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CHAPTER SEVENThe Long Hot
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Moss Roses
Dating back to the 1700s, these roses have a mossy growth on their buds and stems which enhances the fragrance of the petals with resinous undertones of moss, pine, and balsam. Notable varieties include Madame Alboni, with large violet-pink curling petals which pale with age; Rene d’Anjou, with its copper-tinted leaves, soft pink flowers, and a memorable sweet fragrance; and William Lobb, a dark-purple rose which fades to a picturesque lavender with a deep rose scent.
It’s nearly six o’clock in the morning by the time we get back from the hospital. Bertie and Celia came with me, and sat holding my hand, while Eddie stayed with the boys. The ambulance didn’t have the siren on when it arrived, so the boys didn’t wake up, thank God, and by the looks of it, they’re still asleep. But Ivy and Dennis must have spotted all the commotion, since they’re both standing by the front door, looking worried.
Ivy walks towards the car, which Celia has parked as close to the house as she can get without actually driving up the front steps.
“Well I never. Just look at the state of you.”
She bursts into tears and lifts her pinny up to dab at her face.
“Oh Ivy, it’s not that bad.”
“Just ignore me. It’s the shock of seeing you all bandaged up, and what on earth you were doing making cakes in the middle of the night is anybody’s guess. Couldn’t it have waited until the morning?”
“They’re for the boys, for their class picnics today at school.”
“Well that’s as may be, but now look at you, and I’d have made them, you know that. What on earth your mother’s going to say I can’t imagine, but I hope you’ll tell her I would have made them for you, you only had to ask. The Lord knows how we’re going to get you upstairs.”
Dennis tuts.
“Leave the poor girl alone and let’s get her indoors and sat on the sofa, and then we can come up with a proper plan. Here, take my arm love, and me and Eddie will help you in.”
“I’ve got crutches; I just need to work out how to get out of the car. Getting in was tricky enough.”
“You take your time. Eddie, you stay here, and everyone else can go indoors and give her a bit of peace. You too, Mr. Bertie. You look completely done in.”
“Not one of my better evenings I’ll agree, but all’s well that ends well. Brave girl, hardly a peep out of her when they did the stitches. Had to have a great big injection too. Wish I hadn’t watched now, but someone needed to keep an eye on them. Come on Ivy, people will be wanting a bit of breakfast and a cup of something hot, I shouldn’t wonder.”
She nods and takes Bertie’s arm.
“You come with me Mr. Bertie, and tell me all about it. Must have been a terrible shock for you.”
“Yes, it was, but at least I managed not to burst into tears. And stop patting my arm woman, I’m not the invalid.”
Celia smiles and heads after them.
“Edward, do be careful, don’t rush her.”
Dennis tuts.
“Thought we’d never get rid of them all fussing about. Right, ready to try to stand now love? I’ll stand here and Eddie will be the other side of the door, so you just shuffle along and we’ll lift you out of the car—how does that sound?”
I shuffle, and put my feet on the floor, or rather one foot and one plaster cast.
“I’ve hurt my shoulder too Dennis. Pulled a ligament or something they think, so I’m not sure trying to lift me is such a good idea.”
“Oh, well that makes things a bit trickier. Let’s think a minute.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re getting cold. Just stay still.”
Eddie opens the car door, and before I know it, he’s lifting me out of the car.
“Eddie, please, I’m just—”
“Do be quiet. And try not to move, or I’ll drop you, and then we’ll have to go back to the hospital.”
Crikey.
Dennis runs ahead and opens the front door as wide as it will go, and the double doors to the drawing room, and Eddie deposits me on the sofa.
Bertie is clearly impressed.
“Well done my boy. Excellent.”
“Yes, thank you Eddie.”
He’s blushing now.
“Yes, well done Edward. Molly, should we call your mother now, do you think?”
“Let’s leave it a bit longer Celia. It’s still very early, and she’ll only fuss.”
Bertie puts his hand on my shoulder very gently.
“Fair enough, although a word to the wise: I’d stand by for a fair bit of fussing over the next few weeks if I were you. Might as well resign yourself to it and enjoy it. Don’t see you’ve got much choice. Only problem I can see is how long it will take Ivy and your mother to come to blows over who’s in charge. You won’t get a look in, Celia. And neither will you, my dear.”
“Oh God.”
“I’d take a few more of your pills if I were you, and brace yourself.”
Oh God.
“Darling, I’ve brought treats. How are you?”
“I’m fine Lola, until the drugs wear off. The ankle’s not too bad. They said it’s only a hairline fracture.”
“How long will you be in plaster?”
“Four weeks, they think, but that’s not the tricky bit. I’ve got seven stitches in my right arm and I’ve wrenched my left shoulder, so I can’t even get my PJs on by myself. Mum and Ivy are taking it in turns to dress me.”
“Your mum told me about that, so I’ve brought you some white cotton nightdresses, with buttons all the way down the front—very Victorian chambermaid.”
“They sound perfect, thank you Lola.”
“My pleasure darling. How did you manage to get a black eye?”
“God knows, but Mum and Ivy might be getting one too if they don’t calm down—they’re driving me crazy.”
“I’ve brought vodka. I thought we could have it with lots of ice. Ice is meant to be good for swollen things, isn’t it?”
