Emilia left Ford House through the little brown-painted gate at the bottom of the garden. She had spent nearly half an hour chatting to Perry, weeding the strongly scented roses and Madonna lilies that grew against a sunny wall with him, keeping busy – it was vital to keep busy nowadays.
She had left Will and Tom playing a noisy game of double-dare with Libby. Her dear boys, missing Jonny’s passion for adventure and entertaining leadership, and unable to grasp the swift coming and going of their tiny sister, had been eager to stay behind and have fun with Libby and her puppy, Casper.
Trudging over the coarse sun-baked ground of the adjoining field, Emilia formed a half-hearted smile at the squeals of delight coming from behind her. Perry had joined in with the children. He would have become the Big Bad Wolf or a wicked wizard, the children daring each other to creep up behind his wheeled chair and dodge his quick hands before ending up as his ‘little pig dinner’ or being turned to stone from a tap of his ‘evil-doing’ wand.
She could have willingly stayed in Perry’s undemanding company, when he would have patiently explained to her yet again about Jenna’s condition and why, in her case, she had only had a few weeks to live rather than months or years. He would have reassured her that Jenna’s fate had not been due to anything she had or had not done. He had invited her to drink lemon tea with him and she had been tempted, but Selina was due home soon from some mysterious appointment to put Perry through a physiotherapy session; he had confided that he wasn’t looking forward to it. Selina had been sympathetic too over Jenna, kind even, but Emilia always came under close scrutiny from her nowadays, as if the nursing sister was waiting for her to confide her deepest emotions, but those were private, even from Alec at the moment.
‘I’m not far off mastering the use of an artificial leg again, you know, Emilia,’ Perry had said, with one of his gorgeous smiles when escorting her to the gate. ‘Had one before, hated the thing, got round much easier with crutches. Selina insists that I get used to the new leg. She’s right, of course. It will encourage other ex-servicemen. She got it specially made up for me but it still rubs, and she accuses me of being a coward, says I don’t hold my balance right, hence all these wretched exercises. She can be quite a bully. I do want to keep in good shape, of course. You’ll be seeing me walk with just a stick one day soon, Emilia.’
She told herself now that she was looking forward to seeing his triumph. Perry was such a good man and he deserved all the success that came his way. And she was tentatively looking forward to returning to village life again. She and Alec had recently agreed to a shy suggestion of Elena Rawley’s that the sports day, in a few weeks time, be held as a memorial event to Jenna. Then it felt as if something was clamping her insides in a vice. It was the first time in weeks she had looked forward to anything and she felt guilty, as if it somehow pointed to her deserting Jenna’s memory. The numbness of her grief had worn off, but sometimes her anger over what felt like the meaninglessness of Jenna’s short life frightened her. Would her heart always feel this bruised? Her arms this empty?
Yet a moment ago she had managed a smile. Her moods hopped about out of her control and her mind was in confusion. She couldn’t bring herself to go home yet. She needed peace and solitude.
So into the woods she went, in under the canopy of oak, ash and beech. Her sandals made a listless passage along the light-dappled mossy floor of one wide corridor of her old playground. She hoped none of the village children would be here today for games and make-believe. If she was going to find solace, it would be here among the sorrel, wood anemone, sweet violet and many varieties of fern; near the stream that tinkled a short distance away; and surrounded by the carpets of wild flowers where the hawthorn, hazel and willow had been cut down for sticks and poles, allowing in extra light.
Leaning against the heavily fissured bark of a towering oak, she closed her eyes, but inside her eyelids she could see patterns of light and shadow – the sun sparkling through the leaves overhead. She allowed herself a moment of peace in a magic land, away from painful reality. But only a moment. She wanted her grief more than anything: she wasn’t ready to leave her baby behind yet.
She was so still a wood mouse appeared on a tree root and she was able to trace its runway system from the root to a fallen branch, a hop on to a large stone then along the ridge of a low bank. The wood mouse stopped to nibble on a snack of seeds, small snails and a caterpillar. Such an appealing creature, its tail the same length as its warm-brown and sandy body, its ears large and eyes round. It was sweet and cute, like her Tom, now her baby again. ‘Run away, before a weasel or one of the farm cats gets you,’ she whispered. As if heeding her warning, the wood mouse scurried away.
