Coming Home

  ‘Ha…have you seen him lately?’

  ‘Yes, he came and spent a night in London with me before setting off for Arosa. We had a lovely time, steaks and champagne and lots of catching up on news. Do you know what he's doing? You won't believe it. He's joined the University Flying Club, and he's learning to fly an aeroplane. Don't you think that's frightfully brave and heroic?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Judith said with total truthfulness. The very thought of learning to fly an aeroplane she found quite terrifying.

  ‘He adores it. Says it's the most magical thing in the world. Floating about like a sea-gull and looking at all the little fields.’

  ‘Do you think he'll be back for Christmas?’

  ‘Bound to be. Some time or other. What are you going to wear for Christmas feasties? Have you got something new?’

  ‘Well, yes, I have. It's not exactly new, but I haven't worn it yet.’

  ‘It's new then. Tell me.’

  ‘It's made out of a sari. Mummy sent me one for my birthday, and your mother helped me draw a picture, and we took it to her dressmaker and she made it.’ It felt very companionable, discussing clothes with Athena in such a grown-up way. Loveday never talked about clothes, because they bored her and she didn't care how she looked. But Athena was instantly interested.

  ‘Sounds sensational. Can I see it? Is it here?’

  ‘Yes, in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Oh, do show!’

  Judith got off her knees and went to open the wardrobe and reach for the padded hanger on which hung the precious dress, shrouded in black tissue paper.

  ‘The paper's meant to keep the gold thread from tarnishing. I don't quite know why,’ she explained as she peeled it aside. ‘It was awfully difficult to design, because we wanted to use the border pattern, but Diana worked it out…’

  The last sheet of paper drifted to the floor and the dress was revealed. She held it up in front of her, spreading the skirts to reveal the width. So fine was the silk that it all weighed nothing, just felt light as air. Around the deep hem and the cuffs of the little sleeves the gold key pattern of the sari's border glittered with reflected light.

  Athena's jaw dropped. ‘Darling, it's divine. And what a colour. Not turquoise and not blue. Utterly perfect.’ Judith felt warm with delight. It was reassuring to have Athena, of all people, so genuinely enthusiastic. ‘What about your shoes?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Gold or blue?’

  ‘Gold. Sort of sandals.’

  ‘Of course. And you must wear gold jewellery. Huge earrings. I've got just the thing, I'll lend them to you. Goodness, you're going to devastate every man in the room. It's really heavenly, and I'm madly jealous. Now wrap it all up in its parcel, and put it away before it starts tarnishing or whatever it's meant to do.’

  She sat and watched while Judith, with some difficulty, accomplished this, and replaced the dress in the safety of the wardrobe, and then yawned enormously and looked at her wristwatch.

  ‘Goodie, it's a quarter to one. I don't know about you, but I'm simply starving. Let's go down before Nettlebed starts banging his gong.’ She rose gracefully from the bed, ran a hand over her shining hair, and was ready and waiting. ‘You haven't done much unpacking. My fault for interrupting you. Never mind. You can do it later. Isn't it heavenly to know it's holidays and you've got days and days? All the time in the world.’

  Judith was awakened by the wind, a gale which had risen during the night, and was now howling in from the sea, clouting at the window and rattling the casement. It was still dark. She had opened the window a fraction when she went to bed, but now the draught tore at the curtains, causing them to dance like ghouls, so after a bit she got out of bed and, shivering in the bitter air, shoved the window shut and closed the snib. Still it rattled, but the curtains were stilled. She turned on the bedside light, and saw that it was seven o'clock in the morning. Dawn had not yet started to lighten the stormy morning, so she jumped back into her warm bed again and pulled the eiderdown up over her shoulders. By now thoroughly wide awake, she lay and thought forward to the day ahead, and back to yesterday evening. Nancherrow was slowly filling up. The latest guests, Jane and Alistair Pearson, had arrived in time for dinner, having survived a long and icy car journey from London. The entire family had streamed out into the hall to greet them, hugging and kissing beneath the laden boughs of the glittering, fairy-lit Christmas tree. The new arrivals were an attractive pair, looking younger than their years, and bringing with them a buzz of London sophistication, he in his navy-blue overcoat and foulard scarf, and she in scarlet with a white fox collar. She had tied a silk scarf over her hair, but in the warm indoors, she unknotted and pulled this off, and her hair was dark and loose against the soft fur of her collar.

