Wild Lily

by K. M. Peyton

  Cedric’s sisters thought it a great lark. Amelia and Sarah said they would hold the fort for her at home.

  ‘I bet old Maud hasn’t given the idea her blessing! I bet she’s gnashing her teeth! I bet she had some snotty solicitor’s wife lined up!’

  ‘She won’t kiss you, Lily, that’s for sure—’

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  ‘Poor old Ant! He was so sweet. We all loved him – those looks! To die for!’

  ‘He wasn’t sweet! He was an arrogant bastard.’

  ‘A sweet arrogant bastard.’

  ‘What are you going to wear, Lily? He won’t recognize you after all this time. You’ll have to make a label.’

  ‘He will recognize her. Lily hasn’t changed a bit. No grey hairs, in spite of being married to old Ced. She’s not got fat or wrinkly like us.’

  ‘And what’s this about old Ced saying he’s not going? Because of the harvest? That’s just an excuse. He’s got to go. He just cannot not go. He’s being ridiculous.’

  ‘We’ll tell him.’

  ‘He’ll hate it!’

  ‘That’s not the point. It’s his duty. Of course he’s got to go. Once in a lifetime, for goodness sake! If just to say goodbye to Ant, if he’s as bad as Simon says. You tell him, Lily, he’s got to go.’

  ‘He won’t take it from me.’

  ‘We’ll tell him then. The idiot!’

  ‘I don’t think he’s ever been to London.’

  ‘Well, it’s high time he did! What a bumpkin!’

  ‘He did fly with Ant,’ Lily remembered. ‘More than Simon and John did.’

  ‘Ma and Pa allowed him, that’s why. They thought it was great.’

  ‘Simon and John were forbidden.’

  ‘So would you have been if your old pa had known about it!’

  ‘Yes, well, he didn’t.’

  Cedric could not hold out against the scorn and insistence of his two sisters, so when the day came, he walked down the drive with Lily in his one and only suit (for funerals) to meet Simon’s car, grumbling and groaning all the way.

  ‘You can’t feel worse than I do, so just shut up,’ Lily snapped at him, in the rare role of nagging wife. If he was only complaining about wearing a suit and going to London, how could he imagine how she felt, screwed up with dread about the day ahead? She wasn’t even sure she would carry it through without breaking down completely. Cedric had no idea, but Simon would understand. It was, of course, a beautiful day for this ordeal, so Cedric stopped grumbling and started to guess how long the sunshine would hold out.

  ‘At least you’ll be in church, so you can pray for the weather,’ Lily snapped.

  Simon’s car was waiting on the road. He got out as they approached.

  ‘Blimey, Lily, it’s only a christening, not a wedding,’ he said, but his eyes shone with admiration as he took in her glorious dress and elegant hat. She had put all her skill into making her outfit, thinking ahead of seeing Antony’s face when – if? – he recognized her after such a long time. She knew she looked gorgeous, the golden flush of her silk dress bringing out the colour in her still mostly golden hair. She rarely looked in a mirror, her life not requiring it, for she made few clothes for herself, but this time she had surprised herself by seeing a neat, slender and still quite youthful figure, turning this way and that to check on the fit of her dress. She was nearly forty. Three children and the work of a farmer’s wife should have coarsened her figure, but it hadn’t. She was soothed by Simon’s admiration.

  ‘You look fantastic! Poor Ant will fall out of his wheelchair when he sees you.’

  To Lily’s surprise, Melanie was sitting in the car.

  ‘I asked her to come, for Antony,’ Simon explained. ‘It’s a day out after all. And she was always fond of old Ant, so she agreed.’

  ‘Nice to have a day off from the girls.’ Melanie smiled at Lily and said, ‘You look gorgeous! I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Lily was pleased to see that there was no bad feeling between Simon and Melanie in spite of the split, and actually felt glad to have the female presence, quite rare in her life. Cedric sat in the front with Simon and talked farming, and Lily felt her nerves quietening as she listened to Melanie’s undemanding conversation. Age had mellowed her and her life was no longer easy; Lily got the impression that she regretted leaving Simon.

  ‘But he was away so long. Why on earth did he go, the idiot?’

