‘Who’s for another sausage then?’ asks Paul, holding up a plate.
‘Me, please!’ cries Rose, darting her hand into the air like a school pupil trying to get the teacher’s attention.
‘You’ll pop if you eat any more,’ warns Eudora.
‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take,’ says Rose, sweeping two sausages onto her plate. ‘Thank you, Paul.’
‘You’re welcome. Eudora?’
‘No, thank you,’ she says. ‘I am replete.’
Rose laughs. ‘Don’t you just love the way Eudora talks? “Replete”. So funny. What does that mean?’
‘Sated,’ says Eudora with a wry smile.
Paul and Rose exchange nonplussed glances. ‘Full,’ says Stanley. ‘It was the answer to a clue in one of those crosswords the other day. I had to look it up.’
‘Bravo, Stanley,’ says Eudora, applauding him.
He gives a modest curtsey and Rose laughs. ‘This is so much fun. Much better than being at home with boring Mummy.’
‘Now then, Rose. You mustn’t be so hard on your mother. She’s very tired,’ says Eudora.
‘Yes. Because of the stupid baby.’
‘Don’t worry, Rose. I didn’t like my sister when she was born either,’ says Stanley’s granddaughter, Livvy, taking a place in the chair next to Eudora. ‘But it’s actually quite handy when you get older and you need to borrow clothes.’
‘I hope she shares my excellent taste in fashion then.’
Livvy takes in Rose’s leopard print leggings paired with a neon orange T-shirt and smiles. ‘Well, as big sister you’ll have to teach her.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve already started a list of everything she needs to know. And I’ve made a big “keep out” sign for my bedroom door too.’
‘Very wise,’ says Livvy.
‘Didn’t you have a sister?’ says Rose to Eudora. ‘Or am I being nosey again?’
Eudora stares at the ice cubes bobbing up and down in her drink. ‘You are being nosey, Rose, but it’s all right. I did have a sister. Once.’
‘Oh,’ says Rose. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you sad.’
‘No. I don’t mind,’ says Eudora. There’s something about the way that Stanley’s family wrap everything in love which puts her at ease. ‘She was called Stella. She was seven years younger than me.’
‘Stella,’ says Rose, trying it out. ‘I like that.’
‘It means “star”,’ says Stanley.
‘It does,’ says Eudora.
‘Wow, you had seven years between you? I thought two was bad enough,’ says Livvy.
‘There’s ten years between Daisy and me,’ says Rose, puffing out her chest. ‘So, did you get on or was she annoying?’
Eudora’s eyes soften at the memory. ‘I adored her when she was small. She was full of spirit and fun. A bit like you, Rose.’
‘Aww, thanks, Eudora. And what happened? Did you stay besties when she grew up?’
Eudora’s body stiffens. She’d forgotten about Rose’s forensic quest for facts. A sentimental stroll down a lane of happy memories was one thing but veering towards a dead-end of bitter truths was wholly undesirable. Eudora clears her throat. ‘Not really. She moved away and we never really saw one another again.’
‘Oh. That’s so sad. You must have missed her.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ She can see that Rose is poised, like a sniffer dog on the hunt for clues. She turns to Stanley’s daughter-in-law. ‘So, Helen, your clever daughter has been telling me that she wants to work in television and her sister hopes to train as a vet?’
‘I don’t know where they get it from,’ says Paul, joining their conversation. ‘It must be their mum’s influence,’ he adds, winking at his wife.
Helen smiles. ‘They’re good girls,’ she tells Eudora. ‘Always have been. I keep them close. We’ve had a few trials this week, haven’t we, Liv?’
Livvy nods slowly. ‘I broke up with my boyfriend. We’ve been together since we were fourteen.’
‘Oh. That’s so sad,’ says Rose.
‘Terrible,’ echoes Eudora, relieved that she is now distracted by another tale of heartbreak.
‘I should have gone round and had a word,’ says Paul. ‘No one cheats on my girls.’
‘And I should have come with you,’ says Stanley.
Livvy and Helen roll their eyes at one another. ‘But thankfully, they didn’t,’ says Helen. ‘Instead we ate two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s and watched a whole series of Friends.’
‘Well, I have no idea who Ben, Jerry or these friends are but it sounds as if you’ve got the best mother in the world,’ says Eudora. She thinks of Beatrice. She couldn’t imagine anyone more different to Helen. ‘Trust me, you are extremely lucky.’
