Walking in the early mornings with the dogs on the moor above the house, looking out to sea, Lyddie tried to come to terms with this new blow. Without Aunt Mina, she felt as if she’d suddenly lost her footing, trodden confidently out onto a step that was not there. In the ambulance, leaving Nest white-faced but determined – ‘You must go! I can’t be with her but she mustn’t be alone. Please go with her. I’ll be all right!’ – she’d held Mina’s cold, unresponsive hand and stared beseechingly into the calm, serene face. Waiting alone in the hospital, she’d known the truth, already learning to face a future that did not hold Aunt Mina.
The minute Jack had heard the news, telephoning Ottercombe to say that they were safely home, he’d driven straight back. Leaving Hannah with the children and the boys, and another master to take over his teaching duties, he’d come straight to the hospital at Nest’s request and taken the whole terrible business into his hands.
This morning, the fourth after Mina’s death, watching a tanker ploughing down the Channel, catching the rays of the newly risen sun, Lyddie could feel the tears running down the back of her throat.
‘It’s just that she’s always been there,’ she’d said to Jack. ‘She and Nest, after Mummy and Daddy died. I can’t quite imagine life without Aunt Mina.’
‘She’s left everything to you, Ottercombe, everything,’ he’d told her. ‘Did you know that I’m an executor? Aunt Nest has the right to live at Ottercombe until she dies but it’s academic, of course. She could never manage there alone.’
‘She isn’t alone,’ Lyddie had said. ‘I shall be with her.’
Jack had watched her thoughtfully. ‘Shall you stay at Ottercombe?’
‘Yes, I shall. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t possibly uproot her now. It’s been the most terrible shock for Nest. On top of all the other knocks she’s taken it would be the last straw. Anyway, I don’t want to leave. I love it here and I can’t imagine where else we could go. I had no idea that Aunt Mina had left the house to me, though.’
‘She knew that you could be trusted to look after Aunt Nest and it’s possible . . .’ He’d hesitated.
‘It’s possible that she suspected that I might need a refuge,’ she’d supplied rather bitterly.
He’d shrugged, still watching her compassionately. ‘Maybe. When you talk of Aunt Nest’s “knocks” do you mean the accident?’
‘Well, yes . . .’ She remembered with a sudden shock that Jack knew nothing of the true relationship between herself and Nest. It was odd to have secrets from Jack. ‘Yes, of course. Do you think it’s crazy? Us staying at Ottercombe?’
‘Of course not,’ he’d answered. ‘If Aunt Mina could cope with it all, I’m sure you can, although you have to remember that you work full-time. There’s a bit of money invested – Richard Bryce was a wealthy man, so that should help a bit. No, it’s simply that Aunt Mina devoted her life to Grandmama and then to Aunt Nest and I don’t want to see you sacrifice your life in the same way.’
‘Was it a sacrifice?’ she’d wondered. ‘I can’t think of anyone more content than Aunt Mina. And how wise she was, considering that she only spent a few years outside the cleave. We all turned to her at one time or another, didn’t we?’
‘Oh, I agree.’ Jack had smiled at her. ‘Aunt Mina was a communicator and one way or another she retained her intellectual integrity. She never shut herself off. I’m delighted that you’ll be together, you and Aunt Nest, but I don’t want you to forget that there’s life outside Ottercombe, that’s all.’
‘I shan’t do that,’ she’d promised. ‘Perhaps the time might come when we’ll want to sell up and move into a town, that kind of thing. It’s just that I don’t want to do anything in a hurry and I don’t want to upset Nest any more than she is now.’
‘Fine.’ He’d paused. ‘Have you noticed,’ he’d asked, ‘that you don’t call her “Aunt” these days?’
‘No, I don’t, do I?’ she’d agreed after a moment. ‘Odd, isn’t it?’
High above the turbulent waters, a tiny silver aeroplane tracked across the sky, unspooling a silvery thread, which frayed and unravelled as she watched. Her shadow, long and thin, stretched ahead across the sheep-nibbled turf and she idly held her arms out a little, stiff and straight, and opened her fingers, two and two, so that they looked like long pointed scissor-hands. She made several cutting movements until suddenly, disgusted by her childishness, she thrust her hands deep in her pockets and turned back, calling to the dogs.
