Death is a Word

by Hazel Holt

  ‘Dr Porter thinks she was feeling so ill with that wretched virus that she simply forgot,’ Rosemary said. ‘And then, of course, she was dehydrated anyway. There’s something called diabetic acidosis that can be caused by gastritis. Apparently it’s the fever and vomiting – you don’t take your insulin. It’s all very complicated, I don’t understand the half of it. But so awful – if I’d been here I’d have been able to see to her, it need never have happened …’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ I said vehemently. ‘No one could have foreseen it. I feel guilty too. I should have followed up my phone call. I might have been in time to save her. I feel terrible about it. But it’s happened and it’s dreadful and there’s nothing we can do about it now.’

  We were both silent for a moment, then Rosemary said, ‘Of course, I’ve had to tell Mother.’

  ‘Oh dear. How did she take it?’

  ‘Surprisingly well, really, I thought, she was very upset.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘that if you’re really old, then death isn’t such a surprise – I mean, you’re used – in a way – to your friends dying …’

  ‘She talked a lot about Alan and how devoted he and Eva were.’

  ‘How about Daniel?’

  ‘Absolutely devastated, poor boy. Losing Eva so soon after Alan. I know he didn’t see a lot of them – he’d got his own life – but they were all very close. Thank goodness he’s got Patrick.’

  ‘Yes, he struck me as being someone who’d be good in a crisis.’

  ‘They’re coming down for the funeral – we can arrange that now. Well, I said I’d do everything. I think Eva would want it down here. Mother and I thought she’d like to be buried near her parents; Alan was cremated, of course. Daniel said he’d leave it all to me and Patrick seemed to think it was the best plan.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Not really. It’s all in hand now and I’ve seen the vicar of St Mary’s. Such a nice man, very helpful. There’s a spot in the graveyard quite close to her parents’ grave.’

  ‘She’d like that.’

  ‘Yes. Oh, Sheila,’ Rosemary burst out, ‘all this suddenly makes it real. Somehow it wasn’t before …’

  ‘I know. Just at first you can abstract your mind in a way, but there comes a moment when it hits you and you know it’s really happened and nothing’s ever going to change that.

  Chapter Seven

  St Mary’s is a small church a few miles outside Taviscombe. Originally built in the Middle Ages, it was thoroughly restored in the Victorian Gothic style, which nowadays has a sort of nostalgic charm. The original graveyard immediately surrounding the church is full of leaning headstones whose inscriptions have been mostly obliterated, except where some earnest ancestor-seeker has scraped away the lichen in search of information which will complete the family tree.

  The field next to the original burial ground was taken in a hundred years ago and this so-called ‘new’ graveyard houses the remains of the more recent inhabitants of the nearby villages and also others who were technically of that parish – both Peter and my mother lie there – and had expressed a wish to be buried there instead of in the large Taviscombe cemetery. It too has its lichen-covered stones, since the pure, damp air promotes such green coverings, but there are also more modern, and to some, less-attractive memorials. As I stood by Eva’s grave, I could see what might be described as an art deco memorial, angularly shaped with eye-catching green and black decorations. The subject of many furious objections long ago, when it was first put up, over the years (and after several laudatory articles about it in Country Life and other journals), it has acquired a sort of respectable fame and now people come from some distance to see it. And I remembered how Rosemary, Eva and I, with the enthusiasm of youth, praised it as an example of modern art, in the face of the horrified opposition of our parents.

  Eva would have a traditional stone, like that of her parents nearby. Daniel had left the arrangements to Rosemary and had only come down to Taviscombe a few days before the funeral. I saw him, his arm supporting Mrs Dudley, as the family came into the church. There was a good congregation; Eva had made many friends in the short time since her return. As well as the family and a few friends from the old days, there was a large group from Brunswick Lodge, including Donald. I hadn’t seen him since Eva died. He was sitting behind me in the church so I wasn’t able to see him there, but here, outside, he looked haggard and weary. He’d been away and it must have hit him hard to come back to such news.