‘I am,’ says Livvy, putting an arm round her mum. ‘She told me I can do a lot better and I believe her.’
‘And so you should,’ says Eudora. ‘Any man who makes you feel less than you are, isn’t worth a jot of your time.’
‘I know. It’s just that we’d been together for ages and we were good mates, you know? I’m sad that our friendship had to end as well.’
‘The truth is that sometimes even those you’re closest to can let you down. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’re a confident, intelligent young woman. I have no doubt that you will find a man who is worthy of you. And if you don’t, I suspect you’ll be magnificent regardless.’
‘Thank you, Eudora,’ says Livvy. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say.’
‘Am I a confident, intelligent young woman?’ asks Rose hopefully.
Eudora and Livvy exchange amused glances. ‘You’re one in a million, Rose,’ says Eudora.
‘Right. Who’s ready to sing?’ They all look up to see Helen, carrying in a large rectangular cake. It’s decorated with the words ‘Happy Birthday Pops!’ and a fondant icing model of Stanley wearing sunglasses, lying in a deckchair, with a handkerchief on his head. The twenty or so candle flames dip and waver in the breeze but somehow Helen manages to keep them alight as they sing. Eudora looks around at these people, turning their smiling faces towards Stanley, like flowers in the sun. She envies their easy companionship, their pure uncomplicated love for one another. ‘Make a wish!’ cries Rose as they finish singing and Stanley blows out the candles. It takes him several attempts to extinguish all of them.
‘Good job we didn’t stick the right number of candles on there, Pops! We did try but we couldn’t get the fire insurance,’ says Paul.
‘Dad!’ cries Ellie, rolling her eyes. ‘You tell that joke every year.’
‘That’s because it’s such a good one,’ says Paul, ruffling her hair.
Ellie holds up her hands. ‘Never. Touch. The Hair. Dad.’ Paul laughs.
‘What? Do you mean you actually meant your hair to look like that?’ says Livvy, arching a brow.
Ellie purses her lips. ‘What? Do you actually mean your face to look like that?’
‘Girls,’ says Helen, putting an arm around each of them. ‘Let’s not fight about nothing today, shall we?’
‘JK, Mum, chill.’
‘Yeah, Mum. We’re joking. Chill.’
Helen turns to Eudora and Rose. ‘Remember what I said about them being good girls? I take it all back.’
Ellie and Livvy link arms with their mother and plant fat kisses on her cheeks. ‘Oh Mummy, you don’t mean it.’
Rose giggles. ‘I want Daisy and me to be just like them when we grow up.’
Eudora’s smile is tempered by a shiver of melancholy at the thought that she won’t be around to see this. ‘I hope you get your wish, Rose,’ she says. ‘Now, shall we get you home? I expect your mother will be wondering where you are.’
* * *
Eudora waves Stanley off and lets herself in through the front door. It’s cool but gloomy in the hall compared with the dazzling brightness outside. She experiences a momentary sensation of dizziness, which she puts down to that afternoon’s exertions. It’s been enjoyable but exhausting.
‘Tea and a sit down is all I need,’ she tells Montgomery, who greets her from the kitchen doorway with an impatient miaow. ‘And yes, I’ll give you some food too. Don’t worry.’ The persistence with which he weaves himself around her ankles until she complies with his wishes is another stark reminder of why she is relieved she never had children. Demanding and needy. Two of the least attractive traits known to man. Of course, her mother was needy at times but there was gratitude lurking not far behind. Even at the end of her life, Beatrice was always thanking Eudora for the smallest of kindnesses. It squeezes her heart to think of this now.
As she waits for the kettle to boil, Eudora notices a magpie in the garden filling the air with rasping chatter.
One for sorrow.
Another magpie hops onto the grass beside the other. ‘Two for joy,’ she murmurs with relief.
Cat fed, tea made, Eudora settles in her chair, breathless and tired. I’m eighty-five, she tells herself. I’m not used to such busy social activities with all these people to talk to and the irrepressible Rose in tow. It’s hardly surprising I’m exhausted.
Eudora notices the answering machine flashing red with a message and presses ‘play’.
‘Hallo, Eudora. This is Petra. I know you spoke to Doctor Liebermann and I wanted to know how you are. Please call me if you want to chat. Any time.’
Eudora sits back in her chair and takes a sip of tea.
How are you, Eudora? How are you feeling? Really.
