your weddin’ breakfast in with the pigs. I know we can’t afford a big church weddin’ but there’s nowt wrong wi’ the register office and Connor’s mam knows the landlady of the Throstle’s Nest on the Scottie Road. She said she’ll do us a good deal if we go there.’
Ellie smiled. The wedding had been perfect. Uncle Kieran had given her away, and Gwen’s uncle had taken the photographs. The wedding breakfast had been a finger buffet and Auntie Aileen had made a beautiful three-tiered fruitcake.
Now, with their guests singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ at the tops of their voices to the accompaniment of Uncle Kieran on the piano, Ellie had nipped into one of the pub’s spare rooms so that she might get changed before she and Aidan left for their honeymoon. Stepping out of the dress, she placed it on the padded clothes hanger and hung it up on the picture rail before pulling her going-away suit out of the leather suitcase. As she smoothed down the creases she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Arla. I’ve got Gwen and Tilly with me. Can we come in?’
‘Hang on, I locked it,’ she said, her voice muffled as she pulled the jacket over her head before running to open the door.
‘We’re looking for somewhere a bit quieter so’s little George can get some kip,’ said Arla as she desperately tried to soothe the squawking bundle. ‘What time’s your train to Holyhead?’
Ellie glanced at the dainty watch on her wrist, a wedding present from Aidan. ‘Couple of hours yet, which is just as well, because I’ve got something I need to do first. Would you mind holding the fort whilst I’m gone? If anyone asks, tell them I’ve stepped out for some fresh air and I’ll be back in a bit.’
‘Do you want one of us to come with you?’ Gwen asked cautiously.
Ellie smiled reassuringly at their worried expressions. ‘No thanks. I’d rather be on my own. I promise I won’t be long.’ She picked up her bouquet.
‘I hope you’re not going to throw that yet! I was hoping to be the one who caught it,’ said Tilly, much to their amusement.
Pulling out a single sprig to keep, Ellie threw the bouquet towards Tilly, who caught it in one hand. ‘But that’s—’
‘I threw it, you caught it, don’t quibble. You might not have been so lucky down there with all those man-hungry singletons!’
Ellie stood before the small pile of rubble, a tear dropping from the tip of her nose to the dusty pavement below. She knew that coming here was important. It would be the last time she ever would; the only thing she hadn’t known was what she would do when she got here.
Since her mother was buried in Walton Cemetery some might have argued that she should have gone there, but to Ellie Lavender Court was the only place she had ever lived whilst her mother was alive. All her memories of her mother were here, yet with most of the debris cleared away there were only a few loose bricks left to mark the spot where her home once stood. Closing her eyes, she envisaged the courts as they once were. Dirty, smelly, friendly, familiar and, more important, home. She could see her mother standing beside the small stove, her hands black with the few pieces of coal she had managed to buy, her brow smeared grey where she had wiped it with
the back of her wrist. Her beautiful blue eyes smiled kindly at Ellie as she welcomed her home from school.
‘Come in, alanna. It’s tatties and beans for us teas, then I’ve got to go to Mr Wong’s to do a spot of ironin’, but you can come with me if you like, keep me company and help me fold the sheets.’ Ellie could hear her voice as clearly as if she was standing next to her.
Too painful to watch, the vision faded, and bending down Ellie brushed dust off one of the few remaining bricks, whispering, ‘I wish you could see me, Mam. I’ve grown into the sort of woman you would have been proud of, and my hubby’s a kind, hard-working man who loves me with all his heart. He’s the sort of man you would’ve chosen for me. His family have taken me in as their own and they’re good, kind-hearted, honest folk, who’ll make the most wonderful grandparents.’ Her bottom lip quivered as a smile spread across her face. ‘You would’ve made a brilliant Nana or Gran.’ Taking out a handkerchief, she dabbed her eyes. ‘I wish you could see me I wish you were here. I miss you so much.’
A hand touched her shoulder, making her jump. ‘I thought I might find you here,’ said Aidan as he slid a hand round her waist and pulled her close.
Resting her head against his chest, she looked at the remains of her former home. ‘What do you think they’ll do with this lot? I can’t see them rebuilding the courts as they used to be.’
Aidan shook his head. ‘I know the courts were your home, alanna, but most folk will be glad to see the back of them.’
Ellie nodded. ‘Next time I come I suppose all this will be gone, won’t it? No more Lavender Court, not even a hint of it.’
Aidan kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m afraid so. Once they rebuild, you’ll not be able to tell what once stood here.’
‘My home,’ Ellie said, her voice barely a whisper.
Turning her to face him, Aidan gazed lovingly into her eyes. ‘You’re starting the next path on your journey, only this time you won’t be alone, you’ll be with me, and we’ll walk it together. Starting with our honeymoon in Wales, albeit a short one, but it’s still a holiday and one I’m very much looking forward to. So come on, Mrs Murray, dry your eyes.’
Nodding, Ellie entwined her fingers in his. ‘You’re right. That’s why I had to come, so that I could bid a final farewell to Lavender Court.’ She stopped speaking as Aidan bent down to pick up one of the bricks.
Smiling, he weighed the brick in his hand. ‘It doesn’t have to be final.’
Ellie’s brow furrowed. ‘What d’you mean it doesn’t have to be final? And what on earth do you want that for?’
Holding the brick up, he smiled at her. ‘It’s a piece of Lavender Court, isn’t it?’
She sighed impatiently. ‘Yes?’
‘We’ll take it back with us—’
Ellie interrupted before he could continue. ‘Aidan Murray, if you think I’m going to have it on the mantelpiece like some sort of awful ornament—’
‘Not on, in.’ He grinned. ‘I haven’t quite finished the fireplace, and this can be one of the bricks I use. We’ll make sure it goes in the middle, so that it’s in the heart of the fireplace, the heart of our home.’
Ellie’s lips curved into a smile. ‘So I’ll have a piece of Lavender Court in the heart of my new home, is that what you’re sayin’?’
Aidan nodded. ‘So you see, you needn’t say farewell to Lavender Court because you’re taking a piece of it back with you to your new home, your new life, and when we have children you can tell them where the brick came from.’
Standing on tiptoe Ellie kissed her new husband. ‘I wish my mam could’ve met you, Aidan Murray.’
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘If you were right about the scent of lavender when we crash-landed at Biggin Hill, then she’s not only met me, but saved me too.’
She gazed deep into his twinkling eyes. ‘I love you, Aidan Murray.’
Bending down, he swept her off her feet and into his arms and kissed her gently. ‘I love you too, Mrs Murray – always have and always will.’
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Epub ISBN: 9781473537293
Version 1.0
Published by Century 2019
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Copyright © Katie Flynn 2019
Model photography: Colin Thomas
Background: Getty Images & Alamy
Katie Flynn has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Century
Century
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Century is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781780895772
