Fragile Blossoms

by Dodie Hamilton

‘Could Kaiser and the kittens and Betty and Poppy come?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘We’d leave Susan and her baby in the churchyard then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did she die?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it because of crows?’

  ‘No! It was nothing to do with crows. And you know Susan and her baby are not alone. They are in heaven.’

  There was silence and then Matty set down the brush. He wasn’t weeping but he was close. ‘The Big Bear is with Susan.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mumma’s friend the German Bear is with Susan and her baby now.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘He came to see me last night.’

  ‘Do you mean Doctor Adelman?’

  ‘Yes. He was with Mrs Bear. They stood at the bottom of the bed. He said he and Mrs Bear were with Susan and I wasn’t to worry the blue angel would watch over us.’

  That stuck with Luke all the day. No matter how he tried to shrug it off it kept at him. He would have preferred dismissing it as the ramblings of an impressionable child but has seen too much in these last years to throw it off.

  Is Doctor Adelman dead then and his wife? If so then someone had better prepare Julianna. It’s likely them not being related and living in a foreign country she might never hear of it. But then a doctor like Stefan Adelman has a tidy mind and wouldn’t leave loose ends. Even so it’s tricky. Luke can’t keep questioning Matty he’s upset enough. Better wait and see what happens.

  Three o clock he took Matty home. Julianna wasn’t back from shopping.

  ‘You cut along now and have your tea and try not to worry. Tell your mother I’ll be along at seven to pick her up.’

  ‘Will you show her my bedroom and my painting?’

  ‘I will. One thing, did you tell Mummy about your dream?’

  Matty shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The Big Bear said I was to tell you.’

  ‘To tell me?’

  ‘Yes. He said tell the Wolf I didn’t do it.’

  Julia and Dorothy had been to Bentalls but pushed from pillar-to-post by heaving crowds they came away empty-handed and now having looked around most of the shops are weary and ready to go. Then they saw the toy-shop and a train driven by steam that ran on tracks.

  ‘What do you think, Dorothy?’

  ‘Oh definitely, though I’m not sure Mrs Mac will like the mess.’

  ‘She’ll love it. She’s more of a child than Matty.’

  Julia bought the engine and was preparing to leave when she saw Hugh Fitzwilliam and Charlotte Walbrooke looking at toy soldiers.

  Smiling, she approached. ‘Good afternoon Hugh.

  Hugh turned and bowed. ‘Good afternoon.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte, a beautiful day if a little cold.’

  Lady Charlotte nodded.

  Julia gestured to the toy soldiers. ‘I was wondering whether you were considering taking up arms again Hugh.’

  ‘It’s not likely.’

  ‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ She bent over the cabinet. ‘Look at the colours!’

  ‘Yes indeed, quite realistic.’

  ‘But not for you, not even as a boy hood dream?’

  ‘I’m too old to dream. You’ll excuse us. We have business elsewhere.’ Hugh bowed. ‘Good day to you, ma’m.’ He took Charlotte’s arm and walked away.

  Oh dear. Julia stared after him. So cold and distant! What a shame!

  Dorothy stared. ‘Are you alright, madam?’

  ‘I am a little disappointed.’

  ‘With what, madam?’

  ‘With myself for expecting more.’

  They were crossing the road to the tobacconist for pipe-tobacco for Joe when they heard the newsboy call out. ‘Double Death in Dresden!’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘What was what, madam?’

  ‘What is that boy calling?’

  The shout came again: ‘Her Majesty’s Doctor’s slays wife and takes own life!’

  Julia stared at the headlines chalked on a board: ‘German Heart Surgeon Commits Suicide after Murdering Wife.’

  She snatched up a newspaper.

  There it was his name, Stefan Adelman.

  ‘It’s wrong,’ she whispered, the paper wavering.

  ‘What is it?’Dorothy held her arm. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘They’ve spelt his name wrong. They’ve given him two ns in Adelman.’

  Luke had taken a bath and was trying to get paint from under his fingernails when there was a knocking on the door. It was Bertha Carmody.