Much as she rails against these open discussions of feelings, she knows it’s important to answer them, that Petra and the doctor won’t help her unless she does. And yet, the truth is that she fears the answer. Which is why, for the time being, she resolves to remain silent. Silence is powerful. Silence neither agrees nor disagrees. It buys time and, actually, that is what she wants at the moment. A little more time. A little more life.
* * *
It was a chance meeting that brought this notion more sharply into focus for Eudora. She was leaving the leisure centre after a swim, wondering how on earth she would manage the walk home. Fatigue was a daily feature of her eighty-five-year-old life but for some reason, she was feeling particularly worn out today.
‘Hello. It’s Eudora, isn’t it?’ said a voice as soothing as treacle. Eudora turned, nonplussed, inhaling the warm spice of the woman’s perfume. ‘I’m Hannah. You came to one of my talks. With that little girl – Rose, was it?’
‘You have an excellent memory,’ said Eudora.
Hannah’s smile puts Eudora immediately at ease. ‘How are you?’
‘Still above ground.’
Hannah laughed. ‘I remember that gallows humour. You were the only one brave enough to speak to me afterwards. Most people seem to think I’m the grim reaper in disguise.’
‘It’s a very good disguise,’ said Eudora. ‘Actually, it was Rose who wanted to speak to you.’
Hannah nodded. ‘A lot of kids want to talk about death. They’re trying to figure out how it fits into the grand scheme of things but lots of adults won’t talk about it. Too depressing.’ She drew air quotes as she said this.
‘Mmm,’ said Eudora, keen to be on her way. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you again.’
Hannah glanced at Eudora’s stick. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere? I only popped in to drop off some leaflets.’
‘Oh, there’s really no need.’
‘It’s no bother.’
‘Very well,’ said Eudora with some relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘So I presume you heard about Jim?’ said Hannah, once they’re in the car and on their way.
‘Jim?’
‘Audrey’s husband from the group?’
‘Oh, I’ve only been along once but I did meet Audrey. Is everything all right?’
Hannah cleared her throat. ‘Jim died at the weekend. I had the privilege of being with him and Audrey at the end.’
‘Oh. Poor Audrey.’
‘Yes,’ said Hannah. ‘She’d had a difficult few years so I know she was glad his death was gentle and surrounded by love.’
‘It’s the best you can hope for,’ murmured Eudora.
‘I believe so, yes.’
They drove in silence until Hannah turned onto Sidney Avenue and Eudora pointed out her house. She pulled into the space outside and switched off the ignition. Eudora unbuckled her belt. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you think people should be able to choose how they die?’
Hannah fixed her with a gaze of pure kindness. ‘Within reason, yes. I think the first thing we need to do is talk about death. We need to reclaim the “D” word and have grown-up discussions to dispel the myth and do away with the fear.’
‘But what if you’re not afraid?’
Hannah held her gaze. ‘Then you should embrace life for as long as possible – cherish and value it. I don’t know you very well but I’ve seen you with Rose and can tell you have a special friendship. You’re one of the lucky ones. Wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes,’ admitted Eudora. ‘I suppose I am.’
* * *
Eudora cradles the cup in her hand, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea and takes a deep breath. She was listening to a programme on the radio earlier about mindfulness. Normally, she would dismiss these ideas as hokum. However, the expert spoke with a quiet measured authority, which reminded Eudora of the way Hannah conveyed her truths. She found it utterly compelling. She looks around the room, at the photographs of her parents on the telephone table, the fireplace, her books, the curtains, and the tall elegant standard lamp which bathes everything in a warm apricot glow. She feels the gentle, comforting heat of the cup snug in her hand. She watches Montgomery saunter into the room, leap up onto the sofa, and turn 360 degrees twice before settling into a tidy parcel of steadily breathing fur. Eudora scans her body for pain and, apart from her weariness and the usual aches, which are eased by her seated position, all is well. In this moment, at this time, all is well and that is enough for now.
Her inner peace is brought to a swift end by an urgent, persistent knocking on the front door, followed by a prolonged pressing of the doorbell. There’s only one person it could be.
‘For heaven’s sake, Rose. What is it now?’ she cries, having struggled down the hall to open the front door. ‘A trip to the moon? A night-time raid on London Zoo?’ Eudora stops in her tracks when she sees the little girl’s ashen face. ‘What is it, Rose?’
‘It’s Mum. She needs you. The baby’s coming.’
