by Alex Brown
Nancy gave April a sideways smile of encouragement as they went to meet Edie from the bus. She was standing with Deedee when they arrived and the bus was backing up the single-track lane to drop the baker’s sister off up at the top.
‘Hello ladies,’ Deedee said cheerily. ‘Our Edie has had a ball! Twirling and swirling all afternoon she was.’
‘Oh, that’s marvellous,’ April said, gently taking her aunt’s elbow so as to steer her on to the garden path. Edie was getting wobblier and frailer by the day, but seemed mostly to be in good spirits … when she wasn’t fretting about the diaries or asking after Winnie. And she seemed to have accepted now that April wasn’t Winnie, but that had just made things even more confusing for her, as she had become obsessed with knowing what had happened to Winnie.
‘Absolutely! Plenty of va-va-voom … in the young-at-heart villagers!’ Deedee did one of her shoulder shimmies, making Nancy suddenly need to check her mobile, even though she knew there was no signal, just to stop herself from guffawing out loud. ‘Oooh, and how are things going with you and Pete?’ Deedee made big eyes and winked at Nancy.
‘Oh, um, yes, he’s a top bloke.’ Nancy grinned.
‘Ahh, young love!’ Deedee clapped her hands together, clearly enthralled. ‘You snap him up before someone else does, darling.’
‘Sure. We’re just mates … seeing how it goes,’ Nancy attempted, but Deedee was having none of it.
‘Of course you are, sweetie. But why bother “sucking and seeing” when you could just gobble him all up and go back for seconds, and thirds and fourths? Yes, get in there, girl! You can’t beat a good roll in the hay.’
April and Nancy exchanged looks, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking: ‘Did she really just say that?’ It was April who pulled herself together first, willing her mouth not to move into a massive smile, followed by a big belly laugh.
‘Er, Nancy, would you mind … um, taking Edie inside?’ April managed to squeak, not even daring to look her stepdaughter in the eye.
‘Sure. Come on, Edie, let’s get a nice cup of tea. I can’t wait to hear all about your afternoon,’ Nancy said kindly, as she helped Edie with her raffle prizes – a hand-knitted cushion cover, a box of Terry’s jelly fruit sweets and a bottle of sherry. ‘Ooh, you did well this time.’
‘The sweets are for you, my dear. But don’t eat them all at once, or you’ll spoil your dinner.’ And Aunt Edie pressed the box into Nancy’s hand.
‘Ahh, bless you, Aunty. Thank you.’ Nancy gave the old lady a fond kiss on the cheek before toddling off with her towards the cottage.
Deedee turned to April.
‘And you’re a dark horse too, my dear.’ Deedee smiled as she leant in to April and treated her to a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. She was wearing one of her figure-hugging bodycon dresses, which she had teamed up with a lime-green marabou feather boa trailing from her neck – the end of which tickled April’s nose as Deedee nudged her conspiratorially.
‘Oh, um, am I?’ she replied, wondering what on earth she had done.
‘You sure are. And who can blame you? That farrier, Matt Carter, is absolutely gorgeous. I did hope to have a go with him myself when I first came back to Tindledale, but not a chance!’
‘Ahh …’ April said slowly, her mind boggling as it always did around Deedee, and she had been wondering how long it would be before news of their kiss got around the village. Nothing went unnoticed in Tindledale, unless it happened behind closed doors in the privacy of your own home. And even then, one couldn’t be absolutely sure … not when front doors were left unlocked. Someone could walk in without warning, as she had on Pete and Nancy in the hallway yesterday! April had backed out quickly, but, still, the look on Pete’s face – she could tell he’d been about to kiss Nancy, and she had ruined the moment. Deedee clutched her arm.
