by Gloria Cook
Louisa staggered on the hem of her trailing organza, righted herself – while Polly gasped in relief – and twirled round and waved to the man she knew as Uncle Alec. ‘Come on, Kitty.’ She hauled the kitten out of the pram and scraped her high heels back up the path. ‘See what I’ve got, Uncle Alec.’
‘He’s cute, Louisa.’ Alec circled a finger on top of the kitten’s smoky-grey head. ‘But isn’t Kitty a female’s name?’
‘It’s a she anyway and her name’s not Kitty, it’s Myrtle. Don’t you know every cat’s called Kitty, Uncle Alec?’ Louisa shook her head as if astonished by his ignorance and her hat fell off. It brought into view the ragged pink birthmark on her right cheek, which was the size of a half-crown. It didn’t do a lot to mar her looks but she was self-conscious about it owing to the stares of adults and the teasing of some children, and she preferred to play only with those she could trust not to mention it, like Jonny, Vera Rose, Will and Tom.
‘Well, that’s told me,’ Alec grinned, smoothing at Louisa’s ruffled tresses. ‘I’ve brought something for you, if your Aunt Polly will allow you to have it.’
‘I believe there’s a conspiracy going on between you two,’ Polly laughed. ‘You know very well, Alec, I can hardly refuse when you mention whatever it is in front of the little madam here.’
‘I’m not a madam, Aunt Polly,’ Louisa widened her cheeky blue eyes. ‘I’ve told you, today I’m a grand duchess.’
‘A beautiful grand duchess,’ Alec said. Since bonding with her shortly after her birth he was eager for Louisa to disregard her birthmark and grow up feeling positive and full of self-worth. He was delighted to see her little pink mouth sagging open in eagerness as he handed over a small gift-wrapped box.
Polly had expected fudge or chocolates as on other occasions. ‘What on earth is it? Alec, what have you done?’
Alec coloured and cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Polly. I didn’t think.’
Louisa tore the ribbon away from the box and pulled off the lid. Inside, a tiny silver locket and chain lay nestled on a platform of silk.
‘That’s some pretty.’ Ivy had brought the tray of drinks.
‘Alec, you shouldn’t have.’ Polly’s tone was vexed, compromised.
‘Well, I just slipped into Parkin’s to get something for Emilia and there it was. Ah, Ivy, you’re a life-saver, I’m parched.’
A short time later, with Louisa allowed to wear the locket until teatime, and off playing with her dolls now Myrtle the kitten had escaped her overwhelming mothering, Alec tried a smile on Polly. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Polly.’
‘Alec, I’m pleased that your seeing Louisa more often than before is helping you to cope with dear Jenna’s loss, but you must promise me you’ll never do something like that again. You will tell Emilia that you’ve bought the locket for her? Or you’ll put me in an awful position.’
‘Of course I’ll tell Emilia,’ he sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t seem to get to grips with things these days. I’m glad you don’t mind me coming so often. Strange, isn’t it? Emilia finds comfort in taking Will and Tom to play with Libby Bosweld, and I need to come here and see Louisa. I feel… oh, I don’t know, Polly, I just feel… misplaced. I know it’s a strange word, but I feel more than just being at a loss. I hope I help you in some way too, with you losing Julian shortly afterwards.’ His thoughts jolted back to the terrible, precious moments when Jenna had slipped away from him for ever. He blinked on wet eyes.
Polly pressed a hand over his. ‘Alec, you’re more than welcome here, and it does help me having your sympathetic friendship, especially now Ben’s gone away and I’m missing one of my closest companions.’
‘That’s typical of Ben’s selfishness.’
Polly took her hand away. ‘I don’t see it like that, Alec. He was here every minute of every day while Julian was fading away and he stayed with me for as long as Louisa and I needed him. He’s a good friend.’
Alec kept the smirk on his brooding face. ‘But he’s more than that to you, Polly, and he hasn’t even told you where he is. Or have you heard from him at last? He would only tell Tris before he headed off that he needed to get away.’