* * *
Eudora could remember almost every minute detail of that day. It had started in a very ordinary fashion but whenever she looked back, she found she could recall even the most mundane aspects. She remembered what she had for breakfast (a boiled egg followed by Golden Shred on toast) and that she had bumped into Mrs Cooper on the way to the bus stop, who told her that her youngest grandson, Anthony, had caught chickenpox, poor mite. It was as if the shock of what followed brought everything into sharp focus and replayed it forever. A film reel rolling over and over in her mind.
It was a Friday. Eudora had taken the day off to spend it with Sylvia and her new baby. She was looking forward to it. Ever since baby Philip arrived, she had felt a renewed sense of purpose. Eudora would probably never have children of her own but she fully intended to cosset and spoil her best friend’s new son.
Eudora decided that the word ‘cherubic’ could have been invented with Philip in mind. His wide-eyed gaze and pleasingly chubby thighs would melt the stoniest of hearts. Eudora was besotted with him on sight and it was clear the feeling was mutual. The first time they met, he grabbed her finger and stared into her eyes as if reading her soul.
‘I think he likes you, Dor,’ said Sylvia. ‘And it’s a good thing too, seeing as we’d like you to be his godmother.’
Eudora stared at her and Ken in amazement and then back at Philip. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
Ken and Sylvia exchanged indulgent smiles. ‘Of course,’ said Sylvia. ‘Who else would we ask?’
Beatrice had been almost as delighted as Eudora and set about knitting a jacket for Philip’s christening. ‘I’ll edge it with lace. To make it extra special.’ Eudora patted her shoulder. After the drama of Stella’s phone call, their world had returned to its usual quiet routine. Thankfully, Beatrice seemed to have forgotten about it altogether. Eudora was relieved. It was better that way.
She set off to Sylvia’s after breakfast, armed with a parcel of assorted scarves, hats and mittens for the baby. Sylvia and Ken had recently moved out to the suburbs. Their house was a very pleasant 1930s semi-detached with three bedrooms and a large garden.
‘Room for Philip to kick a football with his dad,’ said Sylvia, now the model of domesticity. She had recently acquired a twin-tub and was almost as clucky about it as she was about Philip. ‘It’s so handy with the nappies, Dor,’ said Sylvia. ‘It’s changed my life.’
Eudora walked up the front path. It was early September and the leaves were turning but Sylvia’s roses were in full bloom. She leant over to inhale their scent and was rewarded with a perfume so sweet and fresh. It made her body lift with hope at this rare moment of uncomplicated joy.
‘You’re here!’ cried Sylvia, opening the front door. Philip sat alert and smiling in his mother’s arms. He reached out his pudgy little hands as soon as he saw Eudora.
‘Hello, my little man,’ she said, taking him from Sylvia and planting a kiss on his forehead. She had been fearful of what would happen once Sylvia got married and became a mother, but realised now that there’d been nothing to worry about. If anything, she and Sylvia were closer than ever, almost like sisters. As an only child with no mother and a father she rarely saw, Eudora – and by extension, Beatrice – had become a surrogate family to Sylvia.
‘Come through,’ she said, leading Eudora down the hall. ‘It’s a lovely day. Let’s have coffee in the sunroom.’ Eudora smiled. Sylvia liked to bestow grand names on the rooms in her house. She would talk about the ‘drawing room’ and ‘master bedroom’ with great enthusiasm. Eudora didn’t mind. Taking pride in one’s house was an admirable quality.
‘So how have you been?’ she asked as Sylvia brought in a tray holding a matching coffee set including sugar bowl and tongs and started to serve. Philip sat facing Eudora on her lap. They had just enjoyed several rounds of ‘pat-a-cake’, which to her delight had provoked multiple gurgles of pure happiness from her godson.
‘Yes. We’re all fine really. Ken’s busy at work but it’s the price you have to pay for the good life, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose it is. But you’re happy, aren’t you, Sylvia?’ she asked, detecting a note of caution in her friend’s voice.
Sylvia pursed her lips. ‘I’m fine. Absolutely fine. How about you? How’s life at the bank?’
Eudora could tell that Sylvia was hiding something from her. ‘Yes, everything is good, thank you. I’ve just been given a small promotion.’
‘Oh, but that’s wonderful,’ cried Sylvia, placing Eudora’s coffee cup on a coaster. ‘You’ll be running the show soon.’