  Lily could have told her, but didn’t. She sat watching the endless suburbs slipping past, then the river Thames and Putney bridge and buildings without end. How could all these people live without grass, without space, without cows? She would die.

  Simon said, ‘Nearly there. We’re going to be early. We’ll find the church, then park round the corner somewhere and wait for the time.’

  Simon was familiar with the area and knew the church nearest to Antony’s house, no doubt where Antony visited on Sundays and had been married. It was a hideous Victorian monstrosity, more like a warehouse than a thanksgiving to God, but at least it had a garden round it and there was a small marquee set up on a scrap of lawn.

  ‘Tea and cakes, by Jove!’ Simon said. ‘They’re doing us proud.’

  ‘Should be champagne, surely? We haven’t got to hang around though, have we?’

  ‘Cedric, yes, I’m afraid we’ve got to be polite. We are guests of honour, Lily and I. We have to be congratulated by the famous Aunt Maud.’

  Simon parked the car in a side road and they sat waiting. Lily did not join in the desultory conversation. Simon had told her earlier that Aunt Maud was over the moon about the baby and planning the right school already and interviewing nannies and saying she felt ten years younger. Lily wondered how old the old bat really was: she seemed to go on for ever. What joy had come her way getting poor Antony under her thumb, helpless in his wheelchair!

  But what would have become of him without her? God moved in mysterious ways, so cruel to Antony, cruel to her own family. Why did they praise God so in church when he was so cruel? She herself was the last person in truth to be a godparent when the service was all about steering the child into godly ways. She had read the service in the church at home, to see what it entailed. She had never thought much about God herself, but had noticed that as people grew near to death they thought more about the whole thing. Perhaps Antony was thinking about God now, but she doubted it. To her God was the clouds and the trees and the lake and the fields of ripe corn rippling in the breeze and the dear carthorses, which made her catch her breath sometimes at the beauty of them and the feelings they provoked. But she didn’t think John would agree that that was religion.

  ‘Time to go, I think,’ Simon said.

  A few well-dressed elderly people were dribbling towards the church. Lily was glad to move, feeling herself trembling. Oh, for it to be over! Simon, guessing, took her arm firmly.

  ‘We’ll stay out of the way,’ Melanie said quietly.

  ‘I could wait outside,’ Cedric said hopefully.

  ‘You will not!’

  Simon walked Lily firmly into the churchyard. People were passing them, going in now. Simon looked inside the church and came back to Lily. ‘We’ll wait outside. Antony’s not here yet. As we’re the godparents, it’s best to meet him out here, and all go in together.’

  ‘I wish it was over!’

  ‘You’re not going to pass out, are you? Pull yourself together, Lily! For heaven’s sake!’

  She could see that he was genuinely nervous about her, so did her best to calm herself down. It was the approach of Aunt Maud that helped her, flooding her with the old familiar loathing. For it was obvious that there was no relenting in her attitude to the servant girl Simon had chosen as godparent.

  ‘Nice to see you, Simon. I am glad that you could make it, such a long way to come.’ And then the undressing stare for Lily, up and down. ‘And you, Lily,’ was the best she could come out with.

  Lily did not re
ply. The old bag had not changed, save for an obvious ageing. She walked with a stick more slowly than before, painfully (Lily hoped).

  ‘Will you come in?’ She indicated with her stick that they walk before her.

  ‘We’re waiting here for Antony.’

  ‘I think you should be at the font.’

  ‘No. We’re waiting here.’

  Lily saw that Simon had not forgotten how to be an army officer. She almost laughed, seeing the indecision on Aunt Maud’s face, totally unused to being disobeyed. What an army officer she would have made!

  ‘Very well.’

  The incident had overcome Lily’s nerves. As Aunt Maud limped into the church alone, she was able to laugh. ‘Oh, Simon, that was magnificent!’

  ‘It got her out of the way. Here comes Antony. Keep smiling, for God’s sake.’

  Lily turned and saw a wheelchair coming through the gateway. Her heart started to pump so hard she thought she would faint, but Simon swore at her and gave her a shake. Maureen was pushing the wheelchair and Antony had the baby on his lap.

