Death is a Word

by Hazel Holt

  ‘Which she was very good at.’

  ‘Very good. And I suppose they drifted apart.’

  ‘I don’t think I could have done that,’ I said thoughtfully.

  ‘I certainly couldn’t,’ Rosemary said. ‘But Eva was the sort of person who could detach herself from situations. You remember how she was, all those years ago, when Lassie, her beautiful collie, was run over? You and I would have been in floods, but she just accepted it, and we all knew how absolutely devoted she was to that dog.’

  ‘I suppose it’s good to be like that. I mean, I’m sure she grieved as much as we would, but she was able to focus on other things. If you think about it, she was like that when Alan died.’

  ‘True. With Daniel she recognised how things were and simply got on with her life as he was getting on with his. It didn’t mean she loved him any less.’

  ‘I suppose that’s how she coped with Alan’s job,’ I said. ‘All the being away and the danger.’

  ‘You’re probably right. But,’ she went on firmly, ‘it wouldn’t do for me.’

  I’d had a tiring afternoon’s shopping in Taunton. Tiring and frustrating. I’d set out, not without hope, to buy a brown corduroy skirt. I should have known better. Plenty of brown skirts, also a few corduroy skirts, but never, of course, that particular combination. I should have learnt from experience. A few years ago I wanted a red skirt. But, though I persevered for several months, there was never one of the right size, shape or shade of red (you’d be surprised how many shades of red there are). Eventually, when I had given up, I found it – perfect in every way. Exactly what I’d been looking for. But, by then, I felt I’d actually had a red skirt. So I didn’t buy it. Exhausted by my fruitless search, I came to rest in rather a nice tea shop that had just opened and comforted myself with a pot of tea and a large piece of coffee and walnut cake.

  I’d just settled down to enjoy it when I saw Maurice Shelby holding a tray and looking about him for an empty table. The tea room was quite small and now very crowded. His eye lighted on me and he made his way towards me.

  ‘May I join you?’ he asked very formally.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, though my heart rather sank at the thought of having to make conversation with him.

  ‘It does get very busy in here,’ I said. ‘I suppose it’s because it’s only just opened and people want to see what it’s like.’

  He nodded gravely, removed his plate and tea things from the tray, found nowhere to put it and replaced them.

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘there’s never anywhere to put the trays.’

  He nodded again and poured himself a cup of what looked like Earl Grey tea (no milk).

  ‘Still,’ I said, ‘the cakes are delicious.’ I looked at his modest teacake and felt, as I frequently do with Maurice Shelby, inadequate.

  ‘I must say,’ he said with a smile, ‘your cake looks much more inviting than this.’

  Encouraged by the smile I said, ‘I’ve had a very frustrating afternoon so this is comfort eating.’

  ‘I suppose this,’ he poked the teacake with his fork ‘is my version of the same thing, but rather inadequate for the purpose.’

  ‘Have you had a frustrating afternoon too?’

  ‘Frustrating might be an extreme way of describing it – let us say tiresome.’

  Since there was no way I could enquire further, I concentrated on my cake.

  ‘I was so very sorry to hear of the death of your friend,’ he said. ‘I would have spoken to you about it sooner but, as you know, such things are not easy to speak about at Brunswick Lodge.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘I was a great admirer of her husband’s work; he seemed to me a remarkable man, and she must have been remarkable too, to have lived with that kind of uncertainty.’

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  ‘I did not know she had a son. It must have been very hard for her to bring him up knowing that his father was in constant danger.’

  ‘Daniel was a very self-contained boy,’ I said. ‘Very old for his age. I think he knew and accepted the situation in a mature way.’

  ‘Remarkable. And now his mother has gone too, and so tragically. Does he have any other family?’

  ‘Not close family. Rosemary is his nearest relation and she’s some sort of cousin many times removed.’

  ‘Very sad.’

  ‘It’s strange,’ I said. ‘Since Eva’s gone, he’s suddenly shown an interest in the family – previous generations, that is. Eva had started to look things up on the Internet and I think he’s going to carry on where she left off.’

