The Lion Lies Waiting

by Glenn Quigley

  “My boys,” she said.

  Once she was settled in her room, Dr. Cranch took Edwin to one side and explained it would be best if he leave her for a few weeks to give her time to acclimate to her new surroundings. It was difficult for him to hear but he agreed to follow her advice. As he said farewell to her, his mother was oddly content.

  “Do you…do you understand what’s happening, Mum?”

  She nodded and said she was relieved. Edwin thought perhaps she might thank him, or Eva, or give him words to share with his father, but of course she didn’t. She was in a world of her own, but Edwin took solace in knowing she would have a safe, warm, comfortable place where she could live out her remaining years in peace.

  ON HIS WAY back to the Lion Lies Waiting, Edwin called in to say farewell to Hester and the boys. She thanked him for his help.

  “I’m sorry it took so long,” Edwin said.

  “Don’t be silly, it only took a few days for you to turn my life around! Dealing with Sylvia, finding the boys, the new bakery!” Hester said.

  “No, not that, I mean…” Edwin took a deep breath. “I mean I’m sorry it took this long for me to see what Ambrose’s death did to you. It wasn’t just him you lost, it was your home. Your life.”

  “My world,” Hester said.

  “I should have helped you build a new one sooner,” he said, hugging her tightly.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  FROM A ROOM on the fifth floor of the Lion Lies Waiting, Edwin gazed out across the town square to the clock tower he climbed in a drunken stupor and over to the Frost & Thaw Tearoom where he’d been asked the question that looked set to change the course of his life. A gentle dance of snowflakes landed on the frosty diamond-shaped window panes.

  They’d packed their clothing into bags and were preparing to leave. Robin’s hand slipped around his own, thick fingers intertwining, his skin so warm, so comforting.

  “How is it today?” Edwin asked.

  Robin reflexively held his bandaged left hand to his chest.

  “I think it’s goin’ to cause me a bit of grief in the future,” he said.

  Edwin’s brow furrowed.

  “Is it going to stop you from working? From sailing?”

  “Nothin’ can stop me from sailin’!” Robin said. “Are you ready?” Edwin admired his big, jolly face, his bright blue eyes, then he blinked away a tear.

  “What’s wrong?” Robin asked, his voice a comfortable blanket Edwin could be happily wrapped up in forever.

  “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking about everything.”

  “Everythin’? That’s a lot to be thinkin’ about.”

  Edwin laughed a little. “Yes, yes it is. But mostly, I’ve been thinking about you.”

  Edwin carefully took Robin’s other hand in his.

  “I’ve been thinking about how you’re always there for me, how you’ve always been there for me, for as long as I’ve known you. About how I know no matter how far I fall, you’ll always catch me. I’ve been alone for a long time and I’m used to doing things my own way.”

  “Stubborn is the word you’re lookin’ for,” Robin said.

  “Hah, yes, yes I suppose it is. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it, to see what effect it was having. I just…I love you, Robin Shipp. With all my heart and soul, I love you.”

  “I love you an’ all, Mr. Farriner,” Robin said with a chuckle.

  They kissed each other then, as if it was the first time for either of them, and they held each other close until there came a knock on the door. Drying his eyes, Robin called out.

  “It’s open, Duncan.”

  Duncan let himself in, setting his heavy leather bag on the floor.

  “Are you ready to…what’s wrong? You look a bit flushed. You both do. Not interrupting anything, I hope? Hoping to make one last use of the facilities before we left, were you?”

  Edwin laughed. “Nothing like that. Come here, sit on the bed. Both of you.”

  Duncan shuffled over and sat down. “What’s this about?”

  “I just wanted to take a moment before we left to say how much I appreciate both of you coming here with me. I know you gave up your first solstice with your real mum, Robin, and I know it’s the last place you wanted to be, Duncan. In fact, I owe you an apology.”

  “Me? Why?”

  Edwin rubbed the back of his own head.

  “I, well, I said some things about you to Robin, unfair things, born of my own insecurities.”

  “Ah. I think I can guess what they were.”

  “You can?”

