Fifteen minutes later I stood outside my aunt’s house and nervously rang the bell. As soon as she came to the door I thought she looked different, and at first I couldn’t work out why. Then I realised what it was. She was wearing make-up, something she hardly ever does, and I could see she’d had her hair done.
‘Aunt Thecla, you look really … nice!’ I gasped, unfortunately managing to sound like that was most unusual. (A crumpliment Dad would call it.)
My aunt flushed. ‘Well, I’ve just been out to lunch.’
‘With Tansy’s dad. I know. How did it go?’
‘Actually, I had a very nice time.’ Now she was the one making it sound like the ‘nice’ part had been unexpected. She looked thoughtful as she continued, ‘I’d forgotten how much fun Michael and I used to have together when we were young, before … well … anyway, he reminded me of all sorts of things I hadn’t thought about in years.’
‘The picnics you had in the bluebell woods?’ I suggested.
She looked amused rather than surprised by my knowledge. ‘I gather Tansy’s been telling you quite a lot. That’s why I thought I ought to have a little chat with you … I must say that I haven’t thought about Michael very much over the years.’
‘But you’ve still got that painting of him up on your wall!’ I blurted out before I could stop myself. When she frowned as if she honestly didn’t know what I was talking about, I added, ‘We saw it in your art room, remember. The one of him in the field of bluebells.’
‘Oh, but that isn’t Michael!’
‘But … but … his hair’s just the same and …’ I only just stopped myself from saying that even Tansy thought it looked like her dad.
She was shaking her head emphatically. ‘Michael never had hair quite like that, although he did let it grow longer when he was away at university …’ She paused. ‘It’s his brother, Murray, who’s in the painting.’
‘Murray who died?’ I was a bit taken aback.
‘Yes. He christened me Bluebell one spring when I was about your age. I always spent hours in the field and the woods by the school, sketching and painting the bluebells.’
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought of my aunt as being close to Murray, but then I guess it made sense that she’d know him fairly well since they’d all grown up together.
‘So did you paint him like that because that’s how he dressed?’ I asked, thinking he must have been rather a weird young man to wander around in the woods wearing nothing but a sarong around his waist.
She smiled. ‘I did that picture of him after he died. I used a photo he’d given me from his trip to Malaysia the year before. He was wearing a sarong in that. Then I decided to put the bluebells in the background rather than the beach. I suppose I wanted to remember him on home ground.’ While we were chatting she led me into the kitchen. ‘Sit down, Elisabeth,’ she said. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘What about?’ I asked curiously, because it didn’t sound as if she’d found the money. I noticed that her wellington boots hadn’t been moved from their position by the back door.
‘I know Tansy’s told you why your dad was expelled from school,’ she began. ‘I want to tell you something about that.’ She paused. ‘You see, that day when he was caught inside the Godwins’ house –’
‘You were there with Michael,’ I finished for her. ‘He went to the house to warn you. He already told me.’
She shook her head. ‘I know that’s what your dad thinks … that’s what I told him … but I wasn’t there that afternoon. I’ve just explained it to Michael. I was actually at the airport with Murray.’
‘Murray?’ I certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. ‘But … but why?’
‘Because I was in love with him. I had been ever since he’d come home from Malaysia a few months earlier. But I was already engaged to Michael so I didn’t know what to do. I was so confused. I didn’t dare tell him, or anyone else. My mother had died by then and there was nobody else I could confide in. Then on the day Murray left for India I panicked. I desperately wanted to tell him how I felt before he left. So I called a taxi to take me to the airport, and I told Paul I was going to see Michael so that he’d cover for me with our father.’
‘Oh …’ I murmured as I thought about Dad’s version of the story. ‘So was that why you couldn’t stand up for Dad when he got caught?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want the truth getting out about where I’d been. I was rather harsh to your dad at the time, but I was feeling so awful myself when I got back from the airport …’
‘What happened at the airport?’ I asked curiously. ‘Did you tell Murray how you felt? What did he say?’
‘He told me he was very flattered and that he loved me too, but purely as you would love a younger sister. He was very sweet to me. He said maybe I shouldn’t rush into getting married to Michael or anyone else just yet. I waited with him until he had to go through into the departure lounge. He gave me a hug and said, “Don’t worry, Bluebell. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”’ She stared into the distance for several seconds. ‘I’m glad I told him how I felt.’ Then she turned her back to me as she made herself a cup of tea. She took a little while to do it.
I sat there waiting until she looked at me again. Then I asked gently, ‘Is that why you broke off your engagement?’
She nodded. ‘Michael was my best friend, but how could I marry him when all I could think of was his brother? Poor Michael took it very badly. I felt terrible, but I couldn’t tell him the reason – just that I’d changed my mind.’
There was a bit of a silence while I thought about everything she’d said. ‘Dad never talks about Murray,’ I finally murmured. ‘But then I guess he wasn’t as close to him as you were.’
‘Oh, but he was! Murray was like the older brother he’d never had. Michael used to get quite jealous of how close the two of them were. Murray taught your dad how to play cricket, and he let him ride around with him on his beloved motorbike and –’
‘Wait – did you just say Dad rode a motorbike?’ I said incredulously.
‘He rode pillion on Murray’s bike all the time, yes.’
‘But he’s always telling us motorbikes are really dangerous!’
‘Yes … well, you see I don’t think he’s ever really got over what happened to Murray.’
I frowned. ‘What did happen exactly? Tansy said he died in India but she didn’t say how.’
‘He was killed on the road. He’d bought himself a second-hand motorbike out there and he planned to tour the whole country on it. But his bike was involved in a collision with a truck.’
‘That’s awful,’ I gasped.
She nodded. ‘Paul never talks about it. Sometimes I think he should, but … it’s up to him.’
I watched her as she came to sit down with me at the table, bringing a tin of biscuits. I kept quiet as she opened the tin and offered me one. I was going to refuse but then I saw she had KitKats.
‘That must be why Dad hates motorbikes,’ I said, ‘and why he gets so angry if he sees one being driven too fast.’
My aunt nodded. ‘I believe Murray used to ride his bike rather fast – egged on by your dad, no doubt. Your dad used to love riding with him. He had no fear at all in those days!’
I stared at her in disbelief, remaining silent as I unwrapped my KitKat and tried to get my head round this new version of Dad.
‘So are you and Michael friends again now?’ I asked her after the silence had gone on for a while.
She gave me a little smile. ‘I hope so. We’ve agreed to put the past behind us and just enjoy getting to know each other again.’ She paused. ‘I must say it’s nice that you and Tansy have become friends. It feels very … healing.’
I nodded, glad that she felt that way. ‘But you and Dad need to sort things out as well,’ I said. ‘You should probably tell him what you just told me.’
‘I will – as soon as he starts speaking to me again. But I don’t want you to tell him before I do. I think it needs to come from me.’
‘Of course, but, Aunt Thecla …’ I frowned, not wanting her to take my question the wrong way. ‘I don’t really understand why you’re telling all this to me.’
‘Oh, well,’ she replied crisply. ‘I know what you’re like for nosing about in the past, Libby. And quite frankly I’d rather you got your facts straight from the horse’s mouth, rather than relying on Tansy Godwin for information about our family.’
‘Ah …’ I smiled – at least that much made sense.