‘Oh, look there’s one of me as a baby!’ Serena grinned.
Kit felt a dozen pairs of eyes shoot in her direction. ‘Yes, your mother sent it to me,’ she answered calmly.
Whilst others were adhered to the interplay between Kit and the daughter who remained ignorant of her origin, Serena leafed through the pages of old snapshots, poring over the ones of her mother, or the woman she thought of as Mother.
With eyes only for her daughter, Kit was the first to notice the tears spill over her blackened lashes. ‘Oh, lass, I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing them out!’
Serena dashed away the tears, replacing them with the smile that masked everything. ‘No, no, I loved seeing them! It’s just that I still get upset…’
‘Well, it’s hardly six months since you lost them,’ soothed Kit. ‘We all understand. Cry if you like.’
But Serena was not about to make herself a spectacle and now put aside the album. ‘I haven’t come here to make everyone miserable. Where did you put my bags, Cousin Probyn?’ Told they were in her bedroom, she hurried up the staircase. ‘Won’t be a moment.’
In her absence, talk centred on her appearance.
‘She’s a bonny lass,’ opined Probyn.
‘She is that,’ agreed Meredith, her sisters echoing.
She’s got her father’s brown eyes, thought the girl’s mother. Kit could barely remember anything about Philip, but she remembered those eyes. She glanced up with fondness as Serena came back down with her arms full.
‘It’s only a few mementoes, just a token, but I hope you like them.’ She began to hand out American souvenirs to the senior members and chocolate bars to the children, who received them shyly, still in awe of her.
However, they were soon to be won over for it turned out that Serena had inherited her mother’s talent for mimicry. Not self-conscious in the least about being the centre of attention, she entertained them with tales of her voyage here, putting on with great accuracy the many regional accents she had encountered. Kit urged herself to remain dignified but could not help laughing more loudly than the others at Serena’s entertaining parody, lauding her clothes and hair, in fact everything about her.
The conversation lulled. Serena gave a jolly pat of her knees. ‘Well, do I get to do a tour of this farm of yours, Aunt?’
‘That’ll take you all of five minutes.’ Kit looked deliriously happy. ‘It’s not really a farm, just a smallholding. We used to have quite a few animals before the war but there’s not many to see now.’ Noting how shy the youngsters still were of the visitor she put aside her own needs and said, ‘Maybe the children would like to show you round. They haven’t had a chance to talk to their cousin yet.’
‘I’d like that.’ Serena hoisted her tall, elegant form and beckoned to the younger ones, two of whom were quick to grab her hands. Normally considering himself above mingling in such company, nineteen-year-old Clem chose to go along too, his aunts nudging each other and winking.
Duke turned to his father. ‘Can we eat our chocolate now?’
‘I suppose so, gannet.’ With Father’s permission, the wrappers were torn off, all keen to sample the American confectionery.
But there was to be disappointment. ‘It tastes like soap!’ Outside now, Joe pulled a face.
Serena laughed, though was slightly offended, retorting, ‘Have you ever eaten soap?’
‘Our Clem has!’ sniggered Maddie. ‘It was Mother’s cure for a foul mouth and Clem’s always swearing.’
Serena laughed with them, her teeth startlingly white against the red lipstick.
Clem thought she looked like a dream. Taking out a packet of cigarettes he put one in his mouth, then faltered, wondering whether or not to offer her one. In the end he did but she refused with a smile.
Then she grew sombre. ‘You’ve lost your mother too, haven’t you? It’s just awful…’
‘Even when you’re as old as you are?’ ventured Beata.
The smile was sad. ‘Yes, even as old as me.’
‘How old are you?’ asked Duke.
‘A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady’s age,’ his eldest brother warned him sternly through an exhalation of smoke.
Serena rousted herself from dejection. ‘Guess,’ she challenged the six-year-old.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘About fifty?’
Serena sneaked a grin at Clem. ‘Gee, that’s quite close.’ She was thirty-two.
Joe was puzzled. ‘Are you our aunty?’
‘No, I’m your second cousin.’
He was no wiser. ‘None of our other cousins are as old as you. Did nobody want to marry you?’
