by Mairi Wilson
“Scotland? But why? And what about Greg—”
“Evie, darling!” Helen laughed. “My, but you’re impatient this morning. Do let me finish.”
“Of course. Sorry. So, Scotland.”
“Yes. It seems my aunt’s widower has decided to take a post with his Church back in India, so the house in Edinburgh reverts to me. We will of course sell it, but it was home once and there are some pieces there, some things of father’s, my mother’s too, and I want to sort through them myself.”
“But is this a good time to be away? I thought you were opening up the north …”
“Yes, we are. But Gregory will do it. If I’m away he can just stay north until the distribution routes are finalised. It will be easier than running to and fro all the time.”
“Oh, I see. I assumed you’d go together.”
“The business couldn’t take us both being away for that length of time, so I’ll go on my own.” Helen shrugged her slender shoulders and fixed on that bright smile of hers.
“My dear.” Evie crossed and settled on the sofa next to her, taking Helen’s hand in hers. “Is that wise? A rather difficult thing to do, I would imagine, sorting through your family home all on your own. Will your aunt’s husband at least still be there to help you?”
“No. He’s eager to get back to India as soon as he can. He was never really happy in Scotland. He only stayed because my aunt’s health was too poor for the climate out there.”
“I see.” Evie was concerned for her friend, didn’t like the thought of her facing this all alone. “Would you like … I’d need to speak to Douglas, of course, but perhaps …”
“No, Evie. Absolutely not. You are needed here. But bless you for even thinking of it. Besides, it’s easier, sometimes, just to get on with things.”
“You’re always so strong. I do worry about you. Sometimes it does no harm to lean a little on others. Let them help.”
“Well, the housekeeper and her husband will still be there. They can help me.”
“That wasn’t quite what I meant.”
“Gregory’s arranging it even as we speak. I leave next Tuesday.”
“So soon!”
“And I’ll be back in a couple of months.”
“I shall miss you.”
“Nonsense. You’ll barely notice I’m gone. By the time you and Douglas get back from establishing the new clinics in the hills, I’ll be home. You’ll see.”
“I suppose. I do wish Gregory were going with you, though. For support …”
“I shall manage perfectly well without him, Evie. And besides, we can’t just abandon the business. I will be fine, I assure you. In fact, I’m excited. I can’t wait to see what the latest fashions are and I’ll take the opportunity to buy new fabrics to send back here for the house and goodness knows what. I might even go to a concert or two. Imagine that! I shall have a wonderful time. Apart from … well. But listen, Evie. That was only part of my news. The good part.” Helen took a deep breath. “Gregory received a letter from Cameron this morning.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Nothing to do with that man is ever good news.”
“Quite. And this time he’s surpassed himself.”
“Please don’t tell me he’s coming back.”
“No. Not that. In fact, that may be the only silver lining. He’s back in South Africa and will no doubt be staying there for the foreseeable—”
The footsteps in the hallway interrupted them even before the knock on the door. Evie’s housekeeper’s face appeared, without waiting for Evie’s response, the urgency clear in her wide eyes, but before she could speak, the door burst fully open and the surprised servant sprang to one side.
“Evie, I have to see you. I— Helen! I … I didn’t know you were … I’m sorry am I interrupting? I—”
Both Evie and Helen had stood up in shock at their friend’s dishevelled appearance. Wisps of hair drooped from the normally tightly pinned bun and Ursula’s face was red and puffy. One of her stockings was wrinkled at the ankle and her blouse was misbuttoned, giving her the look of a lopsided, raggedy doll.
“Ursula! What on earth’s the matter?” Evie stepped forward and took her friend’s elbow, guiding her back to the sofa as Helen stood aside and reached out a hand to help. Evie ordered the housekeeper to fetch tea, and water, immediately.
Ursula swayed and leaned into her friend, before crashing heavily on the sofa.
“Do you feel faint?” Helen reached for the small clutch bag she’d left on the side table. “I have smelling salts, I think.”
