The Linden Walk

SIX

‘Alice! Am I glad to see you!’ Julia called, striding across the grass to the wild garden and the stile Alice was climbing. ‘The place is so quiet. Nathan’s having forty winks – Miss Clitherow, too. And Mary and Tilda have gone to Creesby …’

‘Aye. And Drew off to London, with Keth.’

‘Bill Benson is with them, too. Going on business. They’re all staying at Montpelier Mews, by the way. I asked them to light a fire and open windows – air the place a bit.’

‘Montpelier. Dear Aunt Sutton’s little white house. Do you ever remember, Julia? I mean, do you ever allow yourself to remember?’

‘The time you and I stayed there? The time we went to a Suffragette meeting?’

‘Aye, and got into a fight. And me supposed to be there to chaperon you, yet I turned a blind eye when you slipped out to meet Andrew.’

Should they be talking about Andrew? Alice brooded. Didn’t he belong to the past and wasn’t Julia happy with Nathan, now? She must watch what she said, even though it was years and years ago.

‘Doctor Andrew MacMalcolm. Oh, Alice. Think of Andrew and we are both young again. You were only seventeen and being so bossy about me meeting him. And don’t look so embarrassed. I can think about Andrew, talk about him too, and it doesn’t hurt any more; just makes me glad that I met him and married him, even though the war only let us have ten nights together.’

‘That war was – was obscene, Julia. Try to forget it.’

‘Forget. And I’ve got Nathan, now, bless the lovely man. Newly ordained yet he assisted at our wedding. Blessed Andrew and me, even though he was in love with me himself. Hadn’t realized, he once let slip, that until I told him I had met a young doctor, that he’d been in love with me all his life, practically, and hadn’t known it until it was too late. It’s the same for Drew, now. He can talk about Kitty and accept that she has gone. Not that he’ll ever forget her, of course.’

‘None of us will, Julia. She was the naughtiest of all the Clan. Poor Bas was terrified of his Grandmother Clementina, yet Kitty didn’t care one bit about offending her – said the most awful things.’ She took Julia’s arm. ‘But let’s go in the back way? There’ll be no one in your kitchen and it’s always so snug, there. And we won’t be disturbed. I want to talk to you. Been trying to for a couple of weeks, now.’

‘Sounds interesting. Gossip?’

‘Far from it.’ The warmth of Rowangarth kitchen met them as they opened the door. ‘Wasn’t sure I should mention it, then talking about Kitty did it, I suppose. Shall I put the kettle on?’

‘Please. And what about Kitty?’ Julia settled herself at the table, chin on hands.

‘It’s more about Lyndis. The poor lass is getting herself into a state.’

‘Wedding nerves? But it’s months away.’

‘In a state about Kitty, it seems.’ Alice busied herself setting a tea tray as she had done so often in this kitchen in the past – in another life, it seemed. ‘It was Daisy told me. I’ve been wondering if I should tell you, especially as it should be something between the two of them. Drew and Lyn, I mean. To put not too fine a point on it, Julia. Lyn opened her heart to Daisy and to my way of thinking, it should have been to Drew.’

‘Oh, Lord. She’s not having second thoughts?’

‘Not about loving Drew. As far as I can see, she’s got a thing about Kitty – thinks she’ll never be able to take her place. And you’ve got to admit, Julia, that Kitty is a hard act to follow. She and Drew were besotted.’

‘That war has a lot to answer for, Alice.’

‘Like our war. But you and I managed. Things came right, in the end. And don’t think I haven’t thought long and hard about telling you, because I have. Drew and Lyn’s business, really, but Lyn confided in Daisy. That’s why I think you should know. But we’ll wait till I’ve seen to the tea.’

‘Fine by me.’ Julia dipped into her coat pocket, bringing out cigarettes and lighter. ‘And don’t go on about me smoking. I know I promised Nathan faithfully I would give them up when the war ended …’

‘Then why don’t you? You’ll end up with bronchitis and it’ll be too late, then.’

‘Oh, all right. I’ll give up smoking when Drew is married – will that suit you? And pour us a cuppa, old love, then tell me what’s bothering you.’

Alice repeated the conversation she had had with Daisy, word for word, then said, ‘You can see Lyn’s point of view, can’t you? And I haven’t liked telling you, but it’s far better you and I try to help things along, rather than our Daisy blurting the whole thing out to Drew. I told her to leave it to you and me. It’s a rum do, isn’t it?’

