The following day, Ed had taken him for a long walk in Hyde Park. They discussed many things, and fed birds. Coming home foot weary and out of words, they were greeted by the welcoming smell of Elise’s beef stew. Her secret ingredient was bourbon whiskey cured in oak, and the depth of flavor was a perfect compliment to the sweet carrots, colorful green beans, acidic tomatoes, and zesty turnips that languished in the hearty stock thick with chunks of meat. She served crusty bread, and a heady, sweet Atholl Brose. After the meal, they laughed and drank coffee. Then they moved into the lounge and Ed enjoyed his pipe.
“So you’re staying with Mrs. Membry, then,” Ed said, between puffs.
“She’s a fine lady. And her little grandson, Jackson is there. He’s a good boy. Loves his pony.”
“Reminds me of someone. Did you tell him?”
“Yes, and he keeps askin’ to hear my old stories over and over. I can’t imagine they’re as exciting as what’s on the telly, but I suppose children just need to be at your knee, don’t they?”
“Hmm,” Ed replied. He knew his brother adored having the little boy about. It had been many years since Harry’s own young family had been lost in an accident. His bride was a girl straight from school, and they’d had a daughter. They were married as young teens, against their parent’s wishes. Harry was considered a virtuoso violinist at the age of nine, and studied at several prestigious schools. He was abroad, playing at the funeral of a dignitary, when Sheila and the baby were killed. Harry had been devastated.
“So, you’ll not have the shop. But you’ll be free to get on with what we talked about at the park,” Ed assured him. “It’ll be a happy ending, after all, you’ll see, our Harry.”
“I’d drink to that, if I hadn’t had a drop too much already!” They laughed and Elise gathered her knitting to her lap.
“Still making the blankets for the bairns, are you?” Harry asked, noting the fluff of light blue yarn covering her almost to the ankles.
“Oh, yes. They’re better than store-bought. And I put the name on them, too, provided it isn’t too long.”
The next day, after Elise gave them a full breakfast, the brothers journeyed in a borrowed truck to the countryside south of Romsey, for a day of fishing in the Test. The weather was fine, but the fishing was not. Even so, it made for a good excuse to spend the day out of doors again.
Harry felt as though he’d been gone a decade. He was sore from the walking and the fishing, but had a new perspective on life. His years might confine him to the autumn of life, but in spirit, his heart was full of spring.
Brambleberry House always looked welcoming. The pansies smiled at him as he made his way along side of the house, towards the kitchen. Although he was newly reacquainted with the Membry family, he’d slept under this roof, and Eleanor would be offended if he came to the front door. As Harry rounded the house, he heard voices. Eleanor and Jane were digging in the garden.
Jane saw him first. “Oh, Mr. Collins! We were hoping you’d be back soon. How was London?”
“It was lovely, Jane. My, those black tulips are unusual, aren’t they?”
“They were one of Lydia’s favorites,” said Eleanor. “Not my taste, but I can’t seem to dig up anything she’d planted.”
“No, of course not, love,” Harry replied. Though he’d lost his daughter as a baby, he understood how your children stay in your heart, always.
“Shall I put the kettle on?” said Jane, as a means of thwarting the conversation from Lydia’s memory.
“Well, that depends,” said Harry with a smile. He added a wink and said to Eleanor, “I was hoping you’d come to dinner in Tunbridge Wells.”
Eleanor was clearly gobsmacked by the flirtatious invite.
“Oh, why, Mr. Collins! Harry. I’d be delighted. I’ll just pop upstairs and freshen up. It’ll only take a tick.” Eleanor dashed into the house.
“Mr. Collins, you Casanova!” Jane teased. He felt pleased as punch. “With the dirt she’s been into, we’ve still time for a cuppa. Come on inside, and by the time you’ve put your case away, I’ll have it ready.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
• • •
They walked into the house and Jane put the kettle on. She gazed out the window into the garden. Mr. Collins, carrying a torch for Eleanor, how sweet. It was lovely for both of them. The best sort of surprise.
Mr. Collins sat down at the large table.