At Ottercombe, Nest was getting herself up by degrees. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on a long, warm flannel skirt in soft blues and red. It was Mina who had discovered the blissful ease of elastic-waisted skirts and trousers, sending away for catalogues, poring over them with Nest, insisting that she should remain stylishly dressed, boosting her confidence.
Sitting on the bed, Nest fought with the tears that threatened night and day. Mina was everywhere: working in the garden, cooking in the kitchen, reading beside the fire. Nest could still see her, in those dreadful days after the accident, dancing on the terrace, a puppy in her arms, holding up one of its paws elegantly as they swept to and fro; pouring a very necessary drink before dinner; pushing the wheelchair round the supermarket so that Nest could choose something special for her birthday, Nest clutching the wire basket on her knees.
‘Christ . . . did not cling to equality with God . . . but emptied himself . . .’ The verse came unbidden to her mind. Perhaps that was what the attaining to Christ’s hard-won peace was about: an emptying of self, cheerfully, willingly . . .
She heard Jack moving about in the kitchen and steadied herself, continuing with the slow dressing process. What would she have done without Lyddie and Jack?
‘I’m staying,’ Lyddie had said firmly, generously. ‘We belong together, you and I. We’ll get through this somehow. You’ll have to show me the ropes, mind.’
Nest was too grateful, too thankful, to make anything but a token protest about being a burden.
‘And where would I go?’ Lyddie had demanded. ‘I hope you’re not intending to throw me out? Anyway, someone’s got to look after the dogs.’
Her cheerfulness did not deceive Nest and her heart went out to Lyddie.
‘Does Liam know?’ she’d asked Jack privately – and he’d nodded.
‘Lyddie telephoned to tell him,’ he’d said, ‘but it’s clear that he doesn’t give a damn.’
He’d looked unusually angry, for Jack, and Nest had been filled with love for him. He was dealing with every aspect of the funeral and she was relieved to be spared.
‘Just let me know anyone you think should be invited,’ he’d said. ‘And I hope it’s OK but I’ve checked her e-mail correspondence and sent a message out to some of the people in her e-mail address book. It seems wrong, I know, to read her letters but I wondered if there might be someone out there who’s wondering what’s going on. She had several regulars and one man, especially, called Elyot. Did she ever speak of him?’
Nest had shaken her head, frowning. ‘I don’t think so. She only ever talked in a general way about them. It was good for her to have people to speak to and I know that some of them were looking after disabled people like me.’
‘Well, this chap seemed a bit worried not to have heard from her. His wife is ill in hospital, apparently, so I suspect she met him through some carers’ chat-room. Looking at their e-mails it’s clear that they’ve been very good friends. I’m going to print them off for you to read.’ He hesitated. ‘It probably sounds odd but I think you should read them too. Anyway, all her close contacts know now.’
‘It’s so good of you,’ she’d said, tears threatening again. ‘Sorry, what a fool I am!’
‘Have a good weep,’ he’d advised sympathetically. ‘I do, regularly.’
Now, fully dressed and having got herself into her chair, she heard the sound of Lyddie’s voice talking to Jack, and Nogood Boyo’s high bark. It was Captain Cat who was feeling the loss of his mistress most; old Polly Garter was too old to be more than a little puzzled by her absence and Nogood Boyo was too young, too infatuated by the Bosun, to worry a great deal, but poor Captain Cat mourned Mina quite heart-rendingly. He’d adopted Nest as his protector, sitting beside her chair and following her about, until Lyddie ruthlessly dragged him out for walks with the others. The four of them were learning to sleep amicably in the kitchen together at night but, oddly, Nest was glad of Captain Cat’s companionship, his shared sadness, and she often lifted him onto her lap, murmuring to him, smoothing his warm white head, as Mina had in the past. He would be waiting for her now, with Lyddie and Jack.
Straightening her shoulders, schooling her lips into a smile, she wheeled herself across the hall and into the kitchen.