The furious three-year-old stood glowering and rubbing her hand.
‘Don’t stick your lip out like that, the Devil will come and sit on it!’ Aunt Nell levelled a finger at her. ‘And if you ever bite anyone again you’ll get bitten back. It’s a horrible thing to do to people who are trying to be your friends.’
Head downcast, Mims burst into tears.
Aunt Nell was overwhelmingly compassionate then, scooping the little girl into her arms, gently dabbing at her tears and telling her everything was going to be all right. ‘You’ll feel better in a while, you’ll see. Now, come, let’s get you both a slice of cake and a glass of milk.’
Snuggling against the matronly breast, Mims shuddered with emotion and nibbled silently on the cake until it was finished.
‘Better now?’ asked Aunt Nell with a kindly smile.
Mims nodded. Then, her memory stirred by the taste of that ginger cake, she asked, ‘When is Mother coming?’
Eyes filled with tears, Nell sighed and set the child on her feet. Unable to think of a suitable reply, she said only, ‘I don’t know, dear. Best go out and play now.’
* * *
With Mims gone there were still another four to re-house – Clem, being an adult and having work nearby, would of course be staying in the family home; Augusta too – but help was on its way.
Within days, eager to make recompense for old hurts, Probyn’s sisters rallied to his aid, appearing in person the following Saturday to discuss who should take which child.
Furthermore, ‘I think we should get Kit involved too,’ proposed Meredith. ‘She’s always loved children.’
Probyn had not even contemplated including Kit, who was sixty-four. ‘I couldn’t do that to her, she’s too old.’
‘She’s only five years older than me!’ boomed an affronted Ethel. Probyn apologized, covering his gaff by saying Aunt Kit’s enormous rolls of fat made her appear so much older. ‘But apart from that, she’s still grieving for her own lad. If she’d felt up to taking on the task she would already have offered.’
‘One has to have time to grieve, yes, but I think it’s more than that with Kit. The last time I saw her it was as if she had nothing to live for.’
Their brother turned reflective. ‘Well, she did take a shine to Beat…’
‘Then don’t bother to ask.’ Ethel was firm. ‘Just send Beata with a note saying you can’t cope any more – you know, lay it on thick – and let the pair of them get on with it. You watch, it’ll do Kit the world of good to have someone young around; give her somebody to think about other than herself.’
Probyn eventually agreed, though said he would reverse Ethel’s suggestion and send the letter first, just to warn Kit what to expect.
* * *
Kit’s first emotion on receiving the letter was irritation. How could Probyn have inflicted this upon her? She barely had the energy to look after herself, let alone a child. But when Beata turned up alone with her belongings in a small paper parcel, wearing the black-and-white dress that her great-aunt had made the year before, it stirred something in Kit’s breast and she set to with good heart, making the little girl feel at home and trying to help her overcome the tragic loss of her mother. Reacquainted with the biddable Beata and her little-old-woman ways, Kit grew deeply fond of the girl and to her surprise found her spirits gradually begin to lift from their deadened state. True, there were times when she would slip back into muddy waters, for no one, not even this sweet child, could make up for the loss of one’s own; but, given this lifeline, Kit would eventually haul herself towards the light again.
‘Eh, you’re a good lass, Beat,’ she told her great-niece upon receipt of the cup of tea that Beata had taken to delivering to her fireside bed every morning. ‘I shall remember you in my will. I’m sorry it won’t be money, that’s already bequeathed to … well, someone else.’ The hesitation was caused by thoughts of Serena, the daughter she had been forced to give away to her sister Amelia. With Toby dead there could be no other recipient of Kit’s estate. This might cause speculation, but with everyone over here well aware of Serena’s true parentage they could not object. ‘Anyway,’ she continued with manufactured cheeriness, ‘there’ll be another legacy coming to you.’ She told Beata of the house that she had given to her brother Monty. ‘That’s your father’s father,’ explained Kit. ‘He’s dead now, but when his widow, that’s your father’s stepmother – I know, complicated isn’t it? – when she dies the house will be sold and your father will be one of those to benefit. So you’ll be well looked after.’
