by Hazel Holt
‘I didn’t have a chance, really, to talk to Patrick. What’s he like? He didn’t say very much.’
‘He never does, but when he does it’s always something to the point. He sits there taking everything in. He’s very good at summing people up.’
‘Do we know what he thought about Donald? I imagine Eva introduced him to both of them. How did they get on?’
‘Eva seemed pleased,’ Rosemary said. ‘I gather it was all quite easy and casual.’
‘Did Dan know how much they’d been seeing each other?’
‘Oh, I think so.’
‘So everything’s fine? I mean, if Dan approves.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And Patrick?’
‘I think he said something vague and impersonal.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then.’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ Rosemary said. ‘I’m sorry Sheila – I’ve been a bore about this Donald thing.’ She thought for a moment and then went on, ‘I think I was jealous. You know, when Eva came back down here it was lovely to see her again and I suppose I rather took over her life – well, she is family – and I sort of resented it when Donald suddenly became such a part of it. Then Mother kept going on about how short a time it was since Alan died. Of course she was jealous because Donald wasn’t paying as much attention to her. All absolutely ridiculous!’
‘Eva’s a big girl now,’ I said. ‘And she hasn’t exactly led a sheltered life.’
‘I know. I’m an idiot.’
‘I can see how you felt – she really is a rather special person.’
For a town house, Brunswick Lodge has quite a big garden. Sheltered by high brick walls, it’s been lovingly planted and cared for by a team of passionate gardeners and, once a year, they grudgingly allow us to have a garden party. Like everything else, this is the source of considerable friction, the gardeners’ committee placing every obstacle they can think of in the way of the general committee’s plans. Naturally Anthea tries to pull rank (‘Enid Williams has absolutely no idea of organisation – if things were left to her the whole thing would be a complete shambles!’), but Enid is equally strong-minded. She knows that just once a year she has the upper hand.
‘Of course we have to have the little tables on the lawn,’ Anthea said. ‘It’s ridiculous to say they will damage the grass. Anyone with a grain of common sense would realise that there’s no way they could go on the paths.’
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘the paths are much too uneven and, anyway, if the tables were there people would have to walk about on the grass much more.’
‘Exactly!’ Anthea said triumphantly. ‘Now then, do we have tablecloths on them? Last year, if you remember, it was very windy and the cloths kept blowing about. No,’ she went on, answering her own question as she frequently did, ‘better not; besides, people tend to spill things on them and then there are all the laundry costs.’
‘What are we doing about the urn?’ Maureen Philips broke in. ‘If it rains like last year I don’t want to have to carry it in – it was really quite dangerous and if Derek hadn’t lent me a hand I don’t know how we would have managed.’
‘No, no,’ Anthea said impatiently. ‘You remember we said we’d have iced tea and iced coffee and have it all done in the kitchen.’
‘I still think,’ Maureen replied stubbornly, ‘that a lot of people would like a nice cup of tea.’
‘Well, if they actually ask for one,’ Anthea said irritably, ‘Sheila can make them one in the kitchen.’
I had resigned myself to spending a lot of the garden party in the kitchen since I’d rashly offered to make the iced tea from a splendid recipe given to me by an American friend. I wasn’t entirely sorry because the garden party often took place in unsuitable weather and it was no small thing, at such a time, to be warm and dry.
Unusually, the day dawned to bright sunshine and showed every sign of being A Perfect Day For It, as everyone said as they crowded out into the garden. There was no peace, however, in the kitchen as Anthea kept putting her head round the door with new instructions and comments.
‘Was it really necessary to actually buy all that ice from the supermarket, Sheila? Surely people could have brought some from their own refrigerators.’
I murmured meekly that it made things easier and that I’d paid for it myself.
‘I don’t think we should take the sandwiches and sausage rolls out yet – the sun is really quite strong and will spoil them.’
‘How many people are there now?’ I asked. ‘They’ll be wanting food.’
‘Quite a few, but they seem to be hanging about inside – I’d better go and move them on.’
She rushed off, leaving the door open as usual. A buzz of conversation indicated that she hadn’t been successful in chivvying people outside.
‘So,’ Alison was saying, ‘how far have you got?’
‘Not very,’ Eva said, laughing. ‘I kept getting sidetracked – all sorts of fascinating stuff in those census things. And Donald wasn’t much help; he was just as bad, haring off after unusual names.’
‘But you must persevere,’ Alison said enthusiastically. ‘We’re all longing to know how it turns out. I wanted Maurice to do ours, but he said he didn’t have the time and, of course, I’d be absolutely useless. Well,’ she continued proudly, ‘I wouldn’t even know how to switch the computer on. I’m an absolute duffer at anything mechanical. Maurice will tell you – the trouble I’ve had with the tumble dryer …’
‘I think we’re required outside,’ Maurice Shelby said drily, and just then Anthea returned and shepherded them firmly into the garden.
I’d squeezed some lemons and was just fishing out the pips when I heard Donald’s voice.
‘Thank goodness they’ve gone. There’s something I want to talk to you about.’
‘What is it?’ Eve replied.
‘Not here. Can we go somewhere after this is finished?’
