‘No, I wouldn’t, David.’ Natasha was standing in front of him now. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong. I couldn’t live by a river, not if you paid me. I have a fear of water. Gilly used to make a joke of it, but recently I had to tell him the reason. I had an aunt who drowned in the river. She drowned trying to save me, and in nightmares I’m still drowning. So, there it is. And if I had told Gilly about this beforehand, naturally he wouldn’t have bought the place. But he’d bought it by then, thinking that he could talk me round; and what was more,’ she smiled now, ‘it was a very good buy. And, you know, David, how he can’t resist a bargain. Just think of the things that are packed away in the storeroom, all the result of his good buying.’
‘Anyway, Hannah; what’ve you to say about this?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said; ‘I just don’t know. Such generosity! Some weeks ago I felt this was an awful world populated with dreadful people; but now I know that it is a beautiful world and holds marvellous people. The words I need to thank you are not in my vocabulary. But having said that, it’s a lovely house . . . but it’s such a big present to accept. I mean—’ She stopped and put her fingers on her eyelids, and at this Gilly went to her and said, ‘Come along to the kitchen, my dear; I want to introduce you to the staff. We’ll leave that stubborn-headed man of yours to make his own way.’
He inclined his head towards David who was now holding Natasha’s hand. She was saying, almost in a whisper, ‘Please understand, David, Gilly thinks of you as a son, so humour him in this; from now on, take it graciously. Let’s go with them into the kitchen, and see the fun.’
The beautiful kitchen resounded with laughter. At the L-shaped table were standing three cooks, all of different sizes, each wearing a tall chef’s hat, their white aprons enveloping them.
Peter was smiling broadly as he said to David, ‘What can I do for you, sir? By the way, this is my new assistant’ – he indicated Pete – ‘and this,’ pointing to Maggie, ‘is the head chef, Mademoiselle Harper.’
Maggie, who was crushing some walnuts, was aiming to maintain a prim expression and not to burst out laughing. But then they all burst into laughter when she said, ‘Ici on parle français. Le livre est sur la table.’
‘And your head will be on the table in a minute,’ straight away put in Janie, ‘if you don’t get on with your work.’ Then, turning to Mrs Drayton, she said, ‘It’s a beautiful kitchen, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed. Indeed. And look at that array of goodies over there. The sight of them is enough to give anyone an appetite.’
‘Well, they’re there to be eaten,’ said Gilly. ‘What time is lunch, Peter?’
‘Give me fifteen minutes, sir; just time enough for you all to have a drink in the drawing room.’
At this, amid chatter, Natasha led the way across the hall; but at the kitchen door David drew his chair to a stop and, looking up at Peter, who was now by his side, he said, ‘It’s too much; I can’t take it all in.’
‘Accept graciously, sir,’ Peter said; ‘they’re getting more happiness out of their giving than you can imagine. And they’ve spent weeks adapting it to your needs, together with Mrs Drayton and Mrs Harper; and of course Mr McClean and Mr Harper. Oh, those two have had the time of their lives. You’ll see and hear all about that later. So do this, sir, please.’
In the drawing room, Hannah was delighted by the colours of both the carpet and curtains, and by the arrangement of the pieces of their own furniture.
Then, amid the chatter and laughter, as the drinks were passed round, she stood for a moment gazing out of the long open French window down to the river bank, where she could make out a boathouse and landing. It was all so wonderful. She suddenly felt weak, and had the desire to sit down and cry.
When she turned to find Mrs Drayton at her side, she said, ‘Isn’t it all beautiful?’
‘Yes, it is, my dear; but as I see it, it will be a form of compensation for what you have been through. And I can promise you, you’ll have a visitor now and again’ – she pointed to her chest – ‘if for nothing else but to sit at this very spot and contemplate the view.’
The lunch was merry and excellent. After it, there followed a concerted tour of the house. David, of course, had to keep to the ground floor; but he was amazed at his office, which had been fitted for his future employment, as Gilly’s business secretary. It was adjacent to their bedroom and bathroom, and just a short corridor’s length from Hannah’s small private sitting room.
