Feeling as she did at this moment Hannah was inclined to agree with her . . .
Hannah was standing in the hall saying goodbye to Welshy and Mr Johnson, and it seemed a toss-up as to who was to go next, Mrs Drayton or Polly. But Mrs Drayton won. With the practice of years in boardrooms, she remained silent and smiled until the other person moved; and that other person on this occasion was Polly. She, patting Hannah gently on the cheek, said, ‘Give me a ring, mind. I’ve told you, I can come at a moment’s notice.’
‘Thanks, Polly. Yes, I’ll do that.’ And Hannah meant this, for although she hated to admit it, even to herself, Polly was more help and comfort to her than Janie, Mrs Drayton or even Natasha.
Then it was Mrs Drayton’s turn. She spoke to David first, saying, ‘You will get on the phone to me, now won’t you?’ And David forced himself to say, jocularly, ‘I’ll not only do that, I’ll come and fetch you.’
‘Oh, that would be first-rate. First-rate.’ Mrs Drayton now gave him a familiar pat on the shoulder; then, turning to Hannah, she bent over the raised mound and kissed her on the cheek.
The next to leave were Eddie and Janie, and as the two sisters embraced Hannah whispered, ‘You understand now, don’t you? She’ll be all right. I’ll see she comes home before the end of the holidays.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter any more. We both understand. Forget about that and get on with your business.’ She too now patted the hump in front of her, saying, ‘I’m sick of waiting.’
‘So am I, Janie,’ said Hannah. ‘So am I.’
Then there were only Gilly and Natasha. Their goodbyes were brief: ‘Have a good night. See you in the morning.’
Of course the bridesmaid had been present at the wedding, but apparently she had found little excitement in her dress, which had been shortened to just above her knees. Now she was in the kitchen helping to set the table and tray for tomorrow’s breakfast and when she said, ‘Well, I’ll polish the glasses before you put them away,’ Pete remarked, ‘Don’t bother tonight; I can see to them, Maggie. You go and say goodnight to the squire and then get off to bed, but’ – he nodded his head at her – ‘see that he cuts the cackle short tonight, will you?’
They stared at each other for a moment, and then she said, ‘All right, I’ll cut the cackle short tonight; that’s what you meant, wasn’t it?’
‘No, no!’ His voice was in earnest now; then, shrugging his shoulders, he said, ‘Half and half: you two set each other off.’
They looked at each other steadily before she turned away, saying, ‘Goodnight, Pete.’
And he said, ‘Goodnight, Maggie. And I should have told you before, but there hasn’t been time – you looked lovely this morning.’
Her lids blinked, her lips pouted, then she shrugged her shoulders, turned about and went out.
It was only ten minutes later when she went into the drawing room to say goodnight to Hannah and David. They both kissed her warmly, and when Hannah said softly to her, ‘You’ve been wonderful. Thanks, Maggie. Thanks,’ she again shrugged her shoulders and pouted her lips. Then she turned to David who, taking up Hannah’s words, said, ‘Yes, indeed you have been wonderful. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you, and I really mean that. I was saying to your aunt only yesterday, there must be some way we can wangle you to live here, because when the baby comes you’ll be needed more than ever; and there are some good schools round here. We’ll see what we can do’ – he was nodding at her – ‘because you’re badly needed.’
‘That’s what Mr Peter—’
She stopped herself from going on, then said quickly, ‘Goodnight, Uncle David,’ and leaning towards him she kissed him on the cheek, and he kissed her back. Then, as she hurried from the room, she thought, Yes; that’s what Mr Peter said: ‘You’re wanted.’ And he had said it was the most important thing in the world to be wanted, and oh, she needed to be wanted. Ever since that afternoon when she’d put her foot in it and afterwards nobody had seemed to want her at all, she had known what it was not to be wanted, and the feeling was still with her.
Mr Peter knew all about being wanted. He had been wanted by Mr David, and had said he himself would have been very lonely without Mr David in his life. He had also said that Pete needed to be wanted; because he, too, was lonely inside because he hadn’t been made properly. So she must always do things to make herself wanted. But what she wanted at this moment above everything and everybody was that Peter should stay alive. But he wouldn’t; he would go, and what would he leave? An emptiness. He had assured her the other part of him would fill it, but she doubted it. Spirit, or whatever it was, hadn’t the power to talk, and to be needed you had to talk. But he had promised her faithfully, so she must just wait and see . . .
Downstairs, two people went into Peter’s bedroom and they talked far into the night. And when at last they left the bedside they both felt strangely calm; Hannah had not found the exposing of their knowledge unbearable. And later, in their wedding bed, when he began to apologise about his restricted movements, she laughed gently with him, and for an answer she snuggled her swollen stomach to him, saying, ‘We are a pair, aren’t we? But it won’t always be like this, darling. We’re alive and together. And since I’ve spoken to Peter I feel strangely calm.’
There was a moment’s silence before David answered slowly, ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose I can say I feel calm too, my darling.’
Fourteen days later, which happened to be a Thursday, Hannah gave birth to a son. He weighed seven and a half pounds and he was perfect. As for his mother, she was exhausted after eighteen hours of struggling to bring him into the world, and after seeing him in his father’s arms and the wonder on his face she left herself in the hands of the nurse and the doctor and fell into a much-needed sleep.
In the background there hovered, like three good witches, as the doctor said, Mrs Drayton, Natasha and Polly; but it was Maggie, weary-eyed but excited, who was allowed to carry the baby into Peter’s room and lay him in his arms. And when Peter looked down on the chubby, wrinkled face and the moving lips now demanding sustenance, a voice within him said, Now I can go and you can take over; but the voice that came from his thin lips, as he now looked at Maggie, was soft as he said, ‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he? And you must look after him, Maggie. He’ll need you. Later on, he’ll need you.’
‘Yes, Peter, I’ll look after him.’
Then Maggie handed the child to Mrs Gillyman and the three women went quietly from the room, and Peter, taking Maggie’s hand, said, ‘Now go to bed; you’re walking in your sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.’
At this she dared to ask, ‘Will we?’ and he said, ‘Oh, yes. Oh, yes, we’ll definitely talk in the morning.’
She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek; and he held her face in his hands, and when he whispered something she was sure he said, ‘My little love.’
Four days later Peter left his spirit behind him and, strangely, no-one cried; at least, not on that day.
The End
The Thursday Friend Page 31