The sound of voices and laughter intruded on her sanctity and she sighed, annoyed and beleaguered. The trespassers were adults, a male and a female, and their risqué tone suggested they weren’t here to gather wood. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out but also so as not to recognize whose they were. Even so, she thought the male voice belonged to Jim.
Leaving the cooling shade of the trees, she went out once more into the field, moving further on, seeking a new haven on the bank of the stream. She flopped down with her back to the sun, wrapping her bare arms over her raised knees and letting her head fall down on them. Apart from the steady burbling of the water over the stony bed, there was silence. Not a breath of wind stirred the reeds in the water, nor the sweeps of nettle, meadowsweet and buttercups spreading all around her. She became aware of the drone of a hundred species of insect. She didn’t mind this natural sound, or the bleat of a sheep in a nearby field.
Drowsy and mesmerized, she concentrated to conjure up the sound of Jenna’s soft baby cry. And her low gurglings and gentle sighs. When she had her tiny voice captured inside her head, she kept it there and gloried in it. She would never, ever, let it go.
A tender touch was on the back of her neck. ‘Emilia, you must move. You’re getting sunburned.’
‘I don’t care. Go away.’
She refused to lift her head in response to the well-wisher. Why must there always be someone making sure she didn’t spend too much time alone? Why did others believe they knew best how she should mourn? Her mother and father fretted about her daily visits to the nursery, telling her it was time to dismantle the things in there. Tilda talked continually, trying to ‘brighten her up’. Sara only sang songs with a light theme instead of the sorrowful ballads she excelled at. Jim had even stopped being difficult in her presence. Why couldn’t everyone behave normally? It’s what she wanted. After all, it was normal for children to die – the mortality rate from the usual childhood diseases, measles, diphtheria and so on, was still disturbingly high; every churchyard in the country bore witness to that. There was an old saying: ‘You’re not a mother until you’ve lost one.’ Emilia’s musings were so deep she had forgotten someone was there.
A cold, wet cloth suddenly landed on her neck, making her shriek and throw her head up.
‘Sorry, old thing, but I can’t stand by and let you get sunstroke.’
‘Oh, Selina, it’s you. Ouch, I’m burning.’
Selina was kneeling at her side. She skirled her handkerchief again in the cold, soothing stream and began bathing Emilia’s arms. ‘This will help. Then you’d better put my cardy over you to stop you burning any more. Don’t worry. I’m not about to lecture you. I understand, and all that.’
Keeping quiet, Emilia allowed Selina to take care of her.
‘I haven’t lost anyone as close to me as you have, Emilia, but I’m serious about all the roles I undertake as a nurse and I think I do understand what most people undergo in bereavement. You’re going to feel dizzy when you get up. I’ll walk you back to the farm.’
‘Thanks.’ The top of Selina’s dress fell down off her shoulder. From their close proximity, Emilia couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t wearing any underwear and there was a vivid red mark on one breast. The sort of mark made from union of the passionate kind. It was Selina she had heard laughing with Jim in the woods. She wished she didn’t know this.
She caught Selina grinning at her. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Making love is a perfectly natural act whether one is married or not.’
‘It’s none of my business really but your choice of partner isn’t a good one for many reasons,’ Emilia said, as Selina helped her to rise. She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of giddiness. With Selina supporting her waist, they began a slow ascent up and across the field behind the farm, picking a path through thistles and dried cowpats.
‘It won’t last for ever. I never keep on with anyone for long.’
‘You don’t intend to settle down and have children then?’
‘No, never, but please don’t think I belittle any woman if it’s what she wants out of life. It’s my choice to live my life to the full.’
‘Ohh, my head’s aching. I was foolish to stay like that for so long. I’ve got a lot to do at home.’
‘Never mind that. You need to drink plenty of water, then take a couple of aspirin and lie down in a darkened room. Have you got some calamine?’
Emilia nodded, grimacing in pain where Selina’s cardigan rubbed her scorched skin.
‘Good. I’ll apply it to your burned areas.’
‘Thanks. The boys are with Libby, I’ll send Sara down to collect them.’