  By the graveside the vicar pronounced the traditional, solemn words, earth was sprinkled and we all turned away, some more slowly than others, and made our way to our cars and the buffet lunch that Rosemary had arranged nearby. Here, in the warmth and the comfort of the hotel, people relaxed, with reminiscences and more general chat and there was, as there so often is, a sort of party atmosphere (‘What Eva would have wanted’).

  ‘I think it all went off all right,’ Rosemary said as she paused beside me for a moment with a plate of food for her mother. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ I said. ‘It was a lovely service and so many people came.’

  ‘It was a big responsibility. Daniel’s been in a very bad way and I wasn’t sure what he wanted. Fortunately Patrick was marvellous and was able to get through to him when none of us could.’

  ‘Where’s Patrick now?’

  ‘Over there, helping Jilly with Mother, bless him.’

  I looked across at the little group – Mrs Dudley ensconced on a sofa with Jilly beside her and Patrick, bending towards her, talking earnestly. There was no sign of Daniel.

  I looked enquiringly at Rosemary.

  ‘He went outside for a bit,’ she said. ‘I think he found all this a bit much.’

  ‘How long are they staying?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’re sort of living from day to day. They’re staying with us, of course, Daniel won’t go near the cottage.’ She sighed. ‘Well, I’d better get this food to Mother – she was very scornful about the buffet because there wasn’t a whole ham.’

  I didn’t feel in the least like eating, but, for the look of the thing, I went over to the buffet. In spite of the lack of a ham there was a wide variety of food and I took various things at random and a glass of wine, which I felt was something I really needed.

  ‘Quite a good turnout.’ Matthew Paisley, with a group from Brunswick Lodge, came up beside me.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m glad the church was so full.’

  ‘We’re going to miss her,’ he continued, ‘she was always so helpful about doing things.’

  ‘Such a lovely person,’ Alison Shelby broke in, ‘and really quite distinguished in her own right – I read some of her articles, they were very good – she fitted in so well.’

  ‘Well, she did come from here,’ Matthew said reprovingly, ‘and her family have lived round here for years.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course – I didn’t mean … So what will happen to her cottage?’ Alison asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I don’t imagine Daniel will want to keep it.’

  ‘Daniel?’

  ‘Her son.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know she had a son.’

  ‘He lives in London.’

  ‘Fancy that.’ She looked round the room. ‘Which is he?’

  ‘I don’t think he’s here just at the moment,’ I said.

  ‘What a pity – I’d like to have told him how sorry we all are.’

  ‘I’m sure he knows that.’

  ‘I do feel so sorry for poor Donald,’ Maureen Philips broke in. She leant confidently towards me. ‘He was quite attached, wasn’t he? To Eva, I mean. Well, we all noticed and wondered if something might come of it.’ She looked at me expectantly.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ I said. ‘Do excuse me,’ I gestured with my glass, ‘I really must find somewhere to sit down with this lot.’

  I was making my way t
owards an empty table – I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone – when I saw that Mrs Dudley was waving me over to join her. I put my plate down on the table beside her and she regarded it critically.

  ‘I’m glad to see you didn’t have any slices of that ham,’ she said. ‘It gets so dry if it’s not cut freshly every time.’

  I nodded agreement. Obviously the subject of the ham was her defence to hide her actual feelings. I looked at Rosemary and she smiled faintly.

  ‘How is Daniel?’ I asked Patrick.

  He shrugged. ‘Not good. He went outside for a bit. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. So soon after his father. He’ll be all right – he’s pretty tough and determined under that casual exterior.’

  ‘He’s very lucky to have you to help him through things.’

  ‘We’ve been together for a long time now. And we work together pretty well.’

  I glanced at Mrs Dudley, uncertain what she felt about this particular relationship.

  She was smiling approvingly at Patrick. ‘It takes a very special kind of person to deal with someone like Daniel and he’s very lucky to have you.’ She turned to me. ‘Do you know, he arranged every detail of that service.’

