‘Goin’ all right then, maid?’ he enquired as his wife came in with a loaded tray.
Mrs Ridley, flushed with exertion, lips tightly compressed, nodded. ‘Got they kettles on?’
‘Boilin’ away!’ he announced. ‘’Ow’s the boy be’avin’ ‘isself, then? ’Avin’ a good time, is ’e?’
‘‘Course ’e is.’ Mrs Ridley unloaded the plates and started to collect the coffee cups. ‘I ’eared ‘im tellin’ Mr William’s boys about all they antics ‘e gets up to. You ’n ’im. Reckon you’ll ‘ave ’em all over, the way ’e’s goin’ on.’
Mr Ridley chuckled. ‘The more the merrier,’ he said.
Mrs Ridley tossed her head and clucked derisively. ‘See yerself with yer own platoon or whatever, I s’pose,’ she said. ‘given’ ’im that great knife for Chrissmus! Dunno what ‘is mum’ll say to that!’
‘Sensible woman, ’is mum,’ said Mr Ridley reflectively. ‘Showed ‘er it, I ’ave. ’Er ses ’e’s gotta learn if ‘e’s goin’ in the Army.’ Mrs Ridley snorted as she manhandled the kettles and the coffee pots with an experienced hand. Mr Ridley watched her, smiling to himself. ‘Real looker, she is,’ he said appreciatively.
Mrs Ridley snorted again, louder this time.
‘No fewel like an ole fewel,’ she observed.
‘Still got the use o’ me eyes.’ He slipped his arms round her from behind and she gave a loud squawk. ‘Mind! ‘Er can’t ’old a candle to yew. Give us a kiss.’
Mrs Ridley, loud with protests, suddenly remembered how her sister’s husband had dropped down dead with a heart attack, threw her arms round him and kissed him heartily. Encouraged, he kissed her again and they clung together closely.
Gussie, coming suddenly upon them, backed out quietly and stood for a moment in the passage, moved almost to tears by the unexpected tenderness in the elderly couple’s embrace. After a moment, she coughed and made rather a to-do with the door handle. By the time she entered, Mr and Mrs Ridley stood well apart. Mrs Ridley, her cheeks flushed, was making coffee; her husband, his face peaceful and happy, was piling cups and saucers on to the trays. Gussie felt strangely shy.
‘I just wondered if you needed some help with carrying things,’ she said.
They both looked at her and smiled and she felt as though they encompassed her, too, in their love for each other and their affection for Henry and Nethercombe and she beamed back at them, gratefully, joyfully, her heart too full for words, knowing that they understood and accepted her love in return.
Thirty-one
HENRY, SITTING AT HIS desk and struggling half-heartedly with some insurance forms, was finding concentration impossible. He folded his arms across his chest and gave himself up to happiness. Yesterday afternoon Gillian had told him that she was expecting a baby, due in September. A baby! Henry shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair and unable to sit still for a moment longer, pushed back his chair and wandered over to the window. Pools and drifts of daffodils, bending and blowing in the southwesterly gale, grew in the long grass which wouldn’t be mown until their glory was over. Henry thrust his hands into his pockets and listened to the March wind roaring round the house. A baby!
He clenched his hands into fists as his heart winged and soared with joy. It was the final drop in his cup of happiness which now was overflowing. He remembered Gillian’s face, full of excitement and pride, and had to swallow hard to prevent himself from weeping, so great was his emotion. He had begun to believe that he would never be a father but, since Gillian’s return, there had been so much love between them that he had started to hope again. Surely, with Gillian so much more contented, it was possible that he might be granted this extreme joy.
Nethercombe was made for children. Henry allowed his imagination to run riot. He saw his son growing up, as he himself had, at Nethercombe. Perhaps there might be several children! His mind’s eye peopled Nethercombe with his offspring; playing cricket on the lawn, acting at mothers and fathers in the summerhouse, paddling in the pool, roaming the grounds. He saw celebrations at birthdays and Christmases, heard their voices ringing through the house, imagined accompanying pretty daughters, who looked like Gillian, up the aisle as brides and thought of training up a son to take over where he left off at Nethercombe.