  “Come on Edwin, if my partner spent the night in bed with a man he used to be in love with I’d have a few things to say about it! But you know there’s nothing romantic between us, don’t you?”

  “I do, honestly I do. It was my problem, not yours.”

  “Well, since we’re apologising, I suppose I should say sorry for thinking part of the reason you befriended me in the first place was to make sure I wasn’t trying to steal Robin back.”

  “What?” Robin laughed.

  “When did you say that?” Edwin said.

  “Oh no, I never said it. But I did think it. Once or twice. A day.”

  “Duncan…” Robin said.

  “I can’t help how I think!” Duncan said. “I’ve got a suspicious mind! Anyway, I don’t think that way now I’ve gotten to know you better.”

  Edwin laughed as he reached under the bed and pulled out two small parcels, wrapped in paper.

  “I bought you both a little something. Though I’m no longer sure you deserve it, you little git.”

  He held the parcel out to Duncan only to playfully snatch it away a couple of times.

  “Oh, Edwin, you didn’t need to do this. You risked your life to get me out from under that stage, I should be thanking you!” Duncan said.

  He unwrapped his parcel to reveal a delightfully decorated box holding a dozen or more succulent, sugary-looking cubes.

  “What are they?”

  “The confectioner called them lokum. He learned the recipe only recently by way of a sailor from the east. They’re flavoured with rose or lemon or mastic and a few of them have a whole walnut in the centre. I’m going to try to figure out how to make them.”

  Duncan lifted one and offered the box to Edwin and Robin, who both tried a piece.

  “Thank you, they’re delicious, truly. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything quite like them!” Duncan clasped his hand on Edwin’s knee. “When did you have time to buy them?”

  “On the way back from the asylum last night, after I left Hester’s, I started thinking about you two and how much you mean to me.”

  Robin tore the paper round his gift to shreds with one hand and he held his gift up to the light. It was a silver gilt case on a fob chain, just big enough for two stacks of coins and engraved with his father’s anchor symbol.

  “Oh, Edwin, it’s beautiful!”

  “Look inside.”

  Robin pressed the clasp. Inside the lid, in splendid flowing script were the words “For Robin, with love, Edwin. Midwinter 1780.”

  “Thank you so much,” Robin said. “What made you think of this?”

  “Well, after my coin-purse was stolen, I—”

  “What!” Duncan exclaimed, clapping his hands for effect. “You were robbed? Oh, this is too wonderful, tell me everything, spare no detail of your humiliation.”

  “I’ve changed my mind, give me them back,” Edwin chuckled, making a play for the box of confections.

  Duncan gathered it up and held it to his chest.

  “Never!”

  “I’ve actually been making some purchases myself,” Robin said.

  “Oh?” Edwin asked.

  From a bag by the bed, Robin lifted out several small lanterns set with coloured glass.

  “Mrs. Firebrace ’as the right idea. Why should an ’ome only ’ave lanterns for the people who live there? Why can’t we ’ave ones for our whole
family? And my family, well, it’s a lot bigger than I first thought,” Robin explained. “It’s not just me and Mum. It’s you. It’ll be your child, an’ Eva, an’ Iris, soon enough. It’s Vince, too. An’ it’s you an’ all, Duncan.”

  “Me?” Duncan said, surprised.

  “Especially you,” Robin chuckled. “After all we’ve been through together, ’ow could I not think of you as such? Family’s not just the people you’re born to, it’s the people you collect along the way. Each one o’ you is a light in my life, an’ I want each one o’ you to ’ave a light in my ’ome. So, that’s what I’m goin’ to ’ave. And I know it’s not the tradition, but that’s just too bad—I’m startin’ a new one!”

  THE THREE MEN thanked Mrs. Firebrace for her hospitality. She gave them a handful of items to give to her brother, George, including an old bottle of gin for his collection of obscure alcohol. It had been distilled on a frozen island to the far north whose name she couldn’t hope to pronounce and was given to her by another guest earlier in the year.

  “Tell him if he drinks it and goes blind, it’s not my fault,” she said. “Oh, and Mr. Hunger, about your room. I’m sorry, for what you saw. I confess I wasn’t cleaning it.”