‘I don’t know about that but it is nice to get some recognition.’
‘And how is your mother?’
‘She’s fine. Sends her love and a whole host of knitted items for this young man too,’ said Eudora, reaching out a hand to stroke his downy hair. She glanced up at Sylvia and noticed that she was crying. ‘Oh Sylvia, whatever’s the matter?’
‘Oh Dor, I don’t know how to tell you.’
Panic rose in Eudora’s chest. ‘Tell me what, Sylvia? What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with Philip?’
Sylvia shook her head rapidly. ‘No, he’s fine. Sorry, I shouldn’t have scared you like that. The thing is, Dor, Ken has been offered a new position in the company.’
‘But that’s marvellous,’ said Eudora. ‘He really will be running the company soon.’
Sylvia gave a weak smile. ‘They want him to open up a new office.’
‘Oh. Where?’ asked Eudora, willing her to say Scotland.
‘Canada.’
‘Canada.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.’
‘And he’s definitely going to take it?’
‘I think so. It would be a very good career move. And Canada is so beautiful.’
‘It’s so far away, Sylvia,’ said Eudora, a sob catching in her throat.
‘I know,’ nodded Sylvia as they both started to cry.
Philip stared at them with huge questioning eyes. Eudora pulled him to her and kissed his head. ‘It’s all right, little man. I’ll come and visit you. I promise,’ she said, unsure as to whether this would even be possible.
‘And we can write,’ said Sylvia, trying to sound hopeful.
‘We won’t lose touch,’ said Eudora. ‘We’ll always be there for one another. Whatever happens.’
* * *
Eudora returned home heavy with sorrow. They had tried to make the best of it, to tell one another that nothing would change but it was all lies. The lies you tell to make yourself feel better. As she neared the house, Eudora noticed a policeman walking towards her; a constable, barely older then her. He was staring up at the rows of terraced houses, trying to read the numbers.
‘May I help you?’ she asked as they met by her own front gate.
‘No, thank you, Miss,’ he said, touching the peak of his helmet. ‘This is the one I’m looking for.’
‘But this is my house,’ she said in alarm.
The police constable blushed, his eyes wide in an expression which reminded her of Philip. ‘Oh, well. Could I speak to your father, please?’
‘He’s dead,’ she told him.
‘I’m sorry. Your mother?’
‘She’s …’ Eudora’s voice trailed away. ‘You’d better come inside.’
‘Thank you.’
Eudora opened the front door to the sound of music playing and knitting needles clacking. A good sign. ‘Mum? There’s someone to see you.’ She led the policeman into the lounge, where Beatrice was knitting by the fire, a cup of tea at her side. She looked up and smiled, the picture of contentment. Eudora would often wonder afterwards if this was the last time she ever saw her like that.
The policeman took off his helmet and cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Honeysett? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’
Beatrice looked from Eudora to the policeman and back again as if trying to work out what on earth could be the matter given that her eldest daughter was present and correct. ‘What is it?’ she demanded with a hint of irritation.
‘It’s your daughter, Stella. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’
‘Dora?’ cried Beatrice in alarm, reaching out for her daughter.
‘It’s all right, Mum, I’m here,’ said Eudora, turning to the policeman. ‘What kind of accident? Is she okay? What about the baby?’
‘What baby?’ cried Beatrice.
Eudora squeezed her mother’s hands. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked the constable.
The policeman’s face was ghostly. Eudora wondered if this was the first time he’d ever had to deliver news like this. ‘I’m sorry to say that she had a fall down some stairs and unfortunately she sustained fatal injuries.’
‘She’s dead,’ said Eudora.
The policeman nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘She’s dead,’ repeated Eudora. ‘And her baby?’
The policeman shook his head again. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What happened? Why did she fall? How did it happen?’
The policeman shifted uncomfortably. ‘She was pushed.’
‘By her husband,’ said Eudora. ‘It was him, wasn’t it?’
He gave the briefest of nods. ‘He’s in custody. I’m very sorry. Please accept my condolences.’
Eudora could remember everything that happened that day up until this point, but what followed remained a blur. She probably made some tea, tried to comfort her mother, eventually prepared a meal but she couldn’t remember any of this. All she knew was that she had never felt so lonely, so wretched, or so guilty in her entire life. You made your choices and you had to live with them. And Eudora knew, from that moment onwards, that the choice she’d made would haunt her until the day she died.