‘He did need to, desperately. Ben and I had many serious talks and I understood him completely. Things have changed between us. I always knew deep down that our closer relationship wouldn’t last for ever; after all, Ben will want his own family one day and I’d never leave the town for village life. It was hard for me to accept at first but I had to let him go. We’ll always remain friends and he is a doting uncle towards Louisa. You shouldn’t continue being so beastly towards him, Alec. It’s not fair. In fact, it’s cruel.’
‘I’ve offended you.’ He put his drink down. He hadn’t taken a sip of it and probably wouldn’t have done, nor touched the biscuits Ivy had brought. His lack of appetite meant he had lost a lot of weight since Jenna’s death. ‘I think I’d better go.’
‘Alec, you spend a lot of time thinking but it seems to me that it’s often one-sided. Don’t stay away, for Louisa’s sake.’
Polly had her head down and would not meet his gaze. Alec had made cutting remarks about Ben every time he had come here, now he had gone too far. Why all this sympathy for Ben? It wasn’t he who had lost a child. ‘I apologize to you, Polly. I did allow Ben to go to the funeral.’
Polly lifted her regal fair head and met his uncompromising grey gaze. ‘Only because Emilia insisted he should go. She and Ben want to bury the past. They want to move on. Don’t you think it’s time you did too?’
‘We’re all different, Polly. You’re very upset. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘No, Alec. Our talk has made me realize just how lonely I am, that’s all.’ She dropped her eyes once more.
Alec wasn’t sure if she was dismissing him or if she was about to cry. Perhaps he had reopened her grief over Julian. Either way, he had to go, and he knew it was his fault he would leave today even lonelier than when he had arrived. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll come next week, if that’s all right. Say goodbye to Louisa for me.’
He longed to receive an understanding smile, a kind word. Polly only nodded, as if weighed down by sorrow.
He could have followed the tiled path round to the front of the house but went back through the house to the hall, where he had left the particulars of a monumental stonemason; Jenna’s headstone was ready to be put in place. Looking at the folder on the side table he didn’t feel he could bear to pick it up. He leaned his back against the wall and stared ahead, into the drawing room, and saw photographs of Louisa at various ages, some of which he had taken himself. Jenna would have been nearly four months now. He went into the room and searched for a photograph of Louisa at about that age.
Is this how she would have looked if she was still alive? Smaller and not so chubby, of course, but… The image in his hands swam as burning hot tears came. He put the photograph back and wiped his eyes. Polly was there. ‘I can’t stop the pain, Polly. How do I make it go away?’
‘You don’t have to try, Alec. The way I coped with my husband’s death in the war and now with Julian’s is to make it mean something.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘By reaching out from here and not hiding away up here, where you see things all wrong.’ She touched her heart and then her head to illustrate her point.
‘I don’t know if I can change, Polly. Will you help me?’
‘Emilia will do that if you let her.’
‘Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve behaved badly towards you today, but we’re still friends, aren’t we?’
Polly glanced at other photographs dotted about the room in their classy Art Nouveau frames. There was one of Julian and Ben, arms round waists, laughing together. She no longer had Julian at all and Ben was somewhere far away. She gave in to the tears that had been building up in her since becoming cross with Alec. ‘Of course…’
At the same moment their hands reached out to offer c
omfort but they wrapped their arms round each other instead.
Chapter Twelve
Emilia left Ford House through the little brown-painted gate at the bottom of the garden. She had spent nearly half an hour chatting to Perry, weeding the strongly scented roses and Madonna lilies that grew against a sunny wall with him, keeping busy – it was vital to keep busy nowadays.
She had left Will and Tom playing a noisy game of double-dare with Libby. Her dear boys, missing Jonny’s passion for adventure and entertaining leadership, and unable to grasp the swift coming and going of their tiny sister, had been eager to stay behind and have fun with Libby and her puppy, Casper.
Trudging over the coarse sun-baked ground of the adjoining field, Emilia formed a half-hearted smile at the squeals of delight coming from behind her. Perry had joined in with the children. He would have become the Big Bad Wolf or a wicked wizard, the children daring each other to creep up behind his wheeled chair and dodge his quick hands before ending up as his ‘little pig dinner’ or being turned to stone from a tap of his ‘evil-doing’ wand.
