The Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett

by Annie Lyons

  “Of course,” says the doctor. She signs her name and clicks her mouse rapidly. The printer whirrs into action. “Here you are.” She hands the form back to Eudora, along with her records and prescription, still warm from the printer. “You’ll get a letter soon about the echo test. If your breathing doesn’t improve over the next couple of weeks, please come back to me.”

  “Thank you,” says Eudora, making her way to the door. She tucks the papers into her bag, deciding that she will send them to Doctor Liebermann after all. Life may be precious but it’s uncertain too. It’s wise to be prepared for all eventualities.

  1964

  Joss Bay, Broadstairs

  Eudora lay back on the red tartan picnic rug and gazed up at the sky.

  “Cerulean,” she murmured.

  “What’s that, darling?” asked Sam.

  “The color of the sky. It’s cerulean. I remember that word from school. Hadn’t thought of it since, until now.”

  Sam propped himself on one elbow and leaned over to kiss her. “My clever Dora darling. I love you.”

  She smiled. “I love you too.”

  Theirs had been a straightforward courtship, at least as far as their feelings for each other were concerned. Eudora had known from the second she saw Sam at Stella’s funeral that they were meant to be. She had loved him since school but hadn’t been able to permit herself these feelings until that moment. The second he approached her and asked if he could walk with her, she knew.

  Of course, the others who made up their respective worlds were a different matter. Sam and his ex-wife, Judith, had given mutual consent for the divorce; it had been a “marry in haste” affair and they were both pleased to be released from a loveless future. However, as soon as Eudora appeared on the scene, Judith was less cooperative, particularly in relation to the children. Eudora understood this to a certain extent; a mother must protect her offspring. However, when she began to use the children as bargaining chips in an endless game of one-upmanship, Eudora lost all sympathy. She comforted Sam as he wept when he wasn’t allowed to see them for the umpteenth time, while boiling with rage at the calculating cruelty of humans.

  Sam also had to contend with the constant disapproval of his parents, a campaign that was spearheaded by his mother. Consequently, Eudora and Sam were never invited to his parents’ house together. All family celebrations had to be undertaken separately. It was wearying but, ironically, Sam and Eudora’s relationship emerged unscathed and strengthened. They were a perfect unit of two, united against the world, strong and desperately in love.

  The breeze had picked up a little now. Eudora shivered. Sam wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss. “Fancy a stroll?”

  “That makes me think of the day we found each other again,” she said, taking his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. “We took a stroll around the crematorium gardens. Do you remember?”

  “Happiest day of my life,” said Sam, kissing her hand and staring into her eyes. “Apart from when James and Sarah were born of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Eudora didn’t mind playing second fiddle to Sam’s children. This was exactly as it should be. She’d met them on a couple of occasions and found them adorable. She liked the idea of playing stepmother to them, particularly as she’d given up hope of having children of her own. Eudora relished the presence of a child in her life. Despite Sylvia’s assurances, Eudora hadn’t seen her or Philip since their move to Canada three years earlier. Sylvia sent letters and photos of course. Eudora treasured them but it wasn’t the same as having Philip close by, watching him grow.

  She walked hand in hand with Sam, smiling at the children splashing in the sea. Eudora wondered what life would have been like if she hadn’t refused Sam’s invitation to the cinema all those years ago. Would they have married? Had children of their own? It was a pointless thought but still, she couldn’t help wishing that they’d had a better shot at this, something more straightforward.

  “There’s something I need to discuss with you,” said Sam, turning to face her.

  “Sounds serious,” said Eudora, gazing up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “It’s Judith.”

  Eudora sighed. “What’s she been up to now?”

  “She’s moving.”

  “Moving. Where to?”

  “Norwich. She wants to move back to where her parents live.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” said Eudora, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek. “You’ll never see the children.”

  “I know,” said Sam. “So I’m going to move there too.”

  “What?”