‘Yes, of course. Come back to the cottage and have a drink – we’re going to need one by then.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘You look very serious, what is it?’
‘Later. I’ll tell you later.’
The voices died away and I finished making the lemon tea.
Chapter Six
‘It seems like such a good opportunity,’ Rosemary said. ‘Jilly’s taking some things that Delia says she wants in Oxford and I’ve been longing to see her room and how she’s settled in. And St Hilda’s is such an interesting college, with the river and everything.’
‘It sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘How long will you be away?’
‘We thought we’d take a whole week. I’ve always wanted to see Blenheim and we might be able to get tickets for a matinee at Stratford …’
‘Good for you. You haven’t had a proper holiday for ages and it will be nice for you and Jilly to spend some time together. What about Mark and Jack?’
‘Mark’s going to stay with a school friend and Jack says he can fend for himself. I’ll leave lots of things in the freezer, but I expect he’ll live on fish and chips and takeaways. Actually, I think he’s quite looking forward to having the house to himself and doing what he wants to do when he wants to do it.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘There’s what sounds like rather a nice little hotel in Summertown. Jilly found it on the Internet, which is how people seem to do things now.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely.’ I paused and then asked the inevitable question. ‘What about your mother?’
Rosemary laughed. ‘Such a good idea. Something she’s always wanted to do, but, of course, she’s only a poor old woman and things like that are impossible for her, though, naturally, if someone had asked her, she would have made every effort and it would have been such a treat, since she never has the chance to leave the house these days. But she quite understands that the young are all so busy with their own lives that they don’t have time for old people. They’ll understand when they’re old. Don’t wor
ry about me, I’ll be fine, you go and enjoy yourself … etc., etc.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh, it’s only what I expected and I’m certainly not going to let it spoil things for me.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on things and call round and let her tell me how selfish the young are if you like.’
‘Bless you, she’ll love that.’
‘You go off and have a lovely time and don’t worry about anything.’
A few days after Rosemary left, I phoned her mother. Elsie, her housekeeper, answered, which was unusual, since Mrs Dudley usually kept a firm control over that particular instrument.
‘I’m afraid she’s really quite poorly,’ Elsie said. ‘I called the surgery, but, of course now Dr Macdonald’s retired she doesn’t care for any of the other doctors. It’s really very awkward. Still, I spoke to Dr Porter, he’s the one I go to, and he was very nice. He said he’d come round – we’re only a few minutes away – which was very good of him. You know how they don’t visit these days, but he could tell that I was worried. Anyway, he did come and he was very good with her. He says she’s got this gastric thing that’s going round, very nasty it is. Lots of fluids, he said, and to keep warm and stay in bed. Like I said, he was really very nice. And he’ll come later in the week, but said to call him if she wasn’t any better.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Shall I call round?’
‘No, dear, there’s nothing you can do and I think she’d rather you waited until she feels better – you know what I mean.’
I did know. Mrs Dudley never cared for visitors unless she was feeling (and looking) her best.
‘I quite understand. Have you been in touch with Rosemary?’
‘I did suggest it but she said she wouldn’t dream of spoiling her holiday.’ I could imagine the exact martyred tone in which this was uttered. ‘And really, Mrs Malory, I think she just wants to be quiet. You know how it is when you don’t feel a hundred per cent.’
‘Of course. Well, give her my love and mind you look after yourself.’
‘Oh, I’m all right, I never catch anything and nothing ever bothers me.’
I reflected that, after all her years with Mrs Dudley, it would take something positively cataclysmic to ruffle Elsie.
After having done my duty by Mrs Dudley, I thought Rosemary would expect me to see how Eva was. And, actually, I was curious about the conversation with Donald that I’d overheard at the garden party. What, I wondered, was the serious thing he wanted to talk to her about? Eva was quite a long time answering the phone and I thought she was out, and when she did answer, she didn’t seem herself.
‘It’s this wretched gastric thing,’ she said when I enquired. ‘Apparently there’s a lot of it about. Well, that’s what Mrs Mac said.’ Mrs Mac is her cleaner and a great one for stating the obvious.
‘Oh dear, how horrible. Is there anything I can do? Shall I come round?’
‘That’s sweet of you but there’s nothing I need. I’ve been up and down all night and I feel a bit wobbly and just want to go back to bed.’
‘What about your prescription?’
‘No, I’m all right for everything at the moment and, as you can imagine, I don’t feel like any food. I just want to crawl away and be by myself.’
‘Well, take care and do ring if there’s anything I can do.’
But the next day I was incapable of doing anything. Whatever it was that was going round had caught up with me and it was as much as I could do to cope with the animals, who never seem to understand about human illness. The next few days were very unpleasant and I was really grateful to Thea who came in to see to Tris and Foss and supply me with the lots of fluids that Dr Horobin had prescribed for Mrs Dudley. But, on the whole, I understood exactly what Eva meant by being on your own.
When I felt well enough to get up and lie on the couch, feeling like a Victorian heroine, pale and interesting, I thought I should enquire after the other two invalids. Mrs Dudley had resumed control of the telephone and was able to tell me just how ill she had been.