“You seem perfectly refreshed after seeing your brother. What mischief did you get into?”
“Oh, we had a grand time,” Mr. Collins said, taking a bit of his steaming tea. “We went fishing, to a lovely concert, and I’ve eaten far too much. Our Elise is a fine cook.”
“Fishing? Really. Did you catch anything?”
“No. But the countryside is beautiful and Ed and I can chatter on for days. And I’ve brought you something, dear. But you’ll have to wait till later.”
“Me?”
“Mmm. You brought me to this house, remember? And you and I, we’ve been through something, haven’t we? Good friends, we are.”
Jane came around the table and hugged Mr. Collins by the shoulders.
Eleanor came through. “Now, don’t steal him away, Jane!” Her cheeks were pink and Jane noticed she’d dashed on lipstick.
“You kids have fun.”
Harry stood and the couple turned to go. Eleanor stopped and said, “Jane, you won’t forget Mr. Killian will be round to go to the barn with Jackson after school, will you, love? Bye, now.”
Jane was dumbfounded again. She and Jackson were supposed to go see Dudley. Alone. She’d had no idea Billy Killian was invited. Of course, she ought to have suspected it. Perhaps Jackson knew, too, and had wanted her to go along? Or, maybe Eleanor didn’t tell him, like she’d “forgotten” to tell Jane.
She used to think of herself as quite an easygoing person. She ought to start moderating her reactions. Mechanically, she walked out of the kitchen and back into the garden. She slumped on a stone seat beneath a Rowan tree covered in creamy blooms.
What was the quote her grandmother said? We’re to pray for the ability to accept what we cannot change. I cannot bring back the shops, pondered Jane. I cannot make Mr. Killian leave our lives. But I might be able to convince him to leave Jackson here.
Oh, Jackson. She couldn’t bear him going to America. Like Lydia, he’d become the glue that held them together. They all thrived on his presence in the house. He was their light.
The hope of changing Mr. Killian’s mind gave Jane a fresh spark of enthusiasm. No more being nebbish. Time to act as though she had sense. She’d show the stranger that his child belonged in England. He could visit Jackson during holidays, and they’d allow Mr. Killian to take Jackson to the museums and sights in the City. Or, they could go down to the sea, perhaps. Walk through Penzance and eat ice creams.
It would work. She knew it. She went back into the house, to wait on the American’s arrival.
Clarice came bumping into the back door a few minutes later, ladened with shopping.
“Oh, hello, dearie.”
“Clair, let me help you with those. I was just reading in the sitting room, waiting for Jackson to get home from school.” She would be kind to Mr. Killian, but she wasn’t going to suggest that she’d been waiting for him, too.
“It is lovely. Yes, Jackson should be along any moment.” Jane wondered if Clarice knew that his father was due to arrive, too. Perhaps she and Eleanor were in cahoots.
They chatted amiably as they stowed away the kitchen provisions. Clarice said, “I am planning chicken, bashed neeps, and an orange fool for pudding. And I’ve got some lovely asparagus. Of course, we’ll have an extra guest at the table tonight.”
“Oh?” Jane said, casually. “Who do you mean, exactly?”
“Why, M
r. Collins, pet. He’s due back any time.” Clarice looked at her strangely.
“Actually, he’s already home. I guess since I’d already seen him, I wasn’t thinking of him as an extra guest.” Jane smiled, and Clarice did, too. “He and Eleanor have gone to Tunbridge Wells for lunch, and must have got up to something else as well, to be gone this long,” she added with relish.
“You don’t say?” Clarice laughed. “Oh my, now there’s a treat. I knew something was going on between them.”
“Did you?” Jane exclaimed.
“Yes. I caught them sitting out under the tree together, the evening Mr. Collins left for London. She was holding his hand. I must say, I thought at the time that she was only sorry for him, what with him losing his shop. But, now, well, some folks come together with a single glance, and not much time or talk required.”
