A Midwinter Promise

by Lulu Taylor

  Julia begged them to open their Christmas presents first: beautiful editions of Thomas Hardy novels that she and David had bought at an antiquarian bookshop for Denis, and a 1920s lamp from a chic shop in the Galleries near the Louvre for Lala.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Lala said, beaming. ‘I will put it in my new studio.’

  She had recently been taken on as a designer for the venerable fashion house of Ducroix, and was excited about what lay ahead.

  ‘And now,’ she said, ‘your presents.’

  There was a bottle of good single malt for David, and a scarf of finest silver cashmere for Julia, so soft that it seemed to be spun from clouds.

  ‘Come and see my new designs,’ Lala said to Julia, and they left Denis preparing the Christmas supper of guinea fowl stuffed with boudin blanc, while David sipped on some whisky and read the opening pages of The Woodlanders.

  ‘They’re fantastic,’ Julia said, admiring the vibrant sketches of colourful puffball skirts worn with jackets in exuberant checks. There were silk tuxedoes in jewel colours worn over camisole tops in clashing hues of neon pink, orange and yellow, and sexy evening dresses slashed to the thigh and glittering with sequins. ‘Wow! I can imagine these on a supermodel. You’ve really developed your look.’ She smiled at Lala. ‘How clever you are.’

  ‘You’re developing your look too,’ Lala said. She reached out and touched Julia’s hair. ‘You’re growing out the white.’

  ‘David wants to see my natural colour and maybe I’m tired of peroxide.’ She put her hand to her hair, feeling the difference between the silkiness of her natural hair and the strawish consistency of the dyed portion. ‘Shall I get it cut off? There’s nothing I can do with it otherwise, it has to grow out.’

  ‘Maybe. When your natural hair is longer. It would be too short otherwise.’ Lala looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You know, marriage suits you. You look so much happier.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Your eyes were dead before. He’s brought you back to life.’

  ‘Yes, he has. I thought my life was over, and now it’s started anew.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you.’ Lala hugged her tightly. ‘I’ve been so worried. I was afraid you were lost.’

  ‘I’m fine, really. I promise. I’ve got David now, it’s going to be all right.’

  Julia had finally learned to master the steel stove-top coffee pot in Lala’s flat. ‘With only one day left in Paris, I manage it!’ she said, putting a cup of espresso in front of David.

  ‘Better late than never.’ He took a sip. ‘Oh yes, that’s good. Let’s get one of these little pots and take it home so we can have this every day.’

  ‘Honeymoon magic,’ she smiled. They were trying to come up with little things that would ensure the continuation of their happiness beyond the time when they had to return. ‘But it isn’t quite over,’ she reminded him.

  David’s employers were away on their Christmas holidays and not expected back for another fortnight, so he had taken some extra leave and they had arranged to go to Tawray for a while, to walk and sleep and read and explore.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve got that, or it would be just too bleak leaving Paris,’ David replied.

  Julia was looking at the coffee pot. ‘I think that if I added hot water to this coffee, and some cream, it would be just like a café au lait. I’ll try it.’

  The buzzer by the door went suddenly and they both looked up in surprise. No one was expected. Who would be visiting them? David got up and went to the intercom phone. ‘Yes?’ He looked over at Julia as he said, ‘Of course, Lala. Come on up.’

  Julia stared at David, who looked bewildered as he replaced the handset. ‘Surely she has a key,’ he said. ‘It’s her flat.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Julia said flatly. She felt the colour drain from her face and she clutched at the table for support.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? There’s only one reason she would come.’

  David shook his head just as Lala pushed open the door. She was white-faced, her eyes reddened, and she stared at Julia, her expression agonised.

  ‘It’s Daddy, isn’t it?’ Julia said in the same flat tone.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. They had Denis’s number. They rang me there.’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Lala nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well.’ Julia looked away from David’s sympathy and Lala’s sadness. ‘That’s that then. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later.’ Then she looked at David, a wave of sudden grief sweeping over her. ‘But don’t you see what it means? Tawray. We’re going to lose Tawray.’