‘Not really. I always thought Drew and Kitty were lovers, and good luck to them, I said. I mean – think of the times I wanted Andrew and me to jump the gun. I was desperate to get married, if only to sleep in his bed! Drew and Kitty only did what I wanted to do.’

‘Couldn’t agree more. But Lyn thinks she’s going to mess up their wedding night; thinks of herself as second best, it seems to me.’

‘So are you going to tell Daisy you’ve told me, Alice?’

‘I think I should. And I’ll tell her that me and you both sympathize with Lyn and we’re on her side. And I’ll tell her to let the matter rest; not to say anything about it unless Lyn brings it up.’

‘Of course. Shall I mention it to Nathan?’

‘Best not. I’m glad I’ve told you, for all that. Lyn’s such a grand lass and very much in love with Drew. And he’s in love with her, an’ all – but maybe differently. Happen she’ll come to see that, in the end.’

‘Yes, but what I’m mystified about, Alice, is Drew setting a date for June of all times. Either he’s forgotten about Kitty – and I know he hasn’t – or he’s decided to meet things head-on and –’

‘And go with the flow, you mean, because haven’t we all said that June is such a lovely month for a Rowangarth wedding? Said it often, and it is. Even the white orchids will be flowering and June is the time for marquees on the lawn and, oh, everything. Trouble is, we none of us thought.’

‘You’re right, of course. It’s the one thing I can’t stand about you, Alice Dwerryhouse. You usually are! And I suppose May would be just as nice a month as June – if Willis can bring the white orchids forward in time. I suppose, with Jack Catchpole to help him, he should be able to produce enough for a bouquet.’

‘A bouquet? But there’s a bouquet of orchids goes on Kitty’s grave every eighteenth of June – and will do, an’ all, as long as Jack Catchpole draws breath. Happen now might be the time to break with tradition. Maybe Lyn would like to carry roses. There’ll be enough of them about, in May.’

‘I see what you mean, but it would be so wonderful if the tradition could be kept up, though I suppose it wouldn’t do to make a fuss and bother about it. Not really. I’m just thankful the two of them are getting married. Wouldn’t care if they had a quiet wedding like Tatty and Bill. I just want Drew to be happy again, that’s all. Lyn is such a capable girl, really. Apart from Kitty, I can’t think of anyone better to look after Rowangarth when Nathan and I leave. And I’ve done it again, haven’t I? “Next to Kitty,” I as good as said. Y’know, we must be extra nice to Lyndis next weekend when she comes to visit. Wish she were on the phone. There’s nothing I’d like more, right now, than to give her a ring and have a good old chat. Pity there’s a waiting list for phones, too. You’d have thought, after all this time, that things would have got back to normal!’

‘Well, at least the war is over, Julia love. At least we can look forward to things getting better. We’ve got a lovely twelve months ahead. Tatty’s wedding and Bas and Gracie’s baby. And them coming over to have Nathan christen it. And then the wedding …’

‘Yes. Whenever it is, and whatever date they fix, Drew’s wedding is something I’ve lived a long time to see, Alice. And they’ll surely have children. Lyn did say that she didn’t care how soon.’

And hope and pray, Julia thought soberly, that nothing goes wrong; that Lyn accepts what is past and looks to the future. In time, she was sure Lyn would. Maybe when she held her first baby in her arms it would happen. Maybe when she gave a son to Rowangarth, or a lovely little fair-haired daughter. Or one with chestnut hair!

‘And share the joke, will you?’ Alice demanded. ‘You were grinning like the Cheshire cat.’

‘Was I? Then if you must know, I was thinking about a granddaughter with hair the colour of Lyn’s. Now wouldn’t that be just something?’

And Alice agreed that it would. Really, really something!

‘I love my daughter to bits, but it’s so nice to have a mother and mother-in-law close at hand to baby-sit.’

Daisy sat on the hearthrug, her arms on Keth’s spread-eagled knees, toes curling from the heat of the fire.

‘And it’s nice to be home from London,’ Bill Benson grinned. ‘Last time I saw it, I was blind – if you get what I mean.’

‘Y’know, I’d never thought of that, sweetheart – that when you were in London you couldn’t see anything, I mean. Did it live up to your expectations, now you’ve had a look at it?’ Tatiana wanted to know.

‘I’d prefer Glasgow. Folk’ll give you a smile, there, and the time of day. But I liked the wee house fine.’

