White Rose of Winter

by Anne Mather

  As they got into the car again, Robert said: ‘We’ll have lunch at the Black Bull in the village. I understand they do a very good grill. Does that appeal to you?’

  Julie shrugged, settling into her seat. ‘If you like.’

  Robert’s expression darkened, but he said nothing, merely flicked the ignition and set the powerful engine in motion.

  The Black Bull was one of the pubs they had seen on their arrival. It was obviously quite well patronized at lunch time, for there were several cars parked on the forecourt and along the village green opposite.

  The dining-room was not full, but the head waiter looked rather put out when they appeared. ‘I’m afraid we stop serving lunches at a quarter to two,’ he said, rather aggressively.

  Julie sighed, but Robert seemed not a bit perturbed. ‘I booked a table,’ he explained calmly. ‘My name’s Pemberton.’

  It was remarkable, thought Julie cynically, some three-quarters of an hour later, how that name could produce such a change in attitude. As she spooned a delicious concoction of strawberries and fresh cream into her mouth, she realized that the dining-room was deserted now and no doubt the catering staff were impatient to leave, too. And yet here they were, happily replete after a meal which even her failing appetite had been unable to resist. The steaks had been marvellous, the salad crisp and mouth-watering, the french fried potatoes hot and appetizing. Emma had eaten everything that had been put before her and was presently listening intently to Robert as he explained how strawberries could be grown in other parts of the world at different times of the year.

  Robert looked up suddenly and caught her gaze upon them and a strange expression came into his eyes. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  Julie finished the wine in her glass and lay back in her chair. ‘It was marvellous!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Coffee?’ he queried, but she shook her head.

  ‘Don’t you think we should go? I mean – obviously they’re waiting to close.’

  Robert half smiled. ‘I shall see they don’t lose by it.’

  Julie bent her head. ‘You think money buys anything, don’t you?’

  Robert’s expression was grim suddenly. ‘It bought you, didn’t it?’

  Julie looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

  Robert gave her a cynical look. ‘You’re not about to tell me you’d have married Michael if he’d been a penniless seaman, are you?’

  Julie was horrified, and she glanced quickly at Emma, but she seemed unaware of their conversation, concentrating on the contents of her glass of Coke. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Robert rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Oh, come off it, Julie. You weren’t interested in Michael. You had plenty of opportunities to ditch me and marry him if that’s what you’d wanted to do long before I left for Venezuela! No! It was me you wanted, so don’t try to deny it!’ His face was suddenly pale beneath his tan, and he turned savagely away and went in search of the head waiter, taking his wallet from his pocket as he went.

  Julie shivered, and turning in her seat struggled to put on her coat. She would not have believed even Robert could be so cruel, and she felt physically sick.

  By the time he returned, a smug gratified head waiter behind him, both Emma and Julie were ready and waiting, and Robert pulled on his sheepskin jacket before nodding briefly at the man and striding towards the door. Outside the cold air was revitalizing, and Julie breathed deeply before getting into the car.

  The journey back to London was accomplished almost silently, even Emma seeming worn out by the morning’s activities. After all, it had been only the day before that they arrived from Kuala Lumpur, and she had done well not to feel the effects more strongly than this. She had slept a good deal of the time though and consequently it was mostly a question of getting used to the time change.

  Even so, her eyes were drooping by the time Robert brought the car to a halt outside the apartments, and Julie saw with some surprise that it was almost four o’clock and quite dark.

  Emma brightened up in the lift and by the time they reached the apartment she was quite lively again. Lively enough to regale Lucy Pemberton with everything that had happened, including the problem of the trunks and the late lunch they had had at the Black Bull.

  Robert disappeared almost immediately and Julie was left with her mother-in-law and daughter. Lucy listened attentively to what Emma had to say, almost as though she expected to hear something damning, thought Julie uncharitably, tugging off her coat and going towards the door which led to the hall. She intended putting her coat away and spending some time alone in her room. After the events of the last few hours she needed time to think.

