‘Surely your parents have been back?’
‘No, they haven’t.’
‘How surprising,’ Teddy mused.
‘America’s a long way away,’ Lady Georgina interjected. ‘And besides, plane tickets don’t come cheap.’
‘Your father is legendary here at Walbridge,’ said Teddy cheerfully. ‘I married Georgie fifteen years ago. But before me she was married to a man called Rufus. It’s thanks to your father that Rufus survived the war.’
‘What did my father do?’ Trixie asked.
Lady Georgina gasped. ‘My dear, you don’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘He saved my husband’s life.’ Trixie stared at Lady Georgina in disbelief. ‘He was a hero. If it hadn’t been for him Rufus would have been shot dead.’
Teddy interrupted. ‘He took a bullet for him in North Africa.’
‘He took a bullet for Rufus?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Lady Georgina. ‘Rufus’s tank was hit. They took shelter in a settlement somewhere near El Alamein. The Germans counter-attacked. Your father arrived with his battalion to reinforce the position. He saw a German sniper aiming at Rufus and dived at him.’ She had clearly told the story many times before.
‘He literally threw himself onto Rufus,’ added Teddy, gesticulating vigorously. ‘Bang! The sniper fired and got Freddie in the side of his face.’
‘Poor Freddie lost his eye, but he saved my husband’s life,’ said Lady Georgina softly. ‘We are enormously grateful.’
‘Dad’s never mentioned it,’ said Trixie, trying to make sense of it. ‘Why would he keep something like that secret?’
‘Well, now you know, you’ll have to ask him. Perhaps he’s just very modest and doesn’t want any fuss. Will you tell him that we still remember him with gratitude even though Lord Penselwood is no longer with us?’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ said Trixie. I’m sorry for my mother’s loss, she thought quietly.
‘Thank you, my dear. His heart simply gave out. He wasn’t old.’ She frowned. ‘It was as if it just decided it had had enough.’ Her eyes wandered to the window and she sighed wistfully. ‘He died on a bench in the garden. He liked to sit out in the middle of the night, under the stars, listening to the rustling of animals. When he came back from the war he used to sit there all the time. I think, after the ugliness of it all, he wanted to be surrounded by beauty. He adored the garden.’
Trixie followed her gaze. She knew now why Rufus had ended the affair: not because he had stopped loving Grace, but because he had had to, out of loyalty and respect for the man who had saved his life. And from Lady Georgina’s baffled expression Trixie was able to deduce why Rufus had died. She knew she was right. He had died of a broken heart.
Chapter 24
Trixie left, not the way she had come, but by Lady Georgina’s own front drive, which led back into the lane. As she walked she reflected on the extraordinary revelation of her father’s bravery. She couldn’t imagine why he had never told her. She couldn’t imagine why her mother had never told her. Surely his courage was something to be celebrated, not hidden away like a crime? She consoled herself that he couldn’t possibly have known about the affair, because then he would not have leapt so swiftly to Rufus’s aid. She smiled sadly at the irony. Her father had saved Lord Melville’s life; instinctively perhaps, given that he was in the employ of the Penselwood family, and in so doing saved the life of his wife’s lover. Because of his heroism Earl Melville was left with no option but to end the affair; how bitter must his gratitude have been. Considered from another angle, Earl Melville stole not only her father’s wife, but his eye as well. Trixie felt a growing resentment for the man her mother had loved and a deep sympathy for her father. She hoped with all her heart that he had never known about her mother’s infidelity.
She arrived at the Fox and Goose a little before half past twelve, feeling depleted. So engrossed was she in her parents’ past that she had forgotten all about Jasper. When she entered, Robert was behind the bar, serving customers. He waved and pointed to a fair-haired woman sitting at a corner table by the window. ‘Mother’s waiting for you. I’ll send Maeve over to take your orders for lunch,’ he told her. Trixie ignored the stares from curious locals and made her way across the room.
‘Hello,’ she said, pulling out a spindle-back chair and sitting down. ‘You must be Robert’s mother.’
