by Anna Jacobs
Suddenly he remembered Babs’s friend, Mrs Harbury. She had a house in Swindon. If he visited her today at the village where she was staying and explained his dilemma, perhaps she wouldn’t mind leaving her cousins early and spending the night in her own home. That’d save him some time tomorrow. He didn’t want to linger in a place he still thought of as his mother’s house.
Mrs Harbury might even be glad to leave early. Babs said she wasn’t enjoying her cousins’ company. And she had to sort out some party garments for the visit to London. He smiled. Well, you couldn’t go to one of Babs’s splendid parties dressed drably.
He wondered what the lady was like? Would she mind these rather ad hoc arrangements? If she was a friend of Babs, she probably wouldn’t be the sort to stand on her dignity. He smiled involuntarily at the thought of Babs and dignity. The two simply didn’t mix.
He checked Mrs Harbury’s address. Yes, she was staying in the village near Babs’s country residence and he knew the way. He got out of the car to crank-start it. He was hoping to purchase a car with an electric starter motor, though he’d probably have to order one and wait.
He’d sort out this problem with his inheritance as soon as Mildred and her husband got back. He couldn’t understand why they were being so mysterious about it. They probably needed his signature on something.
He doubted there were any skeletons in his mother’s cupboard. The mere idea made him smile. She must have been one of the most rigidly correct people in England.
Chapter Seven
Nether Bassett was just as Alex remembered it from driving through a couple of times on the way to visit Babs and her husband: a pleasant if rather nondescript village, with only enough inhabitants to support one general store and one pub.
He stopped at the store to ask directions to Captain Ballam’s residence, because he had only the house name The Laurels on the address he’d been given.
As he was about to leave the shop, he noticed that dandelion and burdock was available to buy by the glass. It made him realise how thirsty he was and he couldn’t resist asking for one. He had a weakness for the dark-brown herbal drink, preferring it to beer or wine.
A few minutes later, feeling refreshed, he got back in the car and drove in the direction the shopkeeper had indicated.
The house was at the better end of the village, one of a group of relatively modern dwellings. They’d probably been built around the turn of the century from the looks of them, and weren’t nearly as picturesque as the older cottages. They were probably a lot more convenient to live in, though.
He wondered why Mrs Harbury’s cousin had chosen to live in such an isolated place. Perhaps it was cheaper than somewhere in a town. Or perhaps Captain Ballam enjoyed country pursuits such as hunting and fishing.
When Alex knocked on the door, it was opened by a woman with the most glorious hair he’d ever seen. It was bright red verging on auburn, with golden glints where the afternoon sun touched it, and although it was drawn severely back into a low bun, little curls had escaped along her forehead and at the nape of her neck.
It’d have been a shame to have hair as pretty as that bobbed in one of the new shorter styles. He still wasn’t sure about those, but all the ladies he knew who’d taken the step of having their long hair cut off were thrilled with how easy it was to manage.
There were a few threads of silver at this woman’s temples, and that only added to her attraction in his eyes. He was too old to find young women attractive. The lady’s eyes were green – not a wishy-washy greenish hazel but almost an emerald green, and they were sparkling with life. She looked intelligent and full of suppressed energy, rather like Babs.
‘I’m Alex Seaton, Babs’s friend.’
‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Olivia Harbury.’
‘I guessed you must be. Babs asked me to give you a lift back to Swindon and then on to London.’
‘Yes, but have I got it wrong? I thought you were coming tomorrow.’
‘No, you weren’t wrong. However, my circumstances have changed, so I wondered if I could take you to your house in Swindon today, and pick you up from there tomorrow afternoon to go to London.’
Someone called sharply, ‘Olivia! Why are you leaving the door open and letting all the warm air out?’
She glanced impatiently back over her shoulder. ‘We have a visitor, Donald. A gentleman has come to—’
‘Well, find out who he is and what he wants quickly. He’ll probably have come to see me.’