  ‘Mr Roberts, is your lady here?’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘I mean Mrs Dryden. Is she here? I tried her place but they said she wasn’t back from shopping so I thought to come here.’

  ‘What’s to do, Mrs Carmody?’

  ‘It’s Joe.’ She wrung her hands. ‘He’s terrible poorly. I can’t get him to eat or drink or do anything. It’s like he’s turned himself off.’

  ‘Turned himself off? That doesn’t sound like the Joe Carmody I know. Why did you want Mrs Dryden?’

  ‘Because she’s good with him and he likes her and I thought if she’d come and hold his hand and talk to him maybe he’d get better.’

  ‘I see. Well I’m sure if she were here she would come. She’s fond of Joe.’

  ‘Aye and he’s of her. I’m that worried. I think he’s leaving us. Tell her to come, though I don’t know why she would. I wasn’t very nice last time she called.’

  ‘She’ll come.’ Luke stepped into his boots. ‘She’ll have gone by tram. I’ll take the cart and wait at the stop. You go back to Joe.’

  ‘Please tell her to be quick.’ Mrs Carmody hurried away. ‘And tell her I’m sorry about the bramble jelly.’

  The tram pulled in. Luke saw Julia’s face and knew Joe Carmody wasn’t the only problem. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later. Why are you here?’

  ‘What d’you mean why?’ Not liking the look in her eyes he tried teasing. ‘Can’t I meet my best girl at the tram stop without her needing to know why?’

  ‘Of course you can but what has happened?’

  ‘It’s Joe. His wife came looking for you.’

  ‘I see.’ She put the parcels back of the cart. ‘We’ll drop Dorothy off first.’

  ‘I’m alright, madam,’ said Dorothy.

  ‘No, you’re tired. You go and rest.’

  ‘But what about the poor man in the newspaper? How will you manage?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ Julia climbed aboard the cart. ‘Let the dead bury the dead. We have the living to worry about.’

  They dropped Dorothy at the cottage and carried on. Luke didn’t ask what Julianna meant by dead burying the dead. She’ll tell when she can.

  ‘Shall I come in with you to Joe’s?’ he said.

  ‘Please. I don’t know what we’ll find.’

  What they found was poor Joe in a right state. How illness changes a man! One look at his unshaven cheeks and Luke knew Bertha Carmody was whistling in the wind. This was a man who’d never be seen without a shave. It’ll take more than loving words to fetch him back from the brink.

  ‘Hello Joe.’ Julianna sat by the bed.

  ‘Aye, madam!’ He struggled to rise up. ‘What you doing here?’

  ‘I called to tell you about the Nativity play.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The play Matty was in.’ Julia shed her bonnet. ‘What a nice fire you have, so deliciously warm.’ She took his hand. ‘Would you mind if I sit awhile? I’ve been thrashing about Kings Lynn all afternoon. To sit with you will give me peace.’

 
Joe’s hand was so tiny. Surely his hands were bigger than this? When he’s digging or pulling weeds they seem massive, but then equally when planting seedlings he has fairy fingers. Such a gardener, whatever he does he puts his heart and soul into it. Julia remembers when slugs got to the potatoes. He was so angry he pulled the whole lot up row after row.

  ‘I say, Joe, do you remember when I got greedy with the lavender and cut too harsh and all the bushes in the kitchen-garden died back?’

  ‘I do, and I remember you pruning the Cecile Brunner when you shouldn’t. You had branches crossing over. You made a reet mess of it.’

  ‘Yes and pretended I hadn’t done it.’

  ‘So you did, you bad lass.’

  They talked or rather Julia talked and Joe listened.

  What a true friend. He was always there for her, a bowl of flowers, a scuttle of coal and a smile. Look what he does at night keeping watch! And am I really responsible for this? Did I get him wet and cold and ill?

  ‘Oh dear Joe!’