“No. I’m fine.” Ursula’s voice was weak, her head hanging down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“You’re clearly not. What is it, my dear?” Evie crouched in front of the distraught woman.
“I thought you’d be alone. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Darling, it’s only me,” Helen said. “How could you possibly be interrupting? Don’t be silly. Just do tell us what’s wrong. What can we do to help?”
“I didn’t want … I …”
Evie’s housekeeper appeared at the door and Helen took the tray from her.
“Water, Ursula. Sip some of this. It will cool you down.”
“I’m beginning to think we need something stronger.” Evie started to rise.
“No.” Ursula put her hand out to stay her friend. “No. Water’s fine.” She took the glass from Helen, her hand shaking so much that water splashed onto the pale-blue linen of her skirt, leaving a trail of darker spots across her lap. As the glass rattled against her teeth, Evie and Helen exchanged a worried look. This was so unlike their neat, precise friend.
The water caught in Ursula’s throat and she started to splutter. Helen rescued the glass and placed it back on the tray on a side table, while Evie sat up on the sofa and patted her friend gently on the back.
“Come on, old thing. Easy does it.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.” Ursula gasped between coughs. “I don’t know what to do … I … Oh, you have to help me.” The shoulders heaved as the coughs turned into sobs. Deep, strangled sobs that neither Evie nor Helen had ever heard from Ursula before.
“Darling! Darling girl, what on earth is the matter?” Helen sat herself on the arm of the sofa on Ursula’s other side, looking at Evie over the weeping woman’s head. Evie shook her head in puzzlement.
“C … C … Cam …”
“Cameron.” Helen’s voice was steel. “That man. So you’ve heard then?”
“Heard? I … No. No. He won’t reply to my messages. I’ve been trying to reach him to tell him he has to come back. He has to change his mind. I can’t …”
“What’s he done?” Evie asked. “What’s that brute done now?”
“I told him, you see. And that’s why he left.” Ursula was tugging at the lace border on the handkerchief she had scrunched up into a ball in her hand. Evie put out a hand to calm the twitching, but Ursula shrugged her off, stood abruptly and went over to the open verandah door. “I know he’s just scared,” she said, looking out into the night. Helen and Evie waited, watching. “It was a shock, of course, but if I could only talk to him again, I know I could make him see that this is good. That we could get married and then he’d be happy. I’d make him happy, I know I would. I would. I love him so much, you see, and I know he loves me too, he is just a little frightened of the responsibility.”
“Oh my God.” Helen’s hand flew to her throat.
“What?” Evie asked. “What is it? I don’t under—”
“You’re going to have Cameron’s baby.”
“Helen! Don’t be ridiculous …” Evie’s voice trailed off as Ursula turned and beamed at them.
“He said he didn’t want it. That I should get rid of it. But I know he didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, he meant it. Every word of it, I’m sure.”
“Helen, I know this is hard for you. That you love him too.” Helen snorted in disgust. “But you could try to
be happy for me. It’s me he loves. He’ll be a wonderful father, and after we’re married—”
“Cameron isn’t going to marry you, Ursula.”
“Yes, he will. Just as soon as he gets over the surprise. I’m having our baby and he’ll—”
“Listen to me, Ursula. Cameron isn’t going to marry you.”
“He is! He is. He has to, don’t you see? He has to otherwise … otherwise … I’m ruined and I … I …” Ursula’s eyes were darting from side to side and her hands were scratching at her head, dragging more hair loose to tumble down over her flushed cheeks. She stood rocking on her heels as she spluttered and the pitch of her voice rose into a louder, shriller shriek.
“Ursula!” Evie’s slap silenced the woman, and for a moment all three of them froze, before Ursula collapsed forward into Evie’s arms and Evie led her back to the sofa. She soothed the sobbing woman and looked up at Helen, who was standing over them, anger and sadness struggling for place in her pale face.
“Helen, what did that letter say?”
