A Midwinter Promise

by Lulu Taylor

  But why did she die? What made her so depressed?

  The accident had been suicide. It had never been said, but as she and Johnnie grew up, they understood that Mum’s depression had led directly to her accident and the link became obvious.

  ‘Your mum will love to see this!’ Jasper said exuberantly ‘You must show her.’

  ‘I’m afraid she died when I was a child.’ She saw his mortified expression. ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine. But that’s why this is lovely to me, to see her again.’ Her eyes searched the rest of the canvas. ‘So this must be my grandfather, and this is my grandmother – goodness, she looks sad, doesn’t she?’ She cocked her head to one side so that she could read the letter being written by her grandmother. ‘My darling Julia, you are my joy. Oh, that’s lovely.’ Tears stung her eyes. ‘What a beautiful thing.’

  ‘Who are these other people? Who’s this stunner?’ Jasper pointed at the figure in the middle of the painting.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Alex said uncertainly. ‘I think I know who the others are – that’s my mother’s aunt, Victoria, and her children Violet and Quentin, and that must be my great-grandmother but she died when I was a baby. I can’t think who this is . . .’

  ‘She’s got the centre stage, so she must be someone important.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alex’s eyes went back to her mother. ‘But this is the one that matters to me.’

  ‘You should have it.’

  ‘Have it?’ She laughed. ‘I don’t have the space for it.’

  ‘Well then, let’s put it back up here. We’ll put the wall back, and remount the painting. I think it would look fabulous.’

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘You wouldn’t mind that?’

  ‘It’s not up to me,’ he said. ‘It’s up to you. Well, to whoever is in charge now. I guess you and your brother will get the final say over it. Personally, I’d love it. But it’s your call.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can ask you to do that,’ Alex said, frowning.

  ‘You haven’t asked. I offered.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’d like to show Johnnie first. Would that be okay?’

  ‘Of course. It’s here as long as you need it.’

  ‘Thanks, Jasper.’ Impulsively she went to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You’ve given me a gift today. You don’t know how much it means.’

  Johnnie found that the rectory was horribly empty without his family. He had loaded up most of their possessions into the car and driven them back to their old house, which seemed cold and small by contrast with the house in Cornwall. The boys hadn’t been very excited to be back but rather listless, and within moments they had settled in front of the television instead of going out to play as they had at the rectory.

  Netta said she was pleased to be back, but Johnnie got the feeling that she too didn’t feel as happy to be home and facing the old routine as she had expected. He tried to stay upbeat and supportive, though, keeping Alex’s words close to mind at all times. He had even written down everything that she’d said when he got home so he could try and hold on to it. Listen to her. Acknowledge. Don’t try and solve her problems without empathising and showing you understand. At the end, he’d written in capital letters: COMMIT TO BERTIE.

  They had put the boys to bed and were sitting down to a glass of wine together, and Johnnie said, ‘I’m sorry I have to leave you here, but I have to be on the spot in Cornwall for a while.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said, and smiled wanly. ‘We’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you like crazy.’ He looked at the surface of his wine and the way it curved away from the glass. ‘I know we have a lot to consider, but I am thinking seriously about how we might relocate. I know it means giving up your job and finding new schools for the boys but I’m prepared to start looking into it, if you are. If it’s something you like the sound of.’

  Netta sighed but without rancour. She looked so tired, he thought. In fact, she’d been looking tired for years now. ‘I know it’s a good idea in theory . . .’

  ‘And it’s useful that we’ve just had a taste of the practice too,’ he said and then paused and rephrased what he had been going to say, which had been to tell her he thought it had gone well. ‘How do you think it worked for you?’

  ‘I can’t pretend I didn’t like having you around more.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘But if we moved, wouldn’t you just go back to your old ways, and get bound up in whatever new work you had?’

  ‘I would try to be aware of that, and I would listen if you tell me the balance is going wrong. I would definitely commit to being there for you and the boys – and to taking more of the workload where Bertie is concerned.’

