by Gloria Cook
‘I know, Mother. I’ll do it.’
Dolly held out her stout hands. ‘Give that to me. I’ll see to the beds. You look after your guests. And for goodness sake, Emilia…’
‘What?’
Dolly shook her head. ‘I know you won’t want to hear this. There’s something not quite right about Selina Bosweld. You be careful, that’s all.’
Perry had slipped outside to the garden for a cigarette. He was sitting on a low stone wall.
Lottie crept up to him, her battered doll, Dulcie, in her arms. ‘You’ve been crying? I heard you, and the lady. Why?’
He put the cigarette back in the case and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to look at the little girl right now, to be reminded how Libby had once been, and he gazed above Lottie’s head. ‘Um, my daughter has… she’s gone to heaven.’
‘But she went up to heaven before my daddy did.’ Lottie edged closer to him. ‘Why’re you upset again?’
Perry sniffed and swallowed hard. ‘Well, um, you see, it will happen from time to time, me getting upset.’
‘Think they’re together? Your daughter and my daddy?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. I expect so.’ Perry glanced down, avoided Lottie’s worried, enquiring expression, and saw the doll. ‘What happened to her? She’s been through the wars.’
‘Dulcie got hurt in the storm. It was my fault, I left her outside in her pram, then my daddy fell off the ladder. Do you think that’s my fault too? He was always cross with me after that.’ Perry heard the choke in her voice. He put his eyes fully on the girl and was horrified at the guilt and fear he saw in her. He swept Lottie up into his arms. ‘Oh, no, darling! Your daddy’s accident had nothing to do with you. It was the weather. And he loved you, he really did. Your daddy was a very poorly man, that’s why he seemed a bit strange sometimes. I promise you it’s the truth. You must never think that he didn’t love you and care about you. He did, very much.’
Lottie settled against him quietly, and Perry found comfort in her trust.
Emilia went into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa that was across the room from where Selina was reclining. Selina had stopped crying and was staring into space. The sparkling violet hue of her eyes was gone and they were dull and red-edged. Emilia was wary of the other woman – she’d had no need to be pressed by her mother about that. Selina Bosweld had the power and the pitilessness to ruin the lives of everyone she loved. But Emilia, too, if it was necessary, could string someone along for her own sake, although in her case it was for protection and not malicious assault.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Emilia asked, with an understanding sort of smile. ‘How about a drop of brandy?’
Selina didn’t seem to be listening. ‘I bought that swimsuit for her. I wanted her to have a blue one, but she insisted on pink. I didn’t argue. I always let Libby have her own way. I suppose I was making up for being a bad mother. I loved Libby very much but not in a maternal way. I could never have those feelings, but now… I had no idea what you must have gone through when you lost your baby. We have nothing in common, you and I, Emilia, but now we’re two mothers united in grief.’
‘Yes, we are. I’m so very sorry for you, Selina.’
‘Are you really? Or are you only sorry for Perry, like all the others? If I was anyone else you’d be over here giving me a comforting hug, or is your aloofness because I’ve told you I’ve got feelings for you? You despise me, don’t you, Emilia? And I think you’re a little afraid of me.’
Emilia got up and moved over to her. ‘I admit I’m afraid of what you might decide to do, Selina. But I swear that I do feel sorry for you. I can see how distraught you are. In your profession you live with death nearly every day, but this is the first time you’ve lost someone you had an emotional tie with. Your room will soon be ready. Perhaps you’d like to lie down.’
‘I think I’d prefer to freshen up and take a walk down to the woods, sit by the stream, take advantage of the sunshine. I’m not going to mope. Besides, it will be better for Perry if I’m out of the way for a while. I’ll come back for supper, if that’s all right?’
‘Of course. You’ll be all right alone?’
It was new to Selina to have to fight to remain in control of herself or a situation. Emilia’s unexpected kindness dealt her a massive blow to the heart. ‘I’d love to have your company but I’m sure you’d rather stay here for Perry.’
‘I can’t leave Lottie. I’ll see you later then.’