  The honeymoon was over and they went home. Tawray looked exactly the same. That was both the painful thing, and the comforting one. They had not gone directly there in the end, but had returned to London and prepared to go back, not to complete their honeymoon but for a funeral. Julia stared at the old place as they drove down the avenue towards it, watching it expand to fill the windscreen as they approached, until it towered over them.

  Do we change anything? Do our lives make any difference at all?

  Daddy was gone, and that was terrible, though Julia still felt untouched in some deep part of herself, as though the loss of Mummy had inured her against further pain for her father. The house he’d loved and lived in all these years was still here, just the same, untouched by his loss. It even felt the same, she thought as they went in, just as it had when Daddy went upstairs for a sleep in the afternoon.

  But then, she remembered, it had been full of loss and grief. That was the whole point. It didn’t need to change.

  The family were all there, even Aunt Victoria’s husband, his face wrecked from decades of hard drinking with a nose that was swollen, pocked and purple. The funeral would be soon, Aunt Victoria said, there was no point in waiting. The death was natural, there were no question marks: a man whose heart gave out one night as he slept and was found cold in his bed the next morning.

  ‘I’m an orphan,’ Julia said sadly as she and David sat outside on the terrace, wrapped up against the bitter January wind. She’d needed to step out of the house, away from the crowd inside, people murmuring solemnly while they emptied the decanters and sought seats close to the fire.

  David looked at her with sympathy. ‘I know. It’s horrible. After this, I thought we could go to my parents for a while. They’d love to see us. We hardly got to speak to them at the wedding. We can be looked after there.’

  Julia nodded. She’d liked David’s parents on the few occasions they had visited them at their cottage. They were kind, unpretentious and adoring of their only son. They’d welcomed Julia with warmth and happiness. ‘We shan’t be able to stay here anyway.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course. Quentin will get to say who stays here now, and he’s bound to want the place to himself. I’m an orphan, a homeless orphan.’

  ‘Darling.’ He pulled her to him and hugged her hard. ‘It’s not quite that bad, is it? Your father will have made a provision for you.’

  ‘I expect so,’ she said, pulling away from the waxy surface of his jacket. ‘We’ll find out after the service tomorrow. But I’m still an orphan.’

  ‘You’ve got me, you know that. I’m your family now. And we’ll have our own children, we’ll make our own family. It’ll be wonderful, you’ll see.’

  She turned away, not able to show him the truth.

  I’ll change. I’ll be able to face it. It will be all right.

  The funeral itself passed in a blur; the church was full to bursting, the music was beautiful, and the vicar spoke movingly. Lala and Quentin did readings. There was no eulogy and the coffin was placed in the crypt at the bottom of the church. Julia refused to go down there. She stayed up in the church and lit a candle instead.

  Afterwards the congregation walked the half-mile back to Tawray and then along the drive to the house, a long procession of black-clad mourners, the
older ones returning by car. Sandwiches, cake, tea and whisky were laid out in the dining room, and the ground floor was soon full of murmuring visitors while the immediate family were called into the library for the reading of the will.

  Afterwards Julia came out, flushed and breathless. ‘Well, that’s that. We might as well go now.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ David had been waiting in the hall and now he grasped her hand. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Quentin gets the house,’ she said, ‘but it’s all held in trust. Lala and I get lump sums and some of the trust. Poor old Cousin Violet – remember her from the wedding? Quentin’s little sister – she gets a bit of cash. Everything stays here; it can’t be sold off, not yet, unless the trustees deem it necessary. Once I’m thirty, I get a say. Quentin’s bit will come to me and Lala if he doesn’t have children.’