  Sam grabbed her hands. “I want you to come with me.” He went on before she had a chance to answer, his eyes imploring. “Just think about it, Dora. It could be perfect. I’ve made some inquiries. We could rent somewhere for a while and then perhaps buy a place when we’re ready. I’ve got money from the sale of the house and it’s much cheaper in Norwich.”

  “But what about my life in London? What about my mother?”

  Sam’s gaze was steady. Eudora longed to give in to him. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for you. For us. She’s been very understanding about us. Far more than my parents.”

  This was true. To Eudora’s astonishment, her mother had made little comment about Sam’s situation. She didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms but had patted Eudora’s hand and told her, “I just want you to be happy, dear.” Beatrice had never been demonstrative, so Eudora took this as a positive sign. She knew her mother carried the weight of guilt for Stella—as she did too—but they never spoke of it. Life had consequently fallen into a new rhythm, where Eudora allowed herself to nurture the idea of happiness again. It had felt very good indeed, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  “I can’t just abandon her.”

  “Perhaps she could come with us?”

  “You mean live with us?”

  “Not necessarily. If she sold her house, she could afford to buy something herself.”

  “And what about other people? What will they think?”

  Sam stared deep into her eyes. “The world is changing, Dora. It doesn’t care what people think. You and I are the most important ones in this decision. I vote for a life of happiness with you.”

  Eudora looked out to sea as the idea sifted through her mind like a pebble in the tide. Whether it was the sun on her face or Sam’s encouragement, Eudora felt alive with hope at the idea. After so many disappointments, this had to be her time.

  She turned to Sam. “I’ll talk to Mum.”

  Sam scooped Eudora into the air and spun her around and around as she threw back her head and laughed. Like that afternoon with her father in the tea shop in Piccadilly, this would be a memory she would always treasure.

  It was starting to get dark by the time Sam dropped her home. He switched off the engine and turned to her. “Do you want me to come in and talk to your mother with you?”

  Eudora shook her head. “No, it’s all right. Let me speak to her first.”

  Sam reached over to stroke her cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

  She leaned over to kiss him. “Of course,” she said before climbing out of the car. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  As she opened the front door, Eudora knew immediately that something was wrong. The house was silent. Her skin prickled as she put down her bag and made her way to the kitchen. “Mum?” she called, although it came out as a fearful whisper.

  The kitchen was empty and spotless, all the dishes cleared away, everything tidy and sparkling. Eudora saw the envelope with just her name written across it on the kitchen table and her heart began to thump. She ripped it open, scanning the words in a frenzy. Then she dropped it and ran. Hurling herself up the stairs, she flung open her mother’s bedroom door. An empty bottle of sleeping tablets had been placed carefully on the bedside table next to her mother’s water glass etched with a pretty flower design. Eudora shook her mother by
the shoulders.

  “Mum! Mum! Can you hear me?” she shouted.

  “Ugh,” said her mother.

  “Mum! What have you done?” she cried, anger and fear rising like bile. “Why have you done this?”

  Her mother was mumbling something now.

  “What are you saying? I need to call an ambulance. What is it?”

  Beatrice slumped toward her daughter’s ear. “Want you to be happy, Dora,” she murmured before falling back onto the bed.

  Chapter 16

  “Eudora?” says Stanley, waving a hand in front of her face.

  “Mmm?”

  “I said, would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Oh. Yes, please. Thank you.”

  Stanley frowns. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll have a custard cream too if they’ve got one, please.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Eudora watches him go and wonders at her declaration that she is “fine.” Such an innocuous word and yet so loaded with opposite meaning. She isn’t fine of course. Hasn’t been since her consultation with the doctor last week. She is feeling little effect from the antibiotics and the notion of a heart scan is unsettling. If Rose hadn’t been otherwise engaged at a meeting with her new teacher, Eudora might have asked her to deputize today, but Stanley had turned up like an eager little boy. She hadn’t the heart to send him away.