The woman smiled sweetly, revealing a set of small, crooked teeth. She had the same bright-blue eyes as her son. ‘And you must be Trixie Valentine.’
‘It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs Heath.’
‘Call me Joan.’ She patted Trixie’s hand. ‘So, you’re Grace Hamblin’s daughter. You are the image of her. She was a beautiful girl.’
‘I’m so pleased to meet someone who knew her,’ said Trixie, cheering up in the warmth of Joan’s enthusiasm. Maeve came and took the orders, returning a moment later with drinks.
Joan was keen to share her stories with someone who was eager to hear them. ‘I was about ten when she married your father. But I remember the wedding at the church because Freddie and Grace were very popular and everyone turned out to watch. It was just before the war. Like a perfect summer’s day before the storm.’
‘Mom told me she bought the dress off the peg at a department store.’
‘In Dorchester, most likely,’ she said, crinkling up her nose. ‘Not a glamorous town.’
‘The dress was pretty, though.’
‘Oh, it was, Trixie, very pretty,’ Joan repeated with emphasis. ‘Then war came and Freddie went off to fight with all the other young men, my older brothers included, although Charlie was only just seventeen and as fresh-faced as a schoolboy. My mother cried for a week then threw all her energy into the war effort, working on the farm with your mother, although Grace was soon taken under my grandfather’s wing in the gardens. He was the head gardener at the Hall, you see, and he chose Grace to work with him. He had a soft spot for her. I think everyone did.’ She laughed wistfully. ‘They had the most marvellous vegetable gardens and orchards at the Hall. You should have seen the quantity of produce they got out of the land. My grandfather used to say Grace had a magic touch but I think it was simply love. If you love living things they grow, don’t they? Lady Penselwood was a shrewd woman. She bought cows and sheep and pigs before the war. I tell you, the only rationing that affected us here in Walbridge was petrol. We ate like kings. Eggs, milk, cheese, and honey in the place of sugar. We had lots of honey, thanks to your mother. Those bees were very industrious.’
Joan’s eyes were shiny and alert and the apples of her cheeks flushed pink with pleasure as she travelled back into the past. The war years had clearly been exciting for her. ‘Oh, they were, Trixie, very exciting,’ she said. ‘I was lucky, my brothers came home in one piece. Others weren’t so fortunate. Like your father, God bless him.’
Maeve brought over their food and set the steaming dishes on the table, but Trixie was almost too engrossed in their conversation to eat.
‘I bumped into Lady Georgina this morning who told me that Dad had been a hero,’ she said.
‘A hero?’ Joan raised her eyebrows.
‘Yes, apparently he saved Lord Melville’s life.’
‘Did he indeed?’
‘Don’t you think it odd that he never told me?’
Joan patted Trixie’s hand again. ‘The men who returned from the war never spoke of it to anyone. They wanted to forget it and rebuild their lives. I suspect your father was a modest man and considered his act of bravery simply the actions of a good soldier. He might have been a little embarrassed by the fuss, don’t you think?’
‘He lost his eye because of it.’
‘But Lord Penselwood – I mean Rufus, he was Rufus Melville then – lived because of your father’s sacrifice. What an incredible thing to give someone, the gift of life.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Rufus? He was like a handsome prince in a fairy ta
le. Tall with dark-brown eyes, deeply set, and lots of thick brown hair. Long face with a mouth that seemed to find everything amusing.’ She gesticulated energetically with her hands. ‘He had good bones, Rufus did, high cheekbones and a strong, straight nose. He was dashing. As a little girl I’d glimpse him from time to time and be so overtaken by shyness as to lose my tongue altogether. Then when I was working in Red Valentine for your aunt Josie, he came in with Lady Georgina. Now she was so beautiful she took your breath away. Not soft, like your mother, but icy like the Snow Queen.’ She laughed, pleased with her comparison. ‘They made a gorgeous couple, the two of them, although I’d say the war rubbed the gloss off him. He had always had a cheerful nature and a certain sheen, but after the war he didn’t smile any more, not with his eyes, anyhow. You can always tell a person is truly happy if he smiles with his eyes. Rufus didn’t.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘I’m afraid there were many like him. They’d seen too much, I suspect. Lady P. used to complain that he’d grown grumpy and short-tempered. She complained with affection, though. She adored her son. He used to lunch with her twice a week, just the two of them. He smiled when he was with her, mind you. In those days she lived in the White House on the estate, but when Jasper married she moved to the other side of town. She and Lady Georgina are not friends.’