  ‘Really?’

  I poured myself another cup of tea. ‘I believe you are interested in tracing your family too. Alison did mention it,’ I added, in case he thought I was just prying.

  ‘Yes, indeed. I have always had an interest in genealogy over the years. I wish I had time to pursue it further.’

  ‘It’s become so popular nowadays. I suppose because it’s so much easier with the Internet and you no longer have to go around looking at church registers.’

  ‘Church registers can be most illuminating,’ he said, ‘and, when you actually handle them, you have the feeling of being in touch with the past in a way that simply looking up facts on a computer can never give you.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said, surprised at this very human attitude in someone I’d always regarded as lacking this quality. Though, to be fair, I’d hardly ever had any conversation with him and regarded him simply as an adjunct to his tiresome wife. ‘Like when you actually put your hand on a really ancient stone pillar,’ I said, ‘and can feel the hands that have touched it before you. Years ago, before they fenced it off so you can’t get anywhere near it, I used to stop at Stonehenge whenever we were driving up to London – before the motorway when you had to go the long way round. I used to touch the stones to feel the connection. I suppose I shouldn’t have done that,’ I added hastily. ‘If everyone had done it …’

  ‘It’s turned into a theme park now,’ he said. ‘The mystery and the magic have gone. I’m glad you had a chance to see it properly.’

  He finished the last of his teacake. ‘I must return to the office; I don’t normally go out in the middle of the afternoon, but it has been a difficult day.’ He got up. ‘Thank you for your company and your conversation.’ He inclined his head in a sort of salute and departed.

  For a while I sat there, my tea going cold, thinking, tritely, that first impressions can be wrong.

  ‘He was quite human,’ I said to Rosemary, ‘actually conversable. I was really surprised.’

  ‘He was probably glad of a little rational conversation after living with that wife of his.’

  ‘I suppose that now his daughters have left home it must be a bit tedious for him. I can’t think why he married her!’

  ‘Mother said that she had money and that always helps.’

  ‘Yes, of course, he’s on his own, isn’t he, now his partner has gone. I’m surprised he never merged with a larger firm, Michael said it’s quite a good practice. A lot of work with wills and trusts. People who like an old-fashioned set-up, not all this timed interviews and such.’

  ‘Well, good luck to him – everything’s too high-powered for me nowadays. Which reminds me, Mother’s decided there’s something wrong with her glasses – I don’t think there is, she’s only had them for a short while – so I have to take her to see Mr Melhuish. Fortunately he’s used to her after all these years so he takes it all in his stride.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘that was where she first met Donald Webster, wasn’t it? Does she still see him?’

  ‘Not so often since Eva died. I don’t think he goes anywhere much now. It’s very sad. He seems to have retreated inside himself.’

  ‘I suppose it’s not surprising; after all he wanted to marry her.’

  ‘True. Still, Mother doesn’t miss him that much now she’s so occupied with Dan and Patrick.’

  ‘P
atrick as well?’

  ‘Mostly Dan, but Patrick sometimes goes along too. I think Mother’s rather intrigued about him – she’s never met anyone so self-contained before.’

  ‘What does he think about Daniel’s preoccupation with all the family stuff?’

  ‘He encourages it; even helps a bit with the genealogy search – Dan’s not much good with the Internet.’

  ‘I can imagine. Have they got very far yet?’

  ‘Dan’s not bothering with all that while he’s been going over all those photos and stuff with Mother. It’s really been so good for her. Of course she was upset over Eva, and she’d got a bit down. Having Dan around seems to have given her a new lease of life, thank goodness.’

  ‘I think it’s done a lot for him as well.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that too.’

  ‘Going back to Donald,’ I said, after a moment. ‘I’m a bit concerned about him. I suppose it’s not surprising that he’s withdrawn. After all, he’s got no one to talk to about Eva. I think, just for a start, I might invite him to supper. That is, if you and Jack will come too.’