  Stanley is taking his time with the tea. Eudora looks up to see him chatting with a woman she recalls from the last meeting. This must be the famous Sheila. Stanley makes a comment and the woman laughs, resting her hand on his arm as if afraid that his sparkling wit will throw her off balance. Eudora shifts in her seat, turning her attention elsewhere. She notices Audrey coming in through the door. They’ve made eye contact before Eudora has a chance to turn away. Audrey obviously sees this as an invitation.

  “Hello, Eudora,” she says, taking a seat. “I wasn’t sure whether to come today so it’s lovely to see a friendly face.”

  Eudora has never considered that her face might be friendly, but she is pleased to be able to offer some comfort to Audrey. She’s been around death enough to understand the seismic shifts of grief. “I was sorry to hear about Jim.”

  “Thank you,” says Audrey. “I was very glad to have Hannah there. Do you remember her? The death doula.” Audrey smiles. “What a title, eh?”

  “Quite. Yes, I know who you mean. She’s a remarkable woman. I bumped into her the other day, actually. She said she’d been with you and Jim at the end. That must have been consoling.”

  Audrey nods. “It was. She’s a very special lady. I didn’t know what a good death was until I met her. And I’m glad Jim had that. He deserved it. He was a wonderful man. The last couple of years have been very hard, so it’s a comfort that he left this world surrounded by love.”

  Eudora surprises herself by reaching out to squeeze Audrey’s hand. Their eyes lock in a moment of shared understanding. “And how are you?” she asks.

  Audrey takes a deep breath. “Would you think me a monster if I said I was relieved?”

  “No,” says Eudora without hesitation. “I could see how difficult your life was. I think relief is entirely natural and understandable.”

  Audrey blinks back tears. “Thank you, Eudora. You have no idea what that means to me. My son doesn’t understand at all, probably because he hardly saw his dad. He’s so angry at the moment.”

  “That will be the guilt. And it’s his guilt. Not yours. He’ll have to deal with that in his own time.”

  Audrey nods gratefully. “Where’s Stanley today?”

  “Did somebody mention my name?” says Stanley, appearing before them with Sheila at his side. “Meet my glamorous assistant,” he adds as she places two teas in front of Eudora and Audrey and curtsies to play along. Stanley laughs. “Have you met Sheila?” he says to Eudora.

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” she replies with a thin-lipped smile.

  “Pleased to meet you, Eudora,” says Sheila, shaking her hand warmly. “And Audrey, my love. How are you?” she asks, reaching out her arms and folding her into a tight embrace. Eudora’s shoulders stiffen.

  “I’m not too bad, thank you, Sheila,” says Audrey. “Eudora is being very kind.”

  “She’s got a good heart deep down, that one,” says Stanley, winking at Eudora, who rolls her eyes.

  “I used to find it hard coming here after Vic died,” says Sheila, cupping Audrey’s hands in hers. “But everyone was so supportive. It always made me feel much better.”

  “Hear, hear,” says Stanley. “It’s been hard since I lost Ada, but having people around who understand helps.”

  “We should form a support group,” jokes Sheila, squeezing Audrey’s hand. She turns to Eudora. “Are you a widow, Eudora?”

  Eudora bristles. “No. I’ve never been married.”

  “Oh,” says Sheila, looking unsure. “Well. I’d better get back to help with the teas. It was nice to meet you. Take care, Audrey.”

  “Thank you, Sheila,” says Audrey, patting her on the arm.

  “What a smashing lady,” says Stanley after she’s gone.

  “Oh, Sheila is wonderful,” says Audrey. “I was having a wobble in the chilled aisle in Sainsbury’s the other day. She saw me and gave me the biggest hug.”

  “Ahhh. That is lovely, isn’t it, Eudora?” says Stanley.

  “Lovely,” echoes Eudora.

  “Do you know that we share the same birthday?” says Stanley.

  “No,” says Audrey with a level of astonishment that Eudora finds baffling.

  “And we were born in the same year so we’re practically twins!”

