by Nicola Slade
‘It looks like it,’ I laughed. ‘Although I believe he only wanted her as an unpaid housekeeper. Judith will be relieved and Miss Peebles will be able to flaunt her noble suitor in front of the very people who pitied her when she was jilted. Mrs Peebles came here hoping for a whirlwind romance for her daughter so a titled father-in-law will be the icing on the cake.’
I went into the drawing-room to make sure we were ready for any more unexpected and frankly unwanted visitors, when a glance out of the window made me gasp.
‘Heavens, Granny, it’s Matron. She’s coming this way. No…’ She glowered and made for the hall. ‘It’s you she wants to see. Here, I’ll untie your apron and you sit down with your knitting. I’ll open the door and then make some tea. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone with her for long. All she wants to do is bask in your aristocratic glory!’
Poor Granny, but after all, she’s the one who dinned into our heads that noblesse oblige is a worthy concept.
Before I went to the front door I had time to warn Addy and Judith to lie low.
‘Matron, what a delightful surprise. Do come in.’
I made the tea, thanking my stars that Alix had made scones, so I looked in on Mrs Peebles who was alone in the drawing-room next door.
‘Would you like tea, Mrs Peebles?’ I asked, looking round the room but not finding her daughter and the aristocratic suitor.
‘That’s kind, dear,’ she nodded. ‘I’m all on my own this afternoon. Mrs Mortimer is up at the Hall and Pamela has gone for a walk with Major Larking. I believe they plan to take tea at the White Horse.’ Her smile was almost a smirk and I didn’t blame her. Only a week’s acquaintance was indeed a whirlwind romance and I thought Major Larking wouldn’t want to let an heiress slip, nor Pamela a war hero.
I fetched her tea and then made up a tray for our own drawing-room. Time to rescue Granny.
‘How charming,’ cried Matron who was dressed to impress, in a feathered toque and who today smelled strongly of California Poppies which almost disguised her habitual aura of disinfectant. By pinching my nose I managed not to start sneezing or coughing, which proves I really am growing out of these “vulgar displays”.
‘I lead a lonely life up at the hospital, you know, dear Lady Elspeth,’ Matron sounded plaintive. ‘The nurses are good enough sorts but not quite… I was in attendance when their Majesties and Princess Mary visited Netley, you know,’ she said with a complacent smirk.
‘Such a treat,’ said Granny through gritted teeth as she inclined her head slightly. Matron simpered even more.
I poured tea and handed round scones, then sat down to enjoy the spectacle of my shy grandmother cornered by a social climber. I watched with interest, particularly because I was aware that neither Alix nor Henry liked the woman and that both had been repelled by her harsh treatment of the poor young man who died.
Matron had not bothered to hide her disapproval of Judith Evershed. Why was that? A simple case of dislike at first sight? Unfortunate but not unusual.
I suddenly remembered Judith saying she thought she had met Matron somewhere but might have been mistaken. Was she? Did it matter?
‘Another scone, Matron?’ I held out the plate. ‘I’m afraid we have no cream but the jam is homemade and we have plenty of that.’
‘Delicious,’ enthused Matron. ‘Homemade you say?’
‘By my grandmother,’ I told her, hiding a smile as Granny looked resigned. ‘My sisters and I picked the blackberries from… er, from up on the hills.’(Certainly not from the park at Groom Hall, oh dear no…)
‘How gracious you are, Lady Elspeth. I feel it such an honour to be invited to take tea with you. Do tell me about your ancestral home. In Scotland, is it not?’
I know that Granny hates being lionised about her family, so I helped out by describing the castle – which I had never seen – and touched lightly on the one London Season that was all that Granny had endured.
Matron was practically drooling at this glimpse of aristocratic high life and almost fainted when she realised that Granny had been presented to Queen Victoria. I omitted the unfortunate episode with the Queen’s slippers, and Granny’s stony expression relaxed as she realised I was merely giving our visitor what she craved.
‘We think it so noble of you, Matron,’ I cooed, having softened her up. ‘To devote your life to the sick and needy. Indeed, my grandmother has often wondered that you stay here in such a small hospital, when surely your talents should take you to a big London hospital at the very least?’
