The Patron of Lost Causes

by Mark Daydy

  Lucy dropped the smile and donned her earnest look. Trust Eleanor to usurp her sister’s party for a spot of self-promotion.

  “It sounds great,” said Mo.

  “It hasn’t attracted a publisher as yet,” said Eleanor, “but the research continues.”

  “Ah Libby,” said someone, and all turned to the party girl in the doorway.

  *

  The distribution of the cucumber sandwiches went like clockwork, accompanied by Eleanor’s crushing analysis of the dreadful cucumber sandwiches served at a recent local summer fete. And, in between Eleanor’s account of her current charity committee duties, kind words were spoken about Libby, describing a generous woman who always put other people first. Being a Howard girl, being a granddaughter of Sir George, being a charity fundraiser – these were the details that were celebrated.

  “I recall a time,” said Eleanor, “when Libby was determined to beat all-comers during the build-up to a charity jumble sale. She collected so much clothing to put into the sale that we could only see her head from behind the pile. She looked like a clothes monster.”

  Everyone laughed politely, including Lucy. So many good words had been spoken here over the years. She wondered if any of those sentiments had imbued themselves into the fabric of this place to elevate it above other people’s lounges.

  “And now, Libby,” said Eleanor, stepping back.

  Lucy relaxed. What did Libby have to say for herself? What kind of speech had she worked on?

  Libby stepped forward, the pale blue cardigan over her floral blouse making her look stylish and yet overdressed for a warm day.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said with a welcoming smile. “It’s so good to see you all. Do make sure you have a piece of cake.”

  Libby stepped back. The speech was over.

  “Let’s liven things up while I arrange teas and coffees,” said Eleanor. She pressed a button on her ancient hi-fi and Lucy became aware of a low-volume rendition of Beethoven’s Ode To Joy. That was fine. Eleanor wasn’t likely to play ‘Wonderwall’ or ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy’.

  Making her way to the loo, Lucy unexpectedly decided she’d like to be buried in a forest. After a natural death, of course. Not murdered and buried as part of some foul enterprise. And buried deep. She didn’t fancy a fox digging her up and running around with one of her legs in its jaws. She wasn’t sure why that occurred to her.

  In the pink tiled bathroom, she didn’t need to go and so opened the window a little and peered out over the garden. Below, Mo was regaling someone with details of her sixteen-year-old baby daughter and a simply wonderful school…

  Lucy knew the kind of school she meant. She’d attended one herself back in her youth. She always knew it was a top school because her parents reminded her almost daily. When Lucy’s daughter Victoria joined a comprehensive school in Barnet, Lucy’s mum had been dead a number of years, but there was always that ethereal sense of her not approving. Of course, Eleanor just came out with it. A comprehensive school? How dreadful.

  The Howards…

  A Monte Carlo postcard…

  ‘What does the ordinary person see when they behold a Howard? It’s a question that must guide our every action.’

  Lucy checked her watch and left the smallest room. Another hour, she felt, and then she could bid them all farewell. She would use that hour to talk to Libby. After all, that was her reason for being there. It was with disappointment then that the first person she saw on re-entering the lounge was fresh arrival Jane Ranscombe, her cousin.

  3. Jane

  Jane…

  Unsurprisingly, she was wearing a shirt and jeans – okay, so a stylish, off-white designer blouse and expensive-looking charcoal denims. Their eyes met, Lucy gave a faint nod and they smiled. It was good to get that over with. Maybe they wouldn’t need to talk much beyond hello, nice to see you – as had been the case over the past thirty years on those few occasions where they had both attended the same gathering. Certainly, Lucy wasn’t planning to position herself where Jane would remain out of direct view for the remainder of the party. Although, now that Jane had started taking selfies with people, a slight delay to engagement seemed a reasonable compromise.

  Lucy stepped to her left to be with Mo, blocking out Jane with a least three people.

  “They say it should be a nice weekend,” she said, adopting a suitably sunny disposition.

  “Yes, I might do a little tidying up in the garden while Harvey’s busy with his shed,” said Mo. “We all need a little sunshine, don’t we? In fact, we’re thinking of going to Greece next year. Have you ever been to Greece? It’s very much Factor 50 sunscreen country, isn’t it.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” said Lucy. “The one time I went to Greece I got horribly burnt.”

  “Oh?”

  “I used the highest factor protection, but I stupidly went to cool down in the sea on an inflatable dragon and it washed off. Not thinking, I carried on bobbing up and down for far too long and ended up with red raw shoulders. I had to get some special cream from a pharmacy.”

  “Nasty. Oh, I must speak to Henry…”

  Mo wandered off to join another attendee.

  “Hi, Lucy,” said Jane, appearing almost out of nowhere with a glint in her eye.

  “Hello, Jane.” Lucy felt herself tensing up.

  “We really should have a proper catch up.”

  For all the world, Lucy didn’t want to spend a minute with her cousin, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that if she could steer a safe course through the encounter, future sightings might drop down to a mere amber alert.