  “No, I thought as much,” Duncan said, his tone unusually soft. “Vince told me you lost your daughter. It happened in that room, I take it?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”

  She was holding her little dog in her arms, staring into his eyes instead of Duncan’s.

  “You couldn’t have known. I had long thought the room a wound—open and fresh—but I can see now it is a scar. One that will never truly heal, but a scar nonetheless. It can be touched, and in the touching, the cause remembered without the pain.”

  Duncan tilted his head to the side.

  “Ask George, he’ll tell you the whole story, I’m sure.”

  “I hope someday you can come back to Blashy Cove, Mrs. Firebrace. Your brother misses you.”

  “Perhaps I will, perhaps I will,” she said. “Take care, Mr. Hunger.”

  BY MIDDAY, THE men were on board Bucca’s Call, watching Port Knot recede into the distance behind them. Soon, they’d skim eastwards, past the white cliffs of Blackrabbit and journey south, towards home.

  “Wait till I tell Mum about Vince,” Robin said. “And Rose, for that matter!”

  “You mean Honor,” Edwin corrected.

  “Right, right. Honor.”

  “One thing I meant to ask you, Duncan,” Edwin said, “you knew Vince from long before you ever came to Blashy Cove, from before you ever met Robin. How come you never said anything about him?”

  “Said what about him?” Duncan asked, confused.

  Edwin laughed. “About the fact he’s Robin’s double! About the fact they’re clearly related!”

  Duncan frowned and thought about it. “His double? I don’t know what you mean.”

  Robin tipped his cap back and chuckled.

  “I don’t see it, either,” he said.

  Edwin shook his head and threw his hands in the wintery air.

  “Baffling,” he said.

  “I can’t wait to get home,” Duncan said.

  “Because?” Robin asked.

  “Because it’s nice to get home?”

  “Because?” Robin repeated.

  “Because I’ll be glad to get back to my own bed?”

  “Because?” Robin insisted.

  “Because I miss my stupid bleddy cat. Happy now?” Duncan sulked while his friends laughed.

  Bucca’s Call sailed on through the rough, winter seas and it wasn’t too long before home was in sight.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A LITTLE CLOCK on the mantelpiece dinged noon as Robin left the master bedroom suite in Wolfe-Chase Lodge. He nodded to Doctor Cranch who walked in behind him, closed the door, and spoke some muffled words to Edwin. Robin slid his cap back and leaned on the expensive crimson wallpaper of the hallway. Doctor Cranch was collecting what she needed and would bring it through to the next room where Iris was waiting. What happened afterwards, Robin wasn’t entirely sure, but he trusted the doctor knew what she was doing.

  “No turning back now, Mr. Shipp. We are all to be linked for life,” Eva said as she approached, sipping on a glass of fine wine.

  “Can I confess somethin’?” Robin said, solemnly.

  “Of course.”

  “I know I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about myself,” he said with a heavy sigh, “but I can’t ’elp it. Everythin’s changin’ so quickly. Just a few months ago I thought I were all alone in this world, now I’ve got a mum, a brother, Edwin. I think…I think I’m scared.”

  “May I confess the same?”

  “I didn’t think anythin’ could frighten you.”

  “That’s what I want everyone to think. But not you. Not them.” She signalled toward the bedroom. “We are all in this together now, Mr. Shipp. None of us have to do it alone. You know, we chose Edwin for his many fine qualities, of which you are a significant one.”

  “Me?” Robin furrowed his brow.

  “You are a part of him. From what Iris tells me, you were a part of him long before you ever became lovers. That he would choose a man like you as a friend and a partner speaks to his fine judgement. You have the biggest heart of any man I have ever met, and our child will be enormously fortunate to have you in their life.”

  She took his hand in hers and smiled.

  “So, if you’re scared, Robin, let us at least be scared together.”

  ROBIN HAD DUNCAN hanging on his every word, straining hard to hear him above the din. In one corner of the Moth & Moon, a gathering of musicians put on an impromptu performance while children danced around Duncan’s crystal tree, still whirring and ticking away. The barmaid Arminell Pinch, still pregnant, rested against the bar as a contrite Archibald Kind presented her with a bunch of wildflowers and a splendid mask in the shape of a kitten as a sort of apology.

