Fragile Blossoms

  The Big House is sold, and the new incumbents, with stars in their eyes and visions of a line of carriages sweeping the Rise, want the cottage restored to the function of Gatehouse. ‘It’s only right, don’t you agree, dear Mrs Roberts, that the two should be reunited?’ This from Augusta Simpkin, the new mistress of Highfields, as they’re calling it now. ‘One wouldn’t want the wrong kind of person moving in.’

  They came to the cottage that day the two of them in best bib and tucker seeking to buy, Mr Mayor twirling his hat and Madame Mayoress simpering. ‘Dear’ Mrs Roberts was gracious and received them in the front parlour with a sweet smile and a straight face. Anna showed her metal that morning and the outcome of a decent upbringing. Luke wasn’t so well bred and took himself into the scullery and laughed like a drain. The thought of those two up on the Rise living it large was just too funny.

  ‘Disgustin’!’ Nan wasn’t in the least amused. ‘I always thought him a thieving rascal. If they can afford to buy the Big House and the cottage think how much money he makes and out of our pocket.’ No question Gussy earns well as a lawyer but it’s more likely Aggie’s money left to her by a mother that made things possible, why else but a fat dowry would he marry her?

  They have plenty nerve, that’s for sure, especially Aggie who before the telegram couldn’t bring herself to nod to either Luke or Anna. That piece of paper changed everything. It arrived the day they were wed, a knock on the door, ‘Telegram for Mr and Mrs Luke Roberts!’ Mrs Mac was all of a twitter. ‘Madam!’ she came running in. ‘It has the royal crest.’ It did have a royal crest and was signed, ‘for and on behalf of His Majesty, King Edward.’

  Though addressed to both Luke straight way passed it to Anna who read it, passed it back, and then asked Bertha Carmody how she would be getting home that evening and would she take wedding cake for her son. The telegram went into Luke’s pocket the message a mystery to everyone else. The populous of Bakers End didn’t need to see the content, they made it up as they went along, adding frills or taking away as the changing of the moon, so that by the beginning of this year not only did His Majesty send good wishes for their marriage and life he sent an invitation to the Coronation.

  Thus endorsed by Royal approval Julia was yet again a person of note. The pendulum of public opinion continues to swing back and forth, she doesn’t seem to mind. Augusta Simpkin does. ‘Dear Mrs Roberts we heard a rumour you were planning to move. Does that mean the Tea-Shop is to close?’ Again there were so many reasons why they let go of the N and N. Top of the list is Matty and his music, following on his heels is the needs of a new brother or sister. ‘As much as I have loved doing this,’ Anna had said. ‘I want to be able to enjoy both my children with a little more ease.’ So yes the business was for sale, the tea-shop business in American hands, and the cottage to be a gatehouse.

  The Greville Massons moved back to the States May of last year. If you pass Hatchards or any local bookshop you may well see Daniel Masson’s handsome face on the cover on a new book that’s out, the best-seller, The Life and Times of Daisy, Countess of Warwick.’ Other than the book doing well, and Callie Greville Masson present at many of the book readings, very little is heard.

  Dual weddings and a pregnancy resolved the issue of what to do with the maids. Leah went to Cambridge to manage the Nanny Two and is presently affianced to the greengrocer here in Bakers. Dorothy Manners, now Mrs Reginald Coates, works in her husband’s bakery, and pretty she looks behind the counter. A new tea-shop, the Nanny Three, opens soon in Cardogan Street, Kensington. Robert Scholtz, now the primary mover behind the name, more such Nannies presently springing up along the East Coast of America, was keen to have Mrs Mac as manager but lately wed she chose to be with her husband Ben and the Roberts in the new house in nearby Sloane Square.

  ‘I don’t mind helping out,’ she says. ‘It’s only around the corner from the Square but the children must come first. Why would I give up care of Matty and the prospect of a new little soul to serve tea and a bun? And anyway I’m a partner in the Nanny business. Partners do not manage.’

  So here they are packing the last bits before saying farewell to the Needed and Necessary. Julianna wept last night in bed mostly out regret for past sadness. Then they got to talking of names. He said if the baby was a boy he was to be named Jacky. Anna said she didn’t mind Jack but didn’t want Jacky.

  ‘Trust me,’ he’d said, ‘if he’s baptised Jack he’ll be known as Jacky.’

  ‘Who says he’s to be a he? What if he is a girl?’

  ‘If he’s a girl you shall name her.’

  ‘I already know what she’s to be called. Our daughter, God help her, is to Abigail Charlotte May Nanette Roberts.’

  ‘That’s heck of a mouthful. Why all of that?’