‘Aunt Sutton’s house in Montpelier Mews? It’s a snug, tucked-away little place. When I was tiny, there was a lovely lady called Sparrow used to caretake it for Mother.’ Drew had been fond of Sparrow.

‘She looked after me and Kitty,’ Tatiana smiled, ‘when we lived there during the war. She wasn’t half bossy, but we adored her. I remember –’

She stopped, looking down at her hands. What she remembered should not be talked about in front of Lyn – or Drew, for that matter – but she and Kitty had been very happy being bossed about by Sparrow. Until the flying bomb, that was.

‘Go on, Tatty – what do you remember?’ Keth unthinking urged.

‘Oh – we-e-ll – I – I suppose it was when the siren used to go,’ Tatiana said, disliking herself for not being more careful. ‘That house had once been a stable, belonging to one of the big houses in the Square. Then, when cars became all the rage, stables were made into garages.

‘Aunt Sutton’s house still had the inspection pit. No one had bothered to fill it in when the garage was made into a house. Sparrow made a shelter out of it. A bit of a squash, but we survived. There was a searchlight and an ack-ack gun in the park nearby, and when the searchlight lit up we all got into the pit. Mind, we were very near Hyde Park. The bombing wasn’t so bad, there. Not like they got it in the East End and oh, damn, damn, damn!’

She covered her face with her hands. What had she said! They had been in Hyde Park the day the flying bomb dropped. Kitty had crossed the road to post a letter to Drew.

‘Look – I’m sorry. It was just that – Oh, dammit, I didn’t think. Me and my big mouth. Sorry, Drew. Sorry, Lyn.’

‘That’s all right,’ Lyn said so softly that her words came in a whisper. ‘It was a terrible thing to have happened. Daisy and I were lucky, in Liverpool. It could have been either of us. And I’ve just had the most marvellous idea,’ she rushed on without stopping to draw breath. ‘We can’t go abroad for our honeymoon, so why don’t we stay at Montpelier Mews? Would your mother let us, Drew? Tucked away, you said …’

‘Darling. What a good idea.’ Drew reached for Lyn’s hand, holding it tightly, sensing her distress. ‘Why didn’t I think of it?’

‘Lyn, you’ll love it! But let’s not get on the subject of honeymoons!’ Knowing what she did, Daisy was eager to talk about something else. ‘Now that we’re all together, I wouldn’t mind hearing about the Motor Show. All I could get out of Keth was that the three of you had a good time out on the loose in London!’

‘Well, I had a great time,’ Bill enthused. ‘Not only did an agent take me on his list, but the show was fine, an’ all. New models, all sleek and shiny. There was a little job; a Morris Minor. Jeez, I’d have killed for one of those. Trouble is, I can’t drive.’

Which made them all laugh and the tension in the room to ease, and Tatty, desperate to make amends, said, ‘Why don’t we have a cup of tea and a piece of cake? I stood in a queue for ages in Creesby, this morning, but I got a cream cake. Cream, would you believe!’

So everyone said cream cake would be just marvellous, because they all knew things had got a bit dicey for a while, and each of them thought, as Tatty hurried to the kitchen, that Lyn had taken it pretty well, all things considered.

And they wondered, too, if ever the time would come when they could think about Kitty and speak about Kitty, and not feel disloyal to Drew. And to Lyn, as well, for that matter …

Daisy and Keth had left Denniston House early, because of Mary’s ten o’clock feed, and as Drew and Lyn walked back to Foxgloves alone, Drew said, ‘You’re quiet, darling. Tired? Sure all this coming and going between here and Wales isn’t getting a bit much for you?’

‘N-no. Of course it isn’t. I’m fine. Just fine.’

‘Then is it about Montpelier Mews? Have you changed your mind about us going there, in June? Something is wrong, Lyn, I know it.’

‘Look, Drew – Montpelier is fine. If you must know, it’s June that isn’t. I’m sorry, but June seems to be an anniversary month, sort of. The month you and Kitty should have been married. The month she was killed. And white orchids on her grave, always, in June. I – I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can cope with it. Not then. Some other time. July, perhaps …?’

Her voice trailed off in a trembling whisper.

‘Sweetheart.’ He gathered her into his arms. ‘Why didn’t you say something? How long have you been bottling it up?’

‘Don’t know. Since the night I tricked you into marrying me, I suppose.’

‘Tricked, Lyn? What are you talking about? I asked you to marry me.’

‘All right. So you did. But only after I made a fuss, yelled like a hoyden at those damned rooks, put the words into your mouth, practically.’