  ‘Bertha?’ Joe flapped his hand. ‘Give me that paper I’ve been writin’ with instructions about plants! Thank you. Now if you don’t mind I’d like a few minutes alone with madam.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Bertha seeing Julia nonplussed. ‘He wants to tell you about plantin’ and the rest. Like most men he seems to think the world will grind to a halt if he ain’t here. I’m parched. I’m going to make a cup of tea. Can I get you a cup, Mrs Dryden?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  ‘What about you, Mr Roberts?’

  ‘Aye, you go, lad!’ said Joe. ‘This room’s too small for a big bloke like you. You’re using all the air. Just...!’ He bowed over coughing, his whole body wrenching.’... just make sure you say goodbye afore you go.’

  Joe waited until they were gone then gripped her hand. ‘You’ve got to get out of that house, madam!’ he said. ‘It’s not a good place. I know it looks cosy and well-meaning, and I’m sure it was meant to be so, but there’s bad feeling in the walls and as good and kind as you are you’ll not shift it.’

  ‘Now don’t get excited,’ she said. ‘I’m here to bring comfort and tell you how much we miss you at the Nanny not to make you ill!’

  ‘I know you are, madam, and I am reet glad to see you and to talk with you one more time, and I don’t want to alarm you but I couldn’t rest without lettin’ you know it’s a queer place inside and out and the sooner you’re gone the better.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that cottage and the Big House across the way are crammed full of people’s feelings. It’s in the air. I can hear it buzzin’ like a swarm of wasps. It gets to you and drains you dry. Take the Yankee lady. She was alright until she came back. She was an old woman when she first arrived but fit and lively. Look at her now! She’s a bag of bones and crazy bones at that!’

  ‘Joe, be calm.’ She had her hand on his chest.

  Joe knew she’d be able to feel his lungs rattling and realise he’s not long for this world. ‘I’ve got emphysema,’ he said. ‘Forget what Bertha said. It’s nowt to do with me bein’ in the cold as she would have you believe. It comes of bein’ down the slate pit as a lad. I’ve had it for years. It’s finally caught up with me.’

  ‘Oh dear Joe. I am so sorry.’

  ‘So I am. I would’ve loved to be here a bit longer if only to see them Persian roses I put back of the sun-room take flight. Persians can be difficult. They are like people, they grow where they’ll grow and no place else.’

  ‘They are beautiful. I especially love the pink rambler.’

  ‘Ah,’ he cackled. ‘I thought you’d like that one. I bought that with you in mind. Do you know what it’s called?’ Firelight flashing on her hair she shook her head. ‘Maidens Blush! It’s an Alba rose. It has soft dewy petals, a tender heart, and a wondrous scent. It’s you, madam.’

  Bless her, she blushed a soft pretty pink and Joe was a mind to ask for a kiss before he died but wouldn’t, he respected her too much. He’s feeling poorly but light-headed the way you feel when you step out first thing in the morning and breathe the air and there’s a blackbird singing in the tree, and plants are rustling under the sod and the worms are doing their bit.

  ‘I like worms,’ he said softly.’ They’re hardworking little beggars and we can’t do without them. You make sure your new gardener will know what he’s doin’. I’ve written it all down, what to do and when to do it... not that these youngsters take notice. Chaps nowadays are full of fancy ideas and new fangled poisons to kill the land. Keep your land clean and it will look after you.’

  He turned his head to stare out of the window. ‘I don’t mind bein’ put in the soil. I’ve said to Bertha don’t be pushin’ me in no oven. I know the earth and it knows me. We’ve worked together hand-in-hand these fifty years.’

  ‘You are a good gardener.’

  ‘And I hope to continue to be so. The Good Lord will find me somethin’ to do if it’s only swattin’ greenfly. Talkin’ of greenfly what’s upset you?’

  ‘I’ve heard some very disturbing news about a friend.’

  ‘What happened to your friend?’

  ‘If the newspapers are to be believed he is dead and his wife with him.’

  ‘The newspapers!’ Joe blew out his cheeks. ‘You don’t want to believe what they say. Most of what they say is lies. How did your friend die?’

  ‘They say he committed suicide.’

  ‘And you don’t believe that?’’