  But Lucy noticed her movements and said: ‘Don’t go, Julie. Halbird can put that away. Come and sit down. I want to hear what you think of the house.’

  Julie threw her coat reluctantly over a chair and came to take a chair near the others who were on the couch. Draping one leg over the arm of the soft leather armchair, Julie made a casual movement of her shoulders.

  ‘It’s very attractive. Have you seen it?’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Lucy nodded. ‘Pamela took me down there one day when we were on our way to visit her parents.’

  Julie digested this. ‘I see.’

  ‘She found it, you know,’ Lucy went on conversationally. ‘Actually, it used to belong to some friends of her parents, but they were moving abroad – couldn’t stand the climate, you know – and the house was going up for sale.’

  Lucy’s words stuck in Julie’s throat. As she was sure they were intended to.

  ‘Who’s Pamela?’ Emma was asking. ‘Is she my auntie?’

  Lucy turned to her smiling. ‘She will be shortly, darling. She’s going to marry Uncle Robert.’

  ‘Oh!’ Emma’s lips made a round ring. ‘Is she nice?’

  ‘Very nice, darling. You’ll be meeting her tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Will I? Why?’ Emma was interested, her small chin supported by her fist.

  Lucy glanced casually at her daughter-in-law. ‘She and her parents are coming for dinner tomorrow evening. To meet you, Julie.’

  ‘Are they?’ Julie swallowed with difficulty. The idea of meeting the woman Robert was going to marry was not a pleasant one.

  ‘Yes. Well, we thought we’d give you a couple of days to settle in, you know, before introducing you to our friends. And Saturday evening is as good a time as any, don’t you think?’

  ‘If you say so.’ Julie found it difficult to be civil, and despised herself for feeling this way. Why should she immediately jump to the conclusion that Lucy was deliberately trying to antagonize her? Just because last night …

  Determinedly, she said: ‘I forgot to ask how you’re feeling this morning.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘I’m much better, thank you.’ She turned back to Emma. ‘Tell me, darling, did you see the swing in the garden of your new home? Hanging from the cherry tree? Pamela said she used to swing in it when she was a little girl.’

  Emma shook her head wonderingly. ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘I’m surprised at that.’ Lucy frowned.

  ‘We didn’t go into the garden,’ went on Emma honestly. ‘Why didn’t we, Mummy?’

  Julie shrugged. ‘There wasn’t time, darling.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Lucy sniffed. ‘You had plenty of time.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we didn’t think of it,’ said Julie, forcing herself not to get angry.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘You were long enough,’ she said sharply.

  Julie sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Did you bring nothing back with you, then?’

  ‘No.’ Julie swung her leg to the floor and stood up. ‘It gets dark early, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Winter’s drawing in.’ Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ll find it very different from what you’ve been used to.’

  ‘No doubt.’ Julie’s voice was terse.

  Halbird came into the room at that moment. ‘Can I bring
you some afternoon tea, madam?’ he inquired, looking at Lucy.

  Lucy considered a moment. ‘Oh, yes – yes, I suppose so.

  ‘Not for me,’ said Julie, turning abruptly. ‘I – er – I’m going to take a bath.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Halbird smiled.

  ‘Where is Mr. Robert?’ Lucy was speaking again.

  ‘He’s gone out, madam.’

  ‘Gone out?’ Lucy looked taken aback. ‘But he’s only just got in.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘Well? Did he say where he was going?’

  ‘He said, if you asked, to tell you he has gone to the office, madam. He said he would be back shortly.’

  ‘I see.’ Lucy’s nostrils flared.

  ‘Can I watch television, Grandma?’ Emma was wandering aimlessly about the room fiddling with anything she could lay her hands on.

  Lucy looked irritated. ‘I suppose you may,’ she conceded reluctantly. ‘Will you put it on, Halbird?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Halbird tuned the set and a few moments later colour pictures appeared. Emma was delighted.

