Paula came to her, kissed her cheek, her heart full of love for Emma. ‘All right, Gran, and I’ll pop in tomorrow with the babies.’
‘That’ll be very nice,’ Emma answered, and settled back in the chair as her granddaughter left the room. Her mind turned inward. The young don’t really understand, she thought. Paula tries, and tries very hard, but she doesn’t know what it’s like to be the sole survivor, the only one left of one’s contemporaries. They’ve all gone now. They’re all dead and buried. My dearest friends, my loved ones. Even my enemies are no longer around to get my goat and spark the will in me to fight. I’m so alone without Blackie. We kept each other going all these years – he and I. Rambling on together into our twilight years. We had so many memories to share, a lifetime of experiences, and so much love and friendship to give each other. Why, my whole life has been lived out with my sweet Irishman. I didn’t expect him to go like that. Such a shock. I knew he was old, as I am old, but he seemed so strong, and indomitable, like me. Funny, I always thought I would die first. Whatever will I do? However will I manage without him?
Emma’s grief and enormous sense of loss overcame her again, as it had done so frequently in the last two weeks since Blackie’s sudden death. Tears came into her eyes and she choked back a sob, brought her hand to her trembling lips. I miss Blackie so much. Such a void without him. There are so many things I didn’t tell him and now it’s too late. I ought to have told him about Shane and his love for Paula. I didn’t want to upset Blackie. He would have worried. But I do wish I had told him after all.
Emma wiped her damp cheeks with her hand and rested her head against the chair. She was filled with an aching loneliness she could not endure. She closed her eyes and after a few minutes she began to drowse, drifting off into a gentle sleep.
After leaving her grandmother, Paula had gone downstairs in search of Emily. She had found her in the library and now they sat together discussing Emma.
‘She’s putting up a good front, of course,’ Paula said, ‘but she’s really suffering inside.’
Emily frowned worriedly. ‘I agree with you. She’s absolutely lost without Blackie. I think all the fight’s gone out of her. To tell you the truth, the other day I even wished we had found something on Jonathan. At least that might have captured her interest, made her angry enough to lift her out of this resigned mood.’
Paula said, ‘She was very busy with the plans for your wedding before Blackie died. Can’t you get her involved again?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t tried, because I have. But she seems so distracted, almost absent-minded, which is not like her.’
‘You know something, Emily, there’s only one thing for it!’ Paula leaned forward eagerly. ‘Emma Harte has been a work horse all of her life, and her business was her strong citadel in times of grief and sorrow and trouble in the past. We’ve got to persuade her to come out of retirement…get her back in the harness again.’
Emily sat up with a jerk, her face brightening. ‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard in weeks. And Grandma used to say she intended to die with her boots on. Oh, let’s do it, Paula.’ Instantly Emily’s face fell, and she bit her inner lip, shaking her blonde head. ‘I’m not sure she’ll agree. She might not want to intrude on us…she can be very funny, you know.’
‘We have to make a stab at it – personally I think that it’s her only salvation. She’ll just fade away and die, if we don’t encourage her to be active, come back to work.’
‘Agreed, and you can count on me. There’s another thing – ’ Emily hesitated, gave Paula a careful look, then rushed on, ‘Why don’t you move back in here with Nora and the babies? At least until Jim comes out of the nursing home.’
‘Oddly enough, I thought of that when I was with Gran a little while ago. There’s nothing like a couple of babies to liven things up, and perhaps having her great-grandchildren with her will give Grandy a new lease on life.’
‘Absolutely. And together you and I can jolly Gran out of her despondency, don’t you think?’
‘Oh God, I hope so, Emily.’
‘When do you think you could move in to Pennistone Royal?’
Paula laughed. ‘How does tomorrow sound?’
‘Terrific. I’ll come over and help you if you like.’
‘I’d love it, and then on Monday morning I’m going to vacate Grandy’s office at the Leeds store, move back into my old one. That evening when we have the dinner for her birthday, you and I can make our proposal to her. I’ll alert my parents, and they might be able to add a few words of persuasion.’ Paula stood. ‘I’d better go, Emily. I want to stop off at the nursing home. I promised Jim I’d come by later today.’
