‘Arabella Lumb.’ The name, on repetition, sounded even more unlikely. ‘Have you ever seen her?’
‘Yes, once. She was at Rosemullion one evening, when I went for a beer with Walter. She sat in the corner by the bar all evening, eyeing him, but they didn't talk because I was there. Old gooseberry. Getting in the way. She looks like a great bosomy tinker…you know, Mother Earth stuff. Bangles and beads and sandals and green varnish on her rather dirty toe-nails.’
‘She sounds ghastly.’
‘She's sexy, though. It exudes from her. Lush. Like a huge, over-ripe fruit. A sort of excitement. I think the word is “palpable”. Perhaps we should look it up in the dictionary.’
‘No. I think you've got it right.’
‘I have a horrid feeling that Walter is besotted.’ Loveday sat back in her chair and felt in the pocket of her trousers, to produce a battered packet of cigarettes and a cheap lighter. She took one of the cigarettes and lit it. After a moment she said, ‘And I don't know what to do.’
‘Take Mrs Mudge's advice. Have it out with him.’
Loveday sniffed enormously. Then she looked up and, across the table, her lovely eyes met Judith's. ‘I tried last night.’ Her voice was despondent. ‘I was angry and I was fed up. Walter got home at eleven o'clock, and he'd been drinking whisky. I could smell it. When he gets drunk, he gets aggressive, and we had the most terrible row, and we woke Nat up because we were shouting and yelling at each other. And he said he'd do what he bloody pleased, and see who he bloody wanted. And he said it was my fault anyway, because I was such a bloody useless wife and mother, and the cottage is always such a mess, and I can't even cook properly…’
‘That's unkind and unfair.’
‘I know I'm not much good at cooking, but it's horrid being told. And there's another thing. He doesn't like me taking Nat down to Nancherrow. He resents it, I think. As though he was being diminished in some way…’
‘Of all men, Walter has no right to have a chip on his shoulder.’
‘He says I'm trying to turn Nat into a little sissy. He wants him to be a Mudge, not a Carey-Lewis.’
It was all understandable, but bewildering too. ‘Does he love Nat?’
‘Yes, when Nat's being good or amusing or funny. Not when he's tired and demanding or needing attention. Sometimes, days go by and Walter doesn't even speak to him. He can be a moody devil. And lately, he's been really impossible.’
‘You mean, since Arabella Lumb came on the scene?’
Loveday nodded.
‘It's surely not serious, Loveday? All men have those dotty times, when they go off the rails and lose all sense. And if she's got her big guns trained on him, it doesn't seem to me that he stands much of a chance.’
‘She isn't going to go away, Judith.’
‘She might.’ But even as Judith said this, it didn't sound very hopeful. ‘You've been happy with Walter. I think you've just got to grin and bear it, and wait for him to come to his senses. It's no good having it out, having rows. It'll just make everything worse.’
‘Bit too late to say that.’
‘I'm not being much help, am I?’
‘Yes, you are. Just being able to talk about it helps. The worst is, no one to talk to. Mummy and Pops would’ — she searched for the right word — ‘explode, if they knew.’
‘I'm surprised they don't already.’
‘The only person who might have got the buzz is Nettlebed. And you and I both know that Nettlebed would never breathe a word to either of them.’
‘No. No, he never would.’
All this time Nat had been lying on his stomach, intent on his game. Now he decided that he was hungry. He scrambled to his feet and came over, to stand on tiptoe and peer at the contents of the table.
‘I want somefin to eat.’
Loveday stubbed out her cigarette in a handy saucer, stooped and hoisted him up onto her knee. She pressed a kiss on the top of his thick dark hair, and with her arms encircling him, buttered a slice of saffron bread and gave it to him.
He munched noisily, staring, unblinking, at Judith. She smiled at him. ‘I meant to bring you a present, Nat, but there wasn't a shop. Next time I come I'll bring you something. What would you like?’
‘I like a car.’
‘What, a little car?’
‘No. A big car what I can get inside.’
