by Fern Britton
‘Can we get back to our dinner menu?’
‘Of course, darling. You have my full attention.’
‘I was thinking of a small salad to start with. Pear, stilton, walnuts and spinach with a sweet French dressing and some walnut bread?’
Mamie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Followed by garlic roast leg of lamb with buttered mashed potato, sautéed leeks and roast cauliflower.’
‘Yeess,’ said Mamie.
‘And for pudding, vanilla ice cream with sherry poured over the top.’
Mamie leant her elbows on the table and began giggling. ‘And where, my fair niece, did you come up with all that?’
Angela lifted her bum and pulled out a copy of a cookery magazine that she’d been sitting on. ‘Page 102 to 106.’
Mike was thrilled with the invitation. ‘How jolly kind of Angela and Robert. Do I need to get my dinner jacket dry cleaned? It’s a long time since I’ve been out in such exalted company.’
‘Dinner jacket!’ Mamie was thrilled. ‘Oh, yes. I love a man in black tie. I shall wear my silk kaftan.’ She came back to her senses. ‘But how are you going to wear a dinner suit with that plaster on your leg?’
‘I have black shorts.’
Thursday arrived and Mamie and Angela started early. Robert had been made to pack up his study the day before, so that they could reclaim the old vicarage dining room.
Faith polished the table with lavender-scented wax and dusted and vacuumed every crevice.
Ben turned out to be very good at choosing interesting foliage from the garden, which he wound around three silver candlesticks.
Angela popped in to see how he was getting on and was very impressed. ‘Ben, that’s fabulous. Have you done that before?’
‘No I haven’t, but I’m quite pleased with it.’
‘Well,’ Angela replied, ‘you are very artistic.’
Faith stepped in. ‘Don’t you dare say it’s because he’s gay, Mum.’
Angela, who had been thinking something along those lines, quickly defended herself. ‘Of course I wasn’t thinking that, I was just saying Ben has an artistic talent …’
Ben burst into laughter. ‘It’s all right. Really. Faith is pulling your leg.’
‘Oh well, in that case … um … would you write out some place name cards for who sits where?’
‘He’s on it, Mum,’ Faith laughed, and chucked her duster at Ben, who began to wrestle with her. Angela left them to it.
In the kitchen, Mamie was pricking the lamb with garlic. ‘The recipe says to cook it in the top Aga oven for around twenty minutes then leave it for a couple of hours in the bottom oven. Does that sound right?’
‘Yep. I think so. Let’s do the back timing. If guests are due at seven for seven thirty, and the lamb will need thirty minutes to rest, we’d better get it started at about five?’
‘Good. Plenty of time.’ Mamie checked her watch. ‘I’ll get the veg prepped and then I’ll go back to Mike’s to get us both ready. What are you wearing?’
‘I thought the green dress that Robert bought me for my birthday. The one I didn’t wear.’
Mamie gave Angela a slow smile then hugged her. ‘Perfect.’
At six forty-five, Mamie returned in a mist of Shalimar, her jewelled black kaftan glittering in the late evening sun.
Mike had now graduated to a simple polished wood walking stick and was very dapper from the waist up in a white shirt, black bow tie and well-cut dinner jacket. However, below the waist he was wearing a pair of black chino shorts with black socks and white trainers.
‘It’s all the rage, you know!’ he laughed. ‘Robert, you should try it!’
‘Let me get you a drink first,’ Robert smiled. ‘Come into the sitting room.’
Mamie pulled Angela to one side. ‘You look gorgeous, darling, and the house looks so pretty. Love the candle arrangement on the hall table.’
‘Ben,’ Angela smiled.
‘That boy will go far,’ winked Mamie. ‘Right. What can I do?’
‘Sit down and have Robert pour you a drink.’
‘I can do that.’ Mamie kissed her niece and swept off to join the men.
On the dot of seven Audrey and Geoffrey arrived. Audrey had had her hair permed very tightly and was wearing a most unsuitable low-backed, strappy evening dress, two sizes too small. Geoffrey was in tweed.
Audrey looked Angela up and down. ‘I thought you might have dressed up for tonight, Angela.’
‘I, oh—’ said Angela.
Geoffrey interrupted. ‘Dearest, not every woman can carry off formal evening wear in the same way as you do.’