  “Yes, a proper catch up would be great. I’m just about to talk with Oscar. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Lucy turned away to gatecrash a man called Oscar’s talk with an unknown middle-aged woman about German right-wing extremism. Lucy nodded and studied their faces, and then, for a second time, studied the photos on the mantelpiece behind them.

  Little Jane smiling astride Ned the rocking horse…

  Eleanor unexpectedly joined them and was soon praising foreign students who came to British universities to work hard – unlike homegrown students who were, according to Eleanor, obsessed with s-e-extra.

  Just then, Mo butted in.

  “Lucy, that time you were bobbing up and down for so long it made you red raw, what cream did the pharmacy give you?”

  Lucy couldn’t get the words out. Neither could Eleanor, who looked somewhat perplexed.

  Mo, spotting Eleanor’s confusion, explained. “Lucy had protection, but it didn’t work.”

  “Mo’s talking about the time I went to Greece,” said Lucy, but that didn’t appear to help either. “Sunburn. I had burnt shoulders.”

  Eleanor took a breath and eyed Lucy. “My book will cover a number of fascinating areas. Your mother will be mentioned, of course, and I’d like you to let me have any amusing stories you know about her life before you were born. I’ll sift through them to see what might go in.”

  Lucy noted that Oscar, Mo, and the unknown middle-aged woman were moving away. She smiled at Eleanor as best she could.

  “I’ll try.”

  “So, how’s Victoria? Has she met anyone yet?”

  “No, but she’s happy sharing a flat with two other young women and getting ever more involved in her job in animation.”

  “Animation…?”

  “Yes, do you remember? I told you she decided not to go to university? She’s been with a studio in West London for two years now.”

  “That sounds lovely. And how about you? How’s work?”

  “Oh, it’s fine, thanks.”

  “It’s admin duties, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I might have mentioned it before?” Like, a million times. “I’m a reception manager and refreshment coordinator at a theological college.”

  “Refreshment coordinator?”

  “We organize career break refreshment, sabbatical refreshment, spiritual refreshment…”
/>
  “It must be nice to be settled in a job. Jane’s starting up another enterprise. She’s already running the online children’s partyware store and children’s book business, servicing over a thousand parents, but you know our Jane. Next stop, children’s toys. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it herself.”

  Lucy supposed toys would sit well with books and partyware.

  “She’s so lucky to be involved in things she has a knack for,” she said.

  “Hardly luck, Lucy. Jane works her socks off. She’s sacrificed a lot.”

  “Same with me,” said Lucy, wishing she wasn’t saying it even as the words came out. “I mean in terms of loving what I do – not in terms of success.”

  “Loving what you do is success,” said Eleanor.

  “Yes, it is. I’ve always believed that. Otherwise, I’d walk out tomorrow.”

  “Ellie takes after her.”

  “Does she?” Ellie was Jane’s twenty-year-old daughter, currently away at university in York. “You mean business-wise?”

  “I was thinking more in attitude. Not giving a fig for what others think. Getting on with it. Never say die. But always with the highest standards. Last time I saw her, she told me she’d discovered the secret to a happy life.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Impressive for a twenty-year-old.”

  “She said she discovered it when she was thirteen but didn’t like to sound precocious.”

  “Right, so what is this magical formula?”

  “Stop making excuses and get on with it.”

  “Hmm, she does sound like her mum.” But Lucy smiled. She was pleased for Ellie. And for Jane too. It was good to see people getting on with it. Lucky Jane and now lucky Ellie.

  She wondered. Were some people born lucky? Yes, they worked hard but there was luck there too. Had she been blessed with luck herself, what would she have gone on to achieve? Joining the police force seemed a daft idea now. But it hadn’t been daft back when she too was a precocious thirteen-year-old.

  She looked around. Eleanor had been sucked into someone else’s conversation, leaving Lucy free to think of taking a small sherry from the catering table.

  Before she got there, she caught sight through the French windows of Aunt Libby alone in the garden.

  Lucy stepped outside.

  “Can I get you a drink, Libby?”

  “I’m fine, Lucy. You carry on.”

  Libby gave that smile of hers – the noble one. Sensing something wasn’t quite right, Lucy went to join her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I see Eleanor’s writing up the family history. I tried some research a while back on a genealogy site, but I got confused during the Victorian period. I must try again sometime.”

  “No need. Eleanor’s sure to cover the Victorian era and first half of the twentieth century once she’s finished with the post-War years. I’m sure she’ll make copies available at a discount.”

  “The Howards… we had a genuine standing in the community.”

  “A wonderful reputation.”

  “You and Uncle Eddie certainly kept that up.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say. He was the best, you know. He always gave his time to whatever cause. He was a real pillar of the business community. Everyone looked up to him. He was just unlucky to have that heart problem.”

  Lucy could picture him – a gin in one hand, a cigarette in the other, an aversion to walking anywhere or doing any form of exercise…

  “Yes, he was a much-loved man,” she said. There was no need to counter Libby elevating him to sainthood.

  “Do you think you might let someone into your life again?” Libby asked.

  Lucy was immediately on guard.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s been a while since James, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes…” James the drunk, the gambler, the addict… “ten years.”