  ‘Quentin doesn’t get it all then, does he? That’s good.’ David was trying to read the expression on her face. Julia could see the confusion in his eyes. ‘Are you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased?’ She gave a dramatic laugh. ‘Hardly. It’s the end of Tawray for me, just like I said. Quentin will marry someone, have children, and I’m out. He’ll give me the piano or a table or something, and think he’s done pretty well by me.’ She laughed again. ‘A bitch pup. And one from the second litter at that. Well, perhaps it’s for the best. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here, in this house. Perhaps it’s bad for my health.’

  But all she was thinking was, Poor Mummy. She died trying to give Daddy a boy. And it’s all gone to Quentin after all. She might as well have lived. Then she’d still be here. I’d still belong here.

  David said urgently, ‘Then let’s go. Let’s go to my parents –we can nestle in and see out this miserable week before I go back to work. We can live very happily in London, can’t we?’

  ‘Yes, of course we can,’ Julia said brightly, her eyes glittering. ‘We’re young. What do we need with a place like this? We should be having fun in town, not be lost down here. You’re right. Get me out of here, David. Right now.’

  The strange feverish excitement brought on by her father’s funeral didn’t leave Julia for some time afterwards. She felt constantly agitated, as if on the brink of a big adventure, and wanted to hurry back to London as soon as they could get there. After a week with David’s parents, kind though they were, she was even more restless and eager to be off. She talked the whole way back to London.

  ‘I’ve got some money now. There’s my mother’s jewellery too – we can sell some of that if we want to. Where shall we live? Richmond is lovely. But perhaps you should be closer to the centre, for work. I suppose it depends what we can afford, I’ve no idea what things cost.’

  She knew she was rambling but she couldn’t seem to stop. It was important to keep talking, and to keep her energy up, to stay focused on the future. She was Mrs Pengelly now, and her childhood was a closed book.

  I must look to the future. She was afraid of that too, but perhaps by talking and talking, she could hide it, and distract David from her evident fear by making him think about houses and locations and all the rest.

  It seemed to work. He focused on all that practicality as well, frowning as he navigated through the traffic back on the M3.

  ‘That’s a good question. I’m sure we’ll be able to find the right place, and I do think that being close to work is probably best. But there’s no hurry. We can stay where we are for now, in the flat.’

  ‘Yes,’ Julia said brightly, but she fully intended to start looking for a home as soon as they returned to London.

  The reality of the demands of David’s working life was not so bad at first. He disappeared off early in the morning and tried to be home at a decent hour but he often had evening functions and what he called ‘away days’ that meant staying away from home. He could, at a moment’s notice, be summoned all over the country to any number of different houses, and he seemed constantly to be heading to airports and helicopter dromes and then there were the trips abroad, which necessitated two visits – one to recce and plan, and one to accompany the principals and stage-manage the actual event. It would have been easier if he was able to talk about the intimate details of his job, but he was utterly discreet, almost to the point of not mentioning names at all.

  Julia didn’t mind at first, with the distraction of looking for a house for them. Once she realised quite how much David’s job would occupy him, she decided that they must live as close to his work as possible and she found a small house on a cul de sac in Kensington, close to the park and a short drive to St James’s. It was expensive but her legacy from her father paid for most of it, and she occupied herself decorating and furnishing it, feeling quite grown-up as she made the perfect home for the two of them to share. But there came a point when the house was finished. They were one year married and David had been away for almost two months of that. She was happy when he was with her, but lonely in the many hours she spent by herself. The people who lived around her seemed so much older than she was. She had lost touch with her friends during her months in Stockwell and it didn’t seem an easy thing to get them back. She began to mope, feeling her spirits sink.

  I’m too young to be shut away like this.

  Julia was in Harrods food hall, staring at a display of cheeses and wondering what David might like. Her basket was full of things she wasn’t even sure she wanted, but it was passing the time and she liked the beauty and drama of the hall: mounds of chocolates and sweets, baskets of bright fruit and vegetables, picturesque arrangements of bread, cakes and pastries. She couldn’t really cook, but she liked shopping for food.

  ‘Julia? Is that you?’

  She turned, startled, and saw a woman she vaguely recognised standing beside her with an enquiring expression, one hand held out in a tentative gesture. ‘Oh. Yes.’