  ‘…oh, darling…’ Diana was clearly thrilled. ‘…wonderful to see you. Was it a ghastly journey?’

  ‘Frightfully skiddy, but Alistair never turned a hair. We thought it was going to snow. Thank goodness we didn't have the kiddywinks and Nanny with us. She'd have been frightened stiff.’

  ‘Where's your luggage? In the car?’

  ‘Yes, and about a million parcels for under the tree…’

  ‘We'll bring them in. Where's Nettlebed? Nettlebed!’

  But Nettlebed was already there, making his way up the passage from the kitchen. ‘Don't worry, madam, I'll see to everything.’

  Which, of course, he had, and the Pearsons had been duly installed in the big bedroom with the four-poster bed, where, at this moment, they presumably still slept, unless, like Judith, they had been disturbed by the storm.

  This showed no sign of abating. Another sudden squall assaulted the house, and rain spattered and streamed down the window-pane. Judith hoped that it was not going to continue all day, but the weather was the least of her worries. Far more pressing was the fact that although parcels were already piling up under the tree, Judith had not yet got a single present for anybody. By now wide awake, she lay and brooded about this for a bit, and then got out of bed and pulled on her dressing-gown and went to sit at her desk and start on a list. In a long line, she wrote seventeen names. Seventeen presents to buy and only three days in hand before the great day. No time to be lost. Swiftly, she made a plan, cleaned her teeth and washed her face, brushed her hair, got dressed and went downstairs.

  It was now eight o'clock. Breakfast at Nancherrow started at half past eight, but she knew that Colonel Carey-Lewis, relishing a little peace, was always early, able to eat his eggs and bacon in silence, and read the bits out of yesterday's newspaper that he had had neither time nor opportunity to peruse the day before.

  She opened the dining-room door, and he was there, sitting in his chair at the head of the table. Startled, he lowered his paper and looked up over his spectacles, his expression clearly dismayed at this disturbance. But when he saw Judith, he politely rearranged his features into a semblance of pleasure. She thought, not for the first time, that he was probably the most courteous man she had ever met.

  ‘Judith.’

  ‘I'm sorry.’ She closed the door. In the grate a fire had been kindled, and the coals gave off a bitter, acrid smell. ‘I know I'm interrupting you, and you don't want to talk a bit, but I've got a problem, and I thought you might be able to help me.’

  ‘But of course. What is it?’

  ‘Well, it's this…’

  ‘No, don't tell me until you've got something to eat. We shall discuss your problem then. Never make any sort of a decision on an empty stomach.’

  She smiled, and was filled with affection for him. Over the years she had been coming to Nancherrow she had become deeply fond of the Colonel, and their relationship had very soon lost its initial shyness, and become, if never intimate, then easy. As for him, he treated Judith, if not as one of his own daughters, then certainly as though she were a favourite niece. And so, obediently, she went to the sideboard, helped herself to a boiled egg and a cup of tea, and then returned to the table to sit beside him.

  ‘Now. Wh
at is it?’

  She explained. ‘It's Christmas presents. I haven't bought any. I couldn't at school, and there wasn't time before I came here. I've sent the family ones off, of course, ages ago, because you have to if they're to get to Singapore in time, but that's all. And I've just made a list, and I've got to get seventeen for everybody here.’

  ‘Seventeen?’ He looked mildly amazed. ‘Are we really as many as that?’

  ‘Well, we will be, by Christmas.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Well, nothing really. I just wondered if there was a car going to Penzance, so that I could go too and shop. I didn't want to say anything to Diana, because she's got so much to do here, with all her guests arriving and everything. But I thought maybe you might be able to fix something.’

  ‘You were quite right to come to me. Diana's spinning like a top. Impossible to get a sensible word out of her.’ He smiled. ‘Why don't you and I go together, to Penzance, this morning?’