  The coroner’s report said he might have survived the crash just outside Camley had he not been in such poor physical health. But they say every cloud has a silver lining – and for Lucy, it was the opportunity to take a job eighty-five miles away in Hatfield and rent a place for herself and Victoria in Barnet. No more dodging Jane at school summer fetes and Christmas plays…

  “What about you, Libby?” she asked. “Any plans? No romantic plans, obviously. Well, not obviously, but…”

  “I know what you mean. No, there’ll never be anyone after Eddie. I do have some plans though. Or rather, I did.”

  “Oh?”

  “I had a lovely offer from a dear friend of mine. Do you know Gail Middleton?”

  “No.”

  “She recently moved to a lovely little place on the coast at Selsey and suggested I move down there with her.”

  “You mean buy a house nearby?”

  “No, pay to have her adjoining garage turned into a granny apartment.”

  “That sounds nice. What does Eleanor think?”

  “Eleanor?”

  “Obviously, it’s none of her business, but…” But she does rule West Sussex.

  Libby shook her head. “Eleanor leads a busy life. All those committees she’s on. I’m on none of them. I’m very supportive though. I’m always making small financial contributions to her causes.”

  “Of course – so Selsey?”

  “Yes, well, as of yesterday, it’s on permanent hold.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. What happened yesterday?”

  “I had a little setback. You see, I have an antique silver cup…”

  Jane stepped outside – a glass of sherry in one hand, her phone raised in the other. She took a photo of Lucy and Libby and then came to join them.

  “Hi, guys. Avoiding me?”

  “No, of course not,” said Libby. “I really must pop to the loo though.”

  Lucy was annoyed. Something serious had happened to Libby and here was Jane trampling all over it.

  “You have been avoiding me though,” said Jane.

  “No,” said Lucy, her eyes fixed on Libby going back inside. “There have been various people to talk to, that’s all.”

  “I mean you’ve been avoiding me for a number of years. Too many to count, really.”

  A small bird flitted by. A great tit or a coal tit? And now Jane’s phone was looming above her as her cousin moved alongside for a selfie.

  Lucy supposed the one thing that defined Jane was her oneness. What you saw went all the way through. Succinct. Forthright. It went from the sweat on her brow to the DNA in her bone marrow. Lucy feared her own duality of cheery exterior, fearful interior would always make this kind of encounter difficult because it required two trains of thought.

  “Perhaps this isn’t the time to bring up the past,” she suggested cheerfully, her gaze settling on her cousin.

  “Those were strange days, weren’t they?”

  “I barely remember any of it,” said Lucy, upping the cheeriness factor. “Thank God we’ve all moved on.”

  “I’m sorry I missed your dad’s funeral. I was already on my way to Italy.”

  Lucy smiled understandingly.

  “How’s Simon?” she asked, referring to Jane’s younger brother.

  “He’s fine. Divorced and working in London. How’s Richard?”

  “He and Sophie are both well and very busy. They won’t be coming.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m impressed by your mum writing a book. That’s quite a task.”

  Jane laughed. “She’s not writing a book. She’s talking about it, at length, to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “It sounded like she’s doing a lot of research into the past.”

  “She doesn’t have to research the past. She lives there. I sometimes think this whole family lives there.”

  “It’s a proud family,” said Lucy. “We… well, they have always done good things in the community. I know it’s a bit old-fashioned these days, but I’m proud of them.”

 
“Fair enough. We both grew up with family members being on charity committees and parish councils. It’s all come to an end now though. We have to go back to Eddie for anyone doing anything that anyone paid attention to.”

  Lucy didn’t like Jane’s dismissive appraisal, and yet it was hard to challenge her.

  Jane took a sip of her sherry and smiled. “Do you think that’s why Libby married him?”

  “He was a good man. I remember him being on some important local enterprise committees.”

  “Do you reckon he got Libby all steamed up with his sexy business talk?”

  “That’s not funny.”

  But Jane seemed amused by it. “Oh darling, I’ve invested five hundred in a tech start-up.”

  “There’s no need to be crude.”

  “You and me – we were absolute best friends. We would have died for each other. What happened?”

  “It’s all in the past. Let’s leave it there.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  Jane sighed. “Whatever you think, Lucy, I never ruined your life. You did that all by yourself.”

  4. Old Haunts

  A couple of hours after the party, Lucy was back at her hotel in Hallbridge thinking about Libby. A subsequent chat had failed to stir anything relating to her obviously miserable situation or the mysterious mention of an antique silver cup. Libby had decided to shut the matter down. Something was wrong though.

  Questions formed. Should she see Libby prior to heading home in the morning? Or would a phone call suffice? That was Lucy’s usual approach when it came to family matters.

  Her phone rang. It was her daughter.

  “Hello, Victoria. Is everything okay?”

  “All okay, Mum. How did it go? Have fun?”

  “It was fine. We all got together to celebrate a good life well lived.”

  “You make it sound like a memorial service. I thought Libby was full of joie de vivre?”

  “She is – usually.”

  “She looked great in the photos. Hasn’t aged at all!”

  “What photos?”

  “Ellie’s mum shared them online and then Ellie shared them.”