“I will. And I’ll bring my camera. Well, I am ready to wrap. Shall we?”
Chapter 3
Jane’s prediction about a white Christmas proved true. A downy snow covered Hartsbury during the Christmas Eve midnight service. All were delighted to see the enchanting, frosty landscape when they stepped out of the old stone church, still humming favorite Christmas hymns. Peacefulness and good cheer was abundant in every heart.
The air was still, without the slightest tease of wind. The platinum stars shown hard and white in the black night sky, the dazzling moonlight shimmered on the powdered-sugar rooftops.
Jackson, his chum Toby, and the other children grabbed handfuls of snow and pelted one another, their laughter sounding sharp in the frigid air.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Lydia said, gazing at the stars and catching snowflakes on her eyelashes. She stood still for a moment, breathing deeply in the chilly air. She coughed, making the children’s shrill voices seem very distant.
“Yes, it is a beautiful sight,” her mother agreed. “And it’s cold. Let’s get moving.” She took Nigel’s arm and they made their way home, saying good-byes to other villagers and wishing all a Happy Christmas. The Membry family, including Jane, crunched together in the majesty of the snowfall, and, two streets beyond, turned the corner to the manor house at Brambleberry Lane.
• • •
Christmas morning, Lydia phoned Jane to come join them before waking up Jackson. The day was radiant with sunshine. The air remained chilled and motionless. Clear winter light blazed across the petals of the scarlet Amaryllis placed randomly throughout Brambleberry House.
Jane joined in as stockings were pilfered through, and then Jackson followed his uncle’s hints, discovering a halter, bridle, rug, and saddle in various hiding places about the large house. All other presents were put off and a proper breakfast was thrown over in order to get Jackson to the barn before he completely burst with excitement, everyone being reduced to a few slices of buttered bread, taken in hand on the way to the car.
Clarice chose to stay behind. She would not be deterred from her culinary mission, and was in her element with a large meal to prepare, flying about the kitchen with the controlled, merry demeanor of the late Julia Child. Jackson sat in the front seat of Nigel’s Mercedes, engulfed by his new equestrian kit, with Eleanor, Lydia, and Jane tucked in the backseat, exchanging grins. The child’s joy was boundless, and the Christmas spirit lifted them all.
“Uncle Nigel, you are the best,” Jackson said, beaming at his uncle. “My own pony! I can’t believe it. It’s too fab. Did you know about this Mum?”
“I did, and I am very good at keeping secrets.”
Nigel drove the silver sedan into the stable yard’s car park and Jackson barely waited for the car to halt before opening the door.
“Hurry, won’t you?”
“Just a minute, Jackson. Or shall I say ‘hold your horses’?” his grandmother joked, heaving her round form from the backseat. Jane reached inside her handbag and pulled out her rather professional-looking camera.
“You’re taking snaps of me and my new pony, Aunt Jane?”
“Yes, darling. I am so happy for you,” Jane replied. She hugged Lydia’s shoulders, and they agreed that it certainly was a happy Christmas.
Nigel kept pace alongside his nephew into the barn, with the women following.
The barn was dark after the bright winter sun, and smelled sweetly of hay. Nigel and Jackson proceeded down the aisle, between spacious box stalls. As Jane walked by, horses poked out their heads in greeting. The dust danced in the golden light coming in through the barn windows. Jane paused, letting her fingers linger against a heavy horse blanket of black watch plaid hanging on a metal rack. Further in, Nigel and Jackson stopped at a stall, and Jackson’s laughter rang through the rafters as he saw his pony for the first time. Jane smiled at hearing Jackson’s bubbling voice, and glancing over at Lydia, saw her beaming with joy for her son’s happiness.
“Has he got a name, Uncle Nige?” Jackson asked, as he offered the chocolate brown pony a carrot.
“He’s called Dudley, but I am sure you could change it.”
“Oh, no, that’s brilliant. He looks like a Dudley. Sir Dudley the Shetland Pony.”
