by Unknown
‘No? What do you think would have happened if you’d fallen from the top of that ladder?’
Evie shrugged. ‘I might have been a bit bruised. But it wasn’t me I was worried about.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘It was the baby.’
‘You’re pregnant?’ Esther said.
Evie nodded. ‘Please don’t say anything!’ she suddenly said, leaning forward and clasping Esther’s right hand in both of hers. ‘I haven’t told anyone.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Esther said. ‘It’s his, isn’t it? That boy out there?’
Evie nodded.
‘Well, he looks a decent sort. He’ll stand by you – do the right thing.’
‘But I don’t want him to do the right thing. This is my baby!’ Evie said, her hands returning to her lap.
Esther looked confused. ‘But it’s his, too.’
Evie shook her head. ‘He doesn’t have to be involved.’
‘Don’t you think you should let him make that decision?’
‘He won’t be around for long,’ she said.
The expression on Esther Martin’s face changed and she suddenly looked like the stern old lady who had chased the young Evie from her garden with a broom. Startled, Evie wondered why she’d invited her into her bedroom and had her sitting on her bed.
‘Now, listen here, Evelyn Hamilton! You have to tell that young man and let him make his own mind up. A baby isn’t a toy that you can keep all to yourself – it’s a living, thinking, feeling being and, one day, that baby is going to grow up and ask where its father is and why you took it upon yourself to hide him. What will you do then? What will be your excuse? Because, let me tell you, nothing you can come up with will be good enough if you’ve stopped a decent man from being involved with his own flesh and blood.’
Evie stared at Esther’s serious and startlingly pale face. It was, perhaps, the first time in her life that an adult had given her such a selfless and honest piece of advice, and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Her mother had never been one to offer any guidance on anything. Every conversation Evie had ever tried to open had always resulted in her mother turning the conversation around to herself, like the time when Evie had split up with her first boyfriend at high school. She’d been heartbroken and in tears, but when she’d told her mum about it, she’d reprimanded her and told her to forget him. That was all. Forget about him. That was the only thing she’d said about it and, of course, that was the very thing a heartbroken teenager was incapable of doing.
Evie couldn’t remember a single time when her mother had offered her any useful advice at all, which was probably why Esther’s tirade was so startling to her now.
‘But I –’
‘No buts!’ Esther said, holding a stern finger up in the air. ‘You have a responsibility to both father and child.’
They sat in silence for a moment, Evie absorbing Esther’s words. Instinctively she knew that Esther had her best interests at heart and that she’d listen to her – really listen to her – if she had anything else to say.
‘I just wanted something of my own,’ she said at last.
Esther frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Evie sighed and her slim shoulders sank a little. ‘I can’t explain it,’ she said.
‘Try,’ Esther said, and Evie looked into the pale blue eyes which were examining her so closely that it almost hurt. Growing up in a household full of women, it had been easy to be overlooked. Her mother had always been so obsessed about Hamilton Roses doing well, and Celeste had always had enough on her plate working alongside their mother and Gertie too. So Evie felt as if she’d more or less grown up alone.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she said. ‘I adore my sisters and I’m sure I only ever needed to ask if I wanted anything, but they were always so busy growing up. I felt like they never had time for me. I always felt so – so young. I was always in the way. “Go and play somewhere else, Evie,” they’d say or, “I haven’t got time right now – come back later.” And Mum was always working during the day and going out to parties in the evenings. I never really had anyone to be with.’ She paused.
‘You mean you’re having a baby in order to stop being lonely?’ Esther asked.
‘No,’ Evie said. ‘Well, maybe partly. It’s more than that, though. I feel I’ve got all this love in me. Sometimes it scares me and I know that my sisters don’t need it – not really. Celeste has always been such a loner. She’s always taken care of herself in her own way, and Gertie would rather look for answers in a romantic novel than ever think to ask me for advice. But this baby – this baby –’
‘Can’t ever be a substitute for what’s lacking in your own life,’ Esther said gently.
‘I know that,’ Evie said. ‘But I know I can be a good mother. I just know it! And I don’t need anyone else to help me do that.’
Esther shook her head. ‘We always need somebody else. Don’t be going through life thinking you can cope on your own. Sure, you might be able to for a while, but it’s a pretty lonely existence, I can tell you.’
Evie looked at Esther. ‘How did you cope when your husband died?’
‘I didn’t. I fell apart. After losing Sally, it was almost too much to bear. I’ve never very much liked my own company, you see.’
Evie frowned. ‘But you’ve lived alone for so many years.’
‘I didn’t have much choice, did I?’
‘You could have moved in with us sooner,’ Evie said.
‘With your mother?’
Esther’s horrified tone of voice made Evie smile. ‘Ah, yes. That might have been tricky.’ They lapsed into silence again and then Evie gave a little sigh. ‘I’ve never talked to anyone like this.’
‘Not even your mother?’ Esther asked.
Evie laughed. ‘You’re kidding?’
Esther frowned. She did frowning very well. ‘What would she have said about all this?’