Loveday laughed. ‘You're a boy for the main chance, aren't you? Judith can't buy you a car.’
Judith ruffled his head. She said, ‘Don't listen to your mother. I can do anything I want.’
By the time tea was over it was well past five o'clock. Judith said, ‘I really must go. Biddy and Phyllis will be wondering what's happened to me, imagining terrible dramas with Jess.’
‘It was lovely seeing you. Thanks for coming.’
‘I'm glad I did. Next time, I'll do all the ironing.’ She went to retrieve her raincoat. ‘And you must bring Nat up to The Dower House one day. For lunch or something.’
‘We'd like that. Wouldn't we, Nat? Judith, you won't say a word, will you? About what I've told you.’
‘Not a word. But you must keep on talking to me.’
‘I'll do that.’
Loveday scooped Nat up in her arms, and they came to the open door to see Judith away. Outside, the mist had thickened and all was grey, and drenched and dripping. Judith turned up the collar of her coat and prepared to make a wet dash for the car, but Loveday said her name, and she turned.
‘Have you heard from Gus yet?’
Judith shook her head. ‘Not a word.’
‘Just wondered.’
Judith drove home through the dark, dismal evening, into Rosemullion, up the hill, and so through the gates of The Dower House. The kitchen window glowed warm and yellow through the gloom, and someone had left the light on over the front door. She put Biddy's car in the garage, where her own small Morris still crouched, wheel-less, set upon wooden blocks and draped with a grubby dust-sheet. The necessary petrol coupons had not yet come through from the appropriate authority, and until they did, there was no point in getting someone to put the wheels back on, charge up the battery, and discover whether the neglected little car had weathered its years of disuse.
She crossed the gravel and went into the house through the back door. In the kitchen, she found Phyllis rolling pastry, and Anna sitting at the other end of the table, trying to do her homework.
‘I've got to write a sentence with the word “spoken” in it.’
‘Well, that shouldn't be too difficult…Judith. Where have you been? We thought you'd be back hours ago.’
‘I went to see Loveday and Nat.’
‘We wondered if something had gone wrong with Jess, and you'd been kept.’
‘I know. I should have rung. No worries. Quite self-sufficient. She wouldn't even let me go in with her. I had to say goodbye on the doorstep.’
That's a relief. Feels funny without her, doesn't it? As though she'd lived here always. Anna's going to miss her, aren't you, Anna? Now, come on, get that homework done.’
Anna sighed elaborately. ‘I can't think what to say.’
Judith came to the rescue. ‘How about “I have telephoned Jess and spoken to her”?’
Anna considered this. ‘Can't spell “telephoned”.’
‘Then put “seen”. “I've seen Jess and spoken to her.”’
‘That'll do.’ With fingers clamped around her pencil, Anna wrote, the tip of her tongue clamped, in serious concentration, between her teeth.
‘Want a cup of tea, do you?’
‘No, thanks, I've had one. Where's Mrs Somerville?’
‘In the drawing-room. She's been waiting for you to come back. She's all agog. Got something to tell you.’
‘What?’
‘Not for me to tell.’
‘I hope it's something cheerful.’
‘Go and find out then.’
So Judith went, shedding her wet raincoat on the way. She opened the drawing-room door onto a snug
scene. Lamps had been lit, and the fire blazed. In front of this, on the hearthrug, lay Morag. Biddy sat in her armchair, close to the flames, and was engaged in knitting a square. Knitting squares was about the limit of her capabilities. She made them out of odds and ends of wool, and when she had a dozen or so in hand, wheeled them into the Red Cross, where some other lady, slightly less handless, crocheted them together into gaudy patchwork blankets. These were then parcelled off to the Red Cross in Germany, and distributed to camps still filled with sad, homeless displaced persons. Biddy called it her peace-work.
‘Judith.’ She laid down her knitting and took off her spectacles. ‘Everything all right? No problems with Jess?’
‘Not a one.’
‘Good for her. She's such a funny little mixture. A small girl one moment, and so mature the next. She'll do splendidly, I'm sure, but it does feel a bit empty without her. Where've you been?’
