Eudora is out shopping the next day when she sees the sunflowers. There’s something about their huge yellow blooms which remind her of Rose. She thinks Maggie will appreciate this too. Eudora also spots a bag of ‘Unicorn Foamies’ in the sweet aisle and places them in her basket along with the flowers and a handful of other items.
Eudora walks back from the shops in the sunshine, enjoying the sensation of warmth on her face, relieved that summer’s relentless heat has tempered into something more palatable. She quickens her step, eager to reach Rose’s house and deliver her gifts. Eudora has barely set foot on the garden path, when the door flings open.
‘Eudora!’ cries Rose, standing on the doorstep wearing an unusually conservative white blouse on her top half and bright pink knickers on her bottom half. ‘Are you coming in?’
‘If you’re not busy,’ says Eudora, casting a questioning glance at Rose’s ensemble.
‘Mum is making me try on my school uniform, which is obviously incredibly boring, so no, we’re not busy at all. I’m glad you’re back. I saw you leave about an hour ago and was starting to get worried.’
Eudora steps over the threshold. ‘Just for my own information, Rose, do you spend most of your time checking my movements?’
Rose see-saws her head from side to side as she considers this. ‘Not just you. I look out for Stanley too. And Daddy obviously. Although he’s not usually home until approximately 7.13pm.’
‘Approximately?’
Rose nods. ‘His train gets in at seven-oh-five and it takes him eight minutes to walk up the road.’
‘And woe betide him if he’s a minute late,’ says Maggie, appearing in the hallway. ‘How are you, Eudora?’
‘A little concerned that my every move is being monitored by the secret police,’ she says. ‘But apart from that, I am quite well. How are you today?’
‘Tired and uncomfortable but hopefully it won’t be for much longer. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘Tea. Please.’
‘Come through,’ says Maggie, leading them to the kitchen.
‘These are for you,’ says Eudora, offering her the flowers. ‘As a belated thank you for the trip to the seaside.’
‘Oh you didn’t need to do that,’ says Maggie accepting them. Eudora always wonders why people say this. Of course no one needs to do anything. She is caught off-guard by Maggie leaning over to kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you, Eudora.’
The scent of strawberries which she catches from Maggie is comforting. ‘And these are for you, Rose.’ She offers the sweets, bracing herself for the inevitable hug.
Rose doesn’t disappoint. ‘Unicorn Foamies! Thank you, Eudora. You’re the best,’ she says, wrapping her arms around her middle.
Eudora catches sight of Maggie pausing to catch her breath as she fills the kettle. ‘Rose. Why don’t you help me make the tea so that your mother can sit down?’
‘Good plan,’ says Rose. ‘That way I can make it for you every time I come over to your house too.’
Eudora isn’t sure if this is a threat or a promise. ‘Very well. Fill the kettle, please, and fetch the teapot,’ she says, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Maggie heaves herself into the chair opposite and pulls a face. ‘Sorry, Eudora. We don’t own a teapot.’
Eudora winces. ‘No wonder civilisation is on its knees. Very well. What do you have?’
‘Erm, mugs and teabags?’
Eudora narrows her eyes. ‘What kind of tea?’
‘Yorkshire?’
‘Thank heavens for small mercies.’
Rose laughs. ‘Don’t you just love the way Eudora talks, Mummy?’
Maggie smiles. ‘I do.’
‘Now then, Rose. Place a teabag in each mug and pour on the boiling water the second it boils. This is very important.’
‘Aye aye, captain,’ says Rose. She follows Eudora’s instructions with care. ‘Now what?’
‘We allow it to steep for about three minutes, which means we leave the teabag in the water to help the flavour develop.’
‘Steep. I like that word.’ Rose begins to fidget. ‘Is it time yet? Has it steeped?’
Eudora fixes her with a stern look. ‘You’re not very patient, are you, Rose?’ Maggie clears her throat in agreement.
‘I just don’t like waiting,’ says Rose, jigging from foot to foot.
‘How about you go and put on the bottom half of your uniform to show me and then I’ll tell you a secret.’
Rose’s eyes widen. ‘I love secrets!’