“I suppose you’re right, Clarice.” Jane thought of Nigel while she peeled swedes. He hadn’t come for Easter as usual, so perhaps he’d come soon. As much as she always looked forward to seeing him, she hoped he’d hold off another week. He seemed as eager as the rest of them to turn Jackson over to his father. Perhaps it was Nigel who was setting that standard for everyone else in the Membry household to follow, the devil. What was wrong with everyone?
The bell rang at the front door. Clarice was quiet, as though she hadn’t heard anything. So, you did know he was coming, thought Jane. Aloud, Jane said, “I’ll go.” As she walked to the door, she fixed a smile on her face, willing herself to release ill feelings. He mustn’t sense resistance, Mr. Killian only needed to be given opportunity to see that Jackson ought to grow up here in Hartsbury where he belonged.
“Mr. Killian, do come in. I am afraid Jackson hasn’t come from school yet, but he should be along soon.”
“Hey there, Miss Jane. You’re lookin’ real pretty today.”
Jane blushed deeply at the unexpected compliment. She’d slipped upstairs to change into jeans and a lilac colored polo-neck that Nigel had once said brought out the grey in her eyes. She wanted to look good, but didn’t want him to say so. It gave him an unfair advantage. It occurred to Jane that he probably knew that, and perhaps the compliment wasn’t genuine. At any rate, he treated her as though the incident on the road never happened, and for that, she was grateful.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I just had some with Miss Deborah.”
They sat down, facing each other in a pair of slipper chairs at either side of the fireplace. Jane took a deep breath. She aimed to prove that running mad into the woods wasn’t her usual response.
“Have you enjoyed your stay at the Hollyhock?”
“It’s fine. I haven’t had a whole lot to do, but she lets me play some.”
“Play?” Jane said, giggling.
“The guitar. It’s what I do.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Billy smiled with a kindness that Jane thought was quite sincere. Maybe his compliment had been truly meant, as he seemed the kind of person able to find beauty in all sorts of guises. She wasn’t very skilled at being distant and coy. Her words began to tumble.
“You realize, of course, that I don’t often yell at people and have a breakdown at the side of the road. I feel very badly about it, really I do.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I mean,” they both smiled, remembering her objection to the reference. “I heard about you losin’ your store. The barman at the pub was talkin’ about it. It’s a real bad shame. It’s no wonder at all you’re so upset. And you lived there, too, idn’t that right?”
“Yes,” she replied calmly. No tears this time. What a gift.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. His brow was furrowed. Jane knew he meant it. She could imagine him trolling through the rubble with her, looking for salvageable treasures.
“No, no, it’s all quite beyond help, I am afraid. I’d just had another piece of bad news when I last saw you, and it all became a bit much. After you, that is to say, I’ll stay here a week or so. Then I’ll probably go and visit my mum. She’ll help me sort things out. Her husband, Hugh, is very good at business.” Why was she talking on and on? A simple no, thank you, would suffice. Jane fell silent and brushed at some imaginary lint on her jeans. Where was that child?
• • •
Billy had listened patiently, nodding his head. It was already common knowledge at the pub that Charlotte Lloyd had failed to keep up the insurance payments. He knew Jane had lost everything. Billy knew what it was like to start from scratch. He’d had more money than she had, probably, but he’d needed to reinvent himself to play music again. It had been hard.
Both were quiet, considering their fortunes. Jackson came into the room. Jane noted that he didn’t seem at all surprised to see Mr. Killian.
“How was your day, darling?” Jane said, as Jackson came to slouch by her chair. She hoped Mr. Killian noted with what attention and love Jackson was received at the end of the school day.
“Good,” replied Jackson. “Mrs. McMillan had her baby and they called it George. We made cards for her.” Jackson jumped to his feet, and without a word or glance at Billy, called over his shoulder, “I’ll go change, and we can go to the barn.” As he directed his remarks at Jane, she thought that Jackson was sometimes the picture of his mother, Lydia, when he felt shy. It was just as well, because surely Mr. Killian would feel excluded from this second encounter with his son. Jane didn’t attempt to put him at ease by explaining that he was at times ill at ease with strangers.