Dudley had a thick, swirly coat and a copious mane and tail. His bangs stuck out like a pom-pom between his small, fluffy ears, and he stamped his hooves, which were smaller than a Great Dane’s paws. Dudley’s large, liquid eyes blinked kindly, and his little nose crinkled when he took a carrot, and then a small apple from Jackson’s palm.
“He likes the apple better than the carrot, I’d say,” Jackson informed the group. He was very proud of his new pet, proving his authority in knowing what his pony liked best.
“He’s simply adorable, Nigel, thank you so much,” Lydia said, grasping her brother’s arm and standing on tip-toes to smudge his cheek with a kiss.
“And what do you think, Jane?” Nigel said, turning around to face her.
She smiled, locking eyes with Nigel, and replied softly, “He’s lovely.”
Nigel softened into a smile in return. “I am glad you approve.”
Jackson expertly brought his new pony out of the box and crosstied him in the barn aisle. He chattered incessantly to whomever was listening, while grooming his pony and tacking up. Lydia stepped in to help him slip the bridle over Dudley’s ears, and his uncle made sure the girth was properly tightened.
“Can we take him outdoors for a few snaps?” Jane suggested.
“The outdoor arena is this way,” Jackson said, giving Dudley’s reins a pull to turn him around, leading him out of the double doors at the end of the barn. Having taken lessons at the facility, he knew there was a riding arena surrounded by a copse of tall trees between the barn and the pasture. The group followed the little equestrian. Jane got carried away, taking dozens of photographs. Ever so casually, she captured the child’s handsome uncle in a good many of them.
After the little boy put the pony through his paces, Lydia called out, “I think it’s best we go, Jackson.”
“Right, Mum, just give me a couple of minutes to cool him out.” Jackson handled his pony competently and rode well, and the adults remarked that his riding lessons had certainly paid off.
Nigel came to stand by Jane, who was leaning against the fence surrounding the riding arena. “He does quite well,” he said, as they watched Nigel’s nephew slow his pony to a walk.
“Yes,” Jane agreed. “I think he’s a natural. Riding has certainly been his strongest interest to date. And he couldn’t be more pleased with his pony.”
“I hope I’ve something here that will please you.”
She turned to look at Nigel, who was holding out a little present wrapped in glossy red paper with a white velvet bow.
“Oh, dear!” Jane said. “For me?”
They held each other’s eyes and for once Jane knew what Nigel was thinking. He was delighted to have her caught off guard. She carefully removed the heavy paper and velvet bow, stuck them in her deep coat pocket, and took a moment to read the inscription on the jeweler’s box. Van Cleef & Arpels, Paris.
Reverently, Jane lifted the lid to find a dazzling necklace. From it, hung a not-too-large pendant, shaped in white gold to resemble a smooth calla lilly. A row of small diamonds graced the stamen at the center of the bloom. Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. Nigel took the box from her hand, removed the necklace, stepped close behind her, and drew it around her neck. She felt his fingers lightly brush her hair aside and the necklace was fastened and it’s cool weight fell inside the collar of her festive, holly colored sweater. Her fingers rested on the necklace’s smooth, beautiful shape, while Nigel put the jeweler’s box into her other hand. She slipped the gift box, along with her camera, into her handbag.
“Thank you … .” sh
e managed.
“My pleasure.”
Jackson was coming through the paddock gate and Lydia was asking Jane a question, and no doubt wondering why her friend looked so completely carried away.
• • •
An hour later, the group returned to the house chilled, smiling, and ready to eat Christmas lunch. Clarice retrieved a golden turkey out of the Aga, as “Come All Ye Faithful” rang out from the radio. The feast sent warm, comforting smells of chestnut stuffing, buttered Brussels sprouts, and mincemeat pies throughout the house. Lydia busied herself by carrying clinking crystal glasses full of water to the dining room table, while Eleanor dished up steaming red cabbage into a large amethyst-colored glass serving dish.