When Emilia’s burns had been soothed and cooled by a liberal wash of calamine lotion, Selina arranged her pillows so there would be no painful contact, then she wrung a cloth soaked in cold water and spread it across her brow. ‘This should help.’
‘I should have stayed talking to Perry.’
‘You get on well with him, don’t you?’
‘He’s the sensitive sort, like my brother-in-law, Tristan. And Perry was the one I turned to, with Reggie Rule, about Jenna, so talking to him helps me to keep connected to her. Selina…?’
‘Yes?’
‘I can’t help being curious about Perry’s wife. How did she die? He never mentions her and I don’t like to ask.’
Selina made a vague face. ‘Her name was Ada. There’s not a lot to tell about her. I never met her. Perry married her shortly before going on active service.’
Weariness was coming over Emilia and she let her eyelids fall. Then snapped them open again. ‘I was lying here when my boys were attacked by one of the dogs, and soon afterwards Jenna was born.’
‘Don’t run away from bad memories, then they can’t haunt you.’ Selina smoothed at her hair.
‘Do you really think that’s true?’
‘Mostly. It always helps if you share your fears, your feelings.’
‘Thank you, Selina. You’ve been very kind.’
Selina stroked her hand. ‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Emilia. I’d like us to be friends. Sleep now. I’ll stay a while.’
When Emilia closed her eyes again, she felt the other woman giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
Outside the bedroom door, Selina met Alec rushing down the long corridor. She put her finger to her lips to silence an outburst of concern. ‘She’s resting at last. Make sure your servants do all the tasks she usually does for the next few days. Emilia needs space and comfort. I’ll call back tomorrow and see how she is.’
‘I’ll see she’s not disturbed.’ Alec’s brow was furrowed, the few lines gathering at his eyes deepened. ‘Tilda says she’s burnt to a crisp. How come?’
Selina tugged at the black hair curling over his collar. ‘It’s not as bad as that but she’ll be sore for a couple of days, so be careful when you touch her. Like you, she’s not looking after herself. You’re both getting woefully thin. Eat a good dinner tonight and coax her to as well.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks for looking after her.’ He glanced at the bedroom door, eager to get on the other side and see Emilia for himself.
‘I’ll see myself out. Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you or Emilia, Alec.’
Alec entered the room on tiptoe, shut the door as softly as he could. He sat on the bed, leaning over Emilia, watching the tensing in her face as she dreamed. She had pushed the cloth off her brow in her sleep and it was wetting the pillow. He put it back in the washbowl, then using feather-light fingers caressed the damp hair away from her neck. ‘Don’t be sad, darling. Don’t stay sad,’ he whispered. ‘I love you so much.’
There they stayed until the afternoon was over, she sleeping, calmer now after his tender touch, he in loving attendance.
‘Oh,’ she moaned, her head aching so much she could hardly lift it. ‘The boys…’
‘Sara’s brought them home, don’t worry about anything, darling. You need to sit up and drink, let me help you.’ He pushed a careful arm in under her waist and raised her. She leaned against his strong body and sipped from a glass of water. He kissed the back of her head, heedful to avoid the lotion-pink areas on her neck and shoulders.
‘You’re good to me.’ She sank back against his hard muscles, ignoring the sore areas that came into contact with his body. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it.
‘I’ve missed you, Emilia. You know what I mean…’ His voice came husky.
‘I do, Alec, and I’ve missed you too. Of course, the usual six weeks weren’t up before Jenna died.’
‘I suppose we haven’t made love because it is more than us being together, it’s the process that made her.’
He had been thinking, thinking about how losing Jenna had marred every part of their life together. It made Emilia cry and grip his hand, afraid to let it go. Afraid to let him go any further away from her, for they had chosen different routes and different friendships to cope with their tragedy, and soon they would be busy with the haymaking. ‘Alec, I don’t want another baby yet. Perhaps next year. You do understand?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see to it. By the time this sunburn’s gone perhaps we’ll both be ready to make love again.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you, angel. Dolly is going to put the boys to bed. After we’ve kissed them good night, why don’t we have a quiet meal up here? Just on our own?’
‘I’d like that.’
The quiet meal did not happen. Tristan turned up to discuss a problem, which quickly led to trouble.