The two cousins left the library and walked across the Stone Hall to the front door.
Emily caught hold of Paula’s arm just before they reached the short flight of steps. She said in a low tone, ‘Jim’s been in there for ten weeks now. How much longer, Paula?’
‘Another month to six weeks. If he continues to improve. Otherwise – ’ She shrugged wearily, added, ‘Then it could be longer, of course.’
Emily stared at Paula, said swiftly, ‘Look, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I hope that Jim knows what drink does to him now. I mean, he won’t be able to touch a drop ever again and – ’
‘He knows,’ Paula interjected. ‘And you can be damned sure I know. Thanks for being concerned, Emily. One step at a time right now. That’s the only way I can live my life, get through each day without losing my sanity. And very frankly, our grandmother is my priority at the moment.’
‘Yes,’ Emily said. ‘I understand, and she’s mine too. You can rely on me to help you any way I can.’
They cajoled, pleaded, challenged and attempted to bully her, using every ruse they knew to get Emma Harte to return to work.
But consistently, and quite categorically, she refused to be budged. Her stance was inflexible. She would shake her head emphatically, repeat over and over again that she had retired and that was that.
Eventually Paula and Emily gave up, at least on the surface. But they were forever dropping pointed remarks and making asides at meal times. They continued to seek her advice, even when they did not really need it, using every opportunity to gain her interest, and induce in her the desire to take an active role in her business once more.
Emma was fully aware of their ploys, and she would smile to herself, touched by their love and concern for her, but she remained resolute in her determination to lead a quiet life at Pennistone Royal.
And then one morning in the middle of May, Emma awakened early. She discovered that she was filled with her old energy and restlessness and drive. This surprised her, and she lay in bed for a while pondering to herself.
‘I’m bored silly,’ she said to Hilda, when her housekeeper brought up her breakfast tray at eight o’clock.
Placing the tray on Emma’s lap, Hilda clucked sympathetically. ‘Of course you are, Mrs Harte. You’ve been such an active woman your entire life, this drifting along, doing nothing, doesn’t sit well on you. Perhaps you ought to let Tilson drive you into Leeds today. You could have lunch with Miss Paula or Miss Emily. Getting out of this house would do you the world of good, I just know it.’
‘I’ve got a better idea, Hilda,’ Emma said thoughtfully. ‘I think I’ll start going to the office for a short while every day. I know I don’t want to get involved with my business on a day-to-day basis, on the other hand, I would like to keep busy.’ Emma shook her head, looking regretful. ‘I ought to be helping Emily plan that wedding of hers. I’ve been awfully neglectful, a selfish old woman, now that I think about it…feeling sorry for myself because my old friends are dead.’ A look of comprehension flitted across the wrinkled face. ‘Why, Hilda, my grandchildren are my friends, aren’t they?’
‘You can be sure they are, Mrs Harte,’ Hilda replied. ‘And Miss Emily will be delighted to have your help with her wedding, what with her mother living in Paris and seemingly
not all that interested. She’s such a lot to do, and time is running out on her. June fifteenth is not so far off, you know, madame.’ Hilda beamed. ‘I shall go downstairs right now and ask Tilson to bring the car around at ten-thirty. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds wonderful, Hilda. Thank you very much.’
It was ten minutes to twelve when Emma Harte walked into her large department store in Leeds. She looked smart in a tailored navy-blue dress and matching coat. Milky pearls encircled her throat. Diamonds glittered in her ears. Her silver hair was perfectly dressed and her makeup artfully applied.
Emma hurried through the cosmetic department on the street level, her step purposeful and brisk, a wide smile ringing her mouth. And as she stopped to greet the various sales assistants she discovered she was almost moved to tears at the genuine welcome she received from them all.
She took the lift to the executive offices, and then hesitated for a moment outside the door leading into her own private suite. She could not help asking herself what Paula and Agnes would say. She turned the knob and stepped inside.