They sat down to the meal. Nigel ceremoniously offered a blessing, thanking God for his family and guests, and then he expressed appreciation for Clarice and her hard work. Jane’s thoughts left Nigel’s gift long enough for her to think of her mother, in Scotland with her second husband, and felt a pang of homesickness for her. She remembered her childhood home, in a village not five miles distant, and wondered what sort of strangers was gathered inside its walls. Her secure childhood seemed a lifetime ago, as though she’d never had a true home. But she was glad for this family, and thankful they saw her as one of their own. And she felt quite at home being with them at Brambleberry House, with its grand old rooms, warm fires, and unchanging furnishings.
Clarice was deeply touched by Nigel’s praise during the Christmas prayer, and Jane saw the housekeeper brush a sentimental tear away from her pink cheek. After Nigel concluded with a firm “Amen,” Clarice described all of the foods available, though each dish was obvious to all, as a sort of enticing advert of all they were about to consume.
Afterwards, it was time for coffee and crackers.
“Gram! Read yours!” Jackson squealed. He had managed to forget about his new pony for several minutes while the family pulled apart their Christmas crackers, spilling gifts and paper amongst the table napkins and gravy-streaked dinner plates.
“All right,” Eleanor Membry slipped her glasses over her nose and unfurled the paper. “It says, ‘Doctor, doctor … I keep thinking I’m a pair of curtains!’” Gram chuckled as she read the reply. “‘Well, stop moaning and pull yourself together!’” Even Nigel laughed at the corny joke, caught up in the gaiety of the moment.
The meal had been substantial, and Clarice received further congratulations for having outdone herself. She fobbed these off, saying that she had enormous amounts of help from Gram, and had even put a few things in the deep-freeze earlier in the week. Clarice cared for the Membrys like her own family, for in fact, like Jane, they were the closest to family that she had anywhere near the village.
Jane was pleased to see that Lydia made a change by eating a full plate, and appeared to feel the anesthetizing affects of the heavy holiday meal. With last night’s excitement, the trip to the stables early this morning, and all the preparations in the kitchen, Lydia declared that she was quite put under. “I think I’ll pop upstairs for a lie down, if you don’t mind, Mum. I am sorry to be a bore, Jane, and I wish I could help more, Clair.”
“No, you mustn’t, Mummy, we need to go back to the stables to visit Dudley! He’s been alone now for hours, and on Christmas Day!” Jackson was appalled by his mother’s lack of dedication to his new pony. His face was pulled into the most hurtful frown he could muster. Lydia said she might go face down into the turkey remains if she was kept from bed a moment longer. As always, Nigel came to the rescue.
“Well, it looks like it will be just us men folk then — you, me and Dudley.”
“Yes!” Jackson emphatically shot both fists in the air. He jumped up from the table, nearly dragging the cloth with him, his napkin lost on the floor. He’d insisted upon wearing his breeches and boots to the table, and so only needed a jersey, hat, and gloves to be barn-ready.
• • •
Lydia smiled in appreciation at her brother, and was glad that Nigel could spend some time on his own with Jackson. Now that she was free to go to bed, it seemed too far off when she was so comfortable on the dining room chair.
“C’mon, love,” her mother coaxed and helped to hoist her up by a hand under her elbow. “You seem done in, but you’ll be right as rain after a bit of a lie down.”
Lydia pushed her head deep into the down pillow, and studied the golden pink rays of light that glazed her dressing table. Her silver hairbrush shimmered in the late afternoon sun. Her nursing text book looked out of place among the delicate flacons of perfume, container of lilac hand cream, and china bowl holding a white jasmine brought by Jane, its mysterious fragrance softly scenting the air. Time to think of studies after the holidays. As for now, she felt as though she could sleep through the New Year.
Chapter 4
January was bleak in southeast England. The wet skies looked as though they’d been smeared, a dirty wash left behind by a painter’s brush full of ebony and rain.
Lydia’s first day back at school was dismal. By mid-morning she was completely knackered. The other nursing students exchanged stories about Christmas parties, as they floated from one hospital room to another, bathing patients and checking vital signs.