  ‘Oh, but I didn't mean that you had to drive me…’

  ‘I know you didn't, but I have to go in anyway, to the bank, and it may as well be this morning rather than any other time.’ He raised his head to gaze from the window as another assault of rain and wind was driven in from the sea. ‘There's little else one can do on such a day.’

  ‘Do you really have to go to the bank?’

  ‘Yes, I really do. As you know, I'm not much of a shopper, so all my loved ones receive for Christmas an envelope with a bit of cash inside. It's so unimaginative that I try to make it more exciting by seeing that the bank notes are new ones, fresh and crisp. And those I shall collect this morning.’

  ‘But that won't take you a moment, and I shall be at least two hours. I don't want you hanging about, waiting for me.’

  ‘I shall go to the club, read the papers, see a few friends and at the appropriate moment, buy myself a drink.’ He shot his cuff and looked at his watch. ‘If we waste no time, we can be in Penzance by ten o'clock, which should ensure that, without too much pressure, we should be back here in time for lunch. We must arrange a rendezvous. I suggest The Mitre Hotel at half past twelve. So that will allow you two and a half hours to make your purchases. If Diana is anything to go by, two hours is insufficient. A mere flea-bite. It takes her half a day to choose a hat.’

  He so seldom made any sort of a joke that Judith wanted to hug him, but didn't. Instead, ‘Oh, you are kind,’ she told him. ‘I'm so grateful. You've taken such a load off my mind.’

  ‘You must never keep your worries to yourself. Promise me that. And I shall enjoy your company. Now, be a dear girl, and pour me another cup of coffee…’

  In Penzance the weather was no better. In fact, if anything, worse. Streets ran with rogue water, and overflowing gutters were awash with scraps of rubbish and broken twigs torn from trees. Beleaguered shoppers struggled with umbrellas, only to have them blown inside out, and hats were torn from heads, to go bowling away into oblivion. From time to time, slates, dislodged from roofs, came sailing down to smash into smithereens on pavements, and so dark was the morning that lights inside shops and offices burnt through the daylight hours. From the beach could be distinctly heard the sullen crash of high-tide rollers, and talk was all of disaster: flooded houses, fallen trees, and the vulnerability of the swimming pool, promenade, and harbour.

  It felt a bit like being in a siege, but not unexciting; bundled up in rubber boots, a black oilskin, and with a woollen hat pulled down over her ears, Judith fought her way from shop to shop, gradually becoming laden with parcels, packages, and carrier bags.

  At half past eleven, she found herself in W. H. Smith, the stationers, having bought presents for everybody except Edward. She had left his present to the last for two reasons. She couldn't think what to get for him, and she couldn't allow herself to be totally certain that he would actually be at Nancherrow for Christmas. He'll be back from Arosa, Diana had promised, but one couldn't be sure, and Judith so longed to see him again that she had become deeply superstitious about the whole business. It was a bit like taking an umbrella on a picnic as an insurance against a possible downpour. If she didn't buy him a present, then he would be bound to turn up, and Judith would have nothing to give him. But if she did, perhaps she was tempting Providence, and sure as eggs were eggs, he would decide, at the last moment, to stay on in Arosa with his friends. She imagined the telegram from Switzerland being delivered to Nancherrow; Diana, opening the envelope and reading the message aloud, TERRIBLY SORRY, STAYING ON HERE FOR CHRISTMAS AFTER ALL. SEE YOU ALL AT NEW YEAR. Or something. Perhaps…

  ‘Can you get out of my way, please?’ An irritated lady, trying to get to the counter with a box of writing-paper, disturbed these morose reflections.

  ‘Sorry…’ Judith gathered up her bundles and moved aside, but the small incident had brought her to her senses. Of course she must buy a present for Edward. If he didn't come home for Christmas, then she would give it to him later on. Surrounded by piles of lovely new books, she thought about getting him a book, but then decided against it. Instead…Feeling strong and determined, she plunged once more out into the wind and the rain and set off up Market Jew Street in the direction of Medways.

