by Connie Monk
‘Bruce couldn’t come.’ And she told him why.
‘That’s going to put a different complexion on your carrying on here surely? And just when I have some exciting plans to share with you. Get your bonnet on and I’ll take you down to the Boatman’s Arms.’
At twenty-three Oliver was as handsome as his father had been and was already making a mark on the West End stage. As he’d always said, it was the stage that drew him, he had no wish to be like Richard and become a movie idol. But the money he had inherited from that movie idol was what made possible what he proposed to do.
‘The hall stands empty,’ he told her as he put half a pint of local cider in front of her, ‘I can’t imagine I shall ever make it my home. But it’s ideal for a school – and this time it will be a school of stage and drama. The Marley School. It’s my father’s money that makes it possible. You have to be in films to get to be a household name and that holds no appeal. But what do you think, Aunt Kathie?’
‘You want to teach?’ She was surprised.
‘No,’ he laughed, ‘can you imagine it? No, but I’ve put out a few feelers and staffing would be OK. Somehow, when I dreamed it up I always pictured you at Westways working your magic on some of the students like you did on me. Funny how things work out, isn’t it. Because of being able to come to Westways I learnt to adjust to school – and to know Bruce Meredith so much better.’
‘And it’s because of you – like an animal in a cage . . .’
‘I remember. Jess took me under her wing.’
‘She knew no other way,’ Kathie said lovingly. ‘And it was because of you and the row when you got back to school that I met Bruce. Do we weave our own pattern, Ollie, or is it ordained and we have no choice?’
‘I don’t know, Aunt Kathie, but if it is I’m sure we are in good hands. Have you seen Beth lately?’
‘She comes over most weeks. She’s been busy with her new flat.’ Beth had lived up to Bruce’s high expectations. After seven highly successful years at the Grammar School she had gone to London to law school, leaving with high commendation. London held no appeal for her. She loved Devon, and perhaps above all she loved Westways. So she accepted a post with an Exeter firm and moved into a flat with views of the river. ‘She never tells me when she’s coming, but very often it’s Sunday evening just in time to see Bruce before he sets off back to London.’
‘You and he,’ he hesitated, his sensitive nature making it difficult for him to go on, ‘I mean now that Mrs Meredith has died . . .’
‘Shall we get married? As far as the two of us are concerned, Ollie, we’ve been married for years. Whether Elspeth knew he was always there for her we were neither of us sure, but he would never leave her.’
Oliver nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. He’s a great guy. Drink up your cider and we’ll go and find somewhere for some lunch.’
It was turning into quite a day. But it hadn’t finished with her yet. They were back at Westways when Beth arrived. The skinny waif of yesterday had become an ethereally beautiful young woman. She and Ollie walked together to the hall, they even looked at the weedy mound where Fudge was buried before they went into the great house, going from room to room while Oliver expounded his plans.
‘With Mrs Meredith gone, Aunt Kathie is sure to give up Westways. I suppose she’ll be the headmaster’s wife at Brockleigh. It won’t be the same here, Beth. It’s been the base we’ve built our lives on.’
This was on their minds as they walked back through the wood and over the gate to the lane. Even then they didn’t come straight indoors. Just as Den and Jack Hopkins had all those years before, they sat on a couple of old oil drums. Through the window of the warm room Kathie watched them. The fading daylight seemed to bring a thousand memories flooding through her mind. Soon all this would be no more than another memory. The Headmaster’s Lodge, part of the school, would be her home. Remember the past, she had told Dennis, your future is built on it. All this, every clod of earth, every blade of grass. ‘I’ve done the chickens, Mum, and I tell you what! I got six huge eggs today.’ Her eyes stung with tears, no longer tears of sadness but of unchanging love.
She wondered what Ollie and Beth were talking about so seriously. Soon they’d come in for an early supper before he started back to London. They were sure to tell her.
But they didn’t. That was the last day of September.
It wasn’t until a date at the end of term had been fixed for the wedding that Kathie found out what Oliver and Beth had been discussing so seriously on that September evening. He was to take over the lease of Westways.
‘But your career?’ Kathie had looked at him in amazement when he told her.
‘I may have been a willing worker when I was a child, but that’s about all,’ he laughed. ‘This is the idea: I’ve sounded Bert out and he’s talked to Sarah about it. You know how it is for them, still living with her people and precious little hope of getting a place of their own.’
‘Awful. They say the waiting list for housing in Deremouth is hopeless.’
‘There and everywhere else. And there’s nothing to rent in Sedgewood. They can’t have a family living in one room over the pub. Anyway, I’ve said I haven’t talked to you yet but I was sure you were going to give up the lease. He will be responsible for carrying on here – and supplying stuff to the hall just like you did – and he and Sarah will have the house.’ Then with a hopeful but not entirely confident smile that seemed to take her back years, he asked, ‘What do you say?’
‘You’ve swept away the only cloud in my sky. What did Beth say?’
‘To be truthful Beth put the idea in my head – you know what women are like for suggesting a thing and making a chap believe it was his idea. But we both hated to think of Westways not being there for all of us. I think it’s great – here, the Hall, all of it put to good use. And still ours, still yours. It sort of brings yesterday along with us to tomorrow.’
She was ashamed at the way her mouth was twitching. He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘You know something? When you and Bruce (I should say Uncle but he doesn’t mind being just Bruce) were out last Sunday I went to talk to Bert and Sarah. Then Beth came over and we met up outside here and walked to the common talking about all of it. Silly, wasn’t it, but we even found our den. What makes people cry when they’re happy?’