Angela bit her lip to stop her laughter escaping. ‘Quite so, Geoffrey. Audrey, you look wonderful. Give me your coats and then do go into the sitting room. Robert’s pouring the drinks.’
In quick succession everyone else arrived. Sarah, Queenie, Don and Dorrie, Helen and Piran, Robbie and Bob and finally Evelyn, and she was not on her own. A tall, slender, gentle-looking man in jeans and a patterned shirt was standing next to her.
‘Vicar, I hope you don’t mind but I have brought a friend with me. This is Graham.’
Angela shook his hand. ‘Good evening, Graham.’
‘Hello. I hope you don’t mind me just showing up, only Evelyn was sure you wouldn’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind a bit. Come on in and join the others.’
Angela took them to the sitting room and introduced Graham. He and Piran knew each other and were soon absorbed in a male group that included Don and Mike.
‘So how did you meet him?’ Queenie went in for the kill.
‘You dark horse,’ Mamie teased Evelyn.
‘Don’t laugh nor nothing, but we met at the cattle auction up Launceston.’
‘So he’s a farmer.’ Mamie approved.
‘Yeah. Bigger farm than ours, though. He does dairy and arable, and dabbles in old-breed pigs.’
Queenie couldn’t help herself. ‘Married? Children?’
Evelyn shook her head. ‘No. Nothing. He looked after his parents until they died and the farm’s his own now.’
‘Well, good on you,’ smiled Angela. She chinked her wine glass against Evelyn’s gin and tonic. ‘To happiness.’
‘To happiness.’
At the agreed signal from Angela, Robert ushered everyone into the dining room. The sight of it, bathed in candlelight and smelling of the white phlox that Ben had gathered from the garden and studded with spires of blue salvia, was stunning.
Audrey sniffed in disdain. ‘Smells like a tart’s boudoir,’ she muttered to Geoffrey.
‘Geoffrey,’ Mamie called from the other side of the long table. ‘You are sitting next to me, and Mike …’
‘Yes, my dear?’
‘You are sitting on my other side.’
Geoffrey fairly sprinted around to his seat while Audrey quietly fumed.
Robert was placing Dorrie in the seat to his left and then called to Audrey.
‘Audrey, would you care to be seated next to me?’
For a large woman, Audrey could move like a whippet.
The first course went down well and the consumption of wine helped the conversation to run smoothly.The lamb was perfect. Succulent, slightly pink and tender. The look of it rather reminded Robert of Audrey on the day of the Pond Dig when she had heatstroke, but he didn’t mention it.
The entire table was now relaxed and merry. After pudding they returned to the sitting room and Faith and Ben were dispatched to make the coffee.
Geoffrey made sure he was on a seat next to Mamie. ‘My dear, what scent are you wearing?’
‘Oh. Do you like it?’ she asked flirtatiously.
If he’d had a moustache he would have stroked it. ‘I certainly do.’
‘It’s very old-fashioned. One of Guerlain’s classic fragrances. I have just had a spritz. I keep it in the downstairs cloakroom for when I need a lift.’
‘It’s absolutely delightful.’
‘What does Audrey wear?’ Mamie asked, all innocence.
Audrey, who had been watching from the other side of the room, approached. ‘What are you two getting so cosy about?’
Geoffrey blanched. ‘Ah, my dear. We are talking fragrances. Mamie would like to know what you wear.’
Audrey at once became superior. ‘I like the classics, of course. Freesia is my go-to signature scent.’
‘Oh, yes?’ asked Mamie. ‘By which of the perfume houses?’
‘Woods of Windsor,’ preened Audrey. ‘One of the Queen’s favourites.’
‘Fascinating,’ Mamie smiled. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I shall chase up some brandy to go with our coffee.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Piran was standing by the fireplace with a second large brandy in his hand. ‘I’d like to propose a toast to our vicar. When Simon and Penny left for Brazil, we had no idea how a new vicar, and a woman at that, would fill the gap left. I have known Simon all my life and, although I don’t believe in all the church stuff, I do know that Simon brings a sense of belonging to our village. When folks are having a tough time, church-goers or not, he helps them, and that is what you have done too, Angela. We’m gonna miss you.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Angela.’