‘I thought you might,’ says Eudora watching her skip back to the living room.
‘How did you know to do that?’ asks Maggie impressed.
‘I haven’t always been this old. I can just about remember what it was like to be young.’
Maggie laughs. ‘It sounds as if you had an interesting trip to the group. Rose is now committed to becoming a death doula.’
‘It was interesting but I hope you didn’t mind her being there. I hadn’t realised that talk was taking place. You might not have wanted her to sit through a presentation on death.’
Maggie smiles. ‘We’ve never shied away from talking to Rose about death or any other tricky topics. She had to face it when Dad died and I’ve also had several miscarriages.’
Eudora’s shoulders stiffen. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ she says, forcing herself to meet Maggie’s eye.
‘Thank you, Eudora,’ she says, her expression twisted with sorrow. ‘I find the best way to deal with these things is to talk.’ Eudora clears her throat. ‘But I know that’s not for everyone,’ she adds kindly.
Eudora holds her gaze for a moment longer. ‘You look exhausted, if you don’t mind me saying.’
Maggie sighs. ‘Life is tiring, Rose is full-on and being pregnant doesn’t help. I haven’t been sleeping that well either.’
‘It must be uncomfortable,’ says Eudora.
‘Yes but it’s not only that. I’m also worried about my mum. We moved here because of Rob’s work and as a fresh start for Rose but she’s struggling without us. I miss her too.’
‘Could she move nearer?’
Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s no way she’ll leave Cornwall. She’s got good friends around her but life’s been hard since Dad died.’
‘How long were they married?’
‘Over fifty years. Everybody deals with grief in different ways. It’s an entirely personal thing but I think it moulds you into something better if you let it. It’s certainly made me think about what kind of person I want to be.’
Eudora leans forwards, her interest piqued. ‘And what kind of person do you want to be?’
Maggie fixes her with a clear blue gaze as wide-open as the ocean. ‘When Dad died, everyone was so kind. People who I hadn’t heard from or barely knew got in touch to tell me how sad they were or how much he was loved. There’s great comfort in kindness. I value it above almost everything else these days. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do,’ admits Eudora.
Maggie continues. ‘I always used to think it was silly when people said life was short, but I completely get that now. We’re here for such a limited time. The least we can do is try to be kind to the people around us. Humans seem to forget that so easily.’
Eudora is swept along by her words, as if a great truth has unexpectedly landed at her feet. ‘If only more people shared this sentiment.’
‘Oh but I think they do,’ says Maggie. ‘We only hear or notice the negative stuff. There is definitely more good than bad in the world.’
Eudora stares at her, longing to believe this but knowing from her own experience that it simply isn’t true. ‘It’s a noble belief.’
‘I’m ba-ack and ready to hear the se-cret!’ cries Rose, skipping into the kitchen. She is now wearing her complete school uniform but in true Rose fashion has adapted the outfit. Her blue and white striped tie is a bandana, her collar is undone and her blouse is tied in the middle revealing a good half-inch of belly.
‘Right. Let’s sort the tea and then we can turn our attentions to your sartorial issues,’ says Eudora.
‘Does that mean you’ll tell me the secret?’
‘Only if your tea passes muster.’
Rose takes the rest of the task very seriously and it’s not long before they are drinking tea and eating the unicorn sweets. Eudora then teaches Rose to tie an acceptable Full Windsor before persuading her to wear her uniform as it was intended. She gives an approving nod. ‘You look very smart. The reason I wanted you to dress properly is because you’re going to the primary school I attended when I was your age.’
‘Really?’ says Maggie impressed.
‘Oh. Is that the big secret then?’ says Rose, folding her arms.
‘I thought you’d be pleased to be going to the same school as Eudora,’ says her mother.
‘I am.’ Rose’s face clouds. ‘It’s just that I’m not sure if I want to go.’
Eudora studies her expression. She detests the modern penchant for sharing every last worry but she notices the frowns creasing Rose’s usually carefree face and doesn’t like it. ‘What’s the matter, Rose?’
Rose shoots her a sideways glance. ‘What if the girls at this school are as mean as the ones from my last school?’ she says quietly.