‘And good for you. You make a beautiful couple, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘Thank you, but we’re not a couple as such …’ April’s voice faded as she wondered what she and Matt were exactly. They had seen each other a few times since that lovely kiss in the car park, and had chatted and walked in the orchards together. Sometimes holding hands, sometimes not. They had tended to the horses together, they had even been for a cycle ride through the woods, and paddled together in the stream to cool down. Matt had kissed her again and she had felt wonderful, calm and optimistic, fizzy even. It felt nice, and exactly what she needed at the moment. She didn’t want to analyse anything, preferring instead to take it for what it was right now, fun and friendship, and see what happened. It was as if she was coming to life again, the numbness after Gray’s death slowly dissipating, and she felt OK with that. She had told Matt how she felt, that being with him was wonderful, exciting, but cosy and familiar too, like déjà vu almost, in the way new couples often feel as if they have known each other for always. And he had looked at her like he wanted to say something more, but was reluctant to … maybe he was just being considerate; knowing how she didn’t want to rush into anything, they’d agreed to let things develop at their own pace. Matt had already told her he didn’t want to overwhelm her, come on too strong. Yes, that would have been it! He really was a lovely guy.
‘Oh, now you’re just teasing me!’ Deedee winked. ‘Anyone can see that the pair of you are crazy for each other. I saw the passion in the car park. Not that I was being nosey or anything, oh no.’ She paused to swish her marabou boa back around her neck, nearly taking April’s eye out this time. ‘No, my Meg told me not to stare as we left the pub, but it’s very lovely seeing two lovebirds. I for one can’t help myself from going all fuzzy and sneaking a look.’ April fixed a smile on her face and nodded politely. ‘Anyway, I best be getting off. But before I forget, darling, the general said to let you know that he’s had a bit of a breakthrough!’
‘Really?’ April’s pulse quickened.
‘Yes, I think he managed to find some information about that name you gave him, Finch, was it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Well, he didn’t go into the specifics, but he said to say that he’ll call by after he’s dropped off Mrs Godfrey, she lives all the way over near Stoneley though, so he might be some time. But if it’s too late – he knows how Edie likes to take a nap in the afternoon – he’ll pop in tomorrow instead. Cheerio!’ And she did a jaunty wave as she sashayed off up the lane to see where the bus had got to.
*
In the sitting room, April had relayed the information to Nancy while Edie was in the bathroom. They were waiting for her to join them.
‘So, are you still going to tell her?’ Nancy whispered, sitting on the end of the Dralon settee.
‘I’m not sure.’ April pondered, and then decided. ‘I should wait, at least until we know what the general has unearthed …’
‘Yes, but sadly, the mystery could be … that she did run off with Finch and was still alive and died just recently … maybe that’s why there wasn’t a death certificate to be found before now.’ Nancy shook her head, concerned.
‘Oh God, I hope not, that would just be too sad,’ April replied, feeling like a failure for not having turned up any information – she had checked at the town hall, had been online and searched through all the ancestry records, but nothing. She had found copies of the death certificates for George and Delphine – Edie and Winnie’s parents – and knew that George had died in August 1943, during the war, a heart attack, and Delphine not long after, in the 1950s, which was very sad. Both were relatively young by today’s standards. They were buried in a family plot in the St Mary’s church graveyard in Tindledale, along with Edie’s brother, Robert. Edie’s other brother, Sidney, who was killed in action in December 1941, had a special plaque on the wall nearest the graves, and of course was listed as one of the many brave soldiers who lost their lives in the war on a stone memorial in the village square.
‘Maybe we should wait and see what the general says … you never know, he might have
found out that Winnie is alive and well, wouldn’t that be wonderful?’
‘It certainly would … I have an inkling though, that isn’t the case. But you’re right, let’s wait and see what he knows. I’ll only mention the diaries for now …’ April smiled and then got up from the armchair to give Nancy a hug. ‘It will be fine. She’ll understand.’ April patted Nancy’s back. ‘We can’t let her go on looking for them in vain …’
‘But what if she isn’t fine? What if she cries?’ Nancy pulled her top lip down over her teeth as April let her go.
‘Then we will tackle that … if it happens, but let’s not assume the worst. I’ll go and see if she’s ready to come downstairs,’ April said leaving the room.
Twenty minutes later, April had finished gently explaining to her aunt, and was now waiting anxiously for her response. Edie hadn’t said a word for at least ten seconds now. April glanced at Nancy, who had her head bowed.