The gleaming white walls and hospital floors seemed to dazzle Lydia’s eyes, and the antiseptic smells nearly took her breath. Having finished with her first patient, Lydia wondered how she’d get through the rest of the day. A kind fellow student, Joanna, graciously insisted upon taking her other patients, telling Lydia she ought to have a lighter load her first day back.
Lydia was too grateful to be embarrassed. She scanned the nurse’s station for an available chair. A moment off her feet, to rest and do her paperwork, would be just the thing. She saw her preceptor approaching her, and presented a brave face.
“Miss Membry, you aren’t quite yourself, dear,” Mrs. Fowler said, as she laid her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “I really think you ought to finish up your recording and go back to your doctor.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Fowler, really. I didn’t mean to fall behind.”
“No, dear, not at all. I simply think for your benefit, you ought to be examined again. I know you said doctor’s given you antibiotics, but they don’t seem to be helping much, do they? Perhaps there is something else we can try. And, of course, Lydia, whatever it is, our patients already have their own troubles, don’t they? We wouldn’t want to bring anything else. You’ll call my office later this afternoon, then?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Fowler.”
Lydia took an unacceptably long time to write a single progress report. She had missed lunch. She didn’t really mind. Food didn’t appeal. She ought to just phone her doctor from here, to save driving home, and then have to go back out.
It’s dreadfully hot in here, she thought, slipping off her sweater. Patients liked the stifling heat, as they were nearly naked. Lydia pushed her damp hair from her face. She tried to remember where she might find her doctor’s phone number.
Joanna was just coming from a patient’s room, and Lydia felt the oddest sensation sweep over her. She was unable to keep upright, saw the ceiling dash by, and then felt her body begin to slip to the floor.
• • •
Jane longed for spring. She’d removed the holiday decorations, and now the florist shop was done in a winter-white motif. Pristine paper whites, with starry bunches of tiny flowers on their spear-like stems filled the air with a heady fragrance. Jane thought she liked the smell of paper whites, but today she thought they smelled of ammonia. She was tempted to throw open the shop’s door.
Soon, she would put up St. Valentine’s Day, and decorate in jovial reds. That would do nicely to buoy her spirits, until spring’s first hyacinth arrived.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.
“Petal Pushers. This i
s Jane, how can I help?”
“Jane! Dear, you must come quickly!” Eleanor Membry sounded awful. “Jane, are you there?”
“Yes. Eleanor, is it Jackson? Do you want me to go to his school — ”
“No, love. I’ve just gotten a call from a Mrs. Fowler, who is something at the hospital. Lydia’s collapsed, and they’ve admitted her. I am just beside myself.”
“Oh, Lord! Well, listen, it will take me a moment to close up shop, but I’ll be there straightaway. Jackson?”
“Clarice will be here when he comes from school. I don’t mean to drag him to hospital to see his Mum. Do hurry, dear.”
“Try not to worry.”
Jane laid the phone down, feeling the knife edge of fear pierce her chest. Drawing in a deep breath, and brought up sharp by the pungent smell of the paper whites, she forced herself into action.
She flipped the shop’s sign to “Closed.” She locked herself out of the shop, then let herself back in with the keys in her hand to get her bag. Now to the van.
Jane used her bare hands to push the snow from the delivery van windscreen. She climbed in and started off towards the Membry’s house on Brambleberry Lane. The weather report predicted continued snow and freezing rain. Jane furiously clicked off the radio. One crisis at a time.
Turning in the drive, she saw Eleanor dressed in a navy wool coat, her face pinched with worry. Before Jane could make a complete stop, Eleanor’s plump hand pulled the van door open.
“Oh thank you, dear, for coming so quickly.”
“You know I am happy to help. Sorry it isn’t warmed up. The old thing takes a bit to put out heat.”
“And we’re due for more snow,” Eleanor replied, both of the women eager to control the rising panic they felt.
“Yes, that’s what I’ve just heard. So, what is it, exactly, they’ve said about Lydia?”
Heart to Heart Page 23