‘Is that because they’re both very strong characters?’
If Joan knew, she wasn’t going to elaborate. She smiled her sweet smile and patted Trixie’s hand. ‘You should go and pay her a visit. She’d love to see you. She was very fond of Grace. The war did a lot to break the barriers down between people. My grandfather said that Lady P. rolled up her sleeves and got her hands dirty with the rest of them. Lady Georgina remained in her ivory tower, of course. The war did nothing to change her. But Lady P. has no airs and graces.’
‘What do you do for her?’
‘Everything. I’m her Girl Friday.’ She laughed. ‘Although I’m not a girl any more. I’m nearly sixty!’
‘You’re a girl to her.’
‘I suppose I am. She’s well into her nineties now but there’s no slowing her down.’ She shook her head. ‘God broke the mould after He made her. There’s no one else like her. I’ll be sorry when she goes.’
‘Whatever happened to my aunt, Josephine?’
‘Ah, the glamorous Josephine!’ Joan sighed with pleasure. ‘She was a lovely-looking girl, but much too ambitious for a small town like Walbridge. She sold her shop and moved to London where she married some rich businessman, I think. I heard she was treading the boards in the West End but I never got up to London to see her. I don’t think her career amounted to much. I don’t think she was ever the famous star she hoped she’d be. When her father died her mother moved up there to be close to her. I didn’t hear about her after that. Her mother was a good woman. May Valentine. She used to bake cakes and sell them at the summer fair. I remember her because she had such warmth in her eyes.’
At that moment the door opened and Trixie looked up. There, standing in the wind that swept in off the lane, was Jasper.
Trixie’s heart stalled at the sight of the man she had once loved. She stared at him in disbelief. He was older, weathered, with receding hair and a touch of grey about the temples, but handsome still, and her heart was jolted back to life.
Jasper’s eyes stopped when they settled on her and his face expanded into a wide, surprised smile. He hurried across the pub until he reached their table. ‘Excuse me, Joan,’ he said politely. Then to Trixie: ‘So it’s true. You really are here!’
Trixie wondered whether Joan noticed, as she did, the ill-disguised longing in his eyes. ‘How did you know?’
‘Mother told me.’
Trixie felt Joan deserved an explanation. ‘I met Jasper in America seventeen years ago,’ she said, her cheeks reddening beneath Jasper’s gaze.
‘And you haven’t changed at all,’ he said. ‘Not at all.’
Joan put her hands on the table to push herself up. ‘I’ll leave you two old friends together,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to interrupt your lunch,’ Jasper began.
‘You haven’t. I was just rattling on. Really, we could have sat here all afternoon, couldn’t we, Trixie?’
‘Lunch is on me,’ said Jasper courteously.
‘That’s very kind of you, Lord Penselwood. Thank you.’ Joan got to her feet. ‘It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Trixie. How long are you staying?’
‘A couple of days.’
‘Well, I hope you enjoy them. The weather’s nice for you. Perhaps I’ll see you again.’
When she had gone, Jasper lowered his voice. ‘My God, Trixie. I can’t believe you’re here.’ It was then that she noticed a shadow of unhappiness behind his smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘I didn’t know how.’
‘You could have written.’ His eyes searched hers for the girl he’d left on the beach. ‘You could have knocked.’
‘Jasper . . .’ She glanced about the room self-consciously.
He immediately understood her reticence. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ he suggested. Trixie watched him go to the bar to pay. He was wearing a pair of corduroy trousers and a pale-blue cashmere sweater beneath an old, moth-eaten tweed jacket. He looked every inch the country squire, she thought, and her heart buckled for the boy with the big dreams of being a rock star, sacrificed to duty and tradition. ‘Come,’ he said and she almost gave him her hand as she had done all those years ago on the beach in Tekanasset.