‘Thank you,’ Angela said through tears. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘Right, everybody.’ Mamie got to her feet. ‘I have some news of my own. I haven’t even told Angela, or you, Queenie!’
‘Oh my good Gawd. You tell me everything,’ Queenie said crossly.
‘Well, I’m telling you now.’ Mamie held them in suspense for a moment. ‘Angela, Robert and Faith may be leaving Pendruggan, but I am not.’
‘What?’ gasped Angela.
‘Mike has asked me to stay and live with him. In sin!’
‘Woo hoo!’ shouted Faith. ‘Good on you.’
From his armchair Mike raised his glass. ‘I’d like to propose another toast. To darling Mamie. Thank you for agreeing to stay with me for as long as that may be. I love you.’
After all the excitement, and too much booze, the party began to thin out. Mike was tired and Piran walked him home, with Mamie promising she would be back in the morning, but tonight she’d help clear up and stay at the vicarage.
The last to go were the Tiptons, Geoffrey hanging on to get a last glimpse of Mamie, who was already in the kitchen washing up. Angela was encouraging him out of the door.
‘They don’t make women like her any more,’ he told Angela.
‘They certainly don’t.’ Angela smiled. ‘Now look, Audrey is waiting for you.’
‘GEOFFREY!’
‘Yes, my love.’
‘COME,’ Audrey commanded.
Finally Angela waved off the tiddly Geoffrey and shut the door. Mamie insisted that she and Robert were to go to bed.
‘You have to get up in the morning,’ she told them. ‘I can have a lie-in. I’ve got all the time in the world now, haven’t I? I’m not going anywhere.’
37
Mamie turned off the lights and climbed the stairs. The sound of gentle snoring was coming from Angela and Robert’s room – she presumed it was Robert – and all was quiet behind the closed door of Faith’s room.
In her own room, Mamie cleansed her face, and got into her pyjamas.
She unrolled her yoga mat and sat cross-legged in front of her long mirror.
How extraordinary life was, she said to herself. Here she was, in her seventies, embarking on her first journey into true love.
For all her talk about her great and exciting life, which by and large was true, she had never fallen in love with anyone.
And suddenly, here was Mike. A good and certain man. Not a braggart or a womaniser. No notches on his bed post. The night he told her he loved her had been an ordinary one. They had played Scrabble and talked. Had a cup of tea before bed. Laughed at how their joints ached and how their sight and hearing were going, and quietly he had taken her hand and told her, ‘I love you.’
‘Why?’ she had asked.
‘Because I couldn’t imagine our lives without each other. Do you understand?’
She took his hand. ‘I do.’
‘I’ll marry you if you like, but honestly, what’s the point? I’d rather both of us were together because we wanted to be together, not because we had to.’
‘That would suit me very well.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Yes.’
She smiled at her reflection. You’re OK, she told herself. You are happy.
She began doing her nightly stretches and then settled into her meditation routine. She hadn’t done it since she’d been at Mike’s and tonight she was ready for one.
She closed her eyes and began the slow breathing. She stilled her thoughts and concentrated on the sounds around her. Someone snoring. The dishwasher quietly churning. The wind beyond her open window.
Her breathing slowed and she focused her mind on her body. The feel of the mat beneath her. The cool breeze coming from the window. Her hands loosely resting on her knees.
Peace was coming to her. Mind and body were stilled. She breathed slower and deeper and then … What was that?
A noise in the hall?
Had she not shut Mr Worthington into the kitchen? Had he nosed his way out?
She didn’t move, her brain listening again for a noise but otherwise undisturbed.
Footsteps.
Definitely footsteps.
Walking from the front door and down the hall. Stopping halfway.
Mamie opened her eyes.
She would have to go and check.
Rousing herself, she stood and went to her bedroom door. She opened it quietly and shut it behind her, not wanting the light to alert any intruder.
She stood at the top of the stairs, in the dark, and listened.
She heard breathing and it wasn’t hers.
She began to inch her way down, tread by tread.
Staring into the darkness of the hall, she was sure she saw a dark shape in the shadows.
‘I can see you,’ she whispered. ‘I know who you are.’
The shadow moved quickly up the hall towards the front door. Mamie took the last few stairs as quickly as she could but the intruder got to the front door ahead of her.