“Not usually in vodka. I’d give it a go, only I’m not meant to drink with the tablets they gave me.”
“Now that is truly tragic.”
“Tell me about it. They won’t even let me get out of bed.”
“Who won’t?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh dear, you know I love you darling, but I’m not taking on your mum and Ivy, or Celia. They’ve sort of morphed into some sort of Molly Protection League. I practically had to get written permission before I was allowed to visit.”
“I know. I’m going to have to put my foot down.”
“Presumably not the one that’s in plaster?”
“Very amusing, I’m sure. They won’t even let Bertie in unaccompanied, in case he leads me astray. Although God knows how he’d manage that, since I can’t actually use my crutches until my arms are a bit better.”
“Maybe you could lie on the floor and roll along.”
“Rolling downstairs is how I got myself into this mess in the first place, thanks very much.”
“We could sit you on a tray.”
“Sounds like Eddie’s been handy, though?”
“He’s been great, he carried me downstairs on Monday so I could have tea with the boys. Although he won’t be able to do it for much longer if Ivy keeps feeding me up—his knees were buckling already. The boys have been sweet too, but now they’re bored with it. Although they do like Ivy and Mum making their packed lunches for school—they get a lot more sausage rolls and jam tarts than when I make them.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Eddie comes in.
“They’ve sent me up with some tea and toasted cheese.”
“Oh God, not another snack.”
He grins.
“I’ll eat it if you like.”
“Please.”
He puts the tray down on the bedside table and picks up a square of toasted cheese, before offering the plate to Lola.
“No thank you darling.”
“Anything else you need?”
Lola gives him one of her best smiles.
“Nothing springs to mind, but I’ll let you know.”
“I’m going shopping with Dennis later on. Ivy’s given us another one of her lists. Anything you need Molly?”
“Not unless Tesco have starting selling big bottles of Valium?”
“Christ, what have you done to him? He’s gone all tanned demigod, and those eyes, they seem even more blue than the last time I saw him.”
“I haven’t done anything to him. He’s been working outside, that’s all, helping Dennis and building a tree house with the boys.”
“Well country living clearly agrees with him. Now you’ve got shot of the idiot architect, maybe you should consider something a bit closer to home?”
“Please. All I want at the moment is to be able to lift both my arms up, and get dressed by myself, if that’s not too much to ask.”
“I bet all the local girls are flocking.”
“Pretty much. He’s got a gig at the local pub now, and Bella says they’re practically queuing up. Her son Arthur is in Alfie’s class—she was telling me and Sally all about it. Apparently he’s oblivious, which only makes them keener. One turned up here a few days ago with a CD for him—it was really sweet.”
“Yes, I get that with Tre and some of his yoga girls—he’s fairly oblivious too. Talking of gorgeous but oblivious, he sent some special arnica ointment for you. It’s good for bringing out bruises apparently.”
“I’m having enough trouble coping with the bruises I’ve got, I’m not sure I want any more bringing out—but tell him thanks, would you?”
“Sure. So are we breaking you out of here, or what?”
“Yes please, only can we give my tablets time to kick in? I only just took them.”
“Of course. Does it hurt much darling?”
“A bit. Quite a lot actually, but for God’s sake don’t tell Mum or Ivy.”
“We can always get Eddie to carry you down, show me his knee-buckling routine.”
“No, I can do it, I’m sure I can. I’ll go downstairs on my bottom, and the rest should be fine.”
There’s another knock on the door, and this time it’s Celia.
“Just checking if you need anything? Ivy says lunch will be ready in an hour. She’s making a rice pudding, because you need the extra calcium. We’ve been doing some research, and broccoli is very good for healing bones too. Ben’s been showing me how to look things up on the Interweb. Lots of Vitamin C—or was it K?—anyway, very good for you. So make sure you eat it all up. Do you like blancmange dear?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had it.”
“Right. We’ll stick to rice puddings then.”
“Thanks Celia.” She closes the door very quietly, like a sudden noise might startle me.
Lola smiles. “Christ, I see what you mean.”
“I’m bracing myself for calf’s-foot jelly.”
Over the next few days I finally manage to find a position I can sleep in for more than half an hour without something starting to throb, and I’ve also realised that taking the painkillers the hospital gave me every four hours like they told me to is definitely the best way to get through the day. So I’m in a gentle semifogged state most of the time, which turns out to be rather nice. I’m not sure I’m very good at letting people take care of me. It’s not something I’m used to, but I’m trying to go with the flow and be more grateful, and it is very touching how kind everyone is being. Vicky is taking care of the gatehouse and Mum’s helping Ivy with the B&B guests, not that we’ve got that many due with Celia and Eddie booked in until next month. And thank God they are—they’ve both been such a help, particularly Eddie, who seems to have the great knack of noticing when something needs doing and just getting on with it with no fuss. The boys adore him, and he spends hours racing round with them keeping them busy. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are back next week for a few days, and a nice couple Ivy says come every year to go walking are due at the weekend. She says they’re no trouble unless it rains, when they tend to come back soaking wet with muddy walking boots. So fingers crossed the weather holds.