‘I’m sure they won’t be …’ begins Maggie in soothing tones.
‘Then you come to me and I will help you deal with them,’ interjects Eudora with a vehemence which surprises even her. Maggie smiles.
‘Really?’ says Rose. ‘How?’
Eudora purses her lips. ‘I have my methods. I may well trip them up with my walking stick.’
Rose’s face brightens. ‘You’d do that for me?’
Eudora looks into her eyes. ‘I am very old and have no truck with bullies. I am therefore excellent at dealing with them and fully prepared to teach you everything I know.’
‘A bit like when Mum says she’s “got my back”?’ asks Rose, her expression lifting with hope. Maggie reaches out, pulling her daughter into a tight hug.
‘If you like,’ says Eudora, touched by their easy affection. The world may indulge itself with grotesque oversharing these days but it also knows when to fold the disheartened into its arms.
‘Well I’ve got your back too. And Stanley’s.’
‘Thank you, Rose.’
‘Did you know it’s Stanley’s birthday tomorrow?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘And are you free tomorrow night?’ asks Rose, flashing a conspiratorial grin at Maggie.
‘What are you two up to?’ asks Eudora.
‘Nothing,’ chorus Rose and Maggie with glee.
Eudora folds her arms. ‘Out with it.’
Maggie smiles. ‘Stanley told me that he always went with Ada to that pizza place on the high street on his birthday and I know he’s not seeing his family until the weekend, so Rose and I thought …’
‘That you and I should go with Stanley to help him celebrate his birthday!’ cries Rose triumphantly.
‘Pizza?’ says Eudora in horror, recalling with a shudder the countless takeaway leaflets bearing images of greasy, oozing cheese on top of something professing to be bread.
‘This isn’t any old pizza, Eudora. It’s all freshly made and their olives are to die for. I think you’ll like it,’ says Maggie.
‘Pleeease?’ says Rose. ‘For Stanley?’
Eudora stares at them both for a moment before throwing up her hands in defeat. ‘Oh, very well. Let’s just hope they make an acceptable salad.’
* * *
The Numero Uno pizzeria, nestled between a nail bar and a betting shop on the high street, turns out to be something of a revelation to Eudora. She has lost count of the number of times she has passed its unassuming red-canopied frontage and yet, once inside, it is as if Eudora has been transported to the Mediterranean. The walls are decorated with murals depicting views of the Italian landscape – the Amalfi Coast, the villages of Puglia, St. Mark’s Square in Venice – and the low-beam ceilings are hung with lanterns and garlands of foliage which look to Eudora as if they might be fashioned from olive and bay leaves.
‘Ooh I love it in here; it’s so cosy and welcoming,’ says Rose, echoing Eudora’s thoughts.
‘Welcome, welcome, welcome, Mister Stanley,’ cries a short round man with a smart moustache, hurrying forwards to shake hands with him. ‘I reserve my very best table for you and your guests.’
‘Thank you, Francesco,’ says Stanley. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘You too, my friend. We still miss your beautiful Ada but we know she is eating grissini in heaven, no?’ Stanley nods sadly and Francesco pats him on the back. ‘And who are these beautiful ladies?’
Rose beams at him. ‘I’m Rose. And this is Eudora. We’ve come to help celebrate Stanley’s birthday with him.’
Francesco claps a hand to his forehead. ‘But of course, it’s Mister Stanley’s birthday. Thank you for reminding me, Miss Rose. Gino!’
A cheerful-looking man with dark curly hair looks up from where he’s mixing a cocktail at the bar. ‘Yes, boss?’
‘A bottle of prosecco and some of our special olives on the house for my friends here, please.’
‘Coming right up, boss.’
Francesco bows to their table. ‘I wish you a wonderful evening and if you need anything at all, please ask.’
‘I like that man,’ says Rose, watching him go. ‘You’re like a celebrity in here, Stanley.’
‘Ada and I always came here for high days and holidays. She was the real celebrity. I can remember her singing “That’s Amore” with Francesco up there,’ he says, gesturing to the mezzanine. ‘I just watched her and thought, how did I get so lucky?’ He brushes away a tear.