“Cameron’s married.”
Ursula’s sobbing stopped and her tear-stained face looked up at Helen.
“He’s married Gertie von Falken, or Gertie Steencamp as she’d become.”
“The merry widow …” Evie said softly, remembering the journey out to Africa.
“Had become a merry widow again. This time with a large enough fortune to indulge herself with someone more her age. How could Cameron resist? Lasciviousness and wealth. Irresistible to someone like him.”
“No!” Ursula leapt at Helen, fists flying, “You’re lying! It’s me. He loves me. He’ll marry me!” Evie and Helen struggled to control the flailing limbs to avoid the nails that were reaching out like cat claws. “He can’t. He knows I’m having his baby. He can’t be!”
“Ursula, he is.”
“This is your fault! You! You’re jealous of me. You wanted him for yourself and … and … you always have to spoil my happiness, don’t you?”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Ursula. Helen never wanted Cameron. And she’s telling the truth. Cameron isn’t coming back for you.”
“But … but … what am I going to do? I … can’t have a … a baby.”
Finally, Ursula slumped back down on to the sofa. “What am I going to do?” The words were a whisper.
“I don’t know, darling,” Helen said, her face full of pain for Ursula.
Evie was silent for a moment. “I think I might, though,” she said.
*
Lexy sat in the hospital canteen nursing her tea and mulling over this next instalment in what was turning into a truly pitiful tale. Her heart went out to Ursula, although it was hard for Lexy to reconcile Evie’s account and the image of a lovelorn and abandoned woman with her own memories of the older Ursula, calm, serene, controlled. But also warm, kind, loving. Lexy remembered sitting on Ursula’s knee as she read a story to her, or, later, as they read one together. Ursula’s hugs and goodnight kisses. The woman had the capacity for love, it was clear. How very, very sad that it had been so abused. She would have loved her son, Lexy felt sure. She’d loved Izzie passionately, Lexy too. So what had gone wrong? What had happened to her son? Come to that, what had happened between Izzie and Ursula all those years ago when the visits had stopped?
“Lexy?”
“Robert!” Lexy felt blood rush to her cheeks as she coughed, spluttering a mouthful of cold tea, hoping he’d put her heightened colour down to that.
‘Sorry, did I startle you?”
“Yes. No. Well. I … I’ve been with Evie. She’s resting now.”
“Yes, I know. And I’ve checked with her consultant. She’s not having her operation today. It’ll be a day or two yet, he thinks, but we’ll see. What are you up to now? Back to the hotel?”
“Oh eventually. Thought I might have a bit of a walk first. Need to stretch my legs after sitting all morning.”
“I was just taking my lunch outside.” He held up a sandwich. “Join me? I’ll give you the guided tour, if you like.”
“You did that yesterday – you’ll be making a second career of it at this rate. But yes, that would be lovely if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all. A welcome break from sickness and admin. Come on.”
He led her out a side door from the canteen that opened straight onto a large lawn, as immaculate as all the lawns in Blantyre appeared to be, despite the heat, criss-crossed by footpaths and bordered by bushes heavy with orange and yellow bougainvillea and other flowers she didn’t recognise but which Robert was able to identify for her. She was again struck by the warmth in his voice as he described his Malawi to her. He loved this country – his country: that was clear. She doubted she would speak with such enthusiasm about her own. But perhaps that had more to do with its inextricable association with the recent events in her life.
They reached the bank of hibiscus in front of the wall at the far end of the lawn and Lexy assumed they would turn around and head back, but Robert pushed aside a few of the abundant branches and revealed a gate.
“What’s through here?” Lexy asked.
“Mostly storerooms and suchlike now,” he said holding the gate open so she could walk through ahead of him, “but it used to house some of the medical staff before the new quarters across the road were built. Several of the doctors and their families lived here, at one time, before there was a move towards a healthier division between work and home life. Your parents, I believe, lived in one of these after they were married. Your mother would have been in the Nurses’ Hostel, of course, as a single woman.”