  As they came up Lily saw that Antony was smiling, but he looked so old she hardly recognized him. His black curls were chopped short and turned white; his laughing face was creased with lines of endurance and his eyes were the dim eyes of an old man. But when they saw her, she thought she saw the old gorgeous blue flash of delight. Or was she willing it, the momentary collision of their old selves? She was scarcely coherent.

  ‘Oh, Lily,’ he said, ‘my lovely Lily, how gorgeous you look! After all this time, you haven’t changed.’

  She mustn’t cry! She could not speak. If only she could say the same! But he was lifting up the bundle in the white lace shawl.

  ‘Here, for you. It’s yours.’

  She thought the christening gown must once have been Aunt Maud’s: it was so incredibly old and fragile, but the little face that peeped out of all the finery was Antony’s own, so like that she gasped. A baby Antony, the still faintly unfocused eyes laughing at her. This baby was all fun and jokes, she could see, like the old Antony.

  She looked up, still speechless, and saw the stout severe figure of the baby’s mother Maureen looking at her with searching pebble-grey eyes.

  ‘A fine likeness, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes.’

  ‘She’s no trouble, though, not like him.’ A slight smile, a hint of friendship. ‘You take her now, for the service.’

  Antony handed her up and Lily took her in her arms. Simon shook Antony’s hand and said, ‘Good to see you again, mate.’ Lily felt so shaky she was afraid she might drop the precious young life, but Simon hissed in her ear, ‘Thank God. Old John is waiting for you.’

  Maureen pushed the wheelchair forward, with Simon holding the door for her, and then they followed the parents to the font where John was waiting. If that was the old John, Lily hardly took him in. A real droning vicar doing his duty; he, like his father, had never been the right man for the job, she thought, wanting so badly for God to be kind to this little baby girl in her arms, as he had not been kind to her father. John, make it be so!

  Aunt Maud stood beside him to make sure he made no mistakes, and a throng of mostly elderly people murmured responses to the prayers which sounded to Lily as if they were all steeped irrevocably in sin. How could it be possible?

  Then John was holding out his arms for the baby. He took her rather awkwardly and said, ‘Name this child.’

  Lily froze. Was she supposed to know? Stupid Ant hadn’t told them. Maud something she had always supposed. She opened her mouth to say, ‘I don’t know the name,’ but before she could get the words out Antony said in a clear voice, ‘She is to be christened Lily Antonia.’

  ‘Lily Antonia,’ repeated John, with more than a hint of surprise in his voice.

  And Lily too, astonished, turned to Antony and repeated, ‘Lily Antonia?’

  She couldn’t believe it. And Antony actually laughed and said, ‘Yes, she is to be called Lily Antonia.’

  And then Lily had to stop herself from laughing out loud at the triumphant grin on Antony’s face as he enjoyed her shock. And Simon letting out a guffaw … it was almost as if they were children again, saying rude words.

  And, looking up, she saw anger flash across Aunt Maud’s face, her cheeks turning a dangerous purple colour, her mouth opening and closing in dismay. Of course it should have been Maud something … Lily almost said it to John, ‘Stop!’, thinking it was quite wrong, but Antony said again, as John hesitated, ‘She is to be christened Lily Antonia.’ And the delight flooded Lily so that she had to stifle her laughter, burying her face in Simon’s shoulder, grateful for the strong arm he always seemed to have ready for her at moments of crisis. No doubt everyone thought they were a married couple. She was laughing and crying together and did not hear anything of the rest of the service, only surfacing when John thrust the baby back to into her arms.

  He too was smiling by then, and said to her, ‘How lovely, Lily, you are honoured.’

  But Aunt Maud … even before they were out of the church she was hissing venomously to Antony, ‘Have you gone mad? At the last moment, to come out with that? What were you thinking of?’

  ‘I thought of it long ago. It wasn’t at the last moment.’

  ‘We agreed on Maud Victoria. I remember discussing it – that Maud and Maureen didn’t sound right together, so Victoria was better, after our wonderful queen.’

  ‘You discussed it with Maureen. I never said a word.’

  ‘Did she know you had changed it?’