‘Is she that lady in the picture?’
‘Why, Good Lord no! That’s my niece Beata – well, we were more like sisters really – who you were named after. She was a lovely lass too.’ Kit smiled at the living Beata who in looks was nothing like her namesake at all, though there was a similarity of nature. ‘And you were well-named because you’ve got her kindness. Eh, Beat, you’ve cheered me up no end, you really have. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come to live with me. I wish you could stay for ever.’
Showered with such compliments, what else could Beata do but smile? Yet, much as she liked Aunt Kit, her heart yearned for life to be as it was, with a mother, a father, brothers and sisters, and she mourned its loss.
* * *
But with such tragedies heaped upon the family, life could only improve and so it was to do for the Kilmasters, for one of its members in a most surprising way.
A few months after Toby’s funeral, Kit received a letter from America. Frowning over the writing, which did not belong to either of her sisters, she ripped it open and read:
Dear Aunt Kit, It is with great sorrow—
‘Oh, my God.’ Kit let her head fall to the table, hardly daring to read further. What new sorrow was this? How much could one family bear?
Forcing herself, she read on.
It is with great sorrow that I have to tell you that both my parents died from influenza last month. Please forgive me for not informing you sooner, but as you can imagine …
Yes, I can imagine. Having cried so many tears of late, Kit was surprised to find her vision blurred by a fresh batch. But they were not so intense as those shed over her husband and son and, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she had soon dashed them away. She and Amelia had been very close in age, though not in character. Amelia had disapproved of what she saw as Kit’s exhibitionism. They had not seen each other for over thirty years – since the fourteenth of January 1887, to be more precise. In fact, had anyone asked, Kit could quote the exact moment of their parting right down to the minute. A quarter past three in the afternoon. The time was branded upon on her heart.
It was such a horrible shock and it has taken me some weeks to get used to the fact that they are gone.
Kit envisioned Serena as just a little girl, all alone and heartbroken, unable to picture her as the adult she was.
We have never met…
Oh we have, we have!
but I feel as if I know you from your letters which my mother would read out to Father and me. It is because of those letters that I am able to contact you now, you being one of the few relatives who wrote on a regular basis. Aunt Flora offered to let you know but I forbade her from doing so as I wished to do this personally. It is what Mother would have wanted. I have postponed doing so until now not from thoughtlessness, but because there seemed little need for haste as there would have been no way you could have come to the funeral and also because it was such a hard letter to write. Besides, I know you have had your own losses to bear so did not want to add to them. I trust you are feeling better now. I hate to impose on you, Aunt Kit, but would it be too much to ask that you pass on the news of Mother’s death to the rest of the family? I should be truly grateful.
I have been trying to make a decision over what to do next but so far have not been able to. So, now that I am feeling better, and with no family to speak of here, apart from Aunt Flora, I have decided to take a mo
nth’s vacation in England –
Kit almost fell off her chair. Her heart gave a massive lurch, not just with shock but with the most terrific excitement. Never in her wildest dreams could she have hoped to feel such joy again after losing her beloved husband and son, yet here she was soaring like a bird. Her daughter was coming home! Oh, Serena, Serena!
She bent over the letter, devouring every word now.
I have decided to take a month’s vacation in England and look up all my relatives. This I know will be a massive operation! But I look forward to it very much. I have booked a hotel –
‘Oh no, stay with me!’ Finding herself talking out loud, Kit covered her mouth and, grinning foolishly, read on
– in London, which is just down the road from you –
‘It’s miles away, you daft ’a’p’orth!’ Kit gasped her exasperation.
‘What was that, Aunt?’ Beata popped her head around the door of the scullery where she was washing the breakfast pots.