  “Well, there’s a thing,” says Eudora, wondering how long they are going to spend discussing the merits of Sheila. Stanley stares at her for a moment before they are distracted by Sue calling them to attention.

  “Good afternoon, everyone! It’s fantastic to see you all. I’m so pleased that some of our newbies have returned.” She smiles at Eudora and Stanley. “I am delighted to welcome one of our absolute favorites back this afternoon, so without further ado, please put your hands together for Chris the Crooner!”

  Eudora almost jumps out of her seat at the volume of the whoops and cheers that greet Chris. He grins and waves like a Hollywood star. “Good afternoon, everyone!” he cries. “My name is Chris the Crooner and I’m going to take you on a musical journey through the forties, fifties, and beyond. Feel free to sing, dance, or throw money!”

  Saints preserve us, thinks Eudora.

  Chris the Crooner flicks a switch and the opening bars of “Memories Are Made of This” begin to play. Eudora is amazed at the excitement he creates almost immediately. Three-quarters of the people present are already on their feet, while others tap and sway in time to the music.

  One of the organizers spots Audrey and approaches, offering his hand. “Never miss a chance to dance,” she says, accepting with shining eyes, reminding Eudora of her old friend Sylvia, who always used the exact same phrase. Eudora senses Stanley, who is swaying from side to side in his chair, itching to join in.

  “He’s not bad, is he?” says Stanley.

  Eudora sniffs. “He’s no Dean Martin. But he has a passable voice, I suppose.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to dance, Miss Honeysett?” he asks.

  Eudora arches a brow. “No. Thank you.”

  “Oh,” says Stanley with obvious disappointment. “Well, do you mind if I ask Sheila?”

  “Why would I mind?” says Eudora. “It makes no difference to me.” She deliberately keeps her gaze fixed forward.

  “Well, in that case, I will,” he says, rising to his feet. “I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

  “There’s no need. I’m not an invalid,” calls Eudora after him, but he’s already approached Sheila, bowing extravagantly like a courtier. Shelia responds in kind with an over-the-top curtsy before allowing Stanley to lead her around the dance floor in
an impressive waltz.

  “Birds of a feather,” mutters Eudora, sipping her tea, trying to ignore the fact that she is just about the only person not dancing. Even an old lady in a wheelchair is being pirouetted around the dance floor by an exuberant volunteer.

  The singer is working his way through the hits of Perry Como, Bobby Darin, and Frank Sinatra. Stanley’s right. He is a good singer, but Eudora finds herself unable to take pleasure in it. There are too many memories woven into music, too much of the past that she’d rather forget. It’s fine for others to pretend that reminiscences are a comfort, but for Eudora, it’s a sudden reminder of all the activities she can no longer enjoy and the episodes of her life she has long since packed away.

  Chris the Crooner has now become Chris the Pelvis-Wiggler as he dons an Elvis wig and launches into a medley of the King’s greatest hits. Eudora watches in horror as Stanley embarks on a personal tribute to his favorite singer. He may be less physically able than Chris, but what he lacks in ability he more than makes up for in passion and energy.

  The singer pulls Stanley next to him, hands him a spare Elvis wig and sunglasses, and the two of them embark on an enthusiastic duet, much to the delight of the assembled company. Stanley’s singing is some of the most tuneless Eudora has ever heard, but the whole room—except her—is joining in now, cheering and singing along. Sheila thrusts two fingers into her mouth and issues a loud, uncouth whistle.

  Eudora has had enough. She grabs her stick and hoists herself to a standing position. She throws a look toward Stanley and his adoring fans, who all have their backs to her. It’s as if she’s standing alone on the other side of a wall. The song is reaching its denouement now as Stanley turns to Sheila to deliver the final line:

  “That’s the won-der, the won-der of yooooooou!”

  Eudora can bear it no longer. She turns away from the circle of swaying, whooping onlookers and hurries toward the door.

  “Are you okay?” asks Sue, meeting her in the entrance hall.

  “I need to get home,” says Eudora with an unexpected gasp of emotion.