‘Are you OK, Aunty? Perhaps you’d like another cup of tea? Or how about a nice snowball? I’m sure it won’t matter just this once if we indulge before we’ve had our dinner.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Aunt Edie eventually said, not responding to either of April’s suggestions.
‘Oh Edie, I’m so sorry.’ Nancy looked up and sideways at Edie.
‘What for, my dear?’
‘For destroying the only link you have left—’ Nancy stopped talking on seeing April shake her head as if urging caution.
‘What link?’ Edie turned to April. ‘What does she mean?’
‘The diaries, Aunty. Winnie’s journals – you do understand, don’t you, that they were lost in the fire?’ April waited to see if it had really sunk in.
‘What fire?’
April’s heart sank; she was beginning to wish that she had kept her mouth shut now.
‘But they can’t have done. I had them just here …’ And Great Aunt Edie tried to get up out of her wing chair.
‘Here, I’ll help you.’ Nancy leapt up, keen to help.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ Once Aunt Edie had made it into a standing position, she pointed a bony finger towards the sideboard. ‘There!’
‘The cupboard?’ April confirmed, looking at Edie and then at Nancy.
‘That’s right, Winnie dear.’ April’s heart sank further – it really was one step forward with her aunt, followed by three steps backwards – but she smiled and did as Edie asked. ‘Open it.’ April pulled open the door of the sideboard.
And inhaled sharply.
‘I knew they were here somewhere. Blasted memory. I put them in there for safekeeping and then forgot.’ Edie shook her head as if to try to clear her mind in order to gain some clarity.
The apple crate was inside the sideboard. April beamed and breathed an enormous sigh of relief as she lifted the crate out. And Nancy promptly burst into tears before running out of the room. April wondered if she should go after her, but figured it best to let her be, give her some space.
April then felt her heart lift as her aunt told her to open the other end of the sideboard.
‘That’s it, dear. The old shoe box. You wanted photos. They’re all in there, the box has been in my bedroom for years, ever since my mother died, in fact – it was my parents’ bedroom before mine, did you know that?’ Edie said, helping herself to another biscuit.
‘Yes, Aunty,’ April smiled, quite accustomed now to her aunt telling her stuff a trillion times.
‘I put it in the sideboard for safekeeping.’
‘When did you do that, Aunty?’ April asked, curious to know, because the shoe box certainly hadn’t been here when she had gone through everything the other day in search of the letter that might have been in the envelope with the faded crown imprint on.
Aunt Edie pondered, deep in thought for a few seconds before answering, ‘1971!’
April resisted the urge to laugh out loud and instead stood up and went over to give her aunt a big hug. ‘Bless you,’ she smiled, inwardly congratulating her aunt for having a damn good guess, even though it was off by several decades. Aunt Edie must have put the shoe box in the sideboard only in the last day or so.
‘Oh Winnie, you always were such a tease, trying to trick me.’ And Edie merrily chuckled away as she popped the last of the biscuits into her mouth, utterly oblivious to the poignancy and indeed humour in that precise moment. And for a second, April thought it may be a rather wonderful way to be, because don’t they say that ‘ignorance is bliss’?
‘Open it. There are photos of you in there!’ Edie prompted. April did as she was told, uncertain if her aunt Edie meant photos of her, or indeed Winnie, but by the looks of it, there were both.
After sifting through loads of Polaroid snaps of herself at various stages in her childhood – first day at school, Christmas Nativity play, Easter (with part of a giant chocolate egg in one hand, the rest of it around her mouth) – April came to a photo of herself that made her heart nearly stop. She went over to the lamp to get a better look. And couldn’t believe it. She looked at her aunt, who had nodded off now so April sat down in an armchair and studied the picture before her. She turned it over, and saw the date. It was the summer before her parents died. Her palms felt tingly. Her thighs too, as a dart of adrenalin, warm and welcome, pulsed right through her. It was like an awakening … that was the only way she could describe it. A part of her that she thought had been closed for ever was now suddenly very much alive again. The section of her life before her parents died, before she went to live with her grandparents. And that’s when she knew.
She remembered.
The familiarity.
The feeling of déjà vu.