‘Sorry, love. I’m just talking to meself – but don’t tell anyone or they’ll come and lock me up.’ Grinning at her niece, Kit waited until Beata’s auburn head retreated before bending over the letter again
– and hope to see you in a month’s time.
Kit uttered a silent ecstatic squeal, clenching her fists to her breast. Tears flowed again but this time tears of joy. God had taken pity on her suffering. He was delivering her daughter back into her arms.
* * *
Informed of Serena’s coming, everyone in the family was keen to meet their American cousin, though none so excited as Kit. There were also reservations.
‘What should we do about Aunt Gwen?’ was the question raised by Kit’s nieces. ‘You know what she’s like, she might let the cat out of the bag.’ All were aware of Kit’s colourful past.
‘Well, she’s managed to keep quiet about it so far.’
‘You don’t know! She might have told her lads; one of them might inadvertently let it out.’
‘Have you told your children?’
‘Certainly not!’ Illegitimacy was not something to shout from the rooftops; in fact this was one of the few times it had been discussed between the women.
‘I’ll bet Kit’s on tenterhooks.’ Meredith bit her lip. ‘She must be dreading meeting her.’
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Kit was praying for the days to go faster. The last thought on her mind was what would happen if Serena found out that she was adopted. All she wanted at this moment was to embrace her baby again.
But there were, of course, serious matters to ponder. With Serena thousands of miles away in America and Amelia so deftly maintaining the deception of her parentage, there had been none of this to worry about before, but now things had changed radically. Even if nothing untoward were to occur during this visit, when Serena finally inherited Kit’s estate she might want to know why an aunt who was little more than a stranger had left everything to this one ‘niece’ and to none of the others, a niece who must already be quite well off, having inherited from her supposed parents. Kit had thought about this long and hard but had not come up with any plausible explanation for the girl other than she wanted Serena to have it. Of course, being dead, Kit would not be around to be questioned, it should not worry her, but it did. She could not bear to think of her daughter’s heartbreak should the truth inadvertently be leaked – whatever way it emerged it would be accompanied by tremendous shock. So, Kit had decided to leave a letter of explanation in her solicitor’s hands to be given to Serena should any question arise after her death, revealing the identity of her real mother and father. Some might view this as cruel – Kit had agonized long and hard over it too – but its details would only be disclosed as a last resort. Serena had the right to learn the truth from the one who had borne her, had adored her and wanted to do the best for her, and not via any other source. It was not cruelty but expedience.
Anyway, this might never come to pass. Why spoil today worrying about tomorrow? Shoving it to the back of her mind, Kit braced herself for the marvellous homecoming, urging the hands of the clock to get a move on.
At last news arrived. Serena was in London! After recovering from the voyage and doing a little sightseeing she planned to visit Aunt Kit in two days’ time at the weekend. Would it be possible for her aunt to arrange for some, if not all, of the other family members to gather under the same roof so as to reduce the travelling between them? It seemed silly to waste the precious time she hoped to spend with her relatives. Kit had been hoping to have her daughter to herself and was somewhat crestfallen, but then Serena would be here for a month, her own private time would come. Writing back, she said she would arrange this and also have someone meet Serena at the station. Hence there began a hurried scribbling of letters. Only then did it really sink in. Both excited and terrified, Kit prayed that her heart would not give away her secret.
* * *
‘She’s here! She’s here!’ Children who had been waiting all morning came tumbling into Kit’s farmhouse kitchen to herald the bumpy arrival of a taxi cab.
Confused but happy, Kit bumbled down the path to meet the visitor, others following in her wake, excited children scampering ahead, though they braked upon laying eyes on the young woman who alighted from the cab, a vision of elegance and sophistication – of Amazonian proportions it was true, but with her attire straight out of a fashion magazine she looked magnificent – her copper hair expertly coiffed, her skin like cream and her lips rouged.
Even Kit’s smartly dressed nieces were rendered speechless.