Billy Killian sat looking in the direction his son had gone, the smile still on his face. He didn’t seem to feel at all slighted by Jackson’s indifferent attitude towards him.
He turned towards her and said, “That kid sure is somethin’ else, ya know, Miss Jane?”
She nodded, and couldn’t help her amusement. She’d never spoken with someone from southwestern America before. He sounded like a John Wayne movie. She kept thinking that Billy would stop speaking that way, that he was just teasing her. She wondered what his life was really like in the United States.
Jackson returned and the trio set off for the barn. Jane noticed that Billy didn’t ask Jackson questions, he just let him warm to the situation. Before long, Jackson was talking, entertaining both Jane and Billy with observations of his feisty riding instructor, Mr. Miles. Jackson assumed that Billy had never been properly introduced to a pony before, and explained the finer points of grooming and tacking.
The adults followed Jackson and Dudley out of doors, and watched him ride in the outdoor arena. Two other children were in the ring, too, and they had a good deal of fun playing games on horseback. After Jackson was done, he slipped from the pony and led him back to the barn aisle. Billy and Jane sat on a pair of tack trunks while Jackson thoroughly groomed his pony and gave him not one or two, but three carrots. Dudley was set free to join his mates in the pasture, and Jackson announced that he was starving and may drop dead of hunger. Jane drove them home in her floral delivery van, each of them relaxed in their thoughts. Jane was wondering what sort of afternoon Mr. Collins and Eleanor had, and if they’d eaten lunch too late to sit down with she, Jackson and Clarice.
Laughter could be heard at Brambleberry Lane, as Jackson, his father, and Jane approached the back door.
“Ah, there’s my little Prince!” Eleanor cooed as Jackson flew into his grandmother’s arms. Jane and Billy joined Eleanor, Harry, and Clarice at the kitchen table. Billy had followed Jane into the house quite naturally, and had already sat down with them when it occurred to Jane that she ought to have shook his hand and said goodbye, sending him away for the evening.
“And how is Mr. Dudley getting on?” asked Harry.
“Very well, Mr. Collins, but he’s asking for you to come and visit him.”
“Is he now?
”
“Yes. He wants to show you how he can go over cavalettis and jumps better than any other pony in the barn.”
“Hmm, he sounds a very confident sort of person,” Harry said, rubbing his chin. “I suppose he expects some sort of custom in exchange? Sugar cubes, perhaps?”
Jackson brightened considerably. “He’d love some sugar! Clarice never lets me nick from the bowl, so that would be really fab!”
Harry laughed and patted Jackson on the hand.
“Well, now that you’ve come, we can eat. The table’s laid, I’ve only to put everything out,” said Clarice, rising from the table and heading towards the Aga.
Jane was pleased when Billy rose to excuse himself. “I’ll say goodbye, then, and let ya’ll enjoy your supper. Jackson … .”
“Oh, no, Mr. Killian,” Eleanor replied, with a hand flying to her cheek. “No, you mustn’t go. Naturally, we thought you’d stay.”
“You’ll stay, won’t you?” Jackson said, grabbing his father by the hand. The room came to an immediate stop, and Jane felt her heart quicken. Jackson seemed oblivious to the collective reaction. He was let down to think of Billy leaving.
“Okay, partner,” Billy replied, and all moved towards the dining room, each taking something from the kitchen as they went, including Jackson, who carried a plate of rolls. Never mind, Jane told herself. Billy would see what warm family meals he’d be depriving Jackson of.
The food was delicious, and the conversation was lively. Jane cleared the dinner dishes, and Clarice asked who’d have coffee with afters. As Jane entered the kitchen, there was a knock at the back door. It was Toby, asking if Jackson could come out and play. Having secured a rain check for his pudding, Jackson flew out the door, throwing back his head to make roaring noises that were meant to be the battle cry of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Toby answered with a carnivorous gnashing of teeth and they raced to the back garden to enter the land of the dinosaurs.
As soon as tea and pudding were served, Eleanor clasped her hands together and said, “Harry, tell them, love.”
Heart to Heart Page 34