Henry turned back into the room and bent to place a log amongst the hot ashy remains of his fire. Perhaps, in thirty years or so, his son would be working here, sitting at his desk … He straightened as he heard a light tapping. Gussie put her head round the door.
‘Lunch in five minutes, Henry. Gillian’s gone into Exeter to see her mother so it’s just the two of us.’
Henry nodded. He knew that Gillian had gone to break the glad news to Lydia. She’d suggested that he might like to tell Gussie himself and he’d blessed her insight. He swallowed once or twice and beamed at this tall angular woman who was his closest relative.
‘Don’t go for a moment,’ he said, as she prepared to withdraw. She hated to interrupt him whilst he was working. ‘Got a bit of news.’
‘Oh?’ Gussie came right in. ‘Someone to view Number Five?’
‘No.’ Henry shook his head. ‘Not that.’ Words and sentences formed and reformed in his head. It was surprising how difficult it was to actually say it. ‘We’re going to have a baby.’ There! Quite simple after all. ‘Gillian went to see the doctor yesterday to confirm it.’
Gussie stared at him, her hands clasped at her breast.
‘Oh, Henry …’
‘I know.’ He nodded, accepting her unspoken delight, and had to press his lips tightly together to contain a sudden uprush of emotion.
‘Oh, Henry,’ Gussie started again and then burst into speech. ‘Oh, my dear, how wonderful. I’m so happy for you. And for Gillian. This is so exciting!’
They plunged together, neither used to displays of emotion, and hugged rather inexpertly but with a great deal of feeling.
‘Lunch is in.’
Mrs Ridley stood in the doorway watching them with a mixture of anxiety, amazement and hastily assumed indifference as Gussie and Henry broke apart, half-laughing half-crying.
‘Mrs Ridley …’ began Gussie and hesitated. This, after all, was Henry’s moment, not hers. She looked at him, raised her eyebrows meaningly and gave him an encouraging nod. He looked suddenly rather shy but he spoke out bravely enough.
‘We’ve had some rather exciting news, Mrs Ridley.’ He smiled at her. ‘My wife’s expecting a baby. Due in September.’
‘Well, then!’ Mrs Ridley took the news in slowly. She looked from one to the other and her eyes began to shine. ‘Well! Congratulations, Mr ’Enry!’ She shook her head as though deprived of further speech and then nodded furiously at him.
‘A toast!’ cried Henry. ‘I think we should all have a little celebration, don’t you? Just a little one. Champagne tonight when Gillian gets back but I think we could have a little one now, don’t you? Is Mr Ridley about? Good! Good! Go and fetch him and I’ll find something to toast ourselves with.’
They swept out of the study and across the hall and Mrs Ridley clattered down the passage to the kitchen, her voice upraised.
‘Just a glass of sherry now, perhaps,’ Henry said, seizing the decanter whilst Gussie assembled glasses.
He poured with an unsteady hand and Gussie gave a little snort of joy.
‘Oh, Henry,’ she said. ‘An heir for Nethercombe.’
And they stood for a long moment, gazing speechlessly at each other, while the Ridleys’ voices, raised in excited question and answer, drew nearer and nearer.
NELL SAT IN THE rocking chair by the Rayburn, a pile of Elizabeth’s books on the table beside her. She felt peaceful and at one with herself. Her grief and anger, as well as her fear and bitterness, seemed at long last to have faded away leaving her with this sense of well-being. She knew that she had much for which to thank both Gillian and Elizabeth. Without her engrossing and satisfying work, she might still be floundering in the darker waters of despair. Instead, she woke to
a sense of purpose and commitment; an excitement at what the day might bring. Gradually, Elizabeth was giving her more and more responsibility and professing herself delighted with Nell’s ability.
Nell put her book aside and, drawing her heels up on to the edge of the seat, hugged her knees as she had hugged to herself the latest piece of unbelievable good fortune. Elizabeth had suggested that it was time she had her own car. It would be a company car; not too small because of transporting pieces of furniture but not too large and difficult to park. Nell had been too thrilled to be able to utter a single word but Elizabeth explained that the business could afford it and had made it sound – in her cool voice – as though it were quite natural in the circumstances, thus relieving Nell from the crushing emotion of gratitude for favours generously granted. Instead, Nell felt – as Elizabeth intended that she should – more confident and determined to do even better. It would be so much easier with her own transport. Although it had been fun to have Gillian with her in the early days, it soon became evident that Gillian’s heart was not in it. Recently she was little more than a chauffeur, often dropping Nell off with Elizabeth or at an appointment with a client and disappearing until later. She seemed more than happy to fetch and carry but Nell felt relieved at the thought of being independent again.