  ‘It’s true you did more over Christmas,’ she conceded.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.’

  ‘I did. I saw that you were trying harder to take care of him and give me a break.’ She smiled again. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Netta looked away, then back at him. ‘It doesn’t mean all our problems are magically resolved because you get Bertie dressed a few times. I need to know you’re going to be there for us all the time. For the long term.’

  ‘Of course.’ Johnnie frowned. He was many things, but not a quitter, and he was fiercely loyal to the family.

  ‘I mean it – the long term. Joe and Nathan will grow up, get jobs, move away, have families. But Bertie is going to be with us for the long term. Our whole lives. I need to know that you’re committed to that. But he isn’t always going to be a cute little boy, Johnnie. One day he’s going to be a man – a man who isn’t like other people, who’s always going to be stared at and different, and . . .’ She sighed again. ‘You know what I mean. I don’t want us to put him away.’

  Johnnie was quiet. He knew that was his challenge. To commit to Bertie no matter what, forever. And to make sure Netta knows she can rely on me. He put down his glass and looked at her seriously. ‘I made a stupid, throwaway remark a while back, when we were battling the council. The whole thing made me very anxious and bleak. I know I hinted that I was thinking about putting Bertie in a home. I’ve had time to think that through, and I didn’t mean it. I love him, Netta, just as he is, and as the man he’ll become. He’s with us both for life, I know that, and I’m glad about it.’

  Her expression softened, and he saw something on her face he hadn’t seen for a long time: a mixture of hope and vulnerability. ‘Do you really mean that?’ she asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then’ – she hesitated – ‘perhaps we could think about a move. It will mean losing my support network, moving away from my friends, finding new ones. We’re going to have to be a unit, a really strong unit, if we’re going to survive down there. There will be fewer resources for Bertie, so we will have to provide more of what he needs.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll do some research and we can both think about it.’

  ‘But one more thing.’ Netta gave him an ironic look. ‘No stately homes, please. I’ve got enough on my plate.’

  Johnnie laughed. ‘I promise.’

  She put her hand over his. ‘And I’ll be there for David’s funeral. You can count on me for that.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He smoothed her palm with the fingers of his other hand. ‘I know I can. And it means a lot.’

  Having returned the keys to the rectory to his friend, Johnnie moved back in with Alex and the girls when he returned from London.

  ‘How was the big smoke?’ Alex asked, coming out to greet him as he climbed out of his car.

  ‘Horrible. The sooner we can get back down here, the better.’ Johnnie came in with his luggage. ‘Thanks for having me again, Al.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I’d be offended if you went anywhere else.’ She led him through to the kitchen where there was fresh coffee in the pot.

  ‘Any word from Sally or Mundo?’ Johnnie asked. ‘They had a few days to let the contents of the will sink in.
I’m surprised we haven’t heard from them.’

  ‘Me too.’ Alex poured out the coffee into two mugs. ‘I would think Sally wants to talk about the future at some point.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Johnnie said cryptically. ‘I should think so.’

  She eyed him. ‘We should talk about it. What’s going to happen. What we’re going to do.’

  ‘Yeah. We’ll have to do that.’ Johnnie continued to give nothing away.

  ‘Well, we can leave it for now, I suppose. The funeral is so soon, I imagine Sally is focused on that. I was expecting her to ring me, though, if only to talk through arrangements. She was calling every day after Pa died, wanting to know what I thought about hymns and readings, and, “How about ‘I Vow To Thee My Country’ because”’ – Alex did her Sally voice – ‘“it was a great personal favourite of the princess?”’

  Johnnie accepted the mug of coffee and added some milk. He rolled his eyes. ‘As if Pa would care about that.’

  ‘Well, you know. After Pa died, Sally lit two candles on either side of that framed photograph Pa got when he left the palace, and put the open box of his ceremonial cufflinks next to it, like a shrine or something.’