It was as Hannah and Janie were descending the stairs that they heard three sharp blasts from the direction of the river; everyone came crowding round the French windows in the hall, staring towards the landing stage alongside which a large motor cruiser had been moored.
As one figure after another emerged, Hannah said, ‘It’s Micky!’
‘Yes,’ David said; ‘it’s Micky all right; and with his entire family, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Hello! you lot,’ Micky called out, as he preceded his family up the lawn.
When he reached David he thumped him on the back, saying as loudly, ‘Surprise?’
‘One of them,’ David answered. ‘What on earth are you doing with that thing on the river?’
‘That thing is a cruiser, and a damn pricey one an’ all . . . Hello, Mr Gillyman! Am I on time?’
‘Practically on the dot, Micky. But you’ve missed lunch.’
‘Oh; we’ve brought ours with us.’
‘How d’you do, ladies? I’ve brought my tribe with me for inspection.’ He now turned to the group of people standing about him. ‘This is my wife, Cissie.’ He nudged the plump woman to one side of him, then introduced the woman to the other side of him: ‘And this is my sister, Polly.’ She, who was as thin as her sister-in-law was plump, surprised everyone when she pointed at the mound which Hannah was no longer able to conceal. ‘See you’re in the wagon-train; how far are you gone?’ she asked.
The yell that Micky let out could have been heard well down the river as he cried, ‘What did I tell you about that pontoon of yours?’
‘Aah! you,’ his sister came back at him. ‘I’m just asking. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs . . . Miss? Can I call you Hannah? That’s your name, isn’t it?’
Hannah chuckled and said, ‘Of course, of course; and I’m nearing seven months.’
‘My, my!’ said the irrepressible Polly. ‘You’re carrying high. Me, I never—’
‘Frankie!’ Micky now hissed towards a man standing at the back of the family crowd. ‘Will you come and take over your responsibility! Shut her up, eh?’
Amid the chuckles and laughter, Gilly’s voice rose, saying, ‘Well, let’s all go indoors and see if there’s anything to drink.’
‘Oh, anything to drink,’ cried Micky now. ‘We brought a load with us. You, Frank and Charlie, get back down there and bring the stuff up. It’s all ready. And take the girls with you. Stop gaping, Tracey; it’s as if you’ve never seen a house before. Go on with you.’
At this Hannah exchanged a look with Natasha and Mrs Drayton and said, ‘Oh, dear, are they going to stay for a meal?’
They stayed for a meal. Well, they had brought a case of champagne, a whole ham and tongue, lots of French bread and a huge slab of butter and an equally large block of cheese, which was supplemented by Pete and Maggie and Janie bringing the rest of the leftovers from the earlier lunch . . .
To cap it all, David was given a further treat, when the men took the sumptuously fitted forty-foot boat up the river with him at the wheel in his chair, having lifted him in bodily, chair and all, from the landing stage.
David and Hannah later agreed, as they sat in the last of the evening light, looking out across the lawn down to the river, that they would forever treasure the memory of that most extraordinary and enjoyable day.
Chapter Nineteen
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br /> Gilly had suggested that it would be simpler if David worked from home, so on the days when he did not have to attend the hospital for physiotherapy, he sat at his desk in front of the window that looked out across the river and read manuscripts. Gilly had told him that he intended to publish more books in the future, so there would be plenty for David to do.
Now, he laid aside the manuscript he had been reading and gazed out into the twilight. Everything was still, both in and out of the house. Hannah was seeing Maggie to bed and in a short while Pete would come in and help him too. He liked Pete, but oh, how he missed Peter; he hadn’t seen him for nearly a week, not since he had returned again from hospital. But that would be rectified tomorrow, for the single bed was to be brought down into the little sitting room, and Peter would be settled there. It would be easier all round, especially for Pete.
Strange about Pete turning up as he did. What would they have done without him?