  ‘Oh, isn’t it super?’ she exclaimed of them all in general. Super was her favourite word at the moment.

  Julie nodded and walked to the door.

  ‘Would you like a tray of tea in your room, madam?’ Halbird was addressing her this time.

  Julie hesitated. ‘I couldn’t put you to the trouble,’ she demurred.

  Halbird shook his head. ‘It’s no trouble, madam.’

  Lucy sighed with pointed boredom. ‘If Mrs. Pemberton requires tea she can have it here with me, Halbird,’ she said.

  ‘Oh! Oh, yes, madam.’ Halbird inclined his head politely, gave Julie a rather regretful stare, and left the room.

  Julie opened the door, and Lucy turned her attention to her.

  ‘I do hope you will not make a habit of embarrassing me in front of the servants, Julie,’ she said sharply.

  Julie sighed now. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’ Lucy looked sceptical, and taking out her handkerchief dabbed her nose ineffectually. ‘Well, anyway, we’ve got to live together – for the next few days, at least – and I should be grateful if you could try and behave with less aggressiveness.’

  Julie rested her forehead against the cool panels of the door. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll try.’

  Lucy thrust her handkerchief away. ‘Will you be appearing for dinner this evening?’

  ‘Of course,’ Julie nodded.

  ‘Very well.’

  It was dismissal, and Julie resented it. But she closed the door with careful precision and made her way to her own room. Once there however she could not control her emotion, and she flung herself on the bed and allowed the hot tears to come.

  Julie did not see Robert again until the afternoon of the following day.

  He did not appear for dinner that evening and his mother took obvious pleasure in explaining that he and Pamela were attending a party at the home of some friends. He had apparently returned from his visit to the office while Julie was in the bath, and after bathing and changing himself he had gone straight out again. Emma, of course, went to bed about seven, so Julie and her mother-in-law dined alone.

  It was a silent, uncomfortable meal, which Julie could not enjoy, and afterwards they watched television in the lounge.

  ‘It will no doubt be very difficult for you to adapt yourself to our life here,’ Lucy said, settling herself more comfortably in her chair. ‘After all, you’re not used to our ways, are you, Julie?’

  Julie pretended an interest in the film they had been watching. ‘What was that?’ she asked absently, knowing perfectly well what Lucy had said.

  ‘I said you’ll find it difficult to adapt to our ways,’ said Lucy sharply. ‘I don’t suppose life in an outpost in Malaya can be compared with social life here in London.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it can.’ Julie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘And you never had the opportunity to get used to us before Michael took you away,’ went on her mother-in-law. ‘I wouldn’t have believed Michael could find fulfilment in such a place. He always seemed to enjoy his life here in London.’

  ‘He joined the Navy long before he met me,’ pointed out Julie shortly.

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Yes, I know. He always liked messing about in boats. Ever since he was a child. But to take an appointment overseas – a permanent appointment—’

  ‘It was his idea.’ Julie forced herself not to retaliate as Lucy expected her to do.

  ‘I know. But so out of character.’ Lucy reached for her glass of sherry. ‘I expect it made things easier for you, though.’

  Julie schooled herself to remain calm. ‘Easier?’ she echoed.

  ‘Of course. I mean – well – Julie, you knew nothing of our ways, did you? You weren’t used to entertaining – to arranging dinner parties! I don’t suppose you’d ever composed a menu in your life, had you?’

  ‘No. They didn’t go in for that sort of thing much at the children’s home,’ Julie agreed shortly.

  Lucy made a deprecatory little gesture. ‘Now, Julie, don’t let’s quarrel again. I’m only trying to talk things over with you.’

  ‘I’m not quarrelling,’ retorted Julie, and then took a deep breath. ‘It may come as some surprise to you to know, but Michael and I were happy – very happy!’

  Lucy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes, we were. He didn’t care for your – your London season, whatever you call it! He did like messing about in boats, I agree with you there. We had a boat, just a small one, and we spent most week-ends on it. We swam, we sunbathed. We entertained our friends. It was a – a wonderful life.’