Being out of action has given me lots of time to think, and I’m struck by how much safer I feel here, much more than I did with Pete. It feels like we’re part of something, and if it really does take a village to raise a child, then I’ve definitely got at least a hamlet’s worth of people surrounding us here, far more than we ever had when I was doing the Mr.-and-Mrs. thing with Pete, ticking all the boxes for a proper family life before we realised it wasn’t quite what we thought it would be. A bit like those wedding cakes they used to have in the War made out of cardboard, so you got the proper three-tier wedding cake for your photographs, and then lifted the cardboard cover off to reveal a small fruit cake underneath, which was often a bit on the dry side, as eggs and butter were still rationed.
I’m starting to get the hang of using the crutches, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper when Dan rushes in, looking excited.
“Come and see what we’ve done Mum. It was Eddie’s idea, but we’ve all done it. You’ll love it, honestly you will.”
Dennis and Eddie have tracked down a minitrailer, which attaches to the back of the ride-along lawnmower, and filled it with cushions and blankets so they can take me out into the orchard.
“See you won’t need to walk Mum. Anywhere you want to go, you can just get in and we’ll take you.”
“That’s great.”
Ivy is not impressed.
“Mind you don’t tip her out Dennis.”
“Thank you, I’d never have thought of that. Honestly, what do you take me for?”
“You can see our tree house Mum. It’s nearly finished now—isn’t it great?”
Alfie runs along beside me with Tom, both begging for a ride when I’ve been settled in my chair.
“Yes love, it is.”
And it is. Even the chickens seem impressed and are clucking around by the ladder keeping an eye on the proceedings while the pigs race up and down in the hope we’ve brought food.
“I told you she’d love it. So can we go surfing now?”
“I’m not sure the mower can get all the way to the big beach Dan, sorry.”
“No Mum, we thought you could be here with Alfie and Tom, and then Eddie can take me and Ben surfing, if that’s okay?”
“I suppose so, only…”
“Great, she says we can go Ben. Eddie, can we go today?”
“I didn’t say today Dan, I was thinking maybe tomorrow?”
“Can’t we go for an hour this afternoon, please? I told Robbie I might see him.”
“Oh, right, well, I suppose if it was just for an hour.”
“Great, I’ll text him.”
He races back to the house to find his phone.
“Eddie.”
“Yes Molly?”
“You’re a total pushover—you know that, don’t you?”
“On the subject of being pushed over, there is one other thing I should probably mention. We’ve invented a new game, a version of Simon Says, but you get squirted with the hosepipe if you forget what Simon said. It’s been so hot, and they love it—the pigs love it too. The chickens aren’t that keen, so they tend to take refuge in the tree house, but I’m not sure you’d make it up the ladder.”
“If you squirt me with the hosepipe, I’m telling Ivy, and Celia.”
“Yes, I thought you might say that.”
“How have you got a hosepipe all the way out here anyway?”
“We bought an extension—well, two actually—to reach the tap in the stables.”
“Right, and whose bright idea was that then?”
“Patrick’s, to keep the pigs cool, but then it sort of escalated from there.”
“I see.”
“So if they ask you to play Simon Says, just say no, okay? I think that’s probably rather crucial.”
“I think I can do better than that. Boys, can I have a word please. Alfie, stop running for a minute.”
“What Mum? I’m busy, and we’re going to do the hosepiper in a minute, and it’s great Mum, it really is.”
“No we’re not Alfie—that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You too Ben. When I’m in the orchard, we can’t have the hosepipe on, okay? My plaster will get wet and then I’ll have to go back to the hospital, and I’ll get very annoyed. And then I’ll come home and cut the hosepipe into small pieces and you’ll be annoyed. Is that clear?”
“But…”
“I mean it Alfie.”
There’s the sound of united tutting.
“Eddie invented the game, so you only play it with him, okay?”
Eddie mutters something under his breath.
“Yes Molly?”
“Let’s not invent any more games involving hosepipers.”
“Good plan. I had to get changed twice yesterday, and Ivy told me off for making extra washing, even though I’ve told her I’m happy to do my own.”
“But she’s told you not to touch the washing machine because it’s very temperamental?”
“How did you know?”
“She’s said the same thing to me when we first got here. She still restacks the dishwasher when she thinks I’m not looking.”
He grins.
“Oh good, I thought it was just me.”
“No, it’s mostly you Eddie. Wait until I tell her and Celia you’ve invented a game which involves soaking people with hosepipes.”
Ben gives me a shocked look.
“You can’t do that Mum, they’ll go nuts.”
“Well I better not ever get wet then—promise?”
“We promise Mum.”
“Good. Now help me get up love, I haven’t said hello to Bubble and Squeak for ages. Are they still playing football?”
“Yes, they love it. They’re rubbish in goal though.”