Evie looked thoughtful but then shrugged. ‘I don’t think I would have told her. I would have had to leave home before she threw me out. She always made it perfectly clear that none of us were to disgrace her because she wouldn’t stand for it.’ Evie shook her head at the memory. ‘It seemed so strange to me at the time – she’d tell me these things when I was just fourteen and I hadn’t even been kissed before. “Don’t you bring shame on me!” she’d say. I suppose that was fair enough.’
Esther Martin stared at Evie. ‘She would have thrown you out, and you think that would have been fair enough?’
‘Of course,’ Evie said. ‘If I’d disgraced her.’
Esther shook her head in obvious disapproval.
‘Anyway, I’d never have been able to talk to her like this,’ Evie went on. ‘She never really listened to me. Not that I ever opened up to her or anything. She was always so busy and I didn’t like to bother her. That wouldn’t have been fair. She used to spoil me with gifts and, when you’re a kid, that’s wonderful, isn’t it? You think that’s love. But you need somebody to listen to you too. You need someone who cares.’ She gave another little laugh that had no joy in it whatsoever, as if she was just coming to terms with the true nature of her mother at last. ‘I once tried to talk to her about a boy I’d fallen in love with, but she changed the conversation around to when she’d first fallen in love, so I just gave up.’
Esther picked up Evie’s hands again.
‘But you’re a good listener,’ Evie told her.
‘There’s not much else for me to do these days,’ Esther said.
‘Did you used to listen to your daughter?’
Esther looked confused. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We used to talk for hours.’
‘Hours?’ Evie said incredulously.
‘Oh, yes.’ Esther’s eyes misted over as she remembered. ‘We used to go for really long walks along the river, chattering away about everything and nothing. Mostly nothing. I really wish I could remember what it was we talked about, but my memory isn’t so good these days.’
‘I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like,’ Evie said. ‘I mean, I can for you, but I can’t imagine that with me and my mum.’
Esther didn’t say anything but her face seemed to speak volumes and, all of a sudden, Evie was crying.
‘Come here,’ Esther said, putting her arms around Evie as she leaned towards her. ‘I’m here and I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me.’
Down in the kitchen, Lukas was pacing.
‘It was my fault,’ he said. ‘I should never have let her go up that stupid ladder!’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Celeste told him.
‘No,’ Gertie agreed. ‘Once Evie sets her mind to something, nothing and nobody can stop her.’
‘Well, at least she’s okay,’ Celeste said. ‘This evening could have ended in a trip to hospital if she’d fallen. What’s bothering me now is what Esther is doing up there. Why did Evie ask for her?’
Gertie shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’
‘She’s not said anything to you about Esther, has she?’
‘No. Not a word,’ Gertie said. ‘I just thought she was giving Esther’s rooms the once over each week and then giving her a wide berth, but something’s obviously going on.’
Celeste stopped pacing and took a sip of her brandy. Part of her wanted to march up the stairs and find out exactly what was going on between Evie and Esther, but she had to admit that she was still a little afraid of the old woman. But hadn’t Evie been afraid of her too?
‘What on earth is going on?’ Celeste asked, but nobody had an answer for her.
25.
The sound coming from Ludkin and Son at work in the north wing was ear-splittingly loud. Celeste, who’d got up even earlier than normal after finding it impossible to sleep after the whole Evie and Esther thing, had tried to muffle the noise with earplugs and block it out with the radio before finally giving up and leaving the study. Frinton, who’d so far managed to snore his way through the whole morning, left the study, too, with high hopes that his mistress would be heading outside. There was a half-eaten rabbit down by the river which would probably smell even more interesting today, and he was desperate to get back to it.
They were just entering the hallway when Celeste saw Evie.
‘Evie!’ she called. ‘Wait a minute.’
Evie stopped by the barometer which read ‘Change.’ Again. Perhaps it was stuck, Celeste thought, remembering Julian’s offer to have it fixed. But she didn’t have time to worry about the barometer right now.
‘Hey! Are you feeling okay?’ she asked her pale-faced sister.
‘I’m fine,’ Evie said.
‘Are you sure?’ Celeste didn’t look convinced. She’d popped her head round the door of her sister’s bedroom after Esther had finally left but Evie had been asleep. Or pretending to be asleep – she couldn’t be sure. ‘I was so worried about you,’ she told her now. ‘We all were.’
‘There’s nothing to worry about. I just got a bit of a fright, that’s all.’
‘Did you call Lukas this morning? He really wants to speak to you.’
‘It’ll have to wait,’ Evie said.
‘Well, don’t forget, will you?’
Evie sighed. ‘I won’t forget.’
‘So what did you want to see Esther for?’ Celeste asked. She had meant to be more subtle in her line of questioning but it hadn’t exactly worked out, because Evie’s hand was on the doorknob and she was about to flee.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you asked for Esther last night and then spent an eternity talking to her.’
‘So?’
Celeste frowned. ‘I didn’t know you two were friends.’
‘Well, we are,’ Evie said, her face impassive.
‘Right,’ Celeste said nonplussed. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know,’ Evie said.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean, you don’t know everything, do you?’
‘How can I be expected to know everything, especially when people keep things from me?’ Celeste said, not liking the direction their conversation was taking.