Serena feigned outrage. ‘Are all Yorkshire people as rude as you? There’s plenty have asked me to marry them, thank you very much, but I intend to enjoy the fruits of my inheritance before settling down – if I ever do.’ She let out a yelp upon snagging her hosiery on a prickly bush. Bending to rub her leg, she noticed the green fruit it bore and frowned. ‘What’re these?’
‘Goosegogs,’ Clem told her.
‘Goosegargs?’
The children fell about laughing at the American way she said it and laughed even more heartily when Serena tried a fruit and puckered her mouth at its sourness.
‘Well, they seem to be enjoying themselves.’ Alice was peering surreptitiously from the kitchen window. In the younger ones’ absence, whilst the men talked in another room, Kit’s nieces had helped her to wash up and even now this was done they remained in the kitchen to discuss the situation. ‘Especially Clem.’
‘Aye, he’s right smittled by our visitor, isn’t he?’ Rhoda hung her damp tea towel over a rail near the warm oven. ‘And who can blame him?’
Meredith nodded emphatically. ‘Serena’s a handsome young woman, isn’t she?’
Her sisters agreed, only Wyn putting a damper on things. ‘She’s been spoiled though, being an only child. I notice she didn’t offer to wash up.’
Kit sprang to her daughter’s defence. ‘I wouldn’t expect her to, she’s a guest!’
‘What does that make us?’ Wyn laughed at her sisters.
‘You know what I meant,’ said Kit.
Meredith spoke kindly. ‘Yes, we know how much it must mean for you to have her here, Kit.’
‘And she’s so like you,’ emphasized Rhoda.
‘Eh, don’t be going saying things like that!’ hissed Kit, rushing to peer through the window to check on her daughter’s whereabouts. Secretly, though, she was delighted.
Alice soothed her aunt’s fears. ‘Don’t worry, she’s down in the field. Yes, the resemblance is amazing, isn’t it? Even down to her lovely clothes. She’s got your height, and the same colour hair—’
‘Oh, but she’s got a much better figure than I ever had! And she’s prettier.’ There was pride in Kit’s voice.
‘Nonsense! Everyone always envied you your striking looks, didn’t we?’ Merry turned to her sisters, who again chorused agreement.
Deeply flattered, Kit thanked them, then looked down at her figure and made a joke at her own expense. ‘I don’t know about striking looks now – I look as if I’ve been struck by elephantiasis. Whatever happened? It’s not as if I eat that much…’
A secret smile passed between the nieces. Kit had made this complaint about her weight for years, and it had become a joke between them.
‘Well, none of us is exactly sylph-like.’ Ethel patted her own corseted abdomen. ‘I can’t believe I’ll be sixty next year.’
‘Oh, don’t!’ Kit begged her, laughing. ‘I can’t believe I’ll have a sixty-year-old niece.’
Alice groaned. ‘Please, don’t remind me! I feel the same as I did at sixteen till I look at this decrepit lot.’ She indicated her sisters, who gave laughing recognition, giggling as they had not done since childhood.
‘Merry, you must be coming up to fifty then?’
‘I’ve got two years to go, if you don’t mind!’
‘But you’re a grandmother! Eh dear, where did the
years go?’ Kit’s huge breast heaved a wistful sigh. ‘It seems only yesterday we were all girls. I still feel like a girl till I look in the mirror. We used to have such lovely times, didn’t we? Picnics and concerts…’
‘Well, I’ve had a lovely time today,’ announced Meredith warmly. ‘It’s been just like the old days.’ Then she donned a mischievous smile. ‘How thoughtful of you not to invite Aunt Gwen.’
‘Perish the thought!’ scoffed Kit.
‘Still, I suppose it would be uncharitable if we didn’t allow Gwen to meet Serena at all,’ mooted Alice.
Kit grimaced. ‘I suppose it would, though we can’t send the poor lass alone and unarmed into enemy territory.’
There was no rush to volunteer, most of them being reluctant to visit Gwen.
Meredith broke the hiatus. ‘Well, I don’t mind going…’ She sounded none too sure.