The weather gets hotter, and the roads are so packed with caravans and cars with surfboards balanced on top that instead of taking ten minutes to drop Ben and Alfie off for their scouts’ summer picnic it takes Dennis nearly an hour. The village shops are opening at half past eight now so the locals can get their shopping done before the holidaymakers wake up and the traffic grinds to a halt. Alfie swears he’s seen a grass snake, or possibly a python, on the path down to the cove, and the days pass by in a blur of sunscreen and sleeping in the afternoons, while I try to help out as much as I can by finding jobs I can do sitting down. Everyone is still being brilliant at helping out, and Sally’s even insisting on doing half an hour’s ironing every time she collects Tom, even though I’ve told her he’s no trouble and having him here means Alfie has someone to play with so he doesn’t traipse after Dan and Ben whining. I know how tricky it is for her and Patrick combining working full-time with the summer holidays, but she’s adamant. In fact the only person who isn’t going out of their way to be helpful is Pete. He’s due to collect the boys for a four-day holiday just before they go back to school, but now he’s making a major song and dance about my not being able to drive them up as planned.
“My foot might still be in plaster, and even if it’s not, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope with a long drive. I’m sorry Pete.”
“It’s very inconvenient. Couldn’t someone else do it?”
“I must remember next time I fall down the stairs that it will be very inconvenient for you.”
“Your moving down there wasn’t my decision Molly.”
“And your moving in with Janice wasn’t mine, so I think we’re quits on that front, don’t you?”
There’s a silence. I’m usually more tolerant of his fussing, but on balance I think it’s about time that changed.
“I’m exhausted Molly. Last term was so busy—you have no idea of the pressure I’m under as head. I think I’m developing an ulcer.”
“For God’s sake, you’re having your sons to stay for four days, out of a six-week holiday—stop being such a total arse about it.”
I can’t quite believe I’ve said this out loud. There’s a rather shocked silence. Bugger.
“I’m sorry, but the boys are really looking forward to it Pete. It would be nice if you were too.”
“I am, of course I am, but I hope they’re not going to be fussy about food, because I simply won’t have the patience.”
“Feed them pasta and pizza and they’ll be fine—or don’t, it’s up to you. But if you shout at Alfie and try to make him eat things he doesn’t want, I’d watch out for Dan and Ben—they’re very protective about him on stuff like that. And this is meant to be a treat for them, a few days with their dad. You won’t get many more chances, so I wouldn’t waste them if I were you.”
“And what precisely do you mean by that?”
“Just that they’re getting older—they can decide for themselves who they want to visit, and if you carry on like this, they won’t want to come at all, which would be a real shame, especially for you.”
I don’t tell him I’ve already had to persuade them that four days will go by in no time, and that it’ll be great. Dan is still adamant he’d rather stay at home, so I’m really hoping Pete does some fun things with them, or Dan will call and demand to come home. Mum’s already on standby, just in case.
“Janice has planned a few little outings for them.”
“That’s nice. But it’s you they want to spend time with Pete.”
This isn’t strictly true either, but I’m trying to be encouraging, for the boys’ sake.
“I’m sure we’ll manage. But do try to make sure you pack some proper clothes for them—we may have lunch with Janice’s mother on the way back, and I’d like them to look smart.”
That sounds like a real treat.
“Sure.”
Dear God.
I’m limping around the kitchen making tea and trying to calm down when Celia comes in.
“Let me do that dear. Edward has just called and he says he thinks it went okay, whatever that means.”
Sam has arranged for a couple of auditions for Eddie, so he’s gone to London for a few days.
“He also said he should be back by Thursday.”
“That’s good. I know he didn’t want to miss his gig at the pub—he’s building up quite a following now.”
She smiles.
“I hope something comes of this. He was so nervous before he left, I hope he did himself justice. He’s seeing his parents for supper this evening, and I’ve told him there’s a room for him at the cottage for as long as he needs it. We should be able to move in by the middle of September, if Mr. Stebbings doesn’t encounter any more major problems. He’s solved that problem with the drain, and the new boiler is in now, and the new doors.”
“That’s good, but there’s no rush Celia, you know that. We love having you here.”
“I’m not sure I’d have ever plucked up the courage to sell the house if I hadn’t been here you know my dear. I can’t wait to get started on that garden, years of neglect, but I think we can make something of it. I’ll still be here three afternoons a week though. Wouldn’t want to let things slide—there’s always so much to do. But coming here, and being made to feel so welcome, well, it’s been a lifesaver. It has for Edward too, given him time to think.”
“Yes, Harrington does that. It’s a very special place.”
“It’s not just Harrington my dear; it’s your influence, in so many little ways that add up to something quite remarkable. Helena never really had the knack. She was my oldest friend, so I can say it. She was inspirational in the garden, but the house was never her forte.”
“What a lovely thing to say.”
“Credit where credit is due. I mean it my dear. Quite remarkable. Now, I did want to have a word about the nursery catalogues. We do need to make some decisions about the new white border, and the planting around the fountain needs updating now it’s working again.”
“Yes, I saw all the catalogues with the Post-it notes.”
“Handy things, aren’t they? Hadn’t come across them before. Just stick them on, and you can peel them off if you change your mind—excellent.”
“I’ll look at them properly later, I promise.”
“Good, can’t stand still in a garden, things need to evolve, keeps the spirit of the place alive.”
“Right.”
“Would you like a biscuit? I think Ivy has some in the tin. She’ll be back soon with the shopping, but I think there are some digestives. Can’t beat a digestive, in my opinion.”