  ‘Well, Rosemary had done most of it,’ Patrick said. ‘I just filled in a few things that Daniel wanted.’

  ‘It was beautifully done,’ I said. ‘I’m sure it’s exactly what Eva would have wanted.’ I paused for a moment then asked, ‘How long will you be staying? Do you have to get back to London?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Mrs Dudley broke in, ‘there’s no question of that. No question at all.’

  ‘I think I can persuade him to stay for a while,’ Patrick said. ‘I’ve cancelled all his commitments in London, there’s nothing he needs to get back for.’

  Mrs Dudley nodded. ‘Exactly.’ She turned to him. ‘I still think you both should come and stay with me. Rosemary leads such a busy life.’ (Rosemary nobly refrained from reacting to this well-worn phrase.) ‘I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable with me – Elsie has practically nothing to do all day (I tried not to catch Rosemary’s eye) and she will enjoy looking after you.’

  Patrick smiled. ‘It’s so good of you,’ he said, ‘and, of course, we’d love to come, but I think that while Daniel is fairly settled at the moment, we’d better leave things as they are.’

  Rosemary got up. ‘I’d better go and have a word with the hotel staff,’ she said.

  I got to my feet too. ‘And I must go and talk to the Brunswick Lodge people. Do give my love to Daniel and tell him I’d like to see him sometime while he’s here.’

  When we were out of earshot I said to Rosemary, ‘What was all that about?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh you know Mother, she can’t bear not to be the centre of attention. Of course she’s really fond of Daniel but she knew perfectly well that they wouldn’t go and stay with her. But, this way, she gained brownie points for having made the offer without the trouble of having it accepted.’

  To everyone’s surprise, Daniel decided to move into Eva’s cottage.

  ‘We were absolutely flabbergasted,’ Rosemary said when she called round a few days later. ‘After how he was reacting to things right up to the funeral.’

  ‘Was it his decision?’ I asked tentatively. ‘I mean, did Patrick suggest it?’

  ‘No. He just said, out of the blue, that that was what he wanted to do. I think Patrick was as surprised as we were.’

  ‘Does he have any idea why?’

  ‘He thinks it’s Daniel’s way of facing up to things.’

  ‘Good, if he can, but rather drastic.’

  ‘I think he does make decisions like that – quite suddenly. Anyway, I’ve had the heating put on and got some food in. Mrs Mac will look in and do anything they want. It might help Daniel decide what to do with things down here.’

  ‘He might want to keep the cottage,’ I suggested.

  Rosemary shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know. He’s an odd person, not in the least like Alan or Eva. He seems to live in a world of his own.’

  ‘But surely he has to be practical in his job. All the technical things about food and cooking and so forth.’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s very professional and focussed about that – well that is like Alan, like Eva too for that matter. But in his actual life he tends to plunge about and relies on Patrick to make things work for him.’

  ‘Do they have other friends?’

  ‘No, apparently not. Daniel’s always been a loner – I don’t even know how he met Patrick.’

  ‘I was interested to see how your mother reacted to that relationship.’

  ‘Oh, Mother’s a pragmatist. If it works, and she happens to take to the people involved, she’s all for it. Do you remember Dora Makepeace and Lily Foster; they lived in that big house on West Hill that belonged to Dora’s family?’

  ‘Oh yes. Dora and “my friend that I live with”. And I remember that your mother was very thick with them.’

  ‘Exactly. It worked and it suited her to be friendly with them – they were a wonderful source of gossip. And, to be fair, she’s very fond of Daniel and she can see how hopeless he would be without Patrick.’

  ‘Well, it would be good if they could, between them, sort out those papers. I don’t think Eva ever got down to actually doing anything about them.’

  ‘She never really wanted to – because of Alan.’ Rosemary sighed. ‘And then she got sidetracked.’

  I was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose you mean Donald?’ She nodded. ‘I think he made her happy,’ I said tentatively.

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right. I shouldn’t have begrudged her that.’ She was silent for a moment.