She put her feet to the ground and went to push the kettle on to the hotplate. Whilst she waited for it to boil she crossed her arms across her breast and hugged herself in excitement. One of the most difficult things to get used to had been her dependence on others. In a town, perhaps, it wouldn’t have been so bad but out in the country it was very hard. She grimaced with joy at the thought of being able to drive upcountry to fetch Jack at the end of term. It had been very pleasant to go to and fro with Henry but it was not quite the same as being alone with Jack, listening to his excited chatter.
She made coffee and her joy subsided a little as she wondered what on earth she was going to do about Guy. Just after Christmas, when he took her out to dinner at the Church House Inn at Rattery, he’d proposed to her again. And again, unable to hurt him, she’d prevaricated, using the same excuse as she’d used before and reinforcing it by pleading pressure relating to her new job. He’d accepted it reluctantly and she was so relieved that she’d dropped her guard more than she intended, allowed him to kiss her and felt obliged to respond as much as she was able. Luckily, Jack had come rushing out to welcome them home and the moment had passed but Nell had felt miserable and confused. She wished that she’d been completely honest with Guy from the beginning but she’d suspected that – underneath his forbidding exterior – Guy wasn’t nearly as confident as he looked. And he’d been so kind to her. Luckily for her, Guy had gone to bring a boat back from somewhere in France soon after the evening at Rattery and she’d been given a breathing space.
Nell sighed and sat down again in the rocker but before she could pick up her book the doorbell rang. She stood up, felt about for her shoes and hurried to the door. Gillian stood outside with a most peculiar expression on her face; joy and pride mingled with excitement and something else that Nell couldn’t quite place.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve got some exciting news.’
‘Really?’ Gillian preceded her into the kitchen and stood by the Rayburn, warming herself. ‘So have I.’
‘Spit it out!’ Nell started making a second cup of coffee.
‘No. You go first.’
‘Elizabeth’s giving me a car.’ Nell shook her head, still hardly able to believe her luck. ‘Well, not giving, obviously. It’s owned by the business but I can have the use of it. Oh, Gillian, you can’t imagine what that means to me. And you’ll probably be pleased, too. You won’t have to keep carting me about.’
‘It’s wonderful news,’ said Gillian warmly. ‘You had to have your own transport. Especially now …’
She hesitated and Nell looked at her enquiringly.
‘Why especially now? I know that you didn’t want a full-time job … Oh!’
Gillian met her eyes and nodded. ‘I’m expecting a baby,’ she said and looked at Nell almost fearfully. ‘It’s due in September.’
‘That’s wonderful! I’m so pleased for you. Henry must be off his head with joy.’
Gillian smiled but there was still a reservation which Nell couldn’t understand.
‘He’s terribly excited. He and Gussie have been rushing about dragging cradles and rocking horses out of the attics …’ She stopped and bit her lip.
‘And why not?’ Nell watched her, puzzled. ‘I think it’s terrific. Are you … ? Is there … ?’ She hesitated. ‘Is there something wrong, Gillian?’
Gillian gripped the mug Nell passed to her tightly. ‘Wrong?’
‘You seem to have something on your mind. Apart from the baby. Are you OK?’
‘Of course I am. It’s just rather difficult coming to tell you about the baby when you … when … Oh hell!’
‘Oh, I see!’ Nell’s brow cleared. ‘Honestly, Gillian! Please don’t get upset about that. I’m truly thrilled for you. Really! Don’t get the idea that I shall be sitting here with morbid fancies after you’ve gone. It will probably horrify you if I say that, as things worked out, it was probably a blessing in disguise. Don’t look so shocked! I know it sounds dreadful and at the time I was devastated but how I would have coped with a new baby as well as everything else I really can’t imagine. And what would I be doing now? I could hardly be working with Elizabeth, could I?’