  ‘To satisfy the women in our families.’

  Luke didn’t argue, if it keeps Anna happy he’ll agree to anything except staying here in Bakers. It was he who pushed to move. ‘We ought to consider London. If Matty is to study at the Royal College then we need to think about boarding. You can’t be travelling up and down day-after-day.’

  That did it. The thought of being separated from her lad made the choice easy. Luke suspects that like him she feels the cottage holds on too much to what has gone before and that they’d all do better away.

  Mrs Greville Masson back in Philadelphia and the Big House with new owners you might think the connection between past and present broken. It abides, there are nights when the air positively buzzes and Matty is overheard singing of stars and of dog’s tails that wag. Invisible playmates don’t seem to do him harm but now with Anna expecting they can offer a living playmate.

  They plan to be settled in London by end of the month then it’s all about waiting for the baby. His Majesty’s Coronation is planned for August. It’s not likely they’ll get an invitation but if they do the care and safety of Mrs Julianna Roberts, and Master Jack Albert, trumps the crowning of His Royal Majesty King Edward the Seventh every time. If they can they’ll join with others watching parades go by and they’ll be glad along with everyone else because he is a fine man, and unlike so many he doesn’t forget a friend.

  Next year when Anna and baby are able they’ll holiday in Italy in the mountains and meet with new/old relatives. Ben Faulkner, the tutor cum odd-job man, who these days remains fairly sober, and Mrs Mac, the Good Fairy, accompany them everywhere. For a time they tried calling Maud Mrs Faulkner but it didn’t work especially with Matty referring to her as Mrs Doodle.

  The Wolf has gone from the door never to be seen or heard of again. Silly but Luke misses it on Matty’s lips though being called Papa makes up for it. Maggie Jeffers says there’s power in a name and that she’s thinking of changing hers to Simone. They still have the wretched girl and probably always will. She’s going to Sloane Square though not to the kitchen, to the garden, where strangely she shows great skill, her fingers coaxing even the most jaded plant to life.

  ‘Oh you’re not takin’ her are you?’ Nan was scandalised when they said. ‘She’s more trouble than a cartload of monkeys! If she hadn’t left the door unlocked that scoundrel never would’ve got in.’

  Luke can’t stand the girl and would kick her out tomorrow but Anna, of the soft heart, says she feels responsible and so what can you do.

  They have this week at the Nelson and move on the Friday. Mrs Mac, and accumulated dogs and cats and rabbits, already there. She is the greatest friend; neither Anna nor Luke would be without her. It was she who phoned the cottage last week, ostensibly to warn Luke the Carringtons were in Town, Freddie with an exhibition at the new Tate Gallery. These days Freddie Carrington is the toast of the art world, particularly in New York where along with John Singer Sargent the Scholtz promote his work. Mamie says the Carringtons have an apartment in Manhattan and spend a great deal of time there, brother and sister feted by American Society. When Luke mentioned the exhibition Anna said she wasn�
��t up to it but that he should go. He won’t be going. They’ll doubtless be showing Naked Man at the Window, Freddie’s most celebrated work. Once upon a time Luke didn’t mind being laid bare before gawping strangers now he has his children to consider.

  Of course that’s just an excuse and he knows it!

  Luke went to the window and threw it open letting in the air. It’s true he wouldn’t want Matty to see that particular painting, Daddy with his private parts on display, but that’s not why he’ll stay away. In the past year or so he and Julianna have received several invitations to visit the Carringtons. Luke can’t speak for Julianna but knows why he hesitates. That night on Fairy Common he learned he could be touched by a man and feel pleasure, and while not inclined to repeat the experiment he prefers not to put himself, or Freddie, to the test.

  A man should be grateful for what he has and not flirt with freedom.

  The red leather diary is on the widow-sill. Luke will find a better place for it. The people who lived here are long gone but their secrets won’t be left open to prying eyes especially those of a busybody like Agatha.

  Luke sat on the sill and opening the diary leafed through. It was as Anna said comments about plants and seeds and how Henry Lansdowne acquired them.

  Interesting, for such a careless lover Henry had a particularly neat hand whereas those comments appended JN were open and flowing. Justine Newman was a clever woman. Many of the notations she made were in the language appropriate to the country where plant or seed was found.

  They have left much of furniture behind. The piano, and the Meissen, are already transported to Slone Square, and with them the silhouettes. Luke wouldn’t leave those behind. Justine Newman is important to him. In taking those he offers affection and gratitude. They will hang upon his study wall. A brief meeting and the giving of a silver sixpence, the lady in his heart forever.