  ‘Yes, she agreed, said it was sweet.’

  Aunt Maud’s colour deepened even more. Maureen took the baby back from Lily with a secret little smile, which made Lily unexpectedly warm to her, and started away down the path, and fortunately John came up at that moment and started to talk to Aunt Maud, then other people came up to chat and Antony was saved from a further diatribe. As they waited for the small crowd to dissipate Antony said, ‘Hold on, I want you to meet this gentleman.’

  This gentleman was a well-dressed, urbane visitor, approaching cautiously.

  ‘Is this the right moment?’ he said to Antony.

  ‘Yes, it is, sir. The perfect moment. We are all together.’ He looked up and introduced the gentleman to them all as Sir Richard Margrave. ‘He is my lawyer. We need to discuss something rather important, before the tea and cakes. Find Cedric, Simon. We need him too.’

  ‘Shall we go to the vestry?’ Sir Richard suggested. ‘We need to be private.’

  ‘Yes, of course. About turn, back to the vestry.’

  Simon, puzzled, went off to find Cedric and Lily followed Antony, propelling himself, back into the church and down the aisle to the door to the vestry. She supposed that, with a lawyer, this was something technical to do with the christening: she knew so little about lawyerish things (luckily) that she was not curious. She was still trying to recover from the shock of hearing the baby’s name: it was the loveliest gift she could imagine, the gift of a lifetime.

  She knew people went into the vestry during the wedding to sign things and was not surprised to find a table there, spread with papers. The lawyer sat down as if he knew what to expect and looked around.

  ‘You can tell Lily what this is all about, sir,’ Antony said to him. ‘Give her time to take it in before Cedric arrives. It’s for her to make the decision after all.’

  ‘You haven’t given her any warning?’ Sir Richard was smiling. He turned to Lily and said, ‘Lily Antonia’s parents want you to adopt her, to take her for your own.’

  Lily did not take this in at once. ‘Adopt her?’ Was it what she thought it meant?

  ‘Yes, to bring up as your own child. To be yours.’

  Antony said, ‘Maureen wants it too. We want you to become her legal parents. You and Cedric.’

  Lily was speechless. That little thing, the image of Antony, to be her own, the daughter she had always wanted …

  The door behind them opened and Simon
came in with Cedric. They were laughing at something. Lily turned to Cedric and flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

  ‘Cedric! Cedric! Antony is giving us – he says – Oh, Cedric, it’s so lovely! Say yes, you must say yes! He’s giving us his baby!’

  ‘What on earth—?’

  ‘Look, it’s a terrible shock for you,’ Antony said. ‘You don’t have to make up your mind now, today. We’ve made the offer – for you to adopt our child, Cedric – and it’s only fair that you should think it over calmly. It’s a huge commitment, after all. You’ve already got three children to bring up, I know. If you refuse, we shall quite understand.’

  ‘Blimey!’ Cedric said.

  ‘A daughter, Cedric,’ Lily said. ‘What we’ve always wanted to make our family complete!’

  ‘A little heifer, eh?’ He laughed.

  The lawyer said, ‘There are quite a lot of things to think about before you are sure. Miss Sylvester hasn’t been told of this plan, I understand. She can’t stop it happening if it’s the parents’ wish. But I am sure she will put great objections in the way, which Antony and Maureen will have to face, with my help if it’s required.’

  ‘You haven’t told her?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Not yet. Like we didn’t tell her about the name. It’s called fait accompli, Simon, you surely understand? We don’t mind facing the music if it’s all wrapped up and legal, but arguing with her beforehand, with her trying to stop it – we just couldn’t face it.’

  ‘But does Maureen agree with all this?’

  ‘Yes, a hundred per cent. She never wanted to have the child in the first place but did it for me. It was my stupid idea. I never thought ahead of the poor little thing being brought up by Aunt Maud. It’s a fate worse than death, I can vouch for that. Maureen didn’t want it either. Maud went berserk when Maureen told her she was pregnant. But she got used to the idea, planning out its life, never consulting us, and now she’s taken over completely – we have to do this, do that – the child will have no peace here. We neither of us thought ahead, really, what would happen.’