‘You mean that you don’t really mind?’ Gillian could barely believe her ears. Could Elizabeth have been right, after all?
‘About what? Losing the baby? It wasn’t as though we’d planned it, you see. And I’ve still got Jack. I’m not really hard-hearted, although it must sound like it, but quite honestly it was probably the best thing in the circumstances. If he had lived I should have loved him as I love Jack and no doubt we should have survived somehow. But he didn’t. You simply can’t keep looking over your shoulder otherwise you just carry all the bitterness and grief with you. Thanks to you I’ve got a home and a job and, to be truthful, I’m happier than I’ve been for years.’
‘For years?’ Gillian looked as though she’d been given present. ‘Really?’
‘Really!’ said Nell firmly, surprised at Gillian’s intensity. For some reason Gillian needed some sort of reassurance on this point and Nell, with a little effort, put aside her natural reticence so as to be able to give it to her. ‘John and I weren’t particularly happy during those last years.’ She hesitated a little and decided to hold nothing back. ‘To be honest I should never have married him. I was in love with his elder brother. He just saw me as a little sister, rather like Guy and Gemma, and in the end I married John as second best. And that’s how he stayed. I cheated him although I hope he never realised it. Rupert was killed during the assault on Mount Tumbledown. He was a platoon commander with the Scots Guards. John’s death has released me from living a lie, if you like, and although I wouldn’t have wanted him to die, any more than the baby, he did. It’s all over. My life is here with all of you now. And if I’m absolutely honest, it’s wonderful to be free, in charge of my own future and a new career.’
There was a long silence. Nell felt exhausted, as though she’d just been given a blood transfusion. She wondered if Gillian was shocked or contemptuous but was too tired to care. She finished her coffee and looked at Gillian. She appeared strangely happy, although there were tears in her eyes.
‘Thank you for telling me that,’ she said. ‘It’s meant a lot. I’m glad you’re happy here.’
‘I’m very happy. And truly grateful. So. Let’s forget about me. What about this baby? What with Henry and Gussie and the Ridleys, not to mention the Courtyard, I suppose you realise that you’ll never see it?’
They both laughed and Nell felt a measure of relief. The crisis, whatever it had been, had passed.
‘It’s a daunting thought,’ admitted Gillian. She hesitated for a mo
ment and then plunged on. ‘Henry and I had an idea and I said I’d ask you. D’you think that Jack would like to be one of the godfathers?’
‘Jack!’ Nell stared at her and then burst out laughing. ‘What a wonderful idea. He’d love it, of course. My word! He’ll burst with the importance of it. But isn’t he a bit young?’
‘Well, we thought about that but Henry thought it would be nice for the baby, as it grew up. You know? He’d be more a friend for it, wouldn’t he?’
‘What if it’s a girl?’
Gillian shrugged. ‘Jack can still be friend to a girl.’
‘It’s a fantastic idea and Jack will be over the moon. But you must write and tell him yourselves and invite him formally. He’ll love that.’
‘We will.’ Gillian put her mug on the table. ‘I’ll be off then. It’s blowing a Hooghly out there. I hope it doesn’t bring any of the trees down.’
On the doorstep she hugged Nell rather shyly and Nell responded warmly.
‘Tell Henry I’m thrilled,’ she said. ‘I shall expect some champagne next time I’m up at the house.’
Gillian slipped away up the avenue and Nell closed the door thoughtfully. She still didn’t quite understand Gillian’s need for reassurance or her reluctance to talk about the baby, unless she feared that Nell was envious of her good fortune. Nell decided that this must be the case. Gillian had so much by comparison. Perhaps that was it. Nevertheless, Nell still felt there was something more and wondered, now, at herself for baring her soul quite so readily. In retrospect it was difficult to remember that instinctive impulse which had told her that it was necessary. Well, it was done. She sat down in the rocking chair, pulled her book on to her knees and, moments later, was lost to the world.
Thirty-two
THERE WAS MILD REJOICING in the Courtyard when Mr Jackson’s cottage went up for sale. The Beresfords, down for Easter, wondered who might buy it.
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