He and Hannah were to be married on Thursday. He couldn’t really tell whether or not Hannah was looking forward to it; she seemed to be so tired these days, which was natural, he supposed, for the baby was due in a little over three weeks. He hoped he’d be able to drive her to the church himself, and would do so if his adapted car were delivered tomorrow, as promised, for then he would have time to get used to handling it. Oh, he’d be glad to be independent.
The door opened, and he turned to see Hannah guiding Maggie into the room. She had her arm about the girl’s shoulders, and Maggie’s head was deep on her chest; it was evident that she was crying.
‘What’s the matter? What’s up?’ He wheeled his chair towards them, and Hannah said quietly, ‘It’s all right. She doesn’t want to go to bed yet, even though I told her I couldn’t go to bed until I knew she was tucked up instead of sitting in the dark.’
‘What’s the matter, Maggie?’ David put his hand out and drew the thin body towards him. And Maggie, for a moment, leant her head on his shoulder before straightening up, sniffing loudly, then spluttering into her handkerchief, ‘I’m . . . I’m all right. I’m all right.’
‘You’re not all right if you’re crying like that. What’s upset you?’ He reached to the side and switched on the table lamp.
Hannah sat down; then, pulling Maggie towards her, she said, ‘Come on now. Come on. You can tell us what’s upset you. Has Pete said anything to . . . ?’
‘No. No, not Pete. No.’
‘Well, who? What’s made you cry like this?’
The head was down when she muttered, ‘Mam.’
‘Your mother?’ Hannah drew Maggie’s face round towards her as she repeated, ‘Your mother?’
‘Yes. She . . . she says I’ve got to spend more time at home with the others, that I’m in the way here, and I know I’m not, am I?’
‘Oh, no.’ Both David and Hannah denied simultaneously, and David went on, ‘In the way? You’re a blessing! Not only in running around for us, but keeping Peter company.’
‘And Peter likes you with him,’ added Hannah.
‘Yes; yes, he does.’ Maggie was nodding now at David. ‘And I must be with him. I know I must. And that’s what I told Mam: Mr Peter needs me. And . . . I . . . I’ – she looked from one to the other – ‘I need him, for the time he’s here. So, as I told her . . . ’
‘Well, what did she say to that?’ asked Hannah.
‘Oh! Auntie Hannah; you know how she goes on: she says I’m getting above meself; and who am I to say Mr Peter’s going to die?’ The word trailed away. The round eyes were wide. She looked quickly from one to the other again, saying, ‘It . . . it slipped out. It just slipped out.’
Hannah looked at David, then back to Maggie when David’s voice, very low, said, ‘What makes you think Peter’s going to die?’
Maggie screwed up her eyes tight, bit on her lower lip and shook her head as if in desperation as she muttered, ‘He . . . he knows; we talked about it, but he made me promise, a deep promise, that I would never say anything to you.’
Hannah was staring at David now as he asked again, quietly, ‘Who else knows this?’
‘Pete – Pete’s always known it – and . . . and Mr and Mrs Gillyman.’
Now he and Hannah were exchanging glances again, but this time they held; and David said to Hannah, ‘Oh, my God! We must have been blind, unless . . . unless you knew.’
‘No; no, David. I knew his condition must have been serious when he was taken into hospital again. He said they were just tests and that he was to stay in bed for a time because there was another little leak at the back of his head, and that for a time it might make him fall about again. As usual, he made a joke of it, that one day he would do so when wheeling in the tea trolley. And he’d kept on wheeling in the trolley when he was unable to do anything else.’
When David swung his chair around towards the window again and crouched forward and sat looking out into the darkened night, Maggie said, ‘He says none of us must worry, particularly you and Aunt Hannah, because he’ll still be here. He keeps telling me that he’ll still be here.’ She looked into Hannah’s eyes now, saying, ‘We talk, Aunt Hannah, when nobody’s there. We talk a lot and . . . and I understand most of what he says. I do now, but I wouldn’t have before the night . . . that awful night. I . . . I seemed to get to know him from that night in a very odd sort of way, because I know I couldn’t have understood half of what he says now if it hadn’t been for that night . . . I love him, Aunt Hannah. I can’t help it, and I don’t want to go home, because I can’t bear to leave him. And it isn’t the same at home any more now. It never will be.’ She was crying again, but gently, the tears falling softly down her cheeks; and she wasn’t the only one, for Hannah was tearful and David’s eyes were moist.