The girl in the picture was sitting on a bike, wearing a white cotton dress.
April gasped and pressed the picture to her chest. Her first kiss. But how did she not know? She couldn’t believe it. Matthew. The boy in the buttercup field. Yes! It was him. She was convinced of it now. But he looked so different then. Glasses – still those green eyes … yes, it was coming back to her, but he had braces then, short hair and definitely no tattoos. He had been puny too, a typical teenage boy. Sweet. Gentle. And quite different to the fully grown, muscular man that Matt was now. And then April laughed, she felt light all of a sudden, young again, a second chance, and it was incredible. But why hadn’t Matt said anything?
April sat for a moment, taking it all in … Perhaps he had forgotten too? But then why hadn’t she remembered? And she instantly knew why. April had blanked it out of her head in the confusion that was the months and years after her parents went. But it was different now, and she knew Matt would laugh when she showed him the picture from that summer. The two of them as kids, kissing for the first time. It had been intense. And awkward, in a gloriously geeky, innocent way. And she felt elated to now have the chance to rekindle a part of her that she thought had died along with Gray.
Spurred on, and eager to find more wonderful memories of her happy life before her parents and Gray died, April rummaged through all of the photos, placing them neatly on the card table after she had looked at them. She glanced over at her aunt – Edie was still sleeping, and with a contented smile on her face, which in turn made April smile with happiness.
Hang on. What was that?
April rummaged again at the bottom of the box and found some paper tucked in between two pictures of Winnie by the looks of it. One of the photos was stuck to the paper and if she wasn’t careful it would tear. April carefully prised the paper free. It was a folded note, a letter of some kind. She managed to untangle the paper and spread it flat on the card table. And her eyes raced to take it all in. The crown at the top of the page. The typed words. From the War Office. Dated October 1943 and addressed to Mrs Lovell.
And then April cried. The answer had been here all along, lost or forgotten about as the decades had passed.
The tears turned into sobs, which she stifled by placing a hand over her mouth so as to stop the tears from falling on to the precious let
ter.
The secret, the mystery of why Winnie hadn’t come home, was revealed right here, buried underneath a pile of old photos in Edie’s parents’ bedroom for all these years. Winnie hadn’t run off. Married man. A baby. Scandal. Not at all, it was as Aunt Edie had thought: tongues wagging, a story that had been made up from a snippet of gossip, a Chinese whisper that had gathered momentum with each person that had passed it on in the village. And for some unfathomable reason, this made April laugh … a sad, poignant laugh as she read the letter all over again.
Madam,
In confirmation of War Office telegram of the 24th July, 1943, I am directed to inform you, with regret, that a notification has been received that your daughter, Winifred Lovell, First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, was reported missing on the 7th July, 1943.
No further information is available at present, but all possible enquiries are being made and any further information received by this Department will be sent to you immediately. Should you receive any communication from your daughter, or should news of her reach you from any other source, will you kindly notify this office, and at the same time forward any card or letter you may receive from her, which will be returned to you after inspection.
In the meantime I am to ask you to be good enough to notify this office of any change of your address.
April sat motionless and numb. Poor Winnie. Missing. No further information. It was horrendous. And poor, poor, poor Delphine … April couldn’t begin to imagine how she must have felt, most likely sitting or standing in this very room, and reading this letter about her daughter. Delphine had already lost her son, Sidney, her husband, George only a few months earlier in August 1943, and now her eldest daughter was missing, and everyone knew what that really meant … April gulped in a big shot of air, conscious that she had been holding her breath. And the date: 7th July. Oh God no! Winnie’s birthday. It was indescribable to think of the pain that Winnie’s parents must have felt on discovering that their eldest daughter had most likely been killed on her birthday. It was enough to send a person to an early grave … which is exactly what it did do. Poor George died only a month after the telegram that was mentioned in the letter, dated 24th July 1943. April wondered what happened to the telegram. Had George read it and chosen not to share its devastating contents with what was left of his family? Delphine clearly hadn’t known about the contents of the telegram which had led her to make enquiries after George’s death. The shock appeared to have taken its toll on her too and she had died not that long after the end of the war, in the early fifties.