‘Lyndis Carmichael – what am I to do with you?’ He tilted her chin, kissing her gently. ‘Didn’t I tell you that I thought you were a career girl, had bought your own home and was happy with your life the way it was? I hadn’t the gumption to realize, I suppose, that you might still care for me like once you did. I thought, you see, that you hadn’t minded at all when Kitty and I got engaged. Not till you told me not so long ago that you’d sat on the stairs in the Wrennery, and cried your heart out. I want us to be married, Lyn. I want you and me to live in Rowangarth and bring up our kids there. Hand on heart, I do.’

‘And I want to marry you, Drew, but please not in June? It’s the best month for weddings I know, but the war is over now, and we can pick and choose when we marry.’

‘So when would you like it to be, darling? Do you want a quiet wedding, like Tatty and Bill are having? Shall it be at Christmas, too, in the Lady Chapel? I don’t care at all where or when. I just want us to be married.’

‘Christmas?’ She gave a shaky laugh and he felt the tenseness in her lessen a little. ‘Not Christmas, cariad. I haven’t got around to telling you, but Auntie Blod and my father would like to come to Wales for Christmas.’

‘Auntie Blod? When are you going to call her Mother, Lyn?’

‘Never, I suppose. And it doesn’t matter what I call her as long as I know she’s my real mother. But what do you think about them coming for Christmas? I think Auntie Blod is getting homesick for Wales. Wants to see the little cottage again, she says. I really think, though, that she wants to meet your folks, and see Rowangarth and talk about the wedding. I don’t think I’d like it, either, if my daughter was getting married and I was stuck miles and miles away. And I miss her, Drew. I want her to be with me, when we get married.’

‘Of course you do. Seems to me that neither of us has got used to the idea of being married. It did happen a bit – sort of quickly.’

‘I can’t argue with you on that point.’

‘So let’s take a deep breath, and think things out?’

‘Come down off our pink cloud, you mean?’

‘Not if you don’t want to. Pink clouds are fine by me. But let’s suggest your folks spend Christmas at Rowangarth? Mother would be in high old delight with all the wedding talk. And let’s you and me settle now – right now, here on this spot – when you’d like us to be married.’

‘All right. I’d like us to be married in April, like Daisy was. That suit you, Drew?’

‘If it can’t be soon, like Christmas in the Lady Chapel, then April sounds a good month to me. Agreed, then?’

‘Agreed. And we’ll fix a date when I’ve had a peek in my diary.’

‘The date. Of course. Very important. Now, shall we kiss on it and shall I take you back to Foxgloves? With a bit of luck Keth and Daisy might still be up and we can tell them the news.’

‘They’d better be up. I haven’t got a key!’

So laughing, and hand in hand, they ran as quickly as they could in the darkness to Foxgloves with the news.

November, and the government, in its magnanimity, lifted control on the manufacture of cutlery, fountain pens and jewellery. A small step towards normality, some said, but wouldn’t it have been better by far if food rationing had been done away with, or at least the present miserable rations doubled.

In that month, too, a son was born to Princess Elizabeth, and if you wanted to put not too fine a point on it, another infant to help swell the baby boom, because that was what the amazingly large number of babies being born in the United Kingdom was called.

But by far the most startling event, and the most startled teacher of mathematics ever, was the arrival home of Keth Purvis on the last Friday in November – he would never forget the day – to find the path at the side of his house blocked by a car, which gleamed in his headlights and was shiny black and very new.

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’

He got out of his own much less shiny motor and walked around the intruder, squinting inside to see gleaming upholstery – it couldn’t be leather, surely? And the thing, as far as he could see, had key ignition, indicator lights that flashed left and right and heaven only knew what else.

The back door opened and Daisy stepped out with Mary, swaddled in a shawl, in her arms.

‘Happy birthday, darling.’ She took his hand, wrapping his fingers around a small key.

‘My birthday is in July,’ Keth said, dry-mouthed. ‘You know it is.’

‘Well then – Happy Christmas! You do like it? It’s a Morris Minor, the new model.’

‘Like it? Daisy Purvis, I don’t know what to say. I mean, where did you get it? How did you get it? I don’t believe it!’

‘Then you better had, because it’s yours. And I got it from Creesby Motors by writing out a cheque.’

‘But wife darling, what was the magic word, for heaven’s sake!’