‘I could take him away from you, you know.’ At one time Selina would have said such a thing as a menacing threat, now it came out as a simple statement. ‘Make it impossible for him to be with you.’
‘I don’t doubt that, Selina.’ Emilia kept her voice steady and soft, her manner easy and pliable. She didn’t want to think of a future without Perry – it wasn’t right but she couldn’t bear life any other way. ‘Do you intend to try?’
Their eyes met, an unspoken pleading in each fraught gaze as they tried to guess what was really in the other’s mind. ‘We must talk again later,’ Emilia said. ‘Decisions will have to be made about Libby’s funeral. If I can do anything to help…’
Dolly came into the room, breathing in the heavy, critical way she had when not happy about something. ‘Miss Bosweld’s room’s ready. Would she like a cup of tea?’ She never spoke directly to Selina unless she was forced to.
Selina was staring at Emilia. ‘I just need… Tell Perry where I’m gone, will you?’
* * *
Jonny was down by the stream. With the Bosweld woman at the farmhouse he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to stay on. The terror she had struck in him so many years ago didn’t worry him now, of course. She couldn’t physically hurt him – he was far stronger than her and no longer intimidated by her sort. She was high on his list of those he despised, but he felt he was a contributor to Libby’s death and should offer her his condolences. But how was the best way to approach her? It would be cowardly to say nothing at all.
He was preparing to light a cigarette.
‘Can I have one of those?’
‘Miss Bosweld!’
‘Jonny Harvey.’ Selina surveyed him without expression, the youth who had not taken enough care of her daughter. ‘You haven’t changed at all except in height and girth. Heard you were stunning to look at. You must be quite a ladykiller.’
Seeing her grief-ravaged face, Jonny was unable to prevent a guilty flush from climbing up his neck. He held out his packet of Woodbines. He lit both cigarettes from a box of matches. ‘I, um…’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I, um, wanted to say… about Libby.’ Under her continuing direct gaze it was difficult to think what to say, let alone get the words out. ‘Th-that I… oh God, I’m so sorry. It doesn’t sound enough, but I don’t suppose it ever will.’
‘Tell me about them.’
‘What?’
‘Libby’s last moments.’
Jonny took in an urgent draw of nicotine. His voice was in a panic. ‘I couldn’t reach her in time!’
‘So she just went in for a swim? On her own?’
‘Yes. We’d told her there would be no swimming that day, the tide was on its way out…’ He swallowed hard on the lies. ‘But she just ran on.’
‘And you and the two women with you just watched her?’
‘They were seeing to the children. I thought, I thought Libby would just paddle about on the shore. But she just kept walking into the waves. We shouted, we all shouted to her. I ran after her. I tried to bring her back in, I swear I did.’ The fear and horror were taking hold of Jonny, he was near to tears. ‘I tried to find her… but she was swept away… she disappeared… if I’d stayed in any longer I would’ve drowned myself. I have nightmares about it every night. Miss Bosweld, I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to Libby.’
‘Nor should you. And I’ll never forgive you.’
For such hard words, all about her seemed calm. Horribly calm to
Jonny. He’d have preferred it if she had ripped into him. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.’
‘I accept that you are,’ Selina said. She glanced about at the sheltered belt. The banks of the stream here widened out and formed an area of pond. It was restful, beautiful. ‘If I remember rightly, this was another of your uncle’s favourite places. He was always going off to be alone, wasn’t he?’
The last thing Jonny wanted was to stay here with her, especially to talk about his Uncle Alec, but he felt obliged to. ‘Yes. He was a remarkable man.’
‘I liked Alec. He didn’t deserve the end he got.’
‘No. He should have had at least another thirty years.’ Jonny felt he’d made an insensitive blunder. ‘I’m sorry, Libby was much younger than him…’
‘Her death was quicker and unexpected, but I don’t want to think about her fear and pain and panic. Now, a brain tumour, now that’s a terrible way to die. And Alec knew what was coming to him.’ Selina let her cigarette end fall into the water. She was close enough to Jonny to feel him tense. He didn’t want to hear anything horrible about Alec’s end, but he was going to. She wanted him to be beleaguered by gruesome thoughts to the end of his life, to never find solace in a place like this again. She was a doctor. He’d believe anything she said. She’d make Alec’s last weeks on earth sound worse than the suffering in the trenches, and Jonny could add it to the nightmares he had about her daughter. ‘He would have been seeing double, probably thought he was going mad. And the hallucinations would have been terrifying. Some people believe they’re being eaten alive by maggots, or covered from head to foot by spiders; that sort of thing.’