Kit could have wept tears of joy at the sight of her daughter, but made do with a cheery greeting. ‘I sent a neighbour to fetch you! You must have missed one another.’
‘The man in the cart?’ The tall, handsome, young woman had been about to open her purse to pay the cabby but now spun round with a beam for her aunt. ‘Oh, I saw him but I preferred a less primitive form of travel – hope you don’t mind?’ She turned back to attend to the cabby.
‘Of course not!’ Kit wanted desperately to hug her but restrained herself to watch as the taxi made its jarring exit over the rutted track. ‘But that must have cost you a fortune.’
‘I can afford it.’ Serena grinned and extended a gloved hand. ‘Aunt Kit, I presume? How do you do?’
Kit had been worried that, in sorting through Amelia’s belongings after her death, Serena might have come across damning evidence of her parentage, but locking eyes with the young woman now, she could tell that Serena remained innocent. She beheld the proffered hand only a fraction of a second then used it to haul Serena into an affectionate embrace, squashing her against a massive bosom. ‘I’m very well, thank you, dear! Oh, it’s so lovely to see you!’ Desperate as she was to enfold Serena for ever, she realized how odd this would look and was quick to let her go.
But not quick enough. To Serena such a show of emotion proved an embarrassment and for a moment her air of sophistication was dislodged. Oh dear, were they all going to be like this? To recover her equilibrium she smoothed a copper curl around her ear and turned a rather fixed smile on Kit’s entourage. ‘Hello there!’
‘Oh yes, come and meet everybody!’ gushed Kit.
To Serena’s relief, the rest of the family seemed not so ebullient, making do with handshakes or the most respectful of kisses.
‘Golly, I think my arm’s going to drop off!’ she exclaimed, laughing, after the final handshake. ‘It’s really good to meet you all. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘And us about you,’ beamed Probyn. ‘Eh, she’s got quite a twang on her, hasn’t she? You’d never guess she was Yorkshire-born.’ There was a barely perceptible falter as he wondered whether he had said the wrong thing; the strain of protecting Kit’s secret was like walking on jelly.
But Serena knew all about her emigration as a babe and merely laughed.
The tactile Kit grasped her arm. ‘Before we go any further, love, can I just say how sad we were to h
ear about your mother and father. It must have been an awful shock for you, the speed of—’
‘Yes, yes, it was.’ A flicker of anguish appeared in Serena’s brown eyes. She seemed unwilling to dwell on her parents’ deaths. ‘But I’m getting over it, slowly.’
‘I lost my Worthy and Toby to influenza, you kno—’
‘Yes, yes, I know.’
‘You can’t believe how quickly it strikes, can—’
‘No, it was a nightmare.’ Desperate for her aunt to shut up, Serena quickly patted the hand that lay on her arm. ‘Shall we go in?’ She reached for her suitcases but two male relatives got there first.
Hefting a bag in either hand, Probyn and Clem allowed her and the chattering Kit to go ahead, then followed them down the path to the cottage, the rest in tow. Reunited with her family for the day, Beata skipped happily beside her father. Probyn grinned down at her, but soon his mood was abstracted. Always an admirer of the female form, and starved of physical contact since Grace’s death, he now found his gaze drawn wistfully to the buttocks that jiggled beneath the soft jersey of Serena’s dress; unlike the corseted rears of his sisters, the two perfect globes moved unrestrained. Her up-to-the-minute outfit also revealed a lot of calf.
Glancing at Clem he noted that his son was impressed too, overtly so. Giving a discreet cough of warning, he rebuked the young man with his eyes, whilst secretly envying Clem his youth and the pleasures yet to come.
After they had enjoyed one of Kit’s famous luncheons, all the guests announcing themselves to be well and truly stuffed, photographs were passed around of Serena’s American home, over which everyone oohed and aahed, and some of her parents and Aunt Flora. Then followed some old ones from Kit’s album of Amelia when she was a girl.
A Different Kind of Love Page 32