She rolled her eyes and murmured, ‘My cousin thinks the world revolves round him. To answer your question, I shall be delighted to leave today. Give me a few minutes to finish packing, then I’ll bring my final suitcase down and we can be off.’
She gestured to a large suitcase in the hall. ‘I packed that one today. We’d better carry it out to the car together. It’s full of books that Donald was going to throw away, so it’s rather heavy, I’m afraid. I had to slide it down the stairs one step at a time.’
‘I have a trolley in my car for moving heavier items. We can use that.’
‘Oh, good.’
She was the same height as he was, tall for a woman and healthy-looking, and he liked that. In fact, he liked everything about her.
The voice from the sitting room was louder this time. ‘Olivia, what are you doing?’
‘Coming.’ She stood with her eyes closed for a moment as if praying for patience, then whispered, ‘I can’t get away without introducing you to my cousin, but please don’t take any notice of what he says. He doesn’t want me to leave, but I’ll go mad with frustration if I have to stay here any longer.’
‘It’s all right. Babs warned me about – um, your situation.’
She grinned at that euphemism and led the way into the sitting room, introducing him to her cousin then hurrying out without allowing herself to be drawn into a conversation, or possible argument.
Ballam stared at him. ‘Please sit down, Mr Seaton. I don’t think we’ve met before. Do you live nearby?’
Alex leant back and studied his host as if he were a customer in the shop before answering. Ballam didn’t look intelligent. No sense of humour, either, he’d guess. And he bit his fingernails so badly there wasn’t much nail left. He must be a worrier underneath all that bluster. It stood out a mile that he was an autocrat in his small kingdom here, expecting to have his own way in everything. No wonder the man didn’t get on with Babs.
‘I live in London, Mr Ballam, and my business is there.’
‘And that business is …?’
How rude to ask that so bluntly. ‘I deal in antiques.’
‘Oh, second-hand stuff. I shouldn’t think there’s much money in that. Look, I’ll be frank with you, Mr Seaton. I don’t like the idea of my cousin going off with a complete stranger. I think it’d be better if she waited and took the train to London in a few days’ time. She’s too recently widowed to attend parties anyway.’
‘That’s her decision, surely?’
‘I’m her cousin, the head of the family now. I keep an eye on her and advise her.’
There was the sound of footsteps running lightly down the stairs and Olivia called, ‘I’ve just got a few more bits and pieces to fetch down, Mr Seaton.’
‘Olivia, would you please come here?’ Ballam bellowed at the top of his voice.
She stuck her head round the door. ‘What’s wrong now?’
‘I’m not happy about you going off with a stranger.’
‘Oh, that. We’ve discussed it already and I haven’t changed my mind about leaving. Anyway, if he’s a friend of Babs, he’s not exactly a stranger. Don’t listen to him, Mr Seaton.’
She went out again and Alex could hear her running up the stairs.
‘Olivia! Come back!’
Ballam had a fine pair of lungs, Alex thought. He obviously hadn’t been gassed in the fighting. He must be very difficult to live with.
Olivia was down again in a couple of minutes, acting as if Ballam h
adn’t just tried to stop her leaving. ‘Everything’s down now, Mr Seaton. Would you help me carry them out, please? I’m sorry I can’t introduce you to my cousin Cecily, but she’s not feeling at all well today and is lying down.’
‘All the more reason for you to stay a little longer, Olivia,’ Ballam said. ‘I don’t know how you can desert her at a time like this.’
‘Ah, but your wife has you to look after her, so I know she’s in safe hands, and anyway, Pansy will be arriving soon.’ She turned and led the way into the hall, so Alex followed her.
‘Is Ballam always like this?’ he whispered.
‘Oh yes. Always. Donald likes to rule the roost and he’s a bit hampered with his leg injury, so he’s taken to yelling for attention at the top of his voice. Let’s take these out, then use your trolley for the big suitcase, shall we?’