‘Here, have a menu,’ says Eudora.
‘Thank you, Eudora. So, what do you think of the place?’ asks Stanley, his eyes glittering with hope.
‘It has a very pleasant atmosphere,’ says Eudora, perusing the menu. ‘I think I might choose the salad niçoise.’
‘You should try their pizza – the Quattro Staggioni is really something,’ says Stanley.
Eudora frowns. ‘I’m not really one for pizza.’
‘This isn’t any ordinary pizza though. It’s all fresh ingredients.’ Eudora watches as a waitress brings out a large pizza on a wooden board and places it on the table next to them. It’s certainly not what Eudora imagined. The smell of garlic and herbs is intoxicating.
‘I love all pizza, even ham and pineapple. Although Dad says it’s the food of the devil.’
‘Your father is a wise man, Rose,’ says Eudora.
‘Aww, he likes you too, Eudora.’
The waiter appears with their drinks and olives. He opens the prosecco with a loud, satisfying pop and pours a glass each for Eudora and Stanley. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asks Rose.
‘Could I have lemonade, please?’
‘Coming right up.’
Rose pops an olive into her mouth. ‘Man, these are good. Try one, Eudora.’
‘Very well.’ She chooses a fat green olive and is amazed. It’s like nothing she’s ever eaten before – salty, creamy and absolutely delicious. ‘That’s very pleasant,’ she says, placing the stone on the saucer under the olive bowl. Once Rose has her lemonade, Stanley picks up his glass for a toast.
‘I would like to thank you for making my birthday so special – I am honoured to be here with you both tonight. Cheers.’
‘Cheers!’ they chorus, raising their glasses in reply. Eudora takes a sip. The fresh, crisp fizz is unexpectedly welcome.
‘I’ve made you something, Stanley,’ says Rose, handing him an A4 envelope.
‘What do we have here then?’ asks Stanley, pulling out the card. He breaks into a huge grin when he sees the picture. ‘Is that you, me and Eudora?’ Rose nods with glee. ‘It’s wonderful, Rose. Look, Eudora – it’s us on the merry-go-round.’ Eudora takes the card and can’t help but chuckle. It’s a warts-and-all appraisal of the three of them. Both her and Stanley’s faces are as wrinkled as old paper bags whilst Rose’s eyes are comically huge. They look wildly happy.
‘I copied it from a photo Daddy took,’ says Rose, her voice laced with pride. ‘It took ages.’
‘I bet,’ says Eudora. ‘You’re a very lucky man,’ she tells Stanley.
‘Don’t worry, Eudora,’ says Rose. ‘I’ll do the same for you on your birthday and it will be a different picture because we will have had lots more adventures by then.’
A shiver of regret courses through Eudora’s mind as she considers the possibility that she may not be around to experience any of this. She brushes away the thought and reaches into her bag. ‘I’ve got something for you too, Stanley.’
‘Oh. Thank you, Eudora,’ says Stanley, putting down his glass.
Eudora hands him a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. ‘Sorry I didn’t have fancier wrapping.’
Stanley holds the parcel, turning it in his hands. ‘This is very kind, Eudora. I’m touched.’
‘O-pen it! O-pen it!’ chants Rose.
Stanley smiles. He tears at the paper like a little boy who’s just discovered his bulging stocking on Christmas morning and pulls out a book. He chuckles when he sees the title. ‘Crosswords! That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.’ Stanley leaps up and plants a kiss on Eudora’s cheek.
Rose looks as if she’s about to explode with delight, whilst Eudora is momentarily stunned into silence before her words tumble forth. ‘Well, I thought it might be useful. You’re always saying you need to keep your noggin ticking over.’
‘Noggin!’ says Rose. ‘I love that word.’
‘I’ve written a message inside so give them a try and see how you get on. I’m happy to help if you get stuck.’
Stanley opens the front cover and reads. ‘“To Stanley, keep your pencil sharp and your brain sharper. All the best on your birthday, Eudora.”’ He rests a hand on his heart.
‘That’s lovely, Eudora,’ says Rose, hugging herself.