  He knows what to do with the diary. He’ll bury it but not near the wall because now with the cottage is sold is due to come down. Well done, the Simpkins! If that’s the only good thing they do with their life it is enough. If anything can heal the wound between house and cottage it is the bringing down of that wall.

  The time is getting on. It’s late, the night drawing on, and the sky a wonderful shade of cobalt blue. Much later and his beloved Julianna will be anxious. These days she can’t bear them to be parted for long, nor for that matter can he. His heart beats better when next to hers.

  The last of the chests aboard the cart he went back for his jacket and found the window flipped inward and the diary on the floor the leather binding split.

  There was a piece of paper tucked in the back cover lining. It was a letter-heading of a firm of lawyers, Solomon Geddes & Son, Solicitors at Law, Surrey Street, Kings Lynn. There was a note scrawled on the back.

  Unless you’d heard of the Newman Sisters, and the Will and the ‘right of first refusal to the right stranger’ the note would have no meaning. But if one understood Italian, and read between the lines, and wondered why with no particular breeze the diary should fall to the floor and the note come to light on this day of leaving, then the ‘right stranger’ might think it an invitation to call at Geddes & Son and learn something to his advantage.

  Then again it might be what it is, an old lady’s thoughts meandering across time and space. As the note says, it’s a matter of choice.

  ‘A diary is like the earth in winter filled with sleeping secrets. Some secrets should remain hidden for as with nettles they burn the hand in the pulling. Others secrets are like bulbs, they bring forth flowers to gladden the heart. In finding this diary, and comprehending the word, La bella Italia, a secret is discovered. Knock on Solomon’s Door and another door will open.

  As with all things it is of course a matter of choice. Things underground are often best left to their own devising, and sleeping dogs always sleep best undisturbed. The same could be said of knocking on doors, one never knows what is behind them. In the end one must decide which weighs heaviest a silver sixpence or a bag of gold sovereigns. If the heart be light, and the purse none too thin, it might be best to let the secret sleep. In the end it is as we know there is Purpose to all things and the Purpose is good.’

  Luke pushed the note behind the lining. Doors locked he dropped the keys through the letter box. Then he went round to the shed and took out a spade and buried the diary among broken Meissen china and the skeleton of a beloved dog.

  The hole he dug might have taken old Betty, his horse, never mind a diary. But that’s alright. He wanted to be sure it would stay down at least for his life-time. And so what if old lady was once amused by seven-year-old boy and thought to remember him in her Will? Why would he need a fortune when he has one already waiting in the Nelson her lovely face anxious to see him?

  It’s as August Simpkin said, ‘if this right stranger was to step forward we wouldn’t be able to buy the cottage, nor you, Dear Mrs Roberts, able to sell. It would hang in the balance and no doubt lead to all sorts of bother.’

  The hole smoothed over he stood wiping his brow when the sky exploded.

  ‘Oh my Lord!’

  A shooting star sped across the horizon. First one, and then another!

  Soon the sky was on fire with a meteor shower or some other wondrous celestial phenomenon.

  On and on they flew these bolts of light. It was incredible like Nature’s Bonfire Night and a dozen Mattys jumping up and down with sparklers in their hands.

  ‘Until the stars fall,’ wasn’t that the word to bring down the Wall?

  He went to the cart and pulling the heaviest hammer took a swipe at it.

  Nothing, not a dent! Whoever built this meant it to last. He pulled back and this time when he swung he thought of Old Joe Carmody and his hatred of the wall and the plants forever whisked back and forth.

  It was warm, the night on the edge of summer. Luke took off his shirt, and taking the hammer swung again. This time there was movement all along the top section and sand trickling. Bang, he hit it again, this time for Callie Masson and her disappointed hopes, and then again for Susan Dudley and her baby.

  Soon there was a gap in the wall. A little more than year ago Luke almost drowned. Someone or something saved him, got between him and Hell. It pleases Luke to think that it was his beloved brother Jacky, along with Daniel Masson who helped haul him from the pit, one man alive in this world, the other ever alive in memory, and the maggot-ridden corpse of a dog.

  When a thing like that happens, a second chance to live and love, it changes a man. He stops thinking of himself as alone. He knows he is loved and so is able to give love, and such love, a beautiful wife, a loving child, another on the way, good friends, and whole of the world opening up before him.

  Now he has this, a lone witness to the skies falling.

  ‘Awhoo!’

  Luke laid back his head and howled with the sheer wonder of being alive. He is grateful and always will be that the Lord God loved enough to reach down from Heaven and in springing a trap set this Wolf free.

  The End

  Kaiser Chalmers: A Hero.