  ‘I do not.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. ‘He wasn’t that kind of man. He was a good man and honest. He was my friend.’

  Tears falling she laid her head on her arm and her arm on the pillow.

  Joe reached out stoking her hair ‘Nay lass, don’t weep, or you’ll have me weepin’ with you.’

  ‘But to lose such friends! And now you, Joe! I can’t to be without you.’

  ‘And you won’t be. Don’t think because I’m out of sight I am out of mind. I looked after your interests on earth and I shall carry on lookin’. Bertha will get her share. She’s been a good old girl to me and I won’t let her down. But love can be stretched. It can go wherever it wants to go. Trust me I know what I’m talkin’ about. Life is full of sorrow but it’s full of joys too. You just have to know which way to look. I have a memory of you, madam.’

  ‘Do you, Joe?’

  ‘I do. Nobody sees a gardener. He blends with the land. He can dig. He can prune trees, or clean a duck pond, and nobody will see him. You always saw me. You always waved and smiled and made sure I was welcome, even when that silly stuff was goin’ on, plants stolen, you didn’t blame me.’

  ‘Why would I blame you? I knew it wasn’t you at fault.’

  ‘Not everyone would see it like that. They’d think I should’ve been on top of it.’

  Joe was so very tired. Heart banging ten-to-the-dozen he was exhausted and shouldn’t be talking but he wanted her to know. ‘Bein’ an unseen person I get to see things. I’ve seen you happy and I’ve seen you sad and I’ve been helpless because it was your life and none of my business. But the garden is my business and I like it that you cherished it.’

  ‘You made it easy to cherish.’

  ‘I saw you with the buttercups.’

  ‘Buttercups?’

  ‘Aye, those humble little things. It was last year. You were on your knees with a pair of shears cuttin’ grass by the terrace. I watched you. You went round and round the buttercups. You got nearer and nearer but couldn’t bring yourself to chop them. When you’d finished that grass was smooth as silk but right in the middle, spoilin’ the line so to speak, was a bunch of buttercups.’

  ‘I don’t remember that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you do. But it’s my memory of you, how you couldn’t kill a beautiful thing. It’ll stay with me and it will bring me back. You may
not see me but trust me I’ll be there.’

  Luke took her coat and settled her in the chair. He could see she didn’t want to speak and for that matter neither did he. Poor old Joe. ‘You’ll take care of my dear madam won’t you lad?’ he’d said as they were leaving.

  ‘You can count on it,’ Luke had replied.

  ‘Madam said she’d a pension for me and I wasn’t to worry ‘cos Bertha would get it. That’s good of her, ain’t it?’ Then Joe had frowned. ‘I meant to tell her of the fag-ends in the shed. I should have said but it went clean out my mind.’

  Luke had tried to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll see to it.’

  But he wouldn’t settle. ‘You see me not bein’ there of late that chap, whoever he is the nasty bugger, will think he’s forgotten and has a free hand.’

  ‘No he won’t! I’ll be on it.’

  ‘You must. Some folks just like to stomp on lovely things. I’ve seen it with folk with flowers in a park. They kick ‘em and they don’t know why. They can’t help themselves. Make sure nobody stomps on her.’

  Luke put coal on the fire. ‘What happened today?’

  ‘Do you mean other than Joe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Stefan Adelman is dead. According to the papers he killed his wife and then took his life.’

  ‘How did he kill her?’

  ‘With a massive dose of morphine. It was Christmas Day. They were found by the lake, Karoline with the syringe apparently still in her body.’

  ‘And Doctor Adelman?’

  ‘They’re waiting on an autopsy.’

  ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Luke knelt in front of her. He wasn’t going to tell of Matty, now was not the time. There’s only so much heartache a person can stand. ‘Do you think he might have done this? I mean is it possible he could?’

  ‘If the situation called for it I am sure he could do it.’

  ‘And did the situation call for it?’

  ‘I don’t know but if as reported there was a syringe then that would certainly indicate an intention, wouldn’t you say.’

  ‘An intention yes but maybe not the deed. There might have been a plan but as with any plan things can go wrong.’