Paula and Agnes were standing next to the latter’s desk deep in conversation. Both women automatically glanced at the door as it swung open. They were speechless at the sight of Emma, obviously completely taken by surprise.
‘Well,’ Emma said, ‘I’m back. And I’m here to stay.’ She began to laugh at their stunned expressions, and reverting to the vernacular of the North, she added, ‘Don’t stand there gaping at me like a couple of sucking ducks. Say something.’
Paula grinned with pleasure. ‘Welcome, Grandy,’ she said, moving forward, catching hold of Emma’s arm. ‘Come on, your office is waiting for you – it’s been ready for weeks.’
It seemed to Emma that the next few months sped by before she hardly had a chance to catch her breath. Every day she arrived at the Leeds store at eleven and stayed until four o’clock. She was soon in the swing of things, and taking a renewed interest in her colossal business empire, although she left the daily running of it to her grandchildren. She strenuously refused to take back the reins, pointing out, yet again, that she had retired the previous year and had no intentions of resuming her role as head of her various enterprises. She did agree to be a sounding board whenever they needed one, and she was always available to them, offering astute advice. And she was as smart and as alert and as agile as she had ever been.
And so, whilst she kept a canny eye on the business, she devoted most of her time to planning the two weddings due to take place in June and July. Emily was vastly relieved to have her grandmother’s help, as was Maggie Reynolds, Alexander’s fiancée. Maggie’s mother had been dead for a number of years, and her father, a retired army colonel, had not been in the best of health lately. Nor was he the type of man to embroil himself in such a feminine matter as his daughter’s wedding, being gruff and taciturn by nature.
With her inimitable brand of efficiency, and her extraordinary ability to concentrate totally on the matter at hand, Emma ploughed ahead, making elaborate arrangements. She dealt with the invitations, the guest lists, the caterers, the florists, the dress designers and the musicians who were to play at the two receptions. Several times she visited the Dean of Ripon, the Very Reverend Edwin LeGrice, to discuss each marriage ceremony, which he was to personally perform in Ripon Cathedral. Emma spoke to the organist and to the choir master at great length, and she helped the two future brides and their grooms select the appropriate music for their nuptials.
Not even the slightest detail was left to chance. Emma Harte wanted perfection and she aimed to have it, whatever it cost in time, energy and money. Winston said to her one evening, ‘Well, Aunt Emma, it’s good to have you back in command, playing the general again, and cracking your whip like you used to at Heron’s Nest. Whatever would we do without you?’
‘Manage, I’m sure,’ Emma said in her pithy way, but she laughed, pleased by Winston’s remark. She wanted to be wanted, enjoyed feeling useful. And they help to keep me young and alive and cheerful, she thought later that same evening, as she was getting ready for bed. She also acknowledged that planning the weddings had helped to take her mind off Blackie’s death, had eased her sorrow and her sense of loneliness. Positive action, she muttered under her breath as she slipped on her nightdress. And happy occasions. That’s what every old person needs to give them a reason to go on living.
It was with a heart bursting with love and pride and joyousness that Emma watched Emily walk down the great aisle of Ripon Cathedral on the arm of her father Tony Barkstone at noon on 15 June.
To Emma, her young granddaughter looked her most beautiful that day. She resembled a delicate Dresden figurine in her wedding gown made of white taffeta. It was styled like an old-fashioned crinoline, the overskirt lifted at the hem, draped and caught with tiny sprigs of forget-me-nots and lily-of-the-valley. A mixture of these same flowers, also made of silk, had been woven into a small coronet which held her flowing veil in place. Her only pieces of jewellery, other than her engagement ring, were the teardrop diamond earrings Emma had given her in 1968, and Great-Aunt Charlotte’s string of pearls which had been her engagement present from Emma’s brother, Winston, immediately after the First World War. Emily’s half-sisters Amanda and Francesca were her bridesmaids and were charming in blue taffeta gowns, wearing wreaths of honey-suckle in their hair.