She was strong for a woman, her movements sure, and she had beautiful hands. He always looked at people’s hands. In fact, she reminded him of a figure in a painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, an artist whose work he greatly admired.
Within five minutes they had loaded the car, said goodbye to a furious cousin, and driven off.
As they left the village, Mrs Harbury let out such a huge sigh of relief that Alex chuckled. ‘It’s all right. We’ve escaped from the lion’s den.’
‘You must think me foolish to let Donald upset me like this, but I’ve been here for over six weeks. I didn’t expect him to be home except for an occasional visit or I’d not have agreed to stay for more than a couple of nights. Even Cecily is hard to live with. She’s not interested in anything except for her husband and home.’
‘Many women are like that.’
‘Well, I’m not. Luckily I found a temporary job at the village store, which got me out of the house. But when Donald was injured and sent home to convalesce, Cecily was fluttering around like a trapped butterfly, no use to anyone, poor thing. So I had to stay on long enough to get him settled and find them a maid.’
She stared at the road ahead for a while, then added quietly, ‘It took me a few weeks to make up my mind to be ruthless about leaving, because Donald means well, I grant him that, at least. And anyway, I’m a bit lost still without Charles.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Yes. And he was my best friend, too.’
Charles had been a lucky man, Alex thought.
They chatted intermittently for the rest of the drive into Swindon, not needing to force conversation because the silences were comfortable, too.
‘Could you direct me to your house now, please?’ he asked as they reached the outskirts of the town.
‘Yes, of course. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s just outside Old Town. Turn left at the next crossroads.’
The house was a commodious villa. When the car stopped outside, a woman peered out of the bay window, then vanished and opened the door.
‘That’s one of my lodgers. They’re Belgian refugees.’ Olivia was out of the car before he could help her. She kissed the air above each of the other woman’s cheeks in the continental manner, then launched into speech. ‘Bonjour, madame. Tout va bien?’
‘Très bien, merci. Vous revenez?’
‘Pour une nuit seulement. Je vais à Londres demain, chez une amie.’
Her French was quite good, Alex thought. And as Olivia had told him during the drive to Swindon, the Belgian lady looked capable, not at all put out that her hostess had come back unexpectedly.
Having explained about this brief one-night visit and her stay in London, Olivia introduced Alex and they started to unload her possessions from his car.
Two men came out to help with the luggage and were introduced in their turn.
‘You have a house full,’ Alex commented.
‘Yes. The poor things fled when the Germans invaded Belgium and Madame found refuge with an old lady nearby. When the old lady died suddenly, her relatives wished to sell the house and asked Madame to leave. I’d met her at the shops, so I volunteered to take her in and then the others turned up one by one. By that time there was a second wave of Belgians fleeing to Britain and accommodation was very scarce. But since people were needed to work in factories to produce war materials, they were welcomed.’
She paused. ‘I’m probably telling you something you already knew. Sorry.’
‘I knew vaguely but didn’t think about the impact of the refugees, the difficulties of finding them accommodation and so on.’
Her voice sounded sad as she added, ‘I found it comforting to do something for the war effort.’
She paused, shaking her head as if to banish unhappy memories. ‘After I lost my husband, I felt as if the house needed other people in it. It’s far too big for one person and I shall sell it eventually.’
‘Yes. I know what you mean. My house is the same.’
‘You’ve lost someone? I’m sorry. Babs didn’t say.’
‘No, no. It’s not that. Sadly, I’ve never married. I bought a house that was close to my shop, but it’s proved to be far too big for one person. Sometimes I feel like a billiard ball, ricocheting around it. Only I didn’t want to live in a flat. I like to walk round my garden in the evenings, and in the summer I like to pick a flower in the morning for a buttonhole.’
After another comfortable silence, he said, ‘I’ll come for you sometime tomorrow afternoon, possibly even late morning, if that’s all right, and drive you up to London. I’m sorry I can’t be more precise about the time – and if my business takes longer than I expect, we may have to finish our drive after dark.’