By week three of hobbling about on crutches I’m feeling far less tragic. The local doctor took the stitches out on Wednesday, and there’s only a tiny scar on my arm, so I can have a shower now as long as I remember to carefully wrap my cast in clingfilm and the variety of carrier bags Mum has been collecting for me. We’re planning a camp on the beach tonight as a birthday celebration for Dan, who’s announced he only wants money for his birthday this year, so he can buy a new surfboard. He’s really getting into surfing now—he and Robbie would spend every waking moment on the beach if they could. Eddie’s shuttling them backwards and forwards, and regaling us with tales of how packed the beach is now. He found himself paddling out with a merchant banker yesterday who was completely hopeless, and he was very gratified to be mistaken for a local when he and Dan helped him retrieve his board.
The sea is as flat as a pancake today, so they’re all down at the cove making preparations for the camp. There’s an air show along the coast later on, so we’ll watch the planes flying in, and Dennis has finally persuaded Bertie not to fire any cannon salutes, just in case they’re mistaken for some sort of insurgent incident. Mum’s busy making sausage rolls with Ivy; they’ve managed to avoid falling out so far, mainly because Mum cleverly defers to Ivy over anything domestic. They’ve definitely become friends over the past few months, and Mum seems happier than I’ve seen her in ages.
“Anyone want tea?”
“You sit down, I’ll make it. I was just about to put the kettle on.”
“I can make a cup of tea Ivy.”
“Has she always been this stubborn Marjorie?”
“Yes, ever since she was a little girl.”
They both smile.
I think I’ll ignore them.
“What’s for lunch, we’re starving Mum.”
“Omelettes and salads?”
“Yuck.”
“Don’t say ‘yuck,’ Alfie, it’s not very nice.”
“I might put a bit of bacon in yours, if you’re a good boy and lay the table.”
“And ice cream?”
Dan tuts.
“In your omelette? Good choice Annie—whole meal in one.”
“Dan, don’t start. Help him lay the table, and it’s omelettes and salads, and anyone who doesn’t fancy that can wait until supper, okay? What time is Robbie arriving?”
“Around three. His mum’s bringing Ella too—she lives near them.”
“Oh, right.”
Ella is Ben’s new best friend from school. They’re both vegetarians and into saving the planet. They text each other constantly, and he went to her birthday party last week.
Alfie turns to look at Ben.
“Is Ella your girlfriend, Ben?”
We all lean forwards slightly, and Ivy and Mum stop nattering.
“No, Alf. We’ve talked about it, but we’ve decided we’re fine as we are for now. We might change our minds when we get our hormones, but for now we’re just best friends.”
Oh God.
There’s a silence, and then Dan nods.
“That’s pretty cool, Benny boy. Nice to know my brother isn’t a total”—he looks at me and pauses—“a total idiot.”
“Thanks. How’s it going with Freya?”
“It’s not, yet. But we’re only on phase one of the plan, so it’s early days.”
“Oh, right.”
They wander off muttering and I’m left standing in the kitchen, rooted to the spot. I think I may have caught a rather encouraging glimpse into the future, where they spend less time shoving each other and more time being supportive, but “hormones”? Dear God, he can’t be old enough to be thinking about hormones. Mum and Ivy are both smiling.
“The things they come out with sometimes.”
“I know Ivy.”
“He’s a lovely boy. All three of them are.”
Mum nods and opens the fridge.
“We haven’t got much bacon left. Shall I do cheese ones instead?”
“Sure Mum, and then we can see quite how lovely Dan and Alfie can be when you try to fob them off with cheese.”
“There’s more bacon in the freezer Marjorie. You can use up all the packet and I’ll defrost some more later.”
“Problem solved, hurrah.”
“Go and sit down dear. We don’t want you getting in the way when we’ve got hot pans on. I’ll bring the tea in when it’s brewed.”
Mum winks at me.
I’m definitely going to ignore them.
The beach party is a big success, and Dennis drives me down to the beach very slowly in the trailer, as the path is quite steep, which does leave me slightly worried we won’t get back up again, but thankfully he manages it. The kids have a lovely time watching all the planes, and then we light the fire and they toast pretty much everything they can fit on a stick, including their sausage rolls. Eddie sings songs and plays his guitar, and Ben and Ella sit chatting and seem very nonhormonal, while Dan and Robbie continue with their fitness campaign and run up and down the path, pursued by Tess and Jasper. Dad is late arriving, and then gets grumpy because Mum’s got rather giggly after having one of Bertie’s fruit cocktails, which don’t actually contain any fruit. She says he can leave if he’d like to, but she’s stopping for a bit longer, which makes him even grumpier, but we all pretend not to notice.
I’m emptying the dishwasher after lunch the next day, while Ivy makes a cake for tea and watches me with pursed lips because she wants me to sit down.
“I’ll finish that. You go and have a little rest.”
“I’m fine Ivy.”
“You need to be resting.”
“No I don’t. I need this bloody plaster off so I can get back to normal. I can’t keep hobbling about on these bloody crutches, I’ve got things I need to be getting on with.”
I turn to make sure she can see I’m not in the mood for another lecture, and manage to drop the glass I’m holding.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“There’s no need for language.”
“Yes there bloody is.”
She smiles.
“Go and have a sit-down and let me sort this out. Your Lola will be here later, won’t she?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry Ivy.”
“Don’t you worry. I might use a few bad words myself if I’d had to put up with what you’ve been through these past few weeks. But you need to rest more, or it won’t heal properly and then where will we be?”