‘It’s only a little something,’ says Eudora.
‘It means the world to me,’ says Stanley. ‘Really. I feel very lucky to have met you both and to be able to share my birthday celebrations with you. To make new friends at my age, well, it’s quite a thing. I have to tell you that when Ada died I never thought I’d be happy again. Don’t get me wrong, my family are wonderful but they’ve got their own lives and friends. But you two have given me new hope. And I can’t thank you enough.’ Stanley’s eyes are brimming with tears
Eudora used to find his outpourings distasteful but his words strike a chord tonight. She wants him to stop crying, but not for her. She doesn’t like to see him upset. She wants this funny little man to be happy. It’s the very least he deserves. ‘No tears tonight, Stanley,’ she says. ‘Ada wouldn’t want that. She’d want you to enjoy your birthday.’ She raises her glass. ‘Here’s to Ada. And to you, Stanley. Happy birthday!’
Stanley sniffs back his tears and clinks glasses with them. ‘Thank you, Eudora – for keeping me on the straight and narrow.’
‘It appears to be my job now,’ she says with a knowing smile.
‘Excellent speech, Eudora,’ says Rose.
‘Are you ready to order?’ asks the waiter.
‘I’ll have the Quattro Staggioni, thank you,’ says Stanley.
‘Same for me,’ says Eudora, closing her menu and glancing at Stanley. ‘But if I don’t like it, I shall blame you.’
‘I reckon I’m safe.’
‘Sal-sicc-ia pizza for me, please,’ says Rose, reading carefully from the menu. She gazes up at the waiter with hopeful eyes. ‘Did I say that right?’
‘Perfetto!’ says the waiter beaming at her.
* * *
Later that evening, Eudora scrapes the last morsel of tiramisu from her bowl and wipes her mouth with a napkin. She can’t remember a time when she enjoyed a meal more. She glances over at Rose, whose face is covered in chocolate, having just licked her bowl.
The waitress appears. ‘How was everything?’
‘Wonderful. Thank you,’ says Stanley.
She smiles and starts to clear their plates. ‘Thank you,’ says Rose as she picks up her bowl.
‘Your granddaughter has beautiful manners,’ she says to Eudora and Stanley. ‘She’s a credit to you.’
‘Thank you,’ says Eudora, avoiding Stanley’s gaze.
‘So we’re adopting Rose now, are we?’ asks Stanley as the waitress disappears.
‘For one night only,’ she says, grasped by an unexpected split-second wish that life had dealt her a different hand – a life of small sticky faces and hand-drawn birthday cards.
‘I’m happy to pretend to be your granddaughter any time,’ says Rose, patting Eudora on the shoulder.
‘Thank you, Rose. I appreciate that,’ says Eudora, shifting in her chair. ‘Now, I think we should get the bill. And I don’t want any arguments. I’m paying.’
‘Thank you, Eudora.’ says Rose.
‘I know never to argue with a determined woman, so thank you from me too,’ says Stanley.
‘My pleasure,’ says Eudora.
‘Although I must say that if I’d known you were paying, I would have had the steak,’ says Stanley, winking at Rose. She giggles.
‘Foolish man,’ says Eudora.
‘Oh and before I forget,’ says Stanley, ‘Paul’s invited you both to the family barbecue on Saturday.’
Rose adopts a serious expression. ‘Will there be sausages?’
Stanley nods. ‘And burgers.’
‘Then I’m in.’
‘Eudora?’
Eudora has never been to a barbecue in her life and up until this evening, would have happily gone to her grave without ever attending one. But she hadn’t eaten pizza until this evening either and that has turned out rather well. ‘Thank you. That will be very—’
‘Pleasant!’ chorus Stanley and Rose. Eudora stares at them in amazement.
‘You always say that when you like something more than you want to let on,’ says Rose, high-fiving Stanley.
‘Do I indeed?’ says Eudora, her lips pursing into a smile. ‘For your information I was going to say that it will be very enjoyable.’
‘Fibber!’ says Stanley. ‘I’m glad you can come though. The family all enjoyed meeting you at Paul’s do.’