  ‘I was put out in a way. I’d sort of planned in my mind how she was going to lead her life now that she was down here. What things we’d all do together, that kind of thing, and how we’d support her now that Alan had died. I didn’t give her credit for being a person in her own right, able to make her own decisions.’

  ‘You wanted to help.’

  ‘Yes, but in a selfish way. I do regret it now.’

  I didn’t see anything of Daniel and Patrick for a while. I had a couple of difficult reviews to do and had to concentrate on them, not helped by Tris suddenly getting lice, which resisted all chemical forms of destruction but had to be tracked down with a fine comb and disposed of one by one. While all this was going on, Foss, resentful at the extra attention Tris was getting, was particularly tiresome, rejecting previously favourite foods and only accepting freshly cooked fish or chicken. He took to weaving round my feet in the kitchen, once tripping me over so that I lurched into the worktop, heavily bruising my right hand, making the use of my computer very difficult.

  ‘I can’t see why you make such a fuss of them,’ Anthea said when I was complaining about the complications of my life. ‘After all, they’re only animals.’

  Over the years I’ve learnt to ignore most of Anthea’s tiresome remarks.

  ‘Oh well, I’m managing, but it’s all taking longer than I expected so I’m afraid I won’t be able to come to the committee meeting on Tuesday. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Really, Sheila,’ Anthea said crossly, ‘it’s only for an hour at the most, and you know how important it is to settle things about having that electrical work done. Derek is being so difficult about the money. I’ve told him, time and time again, how dangerous it would be to leave things as they are.’

  Since the electrical work that Anthea referred to consisted of putting a couple of extra points in the kitchen for certain gadgets that Anthea has set her heart on, I was inclined to side with Derek this time. And, as for the committee meeting only lasting an hour – well, it would be the first time in the history of Brunswick Lodge if this happened. Knowing that it was always impossible to argue rationally with Anthea, I repeated my apology and retreated into the office where I found Alison Shelby, who was sorting out some leaflets. She greeted me eagerly.

  ‘Oh, Sheila, you can tell me – h
ow is that poor boy?’

  ‘Poor boy?’ I echoed.

  ‘Eva’s son – Daniel. I hadn’t realised that he was really quite famous. Maureen was telling me all about him. Writing in the Sunday papers, and on television too! What a gifted family – all three of them. That is – is Daniel the only child?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said repressively. ‘He is.’ I certainly didn’t feel like discussing Daniel with anyone, let alone Alison. ‘However,’ I went on, ‘I think he just wants to be left alone to come to terms with things.’

  ‘So tragic. To lose both parents like that.’

  I nodded.

  ‘And going to live in that cottage – so brave. Will he be staying on there, do you think? Of course, living in London as he does, he might want to keep it as a holiday cottage. What do you think?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

  ‘I was saying to Maurice, the other day, what a job it would be to clear it. I mean, Eva had more or less just come down here with all her stuff from London – downsizing, isn’t that what they call it? – and Maureen said there were a lot of papers and things of her husband’s. All to be sorted out.’

  ‘No doubt he will make his own arrangements,’ I said shortly.

  But, as always, there was no way of stopping Alison.

  ‘Of course, he’s got that nice friend of his to help him. A pleasant young man, very quiet, not much to say for himself, but I’m sure he’s a great help. Maureen said he more or less organised the funeral. But at such a time! And a dreadful shock. I mean, who would have thought poor Eva would go, quite suddenly like that. And a post-mortem, too, terribly upsetting for everyone. I was so sorry for Rosemary, losing a relation like that.’

  ‘Do you need any help with those leaflets?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh no, they’re the ones about the recital. I was just seeing how many I needed to take – I promised Anthea that I’d hand them out at the next WI meeting.’

  ‘Oh, right, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ I said, edging through the door.

  It was obvious that Daniel (now they knew that he was a television personality) was exciting quite an interest among the members of Brunswick Lodge, but I was sure that Patrick was more than capable of protecting him from their attentions.