‘Oh, I wasn’t suggesting any of you should suffer,’ replied Kit. ‘I’m quite happy to go myself.’ To go anywhere with Serena would be a joy. ‘But I’d be glad of the back-up, if you mean it.’
Meredith spoke genuinely now. ‘Of course. Poor Serena will need all the support she can get.’
‘Why would I need support?’ Unnoticed, Serena had drifted around the side of the cottage and into the kitchen.
Whilst others blushed and prickled with embarrassment, the guilty laughter was easily explained by Kit who had always been an expert liar. ‘We’re just discussing whether it’s wise to expose you to your Aunt Gwen’s bluntness.’
Serena laughed, relieved to hear that they had not been discussing something more intimate. ‘You mean she’s ruder than those children out there?’ And she told them what had occurred.
‘You think they’re blunt? Wait till you meet Aunt Gwen!’ Alice rolled her eyes.
* * *
In the event, all the sisters were to accompany Kit and Serena to Gwen’s, most of them travelling on the same train and meeting up with Meredith at Leeds station. Inevitably, Kit had to travel in the guard’s van, two of her nieces helping to shove her aboard. Greatly embarrassed by this spectacle, Serena stood well out of the way, hoping to dissociate herself whilst onlookers pointed and sniggered.
Worse was to come on arrival. Aunt Gwen was indeed as bad as had been painted, beholding Serena with the dubious greeting, ‘You’ll get a turned eye with a fringe like that.’
But happily after this the afternoon was more of a success than they could have anticipated, Kit and Serena taking it in turns to keep the gathering amused.
A few hours later, ready to leave, Kit was issuing mental congratulations to her sister for managing to go a full afternoon with only one offensive remark and Serena was wondering what all the fuss had been about.
‘Aunt Gwen’s not that bad really,’ she whispered to her companions as their hostess went to fetch their hats. ‘You were just having me on.’
There were muffled guffaws from Kit and her nieces, which were quickly stilled as Gwen came back in carrying a selection of hats.
‘Don’t need to ask which one belongs to you!’ Gwen made great play of examining her American niece’s hat before handing it over. ‘You’ll have a bird nesting in that if you’re not careful. I don’t know how you dare wear it. You’re certainly your mother’s daughter, dressed up to the nines, never happy lest she were the centre of attention…’ Suddenly faced with a collection of penetrating looks from the others, the elderly woman realized what she had said and hurriedly tried to qualify her remark. ‘Still, I don’t suppose it looks out of place where you live – and you’re a pleasant enough lass for all that.’
Knowing how it felt to be the butt of Gwen’s ridicule, Kit’s heart went out to Serena, who was looking rather hurt and nonplussed. She was about to shepherd her daughter out of harm’s way, when Serena murmured, ‘Would you please excuse me? I need to make a necessary trip before we catch the train!’ And she hurried from the room.
At least her absence gave Kit the chance to remonstrate with the culprit and, at the sound of the back door closing, she wasted no time. ‘For pity’s sake, Gwen, what are you trying to do?’
‘I’m sorry, it just slipped out.’ The elderly woman looked unusually repentant. ‘She’s that much like you with her outlandish clothes and whatnot I just forgot she thinks of Amelia as her mother.’
Kit gave an exasperated tut. ‘And apart from nearly letting the cat out of the bag don’t you think she might still be a bit upset at losing that mother? She doesn’t want Amelia’s memory insulting!’ Issuing more damning words, she wobbled from the room into the back yard.
Ensconced in the lavatory, Serena must have heard her come out for the sound of her weeping stopped and she blew her nose, finally to emerge into the light.
Kit was there to offer comfort. ‘Aw, I’m sorry, love! Gwen can’t seem to let five minutes pass without insulting somebody. We’ve all had a taste of her thoughtlessness.’
Serena underestimated Kit’s intuition. ‘It wasn’t the hat.’
‘Oh, I realize that. It’s going to take longer than six months for you to get over your double loss.’
Lingering in the yard, Serena was close to tears again. ‘They were so devoted to each other, Aunt Kit. I never knew anyone with happier parents. I miss Mother especially.’