‘Seeing Loveday.’ Judith went to draw the curtains against the dank dusk of the dark November evening. ‘Phyllis said you had something to tell me.’
‘Yes. Exciting. What time is it?’
‘Quarter to six.’
‘Let's have a drink. Whisky and soda. What do you say?’
‘I say yes. I'm bushed.’
‘Emotionally drained, darling. You sit down and be cosy and I'll bring you one.’
She got up and went from the room, because, traditionally, the bottles and glasses were always kept in the dining-room. Judith, alone, put another log on the fire, and sank into the other armchair. Emotionally drained, Biddy had said, and it was true. But what Biddy didn't realise was that it was not leaving Jess that had drained Judith as much as her conversation with Loveday. And, what was sure, could not be enlightened.
After a moment, Biddy returned with the two drinks. She gave one to Judith and then sat down again, placing her glass, with some care, on the table at her side. She lit a cigarette. Finally, with everything nicely to hand, ‘Now,’ she said.
‘Tell.’
‘I've got the house. The house at Portscatho. Heard from the estate agent this afternoon.’
‘Biddy, that's wonderful.’
‘I can move in any time after the middle of January.’
‘So soon?’
‘But there's lots to be done. I've been thinking, making lists. I shall have to go to Devon, and finally sell Upper Bickley.’
‘Who are you going to sell it to?’
‘The Naval family who've been living in it, renting it, all through the war. They've been wanting to buy it for two years, but if I'd sold it, then I'd have had to put all my furniture into store. As it is they've been looking after it for me.’
‘Do they still want to buy it?’
‘Can't wait. So what I have to do is go to Bovey Tracey and sort it all out, and make inventories of what I've got, and then arrange for packers and removal men, and all that sort of thing. I'm going to ring Hester Lang this evening, and ask if I can stay with her. Easier to deal with everything if I'm on the spot. So…’ She reached for her drink, and raised the glass. ‘Cheers, my darling.’
‘Here's to Portscatho!’
They toasted the new house. Judith said, ‘When are you planning to go?’
‘I thought sometime next week. And I'll stay there, with Hester, for a bit.’
Judith became alarmed. ‘But you'll be back for Christmas?’
‘Only if you want me.’
‘Oh, Biddy, you must be here for Christmas. I've promised Jess a proper Christmas, and I've never done one, so I'll need lots of guidance and help. And we've got to have a tree, and a proper Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. You must come back.’
‘All right then, I will come back. Just until the middle of January. And then I'll make my great move. I want to be all settled in before Bob comes home.’
‘It's terribly exciting, but goodness, we'll miss you.’
‘I'll miss you all too. And without Phyllis I'm going to have to start learning how to housekeep all over again. But one must keep moving forward, even old crocks like me. Now, there's another thing I thought of. When I go to Hester's, I'll take the train, and leave you my car. You must have wheels, and I can manage without them, because if I'm desperate I know Hester will lend me hers.’
‘Biddy, that's too unselfish.’
‘No, it's not. And I've got some out-of-date petrol coupons salted away. Strictly speaking they're illegal, but the filling station up the road are very accommodating about turning a blind eye. So you should be all right.’ She picked up her knitting once more. ‘It really is rather thrilling, isn't it? I can't believe I've actually got the house. Exactly what I've always had in mind. And the lovely thing is that we're not very far away from you. Just an hour's drive. And it's got this view of the sea, and you can walk down the lane to the rocks, and swim. And the garden's just big enough.’
‘I can't wait to see it.’
‘Can't wait to show it to you. But not until I've got it all in order, and am thoroughly dug in.’
‘You're as bad as Loveday. She wouldn't let me look around her cottage because she said it was too untidy.’
‘Oh, poor Loveday. You must have caught her unawares. How was she? And was Nat creating?’
‘No. He was rather sweet. He wants me to give him a car he can ride around in.’
‘Heavens, what a greedy boy.’