‘It doesn’t matter what time you come. I’ll be ready. Babs never goes to bed before midnight, anyway. Oh! Just a minute. What are you doing about a meal tonight? You said your house had been closed up.’
‘I’ll buy some bread and ham, probably.’
Her eyes were twinkling as she said, ‘I can’t let you do that after you’ve been so kind as to rescue me from my cousin. I can’t give you the medal you deserve for that but I can offer you a meal. Madame Vermeulen is an excellent cook. Let me just check that she can fit another person in.’
‘I don’t expect you to—’ But he was talking to himself.
She came out almost immediately. ‘You are cordially invited to dine here tonight.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Madame loves cooking for people. She misses her family greatly.’
‘Are they still in Belgium?’
‘Some are. Others are scattered across the country. I think she said one brother and his family are in Glasgow. It seems there are quite a few refugees there. Anyway, come back at half past six and we’ll feed you.’
‘I shall look forward to it.’
Olivia watched him go, thinking what a neat figure he made, and how well he dressed, stylish but not in any exaggerated way. It was as if his trim body reflected a soul that was also in good order, knowing itself and its place in the world. He had a charming manner and smile.
Oh, how wonderful it was to be free of Donald and his carping ways! She went into the house and looked round with a smile. Everything was immaculate – well, she hadn’t expected anything else. She encouraged Madame Vermeulen to tell her the latest local gossip over a cup of tea.
Afterwards she went upstairs to the two rooms she’d kept for herself, a small bedroom which had once been a child’s room, and a larger bedroom, now her sitting room.
She lit the gasolier, looking up at it and thinking that if she stayed, she might consider getting electric lights installed. Babs had them and they were wonderfully convenient, with no need to clean them so often, and the light they threw was much brighter and clearer than anything else.
She unpacked her things, putting them away neatly, then started sorting out clothes suitable for the visit to London. She had a suspicion Babs and her friends would dress up for the New Year’s Eve party, so hunted out some pretty garments she hadn’t worn since she’d lost Charles, removing their dust covers and holding first one then anoth
er against herself.
The last one, a dark-green dress with a lace overlay that looked like a jacket, was so new she had never worn it. To do so now seemed to be signalling to the world that this was the new independent Olivia, coming out of mourning.
The dress was a bit old-fashioned, because skirts were shorter these days and much fuller. Fashions had changed quickly once the war started, becoming more practical than hobble skirts and draped skirts, which were narrower at the ankle. She studied the hem of her dress and nodded. If she got up early she could shorten it, and as the skirt became fuller a few inches above her feet, though not as full as many of today’s skirts, that would seem slightly more fashionable.
It was a long time since she’d cared about how she looked socially. She felt pleased to have found such a pretty dress, but it made her sigh, too, and murmur, ‘Oh, Charles! I do miss you, my darling.’
She might never have worn mourning for him, but her heart still felt wounded and she was still learning to live without her husband.
Alex felt like an intruder as he let himself into his mother’s house. That was ridiculous when he and Mildred owned it now, but there you were, he couldn’t help how he felt. It was icy cold inside and since no one else was now living here, he could do what he wanted about where he slept.
He took off his hat, but kept his overcoat and scarf on as he walked round the lower floor, noting with approval the signs of packing and clearing out by the couple he employed. The Townleys were very good at their job and there didn’t seem to be much left to do downstairs now.
This couple, in their late fifties, had fallen on hard times financially till he met them when they came into the shop to sell a piece of silver. They knew exactly what it was worth, which was unusual. He’d got chatting and realised he might be able to use their skills.
They were, as always, meticulous about staying in touch, sending him a note each evening to be delivered by first post the following morning. In them they’d explained what they had done that day and before they went home for Christmas, and they’d apologised that the house was taking longer to clear than expected. The old lady had been a hoarder, but among the clutter were quite a few objects of value so they didn’t want to rush things.