Lexy was intrigued. Again the buildings were single storey, whitewashed and fronted with verandahs in the style that was now becoming familiar to her. Had her parents really lived in one of these?
“Which one? Which one did they live in?”
“I couldn’t say, I’m afraid. But Gran would know. You could ask her, if you like. It’ll have been commandeered for storage, though, I’m sure, so if you’re hoping to find an echo of the past, you’ll be disappointed. This one might interest you, though. It’s not been changed too much, still used sometimes for courses and suchlike. The old schoolroom, for the compound’s children.” He tried the door but it was locked. “Oh. It’s usually open. That’s a shame. You might have been interested to see a good old-fashioned colonial school, given your own profession. Another time.”
Yes, Lexy thought, another time. Or …
“Robert, I … I was wondering …”
He turned and looked at her expectantly.
“That is, if you haven’t got plans … I wondered if you’d like to join me for dinner this evening.” She felt herself blushing, tried to sound offhand, but her heart was racing. Was she being too forward? Why didn’t he say something? She risked a look over at him. He was frowning. Not good.
“Lexy, I …” He cleared his throat.
“Oh please, it doesn’t matter. I know how busy you are and it was just if you weren’t doing anything. I mean, I thought you might be able to tell me more about … about my parents or Malawi or …” Lexy the gabbler had returned. “Sorry. It’s fine. Forget it.”
“Lexy, I should probably have said something earlier, but it didn’t come up … and I didn’t think … Audrey. Audrey and I are …”
“Oh!” Lexy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Audrey. Your PA? Well yes, of course, she is, and you and she. I see, yes … But she’s bla— I mean, col—”
“Coloured?” He was angry, that was evident. “Not one of us?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Lexy said, although she was horrified to think it just might have been. Not intentionally of course, but why else had she not even considered their having a relationship a possibility, despite noting Audrey’s evident adoration for her boss. But now it was just so obvious. “It’s just … just that she’s, well, quite young and … but that’s no reason. No. Not at all. She’s lovely. I’m sure you’re very happy.” Shut up Lexy, just shut
up. Five days in this country and she’d turned into some kind of colonial idiot.
“I’m sorry, Robert,” she tried again. “I didn’t mean to offend you and I didn’t mean to proposition you either.” She tried to make light of it. “It was just a thought, just a bite to eat and really, it’s fine. Unless you’d both like to … No, no of course not,” she finished quickly as his face told her very clearly that wouldn’t be a good idea. “Well.” Bright and breezy now. “I think I should probably—”
“Yes,” he cut in hastily. “Yes and I should be getting back, too.”
They walked back to the hospital entrance in silence, Lexy squirming with embarrassment at having so badly misread the situation. What had she been thinking? Any port in a storm, perhaps? Her mother and her homespun wisdom were back, although a still tongue makes a wise head might have been a more helpful homily.
15
The Residence, June 13th
A taxi ride, a brief shower and an iced tea later, things looked a little better. She picked up the tea folder again. Perhaps reading about someone else’s humiliation would help lessen her own. Although a turned-down invitation to dinner was hardly in the same league as Ursula’s anguish. Flicking ahead, Lexy was surprised to see that the next diary extract was brief, blotchy and untidy, Ursula’s usual instinct for order and tidiness washed away by her plight. Adrenaline surged at the sight of extracts from Scotland, more letters from Evie, too … but she needed to be patient. Follow the trail as it had been laid down, step by steady step, to be sure she didn’t miss anything. She sighed. She was turning into Danny.
Blantyre, September 4th 1949
The night I once found so comforting is now torment, a punishment. It is endless and black and hopeless and dark and I cannot see how I can get through this. I told him and watched his face for the light, the joy I felt sure would come. I told him and waited for his arms to circle me and pull me close, for his laughter, tears, anything. He had to be happy. Why wasn’t He would be
He said he loved me. These few precious weeks he said it over and over.