  ‘It’s Sally. Sally Grigson. From school.’

  ‘Of course!’ She smiled. She could see now that in this older face, with its carefully applied make-up and neatly brushed hair, there was the younger one she remembered: round blue-green eyes, round face, short button nose – sweet but unremarkable. And it was still unremarkable, the kind of face that wouldn’t draw the eye twice. Nice, normal. ‘Hello, Sally, how are you?’

  ‘You look exactly the same,’ Sally said, shaking her head. ‘Just the same!’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘What are you doing now?’

  ‘I’m married. I live not far from here, about five minutes away.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m a secretary, I work around the corner. I come in here sometimes for a treat, when I’m feeling low. Nothing like Harrods to lift the spirits.’ Sally smiled again. ‘If you don’t mind the tourists.’

  ‘Well. Quite.’

  ‘You do look well, Julia. How lovely it is to see you again.’

  It came out in a rush before she even thought it through properly. After all, she had barely swapped a sentence with Sally at school. ‘Have you had lunch? We could have some together if you like. It would be good to catch up.’

  Sally’s eyes widened and she looked pleased. ‘What a nice idea. Why don’t we go upstairs to the bistro? They do sandwiches there at lunchtime, quite reasonable. I’ve got forty minutes of my lunch break left.’

  ‘Wonderful. Let’s. I’ll pay for this and we can go straight up.’

  By the time they were settled at a table, with chicken sandwiches and glasses of Perrier, they were chatting away like old friends, swapping stories of St Agatha’s and the girls they’d known there.

  ‘Are you married?’ Julia asked.

  Sally shook her head, chewing on her sandwich. When she’d finished, she said, ‘I’ve got a boyfriend, he works in the City. I’m living in the spare room at my aunt’s house in Pimlico. It’s not so bad.’

  ‘And you’ve got a job.’

  ‘Oh yes. Nothing fancy but I quite enjoy it. It’s a small literary agency, just two agents, about f
ifteen authors, and me.’

  ‘Well, that sounds interesting.’

  ‘It can be. I like the authors, most of them anyway, and I sometimes get to read manuscripts.’

  ‘Anyone famous? Jilly Cooper?’

  ‘No one so glamorous as that. Most are academics, actually.’

  ‘Do you want to be a literary agent?’

  Sally laughed. ‘Oh no. Bill – that’s my boyfriend – and I might get married and then I imagine I’ll stop work.’ She smiled. ‘I should think married life is marvellous.’

  Julia thought of David, and her heart swelled with love for him, and their life together. ‘Yes, it is. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Any children?’

  ‘No. But I’m thinking of getting a dog.’

  ‘Really? What kind?’

  They talked away for half an hour, when Sally checked her watch and said, ‘I must get back. They’re not too strict but we open again from two, so I’d better go.’

  ‘It’s been lovely seeing you,’ Julia said, surprised to find she meant it. ‘We must do it again.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Sally took a scrap of paper and a pen from her bag and scribbled quickly. ‘There’s the number of the agency. Ring me if you ever fancy lunch again.’

  ‘I will.’

  They kissed their goodbyes and Julia watched her go. I’ve got a friend, she thought, almost with surprise. I will definitely ring her. She could be just what I need.

  A week later, David came home with a box containing a wriggling, wagging, licking bundle of black Labrador puppy.

  ‘To keep you company,’ he said, as she squealed with delight, lifting the creature from its box and hugging it. ‘I know you’re alone so much and you said you were thinking about a dog.’

  ‘David! It’s adorable!’

  ‘She’s twelve weeks old. You can choose her name.’

  Julia laughed as the puppy snuffled and licked and jumped up to nuzzle her neck. ‘She’s lovely, thank you.’

  ‘Something for you to look after. Until we have a baby.’

  Julia was still for a moment. Then she laughed again. ‘Oh, what shall I call you, you rascal, eh? Thank you, darling. I love her. I really do.’