“Using more bad language probably. I’ll be in the drawing room if anyone wants me.”
“Right you are dear.”
Bugger. Now I feel like a toddler who has got overtired and thrown a strop. So that’s great. And it’s hot, and my ankle is throbbing. I can’t keep finding things which I can do sitting down, although I did enjoy helping Mum and Ivy make strawberry jam. We made some blackcurrant too, and lining up the jars in the pantry felt like we’d really accomplished something. We’ve made some small jars too, for the welcome baskets for the gatehouse and they’ve been really popular so far, but I can’t make jam every day. I sit down and start making a list of all the things I want to be getting on with when I’m finally back on my feet, and the next thing I know Lola is waking me up and it’s nearly six o’clock. She looks cool and elegant in a pretty sundress, which makes me feel even hotter and more lumpy.
“Sorry, I must have lost track of time. How was the journey?”
Lola has recently dumped Tre. She seems fine about it, but I’ve been making an extra fuss of her, just to be sure. She’s got her sights set on Frank now, who owns a restaurant in London with Michelin stars and is opening up a boutique hotel just outside of Bath. She was there last night for the grand opening.
“Great. The hotel is fabulous, the party was very deluxe, and I had the air-conditioning on full blast all the way here, so it was like being in a fridge.”
“Can we go and sit in your car then please? I’m so fed up of being hot.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind a drink first though.”
“Sorry, of course.”
“Are you alright darling?”
“No, I am not. I’m fed up with this bloody ankle, and being too hot, and well, everything.”
“It’s not funny. I can’t even drive, so I’m stuck here being not able to do stuff. I should be writing the business plan for the loan, and hassling the bank. We need to get the stables up and running—it’s the only way we’re going to be able to afford to stay here. But these bloody painkillers mean that every time I sit down, I fall asleep. And I’ve tried not taking them, but, well, it still hurts a fair bit. I even swore at Ivy earlier on.”
“Did you darling? I bet that went down well. Never mind, you can swear at me all you like. It’s completely fucking bollocks isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s double fucking bollocks.”
“Better?”
“A bit.”
“Good, can I have my drink now? And then let’s do something fun. I know, let’s get those trunks down, from the attic, and dress up for dinner.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you say you were going to sort them out?”
“Yes, but not now, it’s too hot up there, the rooms have tiny windows so they get very stuffy.”
“Leave it to me darling. You sit there and practice your swearing, I’ll be back in a moment.”
A highly amusing half hour follows with a combination of Dennis, Eddie, Lola, and Dan carrying the three massive trunks down the stairs, with Celia, Bertie, and Betty giving them encouraging advice, and Ivy tutting in the background. There are a couple more trunks still up there, and some random boxes, but last time I looked they seemed to be full of old lampshades, or old bits of lethal-looking electrical equipment, including an old fan heater and what looked like an antique pair of curling tongs. I’ll have a proper sort-out at some point, and work out a safe place to keep the small white suitcase of baby things too—tiny nightdresses wrapped in tissue paper which look like they’ve never been worn, and a shawl. Somehow it doesn’t seem right to disturb them.
We finally finish sorting through the heap of mystery keys still unaccounted for in the jar, and manage to unlock the trunks, at which point Lola goes into a frenzy, and before we know it there are clothes festooned everywhere and she’s holding things up and twirling round, while Bertie and Celia look at an old photograph album with Ivy and try to identify people. There are a couple of great black-and-white photographs of the house, which I’ll get framed, and one of what we think is a very young Helena, digging in the kitchen garden.
“Ooh, look, an evening bag—how gorgeous.”
Lola parades round wearing her newly acquired feathered boa and an eau-de-nil silk evening dress with no back, and shows everyone the cream silk bag. She’s already tried on a midnight-blue beaded silk 1920s cocktail dress, and a 1950s floral tea dress, and will definitely be taking them both home.
“This is gorgeous too, but you’d need serious corsetry going on to get into it.”
She holds up a silver sheath dress, with embroidery along the hemline.
“Definitely one for the vintage pile.”
Lola is selecting things to take to her friend Magda, who runs a posh vintage shop, and pays serious money for authentic stuff apparently.
“Shall I take the gloves too?”
“Sure. I can’t see when I’m ever going to wear elbow-length white satin gloves if I’m honest.”
“True, and they’re tiny. Didn’t debutantes wear long white gloves when they were presented at court?”
“I think so.”
“Ooh, Eddie, another dinner jacket.”
“Oh God.”
Lola gives him a dazzling smile.
“Try it on please darling—this one might fit you better.”
It does.
“You look very smart Eddie. You should definitely keep it.”
He grins.
“Thanks Molly, if you’re sure? My old one has gone shiny, so that would be great. I’ll just go and try the trousers.”
Lola smiles.
“Off you pop then darling, but come straight back so we can see the full outfit.”
“Lola, leave him alone.”
“I told you he’d look devastating in evening dress.”
“Yes. But stop making him dress up.”
“We’re all dressing up tonight, and he’s loving all the attention.”
“He is not.”
“It’ll be good practise for him, for when he’s a famous rock star.”
“Ta-da.”