  ‘Bit weird. A shrine to who? Pa wasn’t her friend. He was her employee. Sally ought to put out a photo of Pa if she wants to start lighting candles.’

  Alex nodded. She took a sip of her coffee and said thoughtfully, ‘What do you remember, Johnnie, about Mum dying? I don’t mean afterwards. I mean . . . at the time.’ She looked at her brother, who stared down at the shiny white surface of the kitchen bench. ‘I don’t remember that day at all, the last day, but I was only seven and you were ten. Do you remember?’

  ‘A little.’ Johnnie looked uncertain. He dragged a hand through his thick tawny hair. ‘Not much. I remember that it was sunny. We were in the garden for some of it. It was a normal day.’

  ‘Did we see Sally? Or Pa?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Was Mum normal?’ Alex persisted.

  Johnnie sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Al. I don’t remember. That’s what makes me think she must have been normal. Because I’d remember if anything weird or out of the ordinary happened, I’m sure I would.’

  ‘Just a normal day at Tawray,’ Alex said slowly. ‘Except that Mum decided to kill herself.’

  ‘Yes.’ Johnnie looked solemn. ‘And everything changed. Forever.’ He sighed again. ‘I’d give anything to see her again, just once.’

  Alex gave him an odd look. ‘Well, you know what, Johnnie, it’s funny you should say that. There is a way. But you’ll have to come to Tawray.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  August 1997

  ‘What are the purple ones called?’ piped up a small voice.

  Julia looked over to where the sound came from, rubbing her damp hair out of her eyes with the back of her wrist. She saw Ali, small brown limbs, short dark hair, big blue eyes as she pointed to a tall flower with a dark round head.

  ‘Those ones are alliums,’ Julia called back.

  ‘They look like pom-poms.’

  Julia smiled. ‘Yes, they do.’

  Johnnie whizzed past them on his bike, churning up gravel under his tyres as he went. He was obsessed with his mountain bike and rode it round and round the gardens, up the steps, along the colonnade, round the orangery and back, making engine noises as he went. ‘Brr, brr, brrrrrr.’

  Julia looked back at Ali, who was almost lost among the tall growth at the centre of the border. ‘How are your flowers doing?’

  ‘They look very nice,’ Ali said gravely. ‘And there are lots of bees. Lots.’

  ‘That’s good. Bees help us get fruit in the orchard.’

  ‘One stung my foot,’ Ali remarked.

  ‘What, just now? You were very brave about it, you didn’t make a squeak.’

  ‘Last week. Remember?’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember that.’

  Ali came over, jumping over the lavender bushes at the front of the border. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m cutting flowers for the Christmas garlands. You know how pretty they are, don’t you? Well, we have to plan ahead, and grow our flowers in the summer, then save them so that they can still be used in the winter.’ Julia held out her trug. ‘You see? I’m going to save these pretty ones. We’ll hang them up in the back pantry and let them dry out in the dark. They should be all ready by Christmas.’

  Ali leaned companionably against her thigh. ‘What’s this called?’

  ‘It’s love-in-a-mist. Also known as nigella. One of my favourites. Come on, my basket’s nearly full. It’s hot out here and nearly time for tea. Shall we go in?’

  ‘Can I have an ice cream?’

  Julia took her hand. ‘You won’t eat your tea.’

  ‘I will!’ Ali looked up with pleading eyes. ‘I promise I will.’

  ‘Well . . . all right.’ She called Johnnie over, the lure of ice cream enough to stop him spinning around the garden. He dropped his bike on the grass and came in after them.

  ‘You’ll have to put that away later,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Course I will.’

  ‘You left it out in the rain last time.’

  ‘That was Mundo,’ he protested. His face darkened. ‘He told me he’d done it on purpose.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ Julia replied. ‘He was probably just showing off. Maybe he didn’t want to admit how stupid he’d been.’

  ‘He is stupid,’ muttered Johnnie as they made their way into the house.