She could have willingly stayed in Perry’s undemanding company, when he would have patiently explained to her yet again about Jenna’s condition and why, in her case, she had only had a few weeks to live rather than months or years. He would have reassured her that Jenna’s fate had not been due to anything she had or had not done. He had invited her to drink lemon tea with him and she had been tempted, but Selina was due home soon from some mysterious appointment to put Perry through a physiotherapy session; he had confided that he wasn’t looking forward to it. Selina had been sympathetic too over Jenna, kind even, but Emilia always came under close scrutiny from her nowadays, as if the nursing sister was waiting for her to confide her deepest emotions, but those were private, even from Alec at the moment.
‘I’m not far off mastering the use of an artificial leg again, you know, Emilia,’ Perry had said, with one of his gorgeous smiles when escorting her to the gate. ‘Had one before, hated the thing, got round much easier with crutches. Selina insists that I get used to the new leg. She’s right, of course. It will encourage other ex-servicemen. She got it specially made up for me but it still rubs, and she accuses me of being a coward, says I don’t hold my balance right, hence all these wretched exercises. She can be quite a bully. I do want to keep in good shape, of course. You’ll be seeing me walk with just a stick one day soon, Emilia.’
She told herself now that she was looking forward to seeing his triumph. Perry was such a good man and he deserved all the success that came his way. And she was tentatively looking forward to returning to village life again. She and Alec had recently agreed to a shy suggestion of Elena Rawley’s that the sports day, in a few weeks time, be held as a memorial event to Jenna. Then it felt as if something was clamping her insides in a vice. It was the first time in weeks she had looked forward to anything and she felt guilty, as if it somehow pointed to her deserting Jenna’s memory. The numbness of her grief had worn off, but sometimes her anger over what felt like the meaninglessness of Jenna’s short life frightened her. Would her heart always feel this bruised? Her arms this empty?
Yet a moment ago she had managed a smile. Her moods hopped about out of her control and her mind was in confusion. She couldn’t bring herself to go home yet. She needed peace and solitude.
So into the woods she went, in under the canopy of oak, ash and beech. Her sandals made a listless passage along the light-dappled mossy floor of one wide corridor of her old playground. She hoped none of the village children would be here today for games and make-believe. If she was going to find solace, it would be here among the sorrel, wood anemone, sweet violet and many varieties of fern; near the stream that tinkled a short distance away; and surrounded by the carpets of wild flowers where the hawthorn, hazel and willow had been cut down for sticks and poles, allowing in extra light.
Leaning against the heavily fissured bark of a towering oak, she closed her eyes, but inside her eyelids she could see patterns of light and shadow – the sun sparkling through the leaves overhead. She allowed herself a moment of peace in a magic land, away from painful reality. But only a moment. She wanted her grief more than anything: she wasn’t ready to leave her baby behind yet.
She was so still a wood mouse appeared on a tree root and she was able to trace its runway system from the root to a fallen branch, a hop on to a large stone then along the ridge of a low bank. The wood mouse stopped to nibble on a snack of seeds, small snails and a caterpillar. Such an appealing creature, its tail the same length as its warm-brown and sandy body, its ears large and eyes round. It was sweet and cute, like her Tom, now her baby again. ‘Run away, before a weasel or one of the farm cats gets you,’ she whispered. As if heeding her warning, the wood mouse scurried away.
The sound of voices and laughter intruded on her sanctity and she sighed, annoyed and beleaguered. The trespassers were adults, a male and a female, and their risqué tone suggested they weren’t here to gather wood. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out but also so as not to recognize whose they were. Even so, she thought the male voice belonged to Jim.