  Lucy’s lip curled. ‘Michael would still be alive today if you hadn’t persuaded him to take that appointment.’

  Julie paled. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘How do you know?’ Lucy was openly antagonistic now.

  Julie hesitated, compressing her lips. She didn’t want to discuss the intimate details of Michael’s health with this woman, even though she was his mother. But she had to be told. Sighing, she said: ‘Because the reason he took the overseas appointment was that the doctor had told him he had to have a less active occupation.’

  ‘What? I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s true. I didn’t know myself until – until after the second attack. The doctor had to explain.’ Julie flung herself back in her chair. ‘Michael refused to take his condition seriously.’

  Lucy stared at her, her lips working, and for a moment Julie felt an intense feeling of compassion for her. ‘You – you’re making this up. He – he’d have told me. His own mother!’

  Julie shrugged. ‘You didn’t know him as well as I did.’

  ‘I knew him for twenty-eight years,’ snapped Lucy contemptuously. ‘Four or five times as long as you did.’

  ‘Yes, but not as well as I knew him,’ said Julie quietly. ‘Believe me, I’m telling the truth, not trying to hurt you.’

  Lucy rose from her chair. ‘Have you told Robert this?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘No. I’ve told no one.’

  ‘Then I wish you wouldn’t,’ said Lucy, moving restlessly about the room. ‘I’d rather everyone thought of Michael’s death as being one of those unexpected tragedies that sometimes occur.’

  ‘So it was!’ exclaimed Julie bitterly, realizing that Lucy would not care for her friends to learn that Michael had hidden his illness from his family – from her – for more than six years.

  ‘To you?’ Lucy was asking now. ‘Can you honestly say that?’

  ‘Of course I can.’ Julie was stung by her tone. The film on the television was meaningless to her now after the last few minutes.

  Lucy made a dismissive gesture. ‘Well, it’s all in the past, isn’t it? There’s nothing either of us can do to bring him back.’ Her lips tightened. ‘Thank God, I still have Robert – and Emma, of course.’

  Julie stood u
p. ‘And when Robert gets married?’ she said, unable to prevent herself from asking.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You think that will make any difference to Robert?’ Lucy was disdainful now. ‘Oh, no! Robert’s not like Michael. He would never do anything to hurt me. And the girl he’s going to marry understands the relationship we have. Pamela is not selfish. She and I are the greatest friends.’

  Julie heaved a sigh. There was a lot she could say. It would be painfully easy to make some cruel comment about girl-friends and wives being different people, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Instead, she walked over to the cocktail cabinet and said: ‘Can I get you another sherry?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Lucy turned to watch her pouring herself another gin and tonic. ‘That’s the third gin and tonic you’ve had this evening, isn’t it?’

  Julie raised the glass to her lips deliberately. ‘Yes, it is. Do you mind?’

  Lucy shrugged haughtily. ‘I should have thought my meaning was obvious.’

  ‘Robert can afford it,’ returned Julie, with a tight smile.

  ‘Money has nothing to do with it. You don’t want to turn into an alcoholic, do you, Julie?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Julie swallowed the remainder of the spirit and put her glass down on the tray with heavy deliberation. Then she glanced at the masculine watch she was wearing. ‘It’s nine-thirty. Do you have any objections it I go to bed?’

  Lucy sniffed. ‘Not at all. It’s obvious we have little in common.’

  Julie moved towards the door, clenching her fists, refusing to be drawn yet again. But it was terribly difficult for her in the circumstances. Lucy was determined to put her firmly in her place, and so far she appeared to be succeeding. Except that she was unaware of Julie’s own determination not to be intimidated, and that the victories she was winning now did not mean that the war was over.

  The following afternoon, Lucy took Emma to the park. It was one of those wonderful days that November can unexpectedly produce, when the frost on the trees is turned to a diamond sparkle by the brilliance of the sun and the air is as clear and as fresh as wine.