Faced with that look of torment, empathizing with it, how easy it would have been to announce, no, your mother isn’t dead, she’s standing right here beside you! How Kit’s heart yearned to say it. Would it be so terrible, after all she had suffered in giving this child a better life?
Almost to the brink, she stepped back. Yes, it would be unforgivable, for Serena would then demand to know why Kit had given her away, had not wanted her, and in truth it would alter nothing, would take away not one iota of pain, for Serena would always think of the woman who raised her as Mother. On such short acquaintance, Aunt Kit could be little more than a stranger.
16
Emptiness was to dog the next few weeks whilst Serena went off to visit her father’s kin. It should not have been so, for Kit had Beata to keep her company – had once considered herself blessed to have this little girl – but the need to be with her real daughter overwhelmed all other emotions.
Then, as if she were being punished for this ingratitude Kit found herself about to be robbed of Beata’s company too as a letter arrived from Probyn. Already in that summer of 1919, flying in the face of industrial strikes and numerous international troubles, hundreds of street parties had been held across the country, the celebration of victory being mainly for the benefit of the children, for there was hardly an adult amongst them who had not lost someone and to whom victory seemed hollow. The inhabitants of Richmond Street were no different and, welcoming the opportunity to have his family around him for the day, Probyn sent out letters to the foster parents saying that a fancy-dress party was to take place the following week and asking that his children be allowed to attend. In order to enjoy the occasion fully they would of course be required to stay overnight.
‘I don’t have to go.’ Noting her aunt’s despondency and thinking it was induced by the thought of being alone, Beata offered to remain here, though she prayed not to be taken at her word.
Looking into that earnest face, Kit realized then what a misery she must have seemed to the child lately. The poor little thing, how could she tell Beata that her presence had no bearing one way or the other? Guilt caused her to reach out and tickle her niece under the chin. ‘Miss the party? I don’t think!’
Beata was secretly delighted, not only by the thought of the party but at being reunited with her father and siblings. Still, she worried about leaving Aunt Kit alone and so, when another letter arrived bearing the information that Serena intended to make a visit to her aunt on the day of the party, it could not have come at a more opportune moment.
Kit could not wait for Beata to be out of the way so that she might be on her own with her daughter, and by the time Serena was due to arrive her excitement was pal
pable.
Imagine, then, her disappointment at being presented with the middle-aged man who had come to ruin their intimacy. She could have wept.
Sensing that her companion’s presence was not wholly welcome – it was hard not to with such a look of devastation on Aunt Kit’s face – Serena was quick to say, ‘I hope you don’t mind Arthur coming with me? We won’t stay long. We decided as it’s such a lovely day that we’d go to the coast and as your house is on our route—’
‘You thought you’d kill two birds with one stone,’ Kit supplied the ending.
Serena chuckled uncomfortably and turned to her companion. ‘Arthur, this is my Aunt Kit, whom I’ve told you so much about.’
Kit shook hands with the man, though it was not the usual warm handshake she reserved for those she liked. She was deeply hurt that her daughter had not thought she might enjoy a day at the seaside too, and she held this man responsible for robbing her of precious company. Besides, Arthur was much too old for Serena – why, he must almost be as old as Probyn. Though he had attempted to disguise his age with hair grease, the silver at his temples gave him away. Moreover, she did not like the way he was smirking at her. Even so, she remained polite and bade him go through to the parlour and be seated. He did so, Serena taking her place beside him on the sofa.
Kit responded to the protective urge that had overtaken her. ‘Have you and Serena known each other long, Mr … ?’
‘Hartley,’ provided the man, and was about to say more but was interrupted by Serena’s laughter.
‘Now, Aunt Kit, I can see your little game!’ She wagged a finger. ‘But we don’t have chaperones these days, you know. So don’t go interrogating Arthur.’
Kit’s smile was cool. ‘I’m sorry, I’d no intention of being impolite, it’s just that you never mentioned you had a gentleman friend the last time you were here.’
‘That’s because we only met a few days ago.’ Serena now noticed that Beata was in fancy-dress costume and grinned. ‘Going to a party?’
Beata projected excitement. ‘Yes, I’m off home for the day. Old William’s taking me on the cart.’
A Different Kind of Love Page 33