The reception was held in the gardens of Pennistone Royal, and as Emma moved amongst her family, friends and the many guests she kept telling herself how fortunate she was to be here on this most special day in Emily’s life and her own. The weather was glorious. The sky was a bright China blue, and the sun brilliant. Emma decided, as she glanced about, that her gardens had never been so stunning in their beauty, the many flowers a vivid blaze of riotous colour against the fresh greenness of the lawns and the trees. That afternoon she had an acute awareness of everything, and she saw nature’s loveliness and the people present through eyes that were more penetrating than ever in their perception. The smallest things suddenly took on a new importance and significance, and at one moment Emma knew that she was filled with a contentment she had not hitherto felt.
As she sat drinking her tea, watching the young people dancing, she thought of her hard life, her struggles, the sorrow and pain she had endured, the defeats and losses she had suffered. Quite suddenly they were all quite meaningless. I’ve been so lucky, she commented to herself. Luckier than most, in fact. I’ve experienced a great love, had dear and loving friends, achieved enormous success, amassed colossal wealth, and enjoyed good health all of my life. And most important of all, I have grandchildren who love me, care about me now in my old age. Oh yes, I’ve been lucky to have all that I’ve had.
Five weeks later, at the end of July, Emma experienced similar emotions when her grandson was married to Marguerite Reynolds. Maggie made another lovely bride, was elegant and svelte in a simply-styled gown of heavy cream satin. It had a high neck, long tight sleeves and a slender skirt that extended out into a long train. With it Maggie wore a satin pillbox hat encrusted with seed pearls and a veil of Brussels lace. The glorious weather of June held for the July ceremony at Ripon Cathedral and for the reception, which was again held in the grounds of Emma’s great old house.
One Sunday, about a week after the second wedding, Emma and Paula went for a walk through the gardens of Pennistone Royal. Emma said suddenly, ‘Thank you for chivying me out of my despondency after Blackie died. If you hadn’t I might not have been around to witness those two wonderful occasions, to see Emily settled with Winston and Sandy with Maggie.’ She winked mischievously at Paula, and added, ‘Now, with a little bit of luck, I might still be here to welcome a couple of new great-grandchildren into my family in the not too distant future.’
‘You’ll be here, Grandma!’ Paula exclaimed, returning Emma’s smile. ‘I’m going to make damned sure of that.’
Emma linked her arm through Paula’s as they continued to meander up the Rhododendron Walk. Af
ter a short while, Emma said quietly, ‘I’m pleased Jim came out of the nursing home in time to attend Alexander’s wedding, at least.’
‘So am I, Grandy.’ Paula turned to Emma, remarked evenly, ‘And he’s much better. Poor Jim – he’s been down at the bottom of the pit. He can only go up from now on.’
‘Yes, darling, let’s hope so.’ There was a slight hesitation on Emma’s part before she murmured, ‘I’ve tried to speak to him about the nervous breakdown because I wanted to understand what brought it on. But I’m afraid he’s not very forthcoming, is he?’
‘No. He doesn’t seem able to talk about it, not even with me. I decided it was better not to press him. I’m sure he’ll open up later.’ Paula sighed. ‘In some ways Jim’s very introverted, Gran. Doctor Hedley told me that the psychiatrist at the nursing home has been somewhat baffled too. Apparently he hasn’t really been able to get to the root of Jim’s despondency.’
Emma made no comment and the two of them walked on in silence and finally sat down on the bench at the top of the hill. Emma stared ahead, still thinking of Jim. Her expression changed, became sad as she wondered why he was so bottled up inside and seemingly incapable of unburdening himself to the psychiatrist, a doctor who might well be able to help him.
Paula, watching her grandmother, said, ‘What are you thinking about, darling? You look so pensive all of a sudden.’
‘Nothing of any great importance,’ Emma murmured. ‘I’m glad Jim went to my house in the South of France with Daisy and David. I think the holiday will do him a lot of good. The sun, the fresh air, outdoor activities, plenty of good food and rest always seem to work wonders. When he comes back at the end of August he’ll be able to go back to the newspaper.’ When Paula was silent, Emma glanced at her curiously. ‘He will, won’t he? You’re not hiding something from me, are you, dear?’
Hold the Dream Page 66