  ‘You don’t think that might be a bit embarrassing for him? I mean, I wasn’t very friendly to him while he was seeing Eva.’

  ‘No, I think he’d like it if you were there. And if Jack comes too there can be general conversation, not just talking about her. It’s just a way of breaking the ice, as it were.’

  ‘Well, if you think it’ll be all right, let me know when you want us.’

  ‘The sooner the better, really. I don’t like to think of him shut away and grieving.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Actually, it all went off very well. I think Donald was glad to be with other people again and he was obviously trying to be his old sociable self. We did talk about Eva, but in a general way and not for too long. Fortunately Jack and Donald got on very well, in fact by the end of the evening they’d arranged a date to play golf together.

  ‘Many thanks to you both,’ I said to Rosemary. ‘It went off very well and I do think it helped Donald.’

  ‘Jack certainly took to him – he’s very choosy who he plays golf with!’

  ‘Oh, that was really splendid; I was so grateful.’

  ‘Well, he’s quite an interesting person when you get to know him,’ Rosemary said. ‘I can see now how he and Eva would have got along. I just wish it could have happened.’

  I was glad to think that I’d managed to help Donald, even if it was only marginally. Time may be a great healer, but, as I knew myself, it was a slow process.

  After that evening I was suddenly very busy. Michael had to go up to London for some legal business and suggested that Thea should go with him for a little break. So Alice came to stay with me. Which was lovely, but I’d forgotten how much there is to do for the young. Back and forth to school, back and forth to the many out-of-school activities, back and forth to birthday parties, homework to supervise, and meals to be ready at specific times, not just when I felt like getting them.

  ‘And,’ I said to Maureen when I explained that I couldn’t possibly go to a committee meeting at Brunswick Lodge, ‘I have a review I promised for next week and I haven’t even had time to read the book yet. So apologies for absence, please.’

  I was trying to persuade Alice to have a second piece of toast (she’s just at the age when girls don’t think breakfast is cool) when the phone rang. It was Rosemary. At first I could hardly make out what she was saying, she was so incoherent. Eventually she calmed down a little.

  ‘It’s so terrible, I can’t think straight. Oh, Sheila, it’s dreadful.’

  ‘Rosemary, what’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s Daniel – he’s dead!’

  ‘What? What do you mean, dead?’

  ‘Knocked down by a car.’ She was overcome and sobbing now.

  ‘Is Jack there?’

  ‘He’s gone to help Patrick – he wouldn’t let me go …’

  ‘Look, hold on. I’ll be right over – at least – I have to take Alice to school but I’ll come straight on from there. Oh, Rosemary, I’m so sorry. Hold on!’

  I hustled Alice into the car, ignoring her protests that she’d be frightfully early, dropped her off at school and drove to Rosemary. She was still tearful but more herself.

  ‘I still can’t take it in.’ She was trembling and I put my arms around her and we sat quietly for a while.

  ‘A cup of tea?’ I asked. ‘Or something stronger?’

  ‘Tea, please.’

  When I got back with the tray she was calmer.

  ‘When did it happen?’

  She shook her head as if to clear it.

  ‘This morning, very early. He went out running – he’d been doing that every day. When he didn’t come back Patrick went to look for him and when he found him …’

  ‘How horrible.’

  ‘Patrick called an ambulance, but they said he was – he was dead.’

  ‘The driver didn’t stop?’

  ‘No, they had to call the police. Oh, Sheila, it’s so awful – how could anyone!’

  ‘That’s unspeakable!’

  Rosemary sat in silent misery and there seemed nothing I could say so I poured the tea and persuaded her to drink a little of it.

  Quite soon Jack came back. ‘Rosie, are you all right – thank you for coming, Sheila – I hated to leave you.’ Rosemary nodded and Jack went on. ‘The police came and they’re looking for tyre marks and doing what they have to do.’ He put his arm around her. ‘They’ll get the bastard – there’s a lot they can do now. They’ll get him all right.’