“Very nice darling. Give us a twirl.”
Eddie ignores Lola.
“And I found this.”
He hands me a white silk handkerchief, wrapped round something small.
“I’ll give you a clue: it’s not another trunk.”
“Bloody hell.”
It’s a pair of what look like emerald earrings.
“You can say that again darling—they’re stunning. Do they match the famous necklace? Which I’ve never actually seen, I might add.”
“I think so.”
Celia and Ivy agree that they do look like the long-lost earrings which match the necklace, and we spend a happy twenty minutes making up increasingly wild and romantic stories about how they came to be in the inside pocket of the dinner jacket, before agreeing that it was probably a drunken moment at the end of a long night.
“I’m always doing the same thing—not with jewels of course, but putting something somewhere safe and then completely forgetting where.”
Lola smiles.
“Me too Bertie, although I still think it was a lover’s tryst. He left his dinner jacket and she promised not to wear the earrings again until the day he returned and they danced the night away. But he never came back. Maybe it was during the War. Or at one of those 1920s weekend parties—they could get pretty wild, you know. Talking of which, don’t you think we should celebrate their safe return with one of your delicious cocktails?
“I thought you’d never ask. Might fire the cannon later too.”
Great. I think it might be time for a couple more of my tablets.
Everyone is feeling rather fragile the next morning, and Lola has to head back to London early, so I stand at the door to see her off.
“Last night was fun, wasn’t it darling? And Eddie can definitely play that piano. Wasn’t Alfie sweet, dancing the night away?”
We both smile.
“I had such a lovely time, as usual, and I’ve got gorgeous new frocks too—top result. I’ll call you when I’ve seen Magda. But are you sure, about the earrings?”
“Yes, we need the money, and Helena did say I should sell the necklace. I’ll get it out of the bank. Dennis says he’ll drive me in next week, and then Eddie will bring them to you in town when he has his meeting, and you can show them to your auction person.”
“You’re probably right darling. I’ll ask around but I’m pretty sure Pippa is the woman to talk to for this kind of thing. They’ll probably be worth much more now you’ve got a matching set.”
“Whatever they’re worth will mean I can borrow less from the bank, so it’s all good.”
“Yes, but—”
“Lola.”
“Yes, okay. I wish we’d found more treasures though.”
“What did you have in mind, an Elizabethan costume with a bejewelled ruff?”
She laughs.
“Something like that.”
“I think that only happens in films Lola. This was never that kind of house. It was all making do and mending in those days, posh clothes were expensive. When they’d finished with them, they gave them to the poor, or to the servants to cut down and make into something else. I’m surprised we found so much, to be honest. I thought it would be a load of old tat.”
“Well you were wrong darling, and I was right. As usual.”
She starts to drive down the lane, as Bertie comes out and waves.
“Came to say good-bye earlier, and I felt quite a pang. I’m very fond of that girl.”
“Me too Bertie.”
“Glad she got rid of the tray chap. Not strong enough to handle a girl like her.”
“I was just going to make some more coffee. Would you like one?”
“Yes please my dear. Need a hand?”
“No thanks Bertie, I’m fine. I’m feeling much better today actually.”
It’s the last week of the school holidays and the boys are getting bored. They always go a tad Lord of the Flies towards the end of the summer break, and this year is no exception. Alfie and Tom fill balloons with water and drop them on Ben and Dan to pay them back for taking the ladder away while they were up in the tree house. And Dan puts mashed potato in Ben’s Wellies for some reason best known to himself, so Ben retaliates by drawing thick black eyebrows and a twirly moustache on Dan while he’s asleep, which only comes off with a great deal of soap and scrubbing. In the end I have to go into a major meltdown and send everyone to their rooms, to avoid anyone else ending up with a plaster cast when I’ve only just got mine off. I’m still on crutches, but the hospital said everything has healed very well and I should be back on my feet properly in a couple of weeks. They’ve given me more painkillers, but I’m rationing myself now, so things aren’t quite so foggy.
Pete collects the boys on Friday, and the house seems very quiet without them, but it sounds like they’re having fun and that’s the main thing. By all accounts pizza and ice cream are featuring heavily on the menu, and he took them to a local swimming pool yesterday, so I think our little chat may have hit a nerve, thank God. The heat wave is continuing, so I have an early supper with Bertie and Celia on Sunday evening, sitting out on the terrace to make the most of the sea breeze. Eddie’s out surfing, but bounds back at around eight, looking thrilled.
“You’ll never guess what: Sam just called and he’s got a booking for me. I’ll be part of a lineup at a few festivals and a big event in London. I have to leave tomorrow, isn’t that amazing?”
“That’s brilliant Eddie.”
“Well done my boy.”
“Oh Edward, I’m so pleased for you.”
Bertie opens a bottle of champagne, and we toast the thrilling news. My ankle was aching earlier and I took two of my tablets, so I’m not sure I should be drinking champagne, but one glass can’t hurt.
“To Eddie.”
Celia and I raise our glasses as Bertie stands up.
“To new beginnings.”
He raises his glass.
“And melting hearts of stone.”
It turns out my tablets and a glass or two of champagne mix rather well, and instead of conking out I’m still wide awake as it starts to get dark. I wander out to talk to Bubble and Squeak and lock the chickens up for the night, which is easier said than done, when they’ve got the tree house as an alternative roost.