Fear and regret for Alec took tight hold of Jonny. ‘Uncle Alec had very bad headaches but he never said he saw things.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t have wanted to worry anyone. Well, mustn’t get morbid. I guess he’s at peace now.’
‘He looked peaceful when you and Aunty Em found him. She said so.’
‘Anyone would look peaceful having that sort of agony brought to an end. We should shut up. It won’t do us any good to dwell on Libby’s or Alec’s distress. You won’t tell Emilia what I’ve said, will you? It would upset her terribly.’
‘No, of course. I won’t say anything to anyone. Um, well, I’d better leave you in peace. I’m sure you’d like to be alone. And I ought to be getting back to work. I won’t be any use to Aunty Em dawdling about here.’
Selina saw his dreadful discomfort at being with her, and his misery over her exaggerations and lies; it had seemed to her that Alec had accepted his fate and had welcomed his quiet end. ‘Actually, I’d rather you stayed. Perry’s taking solace with Lottie. Everyone else is busy. I don’t want to be alone. And Ben’s just turned up to help out. Shall we walk or sit? Let’s walk. Deeper into the woods. I’ve happy memories of spending time in the woods when I lived at Ford House.’
She had great memories of open-air assignations with Jim. She knew men. Jonny Harvey wasn’t an innocent, he was long past that glorious, sweet state, so she wouldn’t have the pleasure of seducing him. But she was the last woman he’d want to romp with. How he was going to hate himself afterwards.
* * *
Emilia stood beside Ben in the threshing barn. Flecks of dust, made golden in the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the windows and cracks, floated in the air that smelled strongly of warm, earthy grain. ‘What am I supposed to be looking at, Ben? It’s been exhaustively swept clean for the new grain.’
‘Just wanted you to check all was in order.’
‘Thanks, but Jonny’s already seen to that.’
‘I want you to know, Em -’ Ben dropped his arm round her shoulders, as if in a casual manner – ‘that I’ll always be available at any time you need me. You have the children to bring up and the farm to run. After the threshing there’ll be the crushing and grinding, and so on. Life’s going to be hard for you from now on.’
‘It’s kind of you, Ben, but I have my mother and Tilda, and my father, and we’ve been more or less running the farm on our own for several months now. Perry’s made sure all the paperwork is up to date. But it’s good to know I can call on you and Tris.’ She touched his hand where it was draped near her neck.
He placed his hand over hers and kept it there. ‘So much has happened to us both in the last few years. It was in here we had our first kiss.’ Bringing that up was the reason why he’d coaxed her in here. ‘You haven’t forgotten, have you?’
‘Um… no.’ She turned to go. ‘I’d better see to Lottie and the boys. They’re all feeling so lost.’
Ben held on to her. It was what he wanted so much, to always have her in his arms. ‘I can’t believe Alec’s left us all. Standing here like this has reminded me what a great debt I owed him. He was good to me after our parents died. I feel bad about how easily I forgot that.’
‘Alec was good to everyone. But don’t put him on a pedestal, Ben. Alec saw himself as an ordinary man, he’d hate to be revered like some plaster saint.’
Ben grinned. ‘Yes, I suppose he could be a bit of an old misery and quite stubborn at times. I’m going to miss him.’ He meant that, and as he realized just how much, tears grouped at the corners of his eyes.
‘Don’t cry, Ben,’ Emilia whispered, strangled with emotion. ‘You’ll make me cry too, and sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever stop.’ And she didn’t want to fall down in grief right now, certainly not, for Perry’s sake.
He rested his brow against hers and then he kissed her there, firmly, making his lips linger. He glanced down at her lips and ached to kiss her properly. ‘We both loved him, and I’ll always love you, Em.’