Leaving the cooling shade of the trees, she went out once more into the field, moving further on, seeking a new haven on the bank of the stream. She flopped down with her back to the sun, wrapping her bare arms over her raised knees and letting her head fall down on them. Apart from the steady burbling of the water over the stony bed, there was silence. Not a breath of wind stirred the reeds in the water, nor the sweeps of nettle, meadowsweet and buttercups spreading all around her. She became aware of the drone of a hundred species of insect. She didn’t mind this natural sound, or the bleat of a sheep in a nearby field.
Drowsy and mesmerized, she concentrated to conjure up the sound of Jenna’s soft baby cry. And her low gurglings and gentle sighs. When she had her tiny voice captured inside her head, she kept it there and gloried in it. She would never, ever, let it go.
A tender touch was on the back of her neck. ‘Emilia, you must move. You’re getting sunburned.’
‘I don’t care. Go away.’
She refused to lift her head in response to the well-wisher. Why must there always be someone making sure she didn’t spend too much time alone? Why did others believe they knew best how she should mourn? Her mother and father fretted about her daily visits to the nursery, telling her it was time to dismantle the things in there. Tilda talked continually, trying to ‘brighten her up’. Sara only sang songs with a light theme instead of the sorrowful ballads she excelled at. Jim had even stopped being difficult in her presence. Why couldn’t everyone behave normally? It’s what she wanted. After all, it was normal for children to die – the mortality rate from the usual childhood diseases, measles, diphtheria and so on, was still disturbingly high; every churchyard in the country bore witness to that. There was an old saying: ‘You’re not a mother until you’ve lost one.’ Emilia’s musings were so deep she had forgotten someone was there.
A cold, wet cloth suddenly landed on her neck, making her shriek and throw her head up.
‘Sorry, old thing, but I can’t stand by and let you get sunstroke.’
‘Oh, Selina, it’s you. Ouch, I’m burning.’
Selina was kneeling at her side. She skirled her handkerchief again in the cold, soothing stream and began bathing Emilia’s arms. ‘This will help. Then you’d better put my cardy over you to stop you burning any more. Don’t worry. I’m not about to lecture you. I understand, and all that.’
Keeping quiet, Emilia allowed Selina to take care of her.
‘I haven’t lost anyone as close to me as you have, Emilia, but I’m serious about all the roles I undertake as a nurse and I think I do understand what most people undergo in bereavement. You’re going to feel dizzy when you get up. I’ll walk you back to the farm.’
‘Thanks.’ The top of Selina’s dress fell down off her shoulder. From their close proximity, Emilia couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t wearing any underw
ear and there was a vivid red mark on one breast. The sort of mark made from union of the passionate kind. It was Selina she had heard laughing with Jim in the woods. She wished she didn’t know this.
She caught Selina grinning at her. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Making love is a perfectly natural act whether one is married or not.’
‘It’s none of my business really but your choice of partner isn’t a good one for many reasons,’ Emilia said, as Selina helped her to rise. She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of giddiness. With Selina supporting her waist, they began a slow ascent up and across the field behind the farm, picking a path through thistles and dried cowpats.
‘It won’t last for ever. I never keep on with anyone for long.’
‘You don’t intend to settle down and have children then?’
‘No, never, but please don’t think I belittle any woman if it’s what she wants out of life. It’s my choice to live my life to the full.’
‘Ohh, my head’s aching. I was foolish to stay like that for so long. I’ve got a lot to do at home.’
‘Never mind that. You need to drink plenty of water, then take a couple of aspirin and lie down in a darkened room. Have you got some calamine?’
Emilia nodded, grimacing in pain where Selina’s cardigan rubbed her scorched skin.
‘Good. I’ll apply it to your burned areas.’
‘Thanks. The boys are with Libby, I’ll send Sara down to collect them.’
When Emilia’s burns had been soothed and cooled by a liberal wash of calamine lotion, Selina arranged her pillows so there would be no painful contact, then she wrung a cloth soaked in cold water and spread it across her brow. ‘This should help.’
‘I should have stayed talking to Perry.’
‘You get on well with him, don’t you?’
‘He’s the sensitive sort, like my brother-in-law, Tristan. And Perry was the one I turned to, with Reggie Rule, about Jenna, so talking to him helps me to keep connected to her. Selina…?’