“Dennis says it’s fine to leave them up there, just take the ladder away.”
“Oh, right, thanks.”
“I still can’t really believe it.”
“It’s brilliant news Eddie.”
“Your ankle seems better tonight.”
“Yes, I think it is. It’s so great not having that bloody cast on. Actually, what I’d really like is a swim.”
The idea of having a swim is so heavenly I can hardly wait. Maybe I should have been having a couple of drinks every night.
“In the sea? Isn’t it a bit late?”
“It’s not even ten yet, and it’s so hot, I’ll never sleep. I think I could walk down, slowly, only don’t tell Bertie, or Celia—they’ll only fuss. The hospital said swimming was fine now the cast is off—I only have to use the crutches for walking.”
“I think we can do better than that. Stay there.”
He reappears with the wheelbarrow.
“Dennis doesn’t like anyone else driving the mower. If we put some cushions in, and towels, I’ll wheel you down.”
“Brilliant. Could you get my swimsuit too when you get the towels? It’s in the top drawer of my chest of drawers—it’s navy blue.”
“God knows how I’m going to get you back up. You weigh more than I thought.”
“How charming.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Oh God.”
“What I meant to say is people weigh more than you’d think, if you’re pushing them in wheelbarrows, and uphill is going to be tricky, especially in the dark. I’d hate to tip you out.”
“That wouldn’t be ideal.”
He grins.
“I don’t suppose you fancy sleeping down here, do you?”
“Sure. I took a couple of my tablets earlier, and then I forgot and had some more champagne, so I really don’t care.”
“Oh God, you’re not going to pass out are you? Are you sure you should be swimming?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Hang on and I’ll come in with you.”
“I can swim, Eddie.”
“I know, but just in case.”
“Just in case what? I’m not going out far. I’m not even going to swim, just float about.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The sea is wonderful. It’s warm after so many days of sunshine, and perfectly flat. The tide’s coming in, so I’m drifting back towards the shore, and there’s a full moon.
“This was a great idea.”
“I know.”
He splashes me.
“I’m floating here, thank you, trying to zone out, so no splashing.”
“Sorry.”
And then suddenly he kisses me.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop saying ‘sorry,’ Eddie.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”
Bloody hell.
“Ever since I got here really.”
“Eddie, do you think anyone can see us?”
“I bloody hope not.”
“So do I.”
“Your carriage awaits madam, or rather your barrow.”
“I’m sure I can walk back up, if we walk slowly.”
He smiles.
“Let’s see how we go. Back up to the house and a nice hot bath, wash all the salt off?”
“You read my mind.”
“See if you can read mine.”
At some point during the night we agree not to talk.
“If we start saying anything out loud, the spell will be broken and it will all get overwhelming, with aunts and uncles and boys, so let’s just, well, not talk?”
He smiles, and kisses my foot.
“Not talking sounds good to me.”
“I should probably head off to my room soon.”
“Sure. Not yet though.”
“No, not yet.”
When I go downstairs for breakfast, he’s already sitting at the table. I feel like I’m in some sort of dream and any minute I’ll wake up.
“I’m all packed. Aunt Celia woke me at eight, with a coffee.”
“That was kind of her.”
“Delightful, particularly since I slept so well. Tea?”
“Yes please.”
“This is just like when I was first sent off to school. It’s all rather terrifying. I’m not even sure where the first gig is. But I’ll be back, as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
“I won’t come back and find someone else is playing the piano, will I?”
“Not unless Alfie turns out to be musical, no. I’m pretty sure you’re safe with Dan and Ben.”
“Edward, I’ve put your bag in your car, and Ivy and Dennis have come to say good-bye.”
“Thanks, Aunt Celia. Right, I better be off then.”
We walk across the hall and he kisses me on the cheek, and then he kisses Ivy and Celia and shakes hands with Bertie and Dennis.
“Thank you, again. For everything.”
He turns to me.
“This has been a wonderful summer.”
Oh God, he’s so young.
“Say good-bye to the boys for me, and Bubble and Squeak, and the hens, particularly Gertie.”
He gets into the car and we all stand waving as he drives down the lane.
Bloody hell. I’m not sure I can even begin to work out what I feel about all of this. I’ll call Lola later, but first I think I need to get some sleep. Ivy and Dennis head towards the kitchen with Celia as I follow Bertie into the library.
“I think I might go up for a nap, Bertie. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, I had mine earlier, with Celia. Did you have a nice swim?”
“Sorry?”
Oh God.
“Helena and I used to go down for a late swim quite often, when we were younger. Sea’s warm enough this time of year. Wouldn’t try it any later in the year if I were you, not unless you want to get frostbite. Celia was asleep, but I was watching a late film, heard you coming back up to the house. Kept a low profile, thought it was best.”
“Right.”
“Do you fancy a drop of something to soften the departure and speed him on his way?”
“Yes please.”
“Good for you. Definite sparkle in your eyes this morning. Told you a bit of gallivanting would do you good. I’ll just go and get some ice.”
“Polly put the kettle on.”
“Bertie will be back in a minute Betty. Be quiet.”
“Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.”
My feelings exactly.