She followed him out into the sunshine. The lane was empty. They were alone. Without a word he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his chest. She was sure he released a groan as he held her there for a long moment. She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears that suddenly surged in a tide of longing. ‘Oh, Trixie, I don’t know where to begin.’ He pulled away and smiled bitterly. ‘I have visualized this moment for years, but now it’s here I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything. It’s enough just to see you,’ she replied.
‘No, it isn’t,’ he said gravely. ‘I owe you an explanation. Come, let’s go for a drive.’
His dusty Volvo estate was parked in the shade by the river. He opened the passenger door and she climbed in. She immediately smelt dog and on closer inspection saw white hairs all over the upholstery. ‘Where’s your dog?’ she asked as he climbed in beside her.
He grinned. ‘Bendico’s at home. I’m sorry his fur’s all over the seats.’
‘I don’t mind. Mum’s always had big dogs, remember?’
‘I remember everything,’ he said, and Trixie detected the wistfulness in his voice. He drove into the street. ‘I couldn’t believe my ears when Mother said Beatrix Valentine found Ralph in the woods and brought him back. I thought, “That can’t be my Beatrix Valentine, can it?” Were you going to leave without seeing me?’
‘I came to find out about my parents. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.’
He shook his head. ‘You have no idea, Trixie. Look at you. You’re the same. Exactly the same. It’s as if we’re young again. I wish to God we were. I wish we could turn the clock back. I’d do things so differently.’ He glanced at her and his grey-green eyes had darkened with sorrow. ‘Letting you go was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life.’ Trixie was astonished that he should make that confession within five minutes of meeting, but he was right. It did feel like they were back on Tekanasset. He was as familiar to her now as he had been then and she almost reached out and put her hand on his arm to reassure him that she felt the same.
He seemed to regret his outburst. ‘I’m sorry, Trixie. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my troubles. I suppose you’re married . . . why ever did I assume you weren’t?’
‘I’m not married, Jasper,’ she replied softly.
‘Do you still live on Tekanasset?’
‘My parents do, but I moved to New York.�
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He grinned. ‘Did you get to work for Vogue?’
‘Not quite Vogue, but I’m fashion editor for one of the big glossies.’
‘I knew you could be anything you wanted to be.’
‘Do you still play guitar?’
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t played since I left Tekanasset.’
Trixie was appalled. ‘You were so talented!’
‘I gave up all the things I loved.’ His face crumpled with guilt. ‘I gave you up, too.’
‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago.’ She turned her gaze to the window. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the beach. I need a walk. I want to be alone with you where we can talk and catch up. I have so many questions.’
She knitted her fingers and kept her eyes on the road ahead, fighting the impulse to reach out and touch him.
Jasper drove down the narrow lanes until they reached a farm entrance. He turned off the road and motored up a muddy track. At the end he parked on the crest of the hill and switched off the engine. Before them the sparkling ocean spread out vast and wide as far as the eye could see. ‘What a beautiful view,’ Trixie sighed. ‘I didn’t know we were so close to the sea.’
‘Come, there’s a path down to the beach.’ He looked at her leather jacket and thin scarf. ‘Are you going to be warm enough?’
‘I’m fine,’ she replied. But he went round and opened the boot. ‘Here, put this on. It’ll be too big for you and it’s not very fashionable for a fashion editor, but it’ll stop you getting cold in the wind.’
She took the green coat he offered her. ‘What about you?’
He smiled playfully. ‘I’m a man,’ he said, putting on a gruff voice.
She laughed. ‘Even men get cold, Jasper.’
‘Not real ones!’
They walked down a narrow footpath that wound its way through rocks and long grass to the beach below. Only gulls flew in and out of that secluded stretch of sand. The tide had gone out, leaving small crustaceans for the birds to fight over, and the air was pierced every now and then by their indignant cries. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Trixie,’ Jasper said suddenly. He took a deep breath and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘I never wanted to lead you on like that. I hoped . . .’
The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel Page 28