She broke from him, not knowing the full import of his last declaration. ‘Alec would have been sorry to miss the birth of your baby. It’s wonderful that Brooke’s pregnancy is going so well.’
She left him. Ben pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. For so long he had wanted a son. Now he hoped the child would be a girl. Life with Brooke was still a strain. If she gave birth to a girl he’d work to send her away. She could go back to America for good, for all he cared. Then he could have Em. They could have a son together to inherit Tremore, and until Will inherited this farm, he would be squire of Hennaford. He’d have everything he could ever want.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben wanted to drive Emilia to Truro for the new appointment with the solicitor. Tristan offered too.
‘I’m taking Alec’s car,’ she said, already on the way to the Ford Coupe. She cut a stately figure in a black suit, hat and gloves but seemed smaller, younger and appealingly vulnerable.
‘I’ll drive,’ Ben said, jumping to guide her round to the front passenger seat.
She switched direction. ‘I’ll drive.’
Ben glanced at Tristan and lingered. ‘But we’ll look ridiculous being driven by a woman.’
Tristan didn’t argue but he looked uncomfortable as he opened the driver’s door for her.
‘Too bad.’ Her bearing grew and her tone was inarguably decisive. ‘I can always go on my own or ask Brooke and Winnie to come with me.’
Ben shot round to the front passenger seat so he could sit next to her. ‘Don’t be daft. You women wouldn’t understand a word of what’s being said.’
‘Steady on, Ben,’ Tristan chided. ‘Em’s, ah… well, she’s perfectly capable…’
‘You two can keep quiet in Ernest’s office. If there’s anything I can’t understand, I’ll ask him.’
There was a gathering watching them from the front gate, Emilia’s children and parents, Perry, Brooke and Winifred. At the last moment Jonny had declined to come with them and had gone to change his clothes and get back to work. Expecting to hear later in the day that he had inherited his father’s properties, Will was standing straight and confident, slightly in front of the others. The air of superiority about him reminded Emilia of Ben’s perpetual attitude. Ben and Will were instilled with a liberal measure of conceit
. Lottie was between her grandmother and Perry, holding their hands. Emilia felt Perry’s eyes on her, transmitting his love, but on this one occasion she couldn’t look at him.
Parking near the top of Lemon Street, where Ernest Rule had his office, Emilia led the way inside.
The solicitor’s demure, grey-clad, middle-aged secretary showed them into his office. Ernest Rule was not typical of his profession. The usual certificates and diplomas were displayed on the magnolia-painted walls, and there was the expected potted greenery and leather seating, but also there were many proudly framed photos of Ernest Rule with the rugby teams he had played for during his youth and prime, from his schooldays to Truro City to Cornwall. He had the build of his best love, and was still as muscular and powerful looking, despite nearing retirement age. He had a head of thick, tumbling white hair and a full white beard. Through business and socializing, he had been a close friend of Alec’s, and he had not been ashamed to spill a few tears at his funeral.
He shook hands with Ben and Tristan. For Emilia, he added a kiss on her cheek. There was some small talk while they waited for the complimentary tray of tea and biscuits. ‘This is a very sad occasion.’ Ernest scratched his ear, a trifle overcome. ‘There was no one I respected more than Alec. He unexpectedly came to see me shortly before he died. Emilia, you are in for a bit of a surprise.’
She had been dreading this day. It would make Alec’s death final. Real. Sometimes she fancied he was about to come through the farmhouse kitchen door, or be about the yard, or in his den collecting together his photographic equipment. Or in bed beside her. She could swear there were moments she heard him breathing, or that he had put his arm over her. This morning she had found his wardrobe door ajar. It was likely that Tilda had put something of his away, but she wanted to believe it had been Alec who had been there. She was desperate that the proceedings here wouldn’t make him more distant. How could Alec be just a memory? He had been hers and she his for so many years, and even when she had given her heart to Perry, she had never stopped loving him for a moment. His children, their children, were at the farm. His echo, their echoes, would always be there.