  Gathered around the table, laden with meat and drink, were Eva and Iris, who sat listening and laughing to stories of Robin’s childhood told by his mother, Morwenna. Edwin’s father, Nathaniel, was next to them, singing loudly and occasionally slamming his tankard for emphasis. Bramble the kitten sat in Duncan’s lap, happily gnawing on a sliver of ham.

  “So, that was it,” Duncan said, “you just left them to it?”

  “That was it. Edwin joined Eva and myself and we all had a drink downstairs and waited for Doctor Cranch to give us the news,” Robin said.

  “Longest wait of my life, it was,” Edwin said as he returned from the privy and slid into the seat next to Robin, his new boots thumping heavily on the uneven wooden floor.

  He’d proudly shown them off to Duncan earlier, along with the heavy winter clothing Robin had given him. Robin said he wasn’t going to have Edwin travelling across the cold sea to visit his mother in anything but the finest, warmest gear. Duncan had said the gift was eminently sensible, which Robin knew was a friendly taunt but he took it as a compliment.

  “Here you go, boys,” George Reed said, laying a tray containing two glasses of cider and one mug of tea on the table.

  “Oh, George,” Robin said. “Remind me later to talk to you about my idea.”

  “What’s this now?” George said. “What idea?”

  “He thinks the village needs a clock tower,” Edwin said.

  “Not a clock tower,” Robin corrected, “A bell tower! A way of warnin’ the village in case there’s another ’urricane!”

  “Huh, you know that’s not a bad…” He trailed off, running his hand over his mouth. “Have I got crumbs in my beard?”

  Duncan was staring at the innkeeper’s lined face. The crow’s feet curving upwards, the friendly eyes, the short, flat nose.

  “No, no, nothing. I was just…it’s nothing, Mr. Reed,” Duncan said, watching him leave, his gaze fixed on the jiggling of George’s curved bottom. When he turned back, he was blushing.

&
nbsp; He coughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “And?”

  “And what?” Robin asked.

  “And did it work?”

  “Oh, it always works,” Edwin said, with one russet eyebrow raised. “I can assure you.”

  “I meant is Iris with child, you dirty tuss?” Duncan said with a hearty laugh. Iris herself was enthralled by Morwenna’s tale of how Robin learned to swim and heard nothing of their conversation.

  “Doctor Cranch said it all went as well as could be expected. Now we wait and see. If not, I suppose we can try it again. Or try the traditional way.”

  “You know, if that works, you could make a career of it. Back on the farm, we used to get a lot of money for breeding out our prize stallion.”

  Edwin chuckled as Robin pretended to be offended.

  “You’re goin’ to let ’im get away with suggestin’ that, are you?” Robin said.

  “I’m not going to object to being likened to a stallion,” Edwin said, laughing.

  “I’m just saying, if money ever gets tight, you have options…” Duncan said, waving Edwin up and down.

  Their celebrations lasted well into the night, a Midwinter family gathering of the kind Robin had so longed for. As he watched those he loved most in all the world talking and laughing, singing and dancing, forging memories to last a lifetime, his heart swelled with joy. The time spent on Blackrabbit had been far from easy, but it had brought them all closer together. And for that, he would always be thankful.

  Epilogue

  THE NEW LANTERNS sat alongside the old in the window of Robin’s tall, thin house, flooding his front room with light and colour. Ruby and orange, sapphire and green, purple and rose, all joyfully dancing in harmony to the beat of the flickering flames held within. They painted the snow-covered road outside with a vibrant, inviting and living rainbow. Passers-by would stop to gaze at the marvellous display and many would knock on his door and be gratefully invited in for warm spiced cider or tea. Robin’s house became known for its colourful Midwinter decorations, sparking a new tradition in the little village of Blashy Cove. No longer would solstice lanterns be limited only to those living in the household, instead they became legion—glowing, vital reminders of all those who were fortunate enough to be called family.