‘Not a bit. Why shouldn't he have one?’ Judith stretched. The warmth of the fire, and the whisky, had made her feel sleepy. She yawned. ‘If I can find the energy, I shall go and have a bath.’
‘Do that. You look a bit washed out.’
‘It's been one of those days. Everything happening. Changing. People moving on. First Jess and now you. I don't feel unhappy about Jess, but I didn't have her for very long. What we had was all good, but it was over too soon.’
‘You've done the right thing by her.’
‘Yes. I know that. It's just…’ she shrugged. ‘Everything.’
Everything. Judith thought about horoscopes. She didn't often read horoscopes, but when she did, they always referred to clashings of planets — Mercury being in the wrong aspect to the Sun, or Mars being fiery somewhere, and so creating havoc in one's own particular birth sign, which happened in her case to be Cancer. Perhaps this was a particularly tempestuous and active phase, and the limitless heavens had it in for her. She only knew that since the day she had been told that Dad and Mummy had both died, she had been bombarded by unimagined events. Hugo Halley had been one of them, and finding Gus alive, and Jess, miraculously, returning safe and sound from Java. But already, Jess was gone; streamed into her new life. And now, Biddy too was on her way. Sooner or later, Phyllis and Anna would be off as well, to make a new home for themselves and Petty Officer Cyril Eddy.
But, perhaps most lowering of all, were the private preoccupations. Her growing concern for Gus, alarming and frustrating all at the same time. And being party to confidences which she had never wished to hear. Athena not being Edgar's daughter; and that wretched Walter Mudge carrying on with Arabella Lumb, and making Loveday so miserably unhappy.
She said, rather feebly, ‘Everything happens so quickly.’
‘Now the war's over, we're all changing gear, changing speed, doing our best to return to some sort of normality. People's lives can never stand still, otherwise we'd all come to a grinding halt and atrophy.’
‘I know that.’
‘You're tired. Go and have a bath. You can take the last drop of my Floris Stephanotis, as a tremendous treat. And Phyllis is cooking Mr Woolton's Special Economy Vegetable Pie for supper. I think we should make it an occasion. I shall open a bottle of wine.’
And she looked so sparky and delighted with her bright idea that Judith, despite herself, had to laugh. ‘You know something, Biddy? Sometimes you have the most brilliant notions. What am I going to do without you?’
Biddy changed needles and set off on another row. ‘Lots of things.’
The Dower H
ouse
Rosemullion.
14th November.
Dear Gus,
I wonder if you ever got my letter that I wrote on the troop-ship and posted in Gib? I sent it to Ardvray, but perhaps you haven't gone home yet. Anyway, I'll send this one to Gordon HQ in Aberdeen, and then you'll be sure to get it.
We got back here about the 19th of October and it was wonderful to be home. I have been busy with Jess. She has gone to my old school as a full boarder. Miss Catto, the headmistress, used to be my headmistress, and is particularly kind and understanding. I haven't seen Jess since I left her, but she has written us some cheerful letters and seems to be settling down.
I have seen them all at Nancherrow. Loveday too. Her son Nat is large and lively, and she adores him. I managed to buy him a second-hand pedal-car, and he loves it so much that he wants to take it to bed with him.
I wonder what you are going to do for Christmas? I am sure you will have lots of good friends in Scotland who will be queuing for your company.
Please write and let me know what is happening and that you are all right.
With my love,
Judith
The Dower House,
Rosemullion.
5th December 1945.
Dear Gus,
Still no word from you. I wish you didn't live so far away, so I could come in search. Please send me something, if only a postcard of the municipal flower-beds of Aberdeen. You promised you would keep in touch and reassure me, and if you want to be left alone, and don't want any more letters, just say and I shall completely understand.
Here, we are a diminished household. Biddy Somerville has gone off to sell her house in Devon. She has bought another at a place called Portscatho, near St Mawes. Think she plans to move there about middle of January. She took her dog, Morag, with her. Jess loved the creature, so I think I shall give her a dog of her own to take the place of Morag when they leave us for good.