‘Oh. Well that’s lovely,’ says Eudora, folding her napkin carefully and placing it on the table, realising to her surprise that she is rather looking forward to it. ‘Now then, I promised your mother we’d have you home by ten o’clock, so chop chop!’
As she falls asleep later that night, a sense of calm descends over Eudora. It might be the food or the prosecco but she finds herself playing the same thought over in her head as she drifts off to sleep.
Life is precious and as long as we have a reason to continue, we should follow that path.
* * *
The bootees were the most darling thing Eudora had ever seen. She cupped them in her palm, running a gentle finger over the soft white wool and satin ribbons. They were perfect. She laid them on the table next to the matching matinee jacket and bonnet. It was the third set her mother had knitted this month.
‘You’ve got to have one in each size,’ said Beatrice with a satisfied smile. ‘Babies grow so fast.’
Eudora patted her mother’s shoulder, pleased she had found happiness in her knit-one, purl-one industry. The click-clack of her knitting needles whilst she listened to The Light Programme every evening was a reassuring sound for Eudora. It signified that Beatrice was as content as she could be.
Eudora dreaded returning from work to a silent house, whose only noise was the heavy ticking of her father’s Enfield clock. Inevitably, she would find her mother sitting in a gloomy kitchen, staring without seeing. A cup of stone-cold tea by her side was a positive sign that she had at least brewed a pot following her return from the school. It meant that Eudora would be able to rouse her into an evening routine. But no tea, silence and darkness were the holy trinity of desperation for Eudora; a signal that there was a long night ahead.
So she was delighted that the news of a baby had inspired Beatrice into a frenzy of activity. Eudora didn’t even mind that the baby wasn’t hers. She had given up hope that she would marry and have children now and was delighted for Sylvia. Motherhood mattered to her friend. It was the thing she longed for most.
‘Oh Dor, I can’t wait for the baby to come,’ she cried, patting her rounded middle and linking her arm through Eudora’s as she led her into the nursery. Eudora took in the sparkling new cot, the neat piles of folded nappies and was relieved that it was Sylvia instead of her about to embark on this journey.
‘I’m so happy for you,’ she said.
Sylvia gripped her friend by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘It’s not too late for you, you know. I’m sure your prince charming is just over the next hill.’
‘I’m happy as I am. Really.’
Sylvia cocked her head to one side, her face folding into a look of deep sympathy. ‘You’re very brave, Dora. I don’t know how you do it.’
What choice do I have? thought Eudora as she walked home later that afternoon. And besides, I am happy. Or at least, I’m not unhappy.
This was true. She still enjoyed her job and, thankfully, Patrick Nicholson had been sacked after an indiscretion with one of the partners’ wives. Dipping his nib in the company ink, was how one of the younger, coarser secretaries had put it. It meant that her role at work was safer and, as a more senior secretary, she was afforded greater respect and a modicum more money. What’s more, her life at home with Beatrice had improved with her mother’s new phase of contentment. She scarcely ever gave a thought to Stella. Out of sight, out of mind. It was better that way.
So really, Eudora couldn’t complain. She had enough money to go to the cinema when she wanted and lived a comfortable existence. At one stage she might have liked a husband and a family but you couldn’t mourn what you’d never had. This was enough for her. There were plenty worse off, not least all the poor souls who had perished during the war so that she might enjoy her freedom. No. She had no right to grumble at all.
She opened the front door to the deafening quiet broken only by the clock’s ticking.
‘Mum? Are you here?’ she called, hoping that perhaps Beatrice had stepped out for a moment. There was a tiny yelp of affirmation from the kitchen. Eudora’s heart quickened as she rushed forwards. ‘What’s wrong, Mum? What’s happened?’
Beatrice was sitting in her usual position, a tea towel clutched in one hand, her handkerchief in the other. She looked small and scared, like a child who needed its mother. Eudora reached out a hand, touching her on the shoulder. ‘Mum? Tell me what’s wrong,’ she said softly.
‘Stella,’ said Beatrice, uttering the words with a mixture of anguish and despair. ‘She telephoned.’