  Julia felt strangely unaffected. Yes, Mundo was turning into a nasty little sneak, that much was obvious, but she was confident that Ali and Johnnie were safe enough from him. Sally had not managed to give her son any sense of how to do the right thing but she knew that somehow her two were turning out all right.

  They went into the kitchen and found Mrs Petheridge had gone home, leaving out a cold supper for them: chicken and what she called salad, which was sweetcorn and lettuce haphazardly mixed together with some chunks of tomato. The children went into the larder to dig in the freezer for the ice creams Julia got in bulk from the cash and carry.

  She put the basket of flowers on the counter so that she wouldn’t forget to hang them up, and looked over at the food sitting under the pink fly nets. Nausea swelled up in her stomach at the sight of it.

  I’m not hungry. Not in the least. I think I’ll give that a miss.

  She was serene, though. There was nothing wrong with not being hungry. Plenty of people had no appetite, particularly in the summer. There was nothing unusual about that.

  The children came out of the larder, already licking pink and white ice creams. ‘Where’s Pa?’ asked Ali.

  ‘He’s working,’ Julia said brightly. ‘He might be down at Sally’s house.’

  Ali nodded and she and Johnnie wandered out to eat their ice creams in the last of the evening sunshine.

  Julia poured a large glass of white wine and took it out onto the terrace. She lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke into the warm air. She had recently begun to smoke again; she didn’t know why. It seemed like a good idea. She was careful to smoke when the children weren’t there to see it, but it gave her a small sense of release, just as this ice-cold white wine did as it slid down her throat and hit her empty stomach.

  The realisation that David was sleeping with Sally had come slowly but surely, and now she was absolutely certain. He was with her today. The sight of David’s car, parked with an attempt at concealment by putting it around the side by the oil tank, had made it quite plain.

  ‘Work,’ he would have said, if she had asked him. ‘Work.’

  So convenient. They had been working in close proximity to one another for years, she saw. In London, where Sally’s office was just around the corner from the palace. And then here. David had given up his job at last, only a few years ago. He’d resigned, he said. He left with a pair of royal cufflinks that came in a box from Asprey, a curling D on each circ
le of blue enamel, and a signed photograph in a silver frame.

  Had he resigned? She wasn’t entirely sure. There had been huge changes at his establishment. Once his employers had officially separated, there was great work to be done splitting up a household that had previously been united, on the surface at least. The truth was that the fissures had run deep for years, but the opportunity to start afresh had meant a general reorganising and refreshing.

  ‘I resigned,’ David said firmly. ‘It was time.’

  Why was it time then? That’s what she didn’t understand. By then, though, with Mundo almost five and Sally settled into the cottage, it was clear that she wasn’t going back to London. Johnnie and Ali were growing up. Perhaps David felt that his life had to move, if he wasn’t going to miss out on it. Still, Julia felt that he never would have gone if he hadn’t been somehow pushed, one of the many casualties of his boss’s sometimes capricious nature.

  They never spoke of her, even when her life was splashed all over the newspapers in all its epic, absorbing scandal. Only now and then, usually when she was on official business – doing what she did best by highlighting uncomfortable issues, bringing her bright spotlight of fame with her – did he say anything, but only to comment on the organisation or the press pack, most of whom he knew well. He muttered when he saw her facing them alone; he would frown and appear cross, as though all the hard work he’d put into his job was being wasted.

  Julia read all the papers with a kind of fascination, still under the spell, even though it had turned out that it was another frosted elegant blonde who had been her rival all along. When she read that that suntanned, swimsuited figure had gone out to confront the paparazzi in a boat, she hoped that David hadn’t seen it. She knew it would hurt him almost personally to see her do such a thing.

  ‘You’re going to be surprised by the next thing I do,’ the princess had said to the press.

  Julia had stared at the pictures of her facing them down and wondered what on earth she meant. What? What are you doing to do? What will it be?