‘The magic word was Purvis. I went to see them just before you and Drew went to London, and the man said there was no chance at all. Three new cars was all he’d ever had and they were gone straight away. So I asked him if he would put your name on his waiting list. And when I said Purvis, Mr Keth Purvis, he asked me if you were the schoolie who taught his boy maths at Creesby Grammar. And I said you were.

‘“Then in that case, Mrs Purvis, your husband has a fair old chance of getting one of the next new motors I get in,” he said. You see, darling, it seems his son is a bright enough lad, but had a mental blockage when it came to maths. Was making the boy’s life a misery. Then you started teaching there and his son came on in leaps and bounds, and all because of you. “Good at sums he is now,” I was told.’

‘It gets queerer by the minute,’ Keth laughed. ‘The boy isn’t called Colin Chambers, is he?’

‘Our Colin? Sounds like him.’

‘But Daisy love, schoolteachers – schoolies – don’t have the kind of money to buy new cars. At least, this one doesn’t.’

‘So are we going to get onto The Money subject?’

‘No, darling. No, of course not. But –’

‘No buts. Either you like it as much as I do, or it can go back to Creesby Motors. Keth – just think? When the better weather comes, you’ll be able to take your mother to Hampshire. She’s never seen your dad’s grave since we left there; only the photograph we took of it when we were on our honeymoon.’

‘But petrol is rationed. How am I to get to Hampshire and back?’

Keth was laughing, now. With disbelief Daisy supposed, but laughing, for all that.

‘The nice man threw in a full tank of off-the-ration petrol. In gratitude it must have been.’

‘Daisy Purvis!’ He kissed her soundly. ‘You are a witch! Mary Natasha Purvis, your mother is a witch!’

‘Mm. Mummy’s got a magic name,’ Daisy laughed. ‘And Mary is getting hungry. Go on, then. Open it! Get inside!’

‘I love you,’ Keth whispered, but already the kitchen door had banged behind her.

He ran his hand over the shiny, slippery bodywork, then said again, ‘I’ll be damned.’

His hand shook as he pushed the key in the lock, then he sat in the unfamiliar seat, sniffing the newness smell, wondering how any one man could be so lucky. And not just car-lucky. Lucky to survive the war, to get out of France. Lucky to have Daisy and Mary Natasha. And of course he would take his mother to West Welby to see his father’s grave. Hampshire was a long way away, but somehow he would get petrol; on the black market, if he had to. But he would take her there, stay overnight, make a real outing of it – if you could call a visit to a grave an outing.

He ran his hands round the steering wheel, then wiggled the gear lever. Tomorrow, he would take it on the road. He wondered what the boys at school would say on Monday when Sir arrived in a brand-new car; wondered what Drew and Bill would say. Drew would know whose money had paid for it; Bill would not. The Money. Daisy’s secret.

And there was another grave he would visit. He had thought to do it for a long time; now it had become a must. He must go to France, to Clissy-sur-Mer and find the grave of a sixteen-year-old girl – if she’d been given a decent burial, that was. But at least he would go to Tante Clara’s house, perhaps see the lilies in the back garden, ask at the bread shop for news of Madame Piccard and a girl called Hannah Kominski who had become Elise Josef on a forged passport. Codename Natasha. He had called his daughter for her and for the people in Clissy-sur-Mer who had died so he could get a package back to the stone house, in deepest Argyll. He drew in his breath, tapping his forefingers on the wheel, remembering Castle McLeish and a submarine – the Selene. And a tipsy-winged plane called a Lysander that flew him and the package to safety, the night Natasha died. Daisy knew little about France. He had not been able to tell her. Signing the Official Secrets Act made sure he did not.

‘Why Natasha?’ she asked when he had chosen it as Mary’s second name, and all he had been able to tell her was that it belonged to a sixteen-year-old girl who had died.

Well, he was going to France just as soon as the government lifted the ban on travel abroad, and if it meant telling Daisy every single word of what happened there, then he would and damn the trouble he might get himself into. Daisy would understand, once she knew. Knowing her as he did, she would insist that he make the sentimental journey that would help ease his conscience. When a man was as lucky as Keth Purvis, it was the only way he could tip his cap to Fate, and ask that he might be allowed to keep what was so precious to him. Nothing to do with the car. The car had only brought things to a head. Too much luck. He had to make amends.

He got out of the car, locked it, then opened the kitchen door. Daisy was sitting there, Mary at her breast. It was a sight he never tired of because it made Daisy even more beautiful. She looked up, and smiled.

‘All right, now? Got over the shock?’