‘Oh,’ said Eudora. ‘What did she want?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me,’ cried Beatrice. ‘Her own mother and she wouldn’t speak to me. She said she wanted to talk to you and that she would phone again.’
Eudora sighed. ‘Did she sound okay?’
Beatrice shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know!’
Her sobs intensified. Eudora pulled her close. ‘Shhh, Mum. It’s okay. You don’t need to upset yourself.’
‘But I’ve failed,’ said Beatrice through hiccupping sobs. ‘Failed as a mother.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ said Eudora. ‘Stella made her own choices. It’s not your fault.’
Beatrice nodded, wanting to believe her daughter. ‘Why does she hate me so much, Dora?’
‘She doesn’t hate you. She’s just lost her way. Now come along, let’s have a nice cup of tea. That will make us feel a bit better, won’t it? And I can tell you all about Sylvia. She loved the jacket set by the way.’
‘Did she?’ asked Beatrice, brightening.
Eudora nodded. ‘She really did. She said she’s going to write to thank you.’
‘Well I know it must be hard for her having lost her own mother. I wasn’t sure if she’d have anyone else to knit things for the baby.’
‘That’s kind of you.’ Eudora was a little envious that her best friend was on the receiving end of Beatrice’s maternal empathy. She couldn’t recall ever being rewarded in such a way herself. She set about filling the kettle and placing it on the stove as the telephone began to ring.
‘Oh,’ wailed Beatrice, clutching her handkerchief to her throat.
‘It’s all right,’ said Eudora. ‘I’ll deal with whoever it is.’ She strode down the hall, her mind racing. She picked up the receiver with a trembling hand and tried to inject her voice with more courage than she felt. ‘Edenham 7359.’
‘Dora. It’s Stella. Please don’t hang up.’
Eudora hesitated. Even after all this time, after the betrayal which had set hard in her brain like concrete, she found it hard to refuse. ‘I told you never to call here again.’
‘I know but I’m in trouble and I want to come home.’
Eudora’s laugh was bitter. ‘Really.’
‘Please, Dora. Just hear me out.’
‘Well come along then. What is it now? Has Eddie abandoned you?’
‘No, but I am pregnant.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Dora, please. This isn’t easy for me.’
It was as if a dam had burst. Eudora’s words flowed fast and savage. ‘Oh, and you think this is easy for me, do you? To be abandoned, to be betrayed, to be left behind. By the one person you should always be able to trust. You think this has been a stroll in the park for me, do you?’
Stella’s voice was small and hollow. She sounded different to Eudora, older but diminished too. ‘No. And I know you won’t believe me but the thing I regret most is hurting you, Dora. You were always so kind to me.’
‘Well that’s a turn up because the thing I regret most, Stella, is ever being kind to you.’
There’s a pause. ‘I’m scared, Dora.’ Eudora said nothing so Stella continued. ‘It’s Eddie. He’s drinking too much and he’s, well, he’s not very nice to be around. I’m frightened for the baby. I need somewhere to go. You’re the only person I can ask, Dora. Please. I’m begging you. If not for me then for the child.’
Eudora thought about her conversation with her mother, about her life now, relatively calm and peaceful, about the hurt she’d worked so hard to banish. It had taken a long time but she’d managed it.
‘Dora? Please help me. Please?’
Eudora glimpsed the photograph of her father in full uniform staring out at her from its position on the telephone table, his face unusually grave apart from the customary softness around his eyes.
So will you look after Mummy and the baby for me? Please?
His words rippled back to her from the past, tangling their way into her brain.
I said I would but I didn’t realise you meant forever. I thought you’d come back. I didn’t know I’d have to do it alone.
‘Dora?’ pleaded Stella.
Eudora closed her eyes. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m—’ There was a click-whirr as the line went dead.
‘Stella? Stella?’ Eudora pressed the receiver button repeatedly in a vain attempt to bring her sister back. She held it against her forehead for a moment, trying to breathe away the relief and regret which snaked around her brain. The clock struck six o’clock. ‘Time for tea,’ she murmured, avoiding the gentle gaze of her father as she replaced the receiver in its cradle and made her way back to the kitchen.