  ‘What time did Daniel go out,’ I asked. ‘I mean, was it properly light?’

  ‘It was light and not foggy – there’s no excuse,’ Jack said fiercely. ‘Someone coming back from a night out – drunk, probably.’

  ‘How’s Patrick?’ I asked.

  ‘Shaken, of course, but calm and practical – like he always is. I couldn’t have coped like he did.’ He turned to Rosemary. ‘Do you want me to tell your mother?’

  She sighed. ‘No, I’ll do it – but not just yet.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ I asked helplessly. ‘Get you both some breakfast, anything?’

  ‘No, really,’ Rosemary said. ‘We’re all right. I’ll phone you later on when we know a bit more.’

  I left them sitting together in silence.

  When I got home I couldn’t settle to anything. I did some housework, cooked food for the animals, prepared supper for Alice and me. I was glad Michael and Thea would be back the next day – I wanted to be free to do anything I could for Rosemary. Finally, at lunchtime, I sat down with a sandwich and took in the full reality of what had happened. First Alan, then Eva, and now Daniel – a succession of terrible things happening within such a short space of time. Alan’s death was, of course, natural, but both Eva and Daniel had died because of cruel accidents – well, Daniel’s death wasn’t an accident, but there seemed no chance of ever finding the person responsible. It was so unfair. Life was unfair. But still … I sat for a long time, in the kind of numb state where you don’t really think of anything, don’t even feel anything. You just sit, simply existing. I was roused by the sound of the phone. I leapt to my feet expecting Rosemary, but it was a cold-caller asking me if I’d recently had an accident and like to claim compensation. I threw away the uneaten sandwich and went to collect Alice from school. I didn’t hear anything from Rosemary and I was glad to have Alice to look after. I told her about Daniel, as simply as I could and, fortunately, she took it very well. Before supper we took Tris for a walk high up on West Hill, and as I looked down at the late, thin sunlight glistening on the sea below I found a sort of peace.

  I didn’t see much of Rosemary for the next few days. She spent a lot of time with Patrick, arranging the funeral, and it seemed to help her.

  ‘It’s good to have something I can do,’ she said when she phoned me briefly. ‘Patrick’s been amazing. Not just over the funeral, but wit
h Mother.’

  ‘How is she?’ I asked. ‘It must have been a dreadful blow – she’d become so fond of him.’

  ‘She was dreadfully upset. Really quite ill. If it hadn’t been for Patrick … He’s spent every minute he could spare from making all the arrangements with her. I was so grateful, especially when he must be feeling so devastated himself.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Calm, as you’d expect, not showing any sort of emotion, but just getting on with things, as efficient as ever.’

  ‘What will he do? After, I mean. Has he said anything?’

  ‘No, and, of course, I haven’t asked.’

  ‘Have you heard anything from the police?’

  ‘Nothing, really. They just said that they were continuing to make enquiries. Apparently, because there hadn’t been any rain for quite a while, there weren’t useable tyre marks and, at that time in the morning there weren’t people about, especially along that lane, which is very quiet anyway.’

  ‘They’ll find something,’ I said without much hope.

  ‘Even if they do,’ Rosemary said sadly, ‘it won’t bring him back.’

  There weren’t many people at the funeral, just the family and some of Rosemary’s friends. Donald was there and I was pleased to see a few from Brunswick Lodge. As we stood by the newly dug grave, it seemed almost unbearably poignant to think how very recently we had stood at Eva’s nearby. It was painful to see Mrs Dudley supported by Patrick, as she had been supported by Daniel not so long ago. There was no formal gathering afterwards and people slipped quietly away, leaving the family to say their last goodbyes alone. After the funeral, Jack took Rosemary away for a few days and when they returned we all tried to get on with things as best we could.

  I was in the library looking aimlessly at the display of DVDs that seemed, with the computers, to be taking over from the books, when a familiar voice behind me said, ‘Is there anything any good?’

  It was Inspector Morris, Bob Morris, who I’d known as a little boy and who used to come with his father to work in my garden.