Maggie began to hiccup and gulp, and then she said, ‘He’ll be so vexed with me if you let on. Please don’t let on. Anyway, when he knows that you know he’ll make it easy for you as he did for me, ’cos, as he says, we’ve got two bodies: the top one dies, but the other one goes on forever, and it’ll look—’
‘Be quiet, Maggie.’ David’s tone was harsh, so much so that the girl shrank against Hannah, but when he spoke again it was softly, as he said, ‘I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m sorry. But go to bed. We’ll – we’ll talk about this in the morning.’
Hannah pulled herself up heavily from the chair and she went out of the room as she had come into it, guiding Maggie by the shoulder, and repeating, ‘Shush now; no more crying. Now stop it. Come along; stop crying. It’ll all be put right tomorrow.’
As for tomorrow, there would be many of them before David would be himself, for he was still carrying on his shoulders the burden of all that had happened. Alice in Wonderland was as if it had never been, and what Hannah was living in now was real life. She imagined a few weeks ago, when she had first seen the marvellous gift of this house, that once more she was entering the strange world of Alice, but now she knew there was no such place. There was just life, and it had to be lived: the life of the body, not the quiet everlasting spirit life to which Maggie had been introduced – and much too early at that, she thought.
She was to be married on Thursday; and Gilly had told her to expect to see the long-awaited cover design for her book; that, she was happy to know, was proceeding apace. But more important – far more important – in twenty-four days’ time, if things kept to order, she would give birth to a son or a daughter – they would have a son or a daughter. But would this go any way to make up for the loss of Peter? No, no.
They must have been blind all these weeks not to know there was something really drastic happening to the man David loved and had always looked upon as father, brother and friend. And she too could call him a dear friend. She too must have been blind, yet when she looked back, to the time when his pallor and inertia had worried her, she realised that she had simply accepted his word for their cause.
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How much longer would he have? She must get in touch with the hospital tomorrow. Dr Peale, their general practitioner here, hadn’t voiced any undue alarm; perhaps he too had been silenced by an earnest request from Peter.
Chapter Twenty
The wedding was a quiet affair with no echo of the gaiety of the house-warming day.
To Micky’s disappointment he learnt that there was to be no honeymoon spent on his boat. After it had been explained to him, he accepted the reason, but still he wondered, and put it forward that they could have had a night or two up the river. It seemed to him, he said, that nobody wanted to use his boat. Another thing was that the only McClean who seemed to be welcome at the White House was, of all people, tactless-tongued Polly. It was she alone who had been invited to represent the family at the wedding. And even then her invitation was not official, only coming about because, as she herself said, she visited them twice a week, and Thursday happened to be one of her days. As Micky said, there might be more to Polly than met the family eye, yet he himself couldn’t see it.
The only other outsiders who were invited were Welshy, David’s one-time nurse, and Gerard Johnson, one of his physiotherapists, who had also helped David get used to his new vehicle.
Besides these, there were Gilly and Natasha, Janie and Eddie, and Mrs Drayton, not forgetting the bridesmaid.
At the altar rail they must have appeared a strange pair, food for a quip from Polly, for there was the groom in a wheelchair and the bride with her belly rising high. Polly did not, at the time, comment on it; but she later produced the first real laugh of the day when she said to Hannah, ‘I wondered if that parson knew he was marrying a triangle, because the way you’re looking now, love, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d had it on the altar steps.’ And when Hannah had replied, ‘Oh, have a heart, Polly; I’ve got three weeks to go yet,’ Polly had answered, ‘You’ll never make it; believe me, you’ll never make it.’
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