‘Dr Horobin said I must have a wonderful constitution to have made such a good recovery from a bad attack like that at my age. He did say, however, that I must take especial care now and take things very slowly. Of course, he’ll never be another Dr Macdonald, but he seems to be very sensible for a young man.’
I reflected that, as Elsie said, he had been very good with her. In a brief pause in the conversation I tentatively mentioned that I too had been ill and was still not really able to do much.
‘Oh, you young people, no stamina. Dr Porter said that mine is the last generation who are the real survivors.’
Well, that was true at any rate. I rang Eva but there was no reply and I hoped it meant that she was now sufficiently recovered to go out. I still didn’t feel well enough to make any effort myself and was looking forward to Rosemary’s return and all the news she might bring.
She came back a day early and the news she brought was not what I had expected.
‘Oh, Sheila, I had to come round – I couldn’t tell you on the phone,’ she burst out before I could express surprise at her early return.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’
‘It’s Eva. She’s dead.’
‘No! How awful. What happened? I know she had this wretched bug but she seemed to be getting over it.’
‘Mrs Mac went round to clean as usual. She rang the bell but there was no answer. She thought Eva had gone out but the car was still there. Still, she’s got a key so she let herself in. Everything looked normal but then she found Eva in bed …’ She paused, then went on. ‘She couldn’t rouse her so she called an ambulance and they said she was dead and had been for a couple of days.’
‘How horrible.’
‘I know.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Dr Porter came and there’s got to be a post-mortem.’
‘Oh, Rosemary, I’m so sorry.’
‘It was a tremendous shock. I feel so dreadful, being away …’
‘I feel guilty too. I should have gone round, but then I got this beastly thing that knocked me out. And I really did think she was getting over it – when I rang she said she just wanted to be on her own.’
Rosemary shook her head. ‘No, there was probably nothing any of us could have done. It’s just that, well, she is – was – family, you know how it is.’
‘Does your mother know?’
‘No, I thought I’d leave it until we knew more about things. It will be such a shock and Elsie says she’s really been quite ill.’
‘Yes, it was quite a virulent bug. How did you hear?’
‘Dr Porter phoned me, because he knew we were related and they needed a relative to make arrangements and so on. Of course I wasn’t there, so he told Jack, who phoned me. It was awful when I got the message – I couldn’t believe it. Eva’s always been so lively, so active.’ She bit her lip to stop the tears. ‘She was always so special to me.’
‘I know.’
Rosemary sighed. ‘And I’ve had such a marvellous week. Oxford was wonderful, and Stratford, and it was so nice doing things with Jilly – it makes it feel worse somehow …’
‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘No matter what has happened, Eva would have been so pleased you’ve had a lovely time. She was all for people enjoying themselves. Now, I’m going to put the kettle on and you must tell me all about it.’
The news of Eva’s death was a surprise and shock to a great many people. When I felt able to go to Brunswick Lodge a few days later it was still the main topic of conversation.
‘Such a terrible thing to have happened,’ Alison Shelby was saying when I arrived. ‘And lying there like that for all those days. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ She became aware of my presence. ‘Of course, you were such a great friend – you must feel dreadful about it.’
‘Yes,’ I said briefly. ‘It was a great shock.’
‘And poor Rosemary – she was away, wasn�
�t she? What a thing to come back to.’
I didn’t reply and she went on, ‘Donald was really upset – well, they’d become quite close, if you know what I mean. At least, that’s what I’ve been given to believe. And he was away too. Imagine what he must be feeling.’
‘I think he was away on business,’ Maureen Philips said. ‘Not just on holiday.’
‘We don’t know yet what caused poor Eva’s death,’ Matthew Paisley broke in. ‘It’s a bit soon to be apportioning the guilt.’
‘Oh no,’ Alison said hastily ‘I never meant—’
‘So we don’t know if anyone could have done anything to help her.’ Matthew persisted.
‘No, of course not. I just thought …’
‘I tried to ring her,’ Maureen said. ‘I thought she might know when Donald would be back. I needed to tell him about a committee meeting. But there was no reply. That was on the Wednesday. Do you think that she was, you know, then?’
‘Oh dear,’ Alison clasped her hands together in a dramatic gesture. ‘How awful! When did the cleaner find her?’
‘I think she goes in on a Friday,’ Maureen said. ‘I seem to remember Eva saying it was sometimes awkward because she always liked to do any writing she had on Fridays and it was a bit difficult with Mrs Mac hoovering all round her.’
‘So if you phoned on the Wednesday, then she might—’
‘We won’t know anything until after the post-mortem,’ Matthew said abruptly. ‘I think we should stop all this speculation.’ He looked at me. ‘It must be very distressing for her close friends and family.’
‘Oh no – I wouldn’t dream …’ Maureen said hastily. ‘I’m sorry, Sheila.’
‘I think Matthew is right,’ I said. ‘We won’t know what actually happened until Dr Porter informs the family.’
‘They’ve got the post-mortem results,’ Rosemary said.
‘Was it this virus thing?’ I asked.
‘In a way. It was the diabetes, really. She died because she didn’t take her insulin.’
‘But she was always so good about that.’