Mamie misjudged the last three steps and floundered, her feet desperate to touch solid ground.
The front door opened. The shadow looked around at Mamie and saw her fall. Head first. Her skull hitting the solid oak wainscoting.
With a tiny strangled cry the shadow ran through the open door and closed it as quietly as possible before disappearing into the night.
Mamie, dazed, sat up and tried to stand, but the pain in her head made her weak. She felt blood running down her face and knew that poor Angela would be the one who had to clean it up. Oh dear. What a bother that was going to be.
Without asking, her body fell back to the floor. She knew it was the end.
‘I’m sorry, Mike,’ she said. ‘This was not how it was supposed to be. I’m so sorry.’
The coroner’s office had been very helpful and released Mamie’s body for burial before the inquest. The coroner had been satisfied with the reports from the doctor and police who had attended the scene, and had accepted their opinion that no foul play had been involved.
Mamie’s wishes were to be buried in a wicker coffin woven with ivy and lilies.
Angela, Mike and Faith had gone to the florist together to describe exactly what Mamie would have wanted.
‘Can we have fairy lights too?’ asked Faith. ‘Mamie loved fairy lights. Little ones that twinkle? They’ll make it look so pretty.’
Mike put his arm in Faith’s. ‘I think that’s a marvellous idea.’
‘No problem,’ said the florist. ‘As long as the vicar officiating thinks it’s OK. Some of these vicars are very traditional.’
‘I’m sure the vicar won’t mind,’ said Angela.
Mike took them out for tea after t
hat. ‘We need teacakes and crumpets,’ he told them.
Sitting in the cosy teashop garden, Mike settled himself with his walking stick at a sturdy cast-iron table and ordered for the three of them.
‘Thank you,’ said Angela. ‘I can’t seem to be able to make decisions about anything at the moment.’
‘Understandable, my dear. I rather feel the same,’ he said.
‘I can’t believe she’s not here.’ Faith began to cry. ‘I miss her.’
‘We all do,’ said Mike. ‘We all do.’
The church was full. Mamie was carried in on the shoulders of Robert, Piran, Don, Bob, Digger Pete and Faith, who insisted on it.
Mamie’s coffin sat in front of the altar, its fairy lights twinkling magically in the winding whips of ivy and the stems of the lilies.
‘She looks beautiful,’ said Queenie, taking Faith’s hand as she returned to the pew.
‘She does,’ nodded Faith, wiping her eyes.
Angela had assisted at many funerals but never conducted one on her own and she was determined to do it the way she hoped Mamie would have wanted it.
‘Good afternoon, everybody. We are here to celebrate my Aunt Mamie’s life. She was an incredible woman. Courageous. Loving. Fun. She lived life to the full wherever she was. Many of you have told me what light she brought into the village and how fond you had grown of her in the short time she was here. She’s been in my life all of my life and today I am bereft. I feel orphaned. My father died when I was young. My mother, Mamie’s sister, just a few years ago. But I always had Mamie. My mad and eccentric and wonderful Mamie. And now she’s gone.’
Angela swallowed hard. Tears threatened her ability to carry on. ‘I make no apologies for my tears,’ she managed. ‘I am with you all, my friends, and …’ she coughed, ‘and I am so grateful to you all.’ She dug into the pocket of her cassock and pulled out a tissue. ‘Excuse me.’ She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Shall we stand for our first hymn. “Lord of the Dance”.’
As the hymn finished, Mike limped to the altar and stood next to Mamie’s casket.
‘This woman, lying here, in sweetest lilies, gave me more in the few months I knew her than any other person I have ever known. I have been an old bachelor for many, many years. After the breakdown of my marriage I accepted that I would never find anyone who I would want to share my life with, or indeed vice versa. But Mamie has a way of getting under your skin. Her silly jokes and rackety stories. Her blithe dismissal of the ordinary. I thank God that I did break my leg. If I hadn’t she might never have come to look after me and I might never have had so much laughter. God, how we laughed. She did have some faults, though. She was a dreadful cook.’ He laughed as the congregation laughed. ‘But she could pour a damn fine whisky and soda. We may have lost her but I know not one of us will ever forget her.’ He bent and kissed her coffin. ‘God bless you, my love. Until we meet again.’