‘Perhaps if you talked to me more, you might know a thing or two,’ Evie said and Celeste could see that her eyes were filling with tears.
‘Evie,’ she said softly, reaching a hand out towards her sister and flinching when she backed away. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t been there for you, but you know how mad and busy everything’s been since I came back.’
‘But everything is always mad and busy around here,’ Evie pointed out. ‘You’ve got to make time. Esther makes time for me.’
‘Esther’s retired. She has nothing else but time,’ Celeste said, beginning to get annoyed now. ‘Evie, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she said.
‘Well, something’s obviously bothering you. Come on – talk to me.’
Evie looked at her sister and, for a brief moment, Celeste thought she was about to say something, but suddenly there was a colossal sound of falling plaster or timbers or ceiling, or perhaps a combination of all three at once, from the north wing, followed by a torrent of expletives. Celeste’s eyes widened and she was torn between running to see what had happened and staying right there with her sister. The north wing won.
‘Wait right here,’ she said, pointing a determined finger at the spot where her sister was standing, but, as Celeste turned to go, the front door opened and Evie disappeared into the garden, slamming the door behind her in reproach. Celeste’s heart sank, and she couldn’t help feeling that she had failed yet again.
It was so unfair that there was nobody around to take the phone call or fulfil the order. So unfair and so typical, Gertie thought as she heard the cut-glass voice on the other end of the phone.
‘Hello? It’s Samantha Stanton.’
Gertie knew exactly who it was, and her heart raced at the sound of James’s wife.
‘Hello, Mrs Stanton. It’s Gertrude here. How can I help?’ she asked, all politeness as she dug her short nails into the palm of her left hand.
‘I’d like a few container roses delivered. Five, I think, would do the job. Would it be possible to have them today? My gardener is coming and I should like to get them planted. I’m not fussy what they are – just something that’s flowering right now. Red if possible’
Red, yes, Gertie thought. Red for anger. Red for danger. Red for the blood Gertie would like to spill.
She shook her head, dispelling her negative thoughts.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll get something to you as soon as I can.’
She was shaking when she put the phone down and stood in the cool dark hallway for a moment until her heart rate returned to something approaching normality.
‘Okay,’ she told herself, ‘you can do this. Samantha Stanton is just another customer who wants some roses. You will choose them and you will deliver them and that will be an end of it.’ Still, as she headed out into the garden, she couldn’t help wishing the task hadn’t fallen to her.
Gertie chose five fabulous red Hamilton roses called Constable – a plant named after the famous artist who had painted all along the Stour Valley. Constable was a large healthy plant with the voluptuous flowers of the Bourbon rose, which had been so popular in the nineteenth-century. It also yielded a perfect old rose scent and was a popular choice with florists because of its tall, straight stems. Indeed, they had vases full of them in the manor on special occasions.
Cursing the absence of her sisters when she needed them most, Gertie loaded the van with the five container roses and drove the short distance into the village to the Stantons’ house, parking on the immaculate tarmac drive. She sat in the car as she gathered her thoughts. Did James know about this order, she wondered? Probably not; otherwise, he would have offered to collect it himself and contrived a meeting with her at the manor. Or would he have? After she’d witnessed the tender scene between him and his w
ife, Gertie really didn’t know what to expect from him anymore. All she knew was that she wanted to speak to him and that he wasn’t answering her texts, which was making her doubt their relationship for the first time. What was going on? She desperately needed to see him to find out. The thought that he might just have been using her for all this time, with no thought of their future at all, made her more anxious than she wanted to admit. She didn’t want to acknowledge that at all. Not yet. Not when there was still hope that she might hear from him.
She took a deep breath, trying to quench the anger that was boiling inside her. She had to think of the job in hand and get the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible.
The barn conversion was pretty impressive with its enormous windows and neat black timber. It wasn’t the sort of property Gertie liked, but she could see its attraction all the same. James had told her that the place was nothing but lofty, draughty spaces and that he was looking forward to buying a teeny, tiny property with her one day – somewhere they could snuggle down together and keep warm and cosy – and it was that image Gertie held in her mind as she knocked on the front door and waited.
It took a while for Samantha to reach the front door, opening it from her wheelchair.
‘Ah, Gertrude, isn’t it?’ she said, her voice clear and clipped and her brilliant green eyes looking up at her.
‘Yes,’ Gertie said, looking down at the figure in the wheelchair. There was no denying that she was a beautiful woman. With a mass of fair hair which reminded Gertie – unsurprisingly – of a horse. She had the kind of even features and flawless skin that most women can only dream about.
‘Leave the roses over there by the wall and then come inside whilst I write you a cheque.’
Gertie returned to the car, took the roses out and went back to the house. The hallway was enormous and the tiled floor echoed as Gertie walked across it. Finding Samantha in the living room, she entered and, almost immediately, Clyde the greyhound left his basket and ambled across the room to greet her.
‘He certainly seems to like you,’ Samantha said with a gentle smile.
Gertie could feel herself blushing and hoped that she wasn’t giving herself away. ‘We have a dog at the manor,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Clyde can smell him.’