  Even this old-fashioned shop, usually quiet and rather dull, was touched by the seasonal cheer. Paper bells hung from the lights, and there were more customers than usual — homely ladies buying sensible grey woollen socks for their spouses, or agonising over the collar size of a new shirt. But Judith didn't want to buy socks for Edward, and she was certain that he had plenty of shirts. Debating the problem, and with water dripping from her oilskin into a small pool in the middle of the polished floor, she might have stood forever had not the most elderly of the salesmen approached her, and, faced by him, she was galvanised into decision.

  She said, ‘A scarf?’

  ‘For a Christmas present, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She thought about it. ‘Something bright. Not navy blue or grey. Red, perhaps.’

  ‘How about tartan? We've got some lovely tartan scarves. They're cashmere, though, and quite pricey.’

  Cashmere. A tartan cashmere scarf. She imagined Edward with such a luxury knotted casually around his neck.

  She said, ‘I don't mind if it's a bit expensive.’

  ‘Well, let's have a look then, shall we?’

  She chose the brightest, red and green with a dash of yellow. The salesman retreated to wrap it for her, and she got out her cheque-book and her pen, and waited for him to return. Standing at the counter, she looked about her with some affection, for this fuddy-duddy old shop had been the unlikely venue for momentous memories. It was here that she had first set eyes on Diana Carey-Lewis and Loveday; and it was here that she had come that special day with Edward, and helped him to choose his tweed, and afterwards he had taken her out for lunch.

  ‘…there you are now, miss.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He had wrapped the scarf in holly paper.

  ‘And this is your bill…’

  Judith wrote her cheque. As she did this, the door from the street opened behind her. There was a momentary gale of a draught, and then the door closed again. She signed her name, tore off the cheque, and handed it over.

  From behind her, a voice said her name. Startled, she turned, and found herself face to face with Edward.

  Speechless shock lasted only for an instant, to be almost immediately replaced by a joyous leaping of her heart. She could feel the smile spreading across her face, her jaw drop in wonderment.

  ‘Edward!’

  ‘Surprise, surprise!’

  ‘But what are you doing…?How did you get…?What are you doing here?’

  ‘Came looking for you.’

  ‘I thought you were still in Arosa.’

  ‘Got back this morning, on the night train from London.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Look’ — he laid a hand on her arm and gave her a little shake — ‘we can't talk here. Let's get out.’ He looked
down at the plethora of carriers and parcels by which she was surrounded. ‘Is this all yours?’ He sounded disbelieving.

  ‘Christmas shopping.’

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘I have now.’

  ‘Then let's go.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘The Mitre. Where else? Isn't that where you're meeting Pops?’

  She frowned. ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘All will be explained.’ He was already gathering up her packages, and with two hands filled, making his way towards the door. Swiftly, she collected up the few items he had left on the floor, and hurried after him. He opened the heavy glass door with his shoulder and stood waiting until she had gone through, and then they were out in the rain-driven streets, heads down against the wind, crossing the road with Edward's usual lack of care and attention, and running down Chapel Street headed for the warmth and shelter of the old Mitre Hotel. Inside, he led her into the lounge, which smelt beery and of last night's cigarettes, but where there was a welcome fire, and no other people to disturb them.

  They proceeded to make themselves at home. Edward piled all her packages in a neat pile on the floor, and with this accomplished, ‘Come on, get that soaking coat off and warm yourself up,’ he told her. ‘Shall I order some coffee? It'll probably taste disgusting, but with a bit of luck it'll be hot.’ Looking about him, he found a bell by the fireplace and went to press it. Judith unbuttoned her oilskin and laid it, for lack of anywhere better, over the back of an upright chair, where it slowly dripped, like a faulty tap, onto the faded Turkey carpet. She pulled off her woollen hat and shook her damp hair loose.

  A very old waiter appeared at the door. Edward said, ‘We'd like some coffee, please. Lots of it. Perhaps two pots. And biscuits.’

  Judith found a comb in her bag, and tried to do something about her hair. There was a mirror over the mantelpiece and if she stood on tiptoe she could get a reflection. She saw her own face, her cheeks rosy from the wind and her eyes bright as stars. Happiness shows, she thought. She put her comb away, and turned to face him.