‘I cannot deny,’ she preened herself, ‘that I have served in some of the great hospitals but the War calls upon us all to make sacrifices and I pride myself that Groom Hall runs like clockwork.’
I waited hopefully but she said no more until she fiddled with her napkin. ‘How does your guest, Miss Evershed, go on? Dr Pemberton is cautiously optimistic that she will recover, in time. Does she have any recollection of how she came to fall into the ha-ha?’
There it was again. Almost word for word as Major Larking had phrased it. Why did they ask? Or was it just curiosity and, as was natural in the circumstances, a kind enquiry?
Henry had been right in what he had not actually said to me, that I was making a mountain out of a non-existent molehill and should abandon my foolish notions.
I gave myself a mental shake and stood up, smiling at our visitor. Granny also rose and held out her hand.
‘This has been such a delightful afternoon,’ she said as Matron hastily rose too. ‘I’m afraid I must leave you now.’
To my amusement Granny nodded graciously and sailed out of the drawing-room, leaving me to speed Matron on her way.
‘My grandmother has been advised to take a rest after tea,’ I confided. ‘She is wonderful for her age but her doctor insists.’ I led her to the door and shook hands, saying earnestly, ‘It was so kind of you, Matron, to visit Granny. She leads a quiet life and this has been such a treat.’
As I closed the door on her fulsome thanks I uttered Granny’s favourite phrase. “Such a treat” is what she says if she’s cornered into an unwanted conversation so that people feel flattered, although she promptly escapes. We all use it, though not Mother of course. She wouldn’t recognise a polite evasion if it bit her on the nose.
Chapter Twelve
I had not told a lie to Matron after all because Granny looked sternly at me and announced that she would be resting until dinner time and did not wish to be disturbed. I nodded meekly and ambled into the kitchen where I had cats aplenty, plus the dog, to keep me company. Dinner needed very little attention apart from heating up the lamb stew, boiling and mashing the potatoes, and adding carrots and parsnips. Henry’s crustless apple pie was ready to be heated up which left only the custard.
My sisters drifted in one at a time, Alix very pleased with the pair of lisle stockings she had bought in Bracewell’s department store.
‘When I marry my officer,’ she announced, ‘I shall wear silk stockings, but in the meantime these will do nicely.’
I examined them, trying not to show envy. ‘Are you sure this was the last pair?’
She nodded and was about to speak when Addy wandered in, having obtained full marks in the exercises Judith had given her. She looked at us and sighed heavily.
‘It’s always three sisters, isn’t it?’ She flung herself theatrically on to the sagging chaise longue that had lived in the kitchen since Papa evicted it from the drawing-room during one of his affluent spells. It was ugly and not particularly comfortable but Grandpapa had loved to lie there during his last months, watching the family in full spate
We four children had slept on it, squabbled on it and pretended it was a dragon we kept as a pet, and not so long ago we three girls had huddled together in a misery so bleak we couldn’t even cry.
‘Possibly,’ I replied, feeling my way as Addy reclined in silence. ‘What do you mean, three sisters?’
‘Well, think about it,’ she said, raising her eyebr
ows. ‘Russian sisters glooming around the orchard; Brontë sisters spouting poetry on the moors; Macbeth’s three secret, black and midnight hags – that’s obviously you two more than me...’
‘Thank you,’ Alix sniffed. ‘The Bennet sisters aren’t gloomy hags.’
‘Actually,’ said Addy, with awful sarcasm. ‘There are five of them. It still counts though: you’re Jane, Christy is Elizabeth and I’ll be Lydia.’
‘The trollop?’ Alix grinned. ‘The March sisters aren’t hags either.’
‘There you go again.’ Addy was losing patience. ‘Probably because there are four of them.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘There are only three of us now that…’
She stopped abruptly, bit her lip then plunged ahead defiantly. ‘I suppose Bertie counts as Beth,’ she faltered as Alix and I glared at her.
‘You’re certainly Amy,’ Alix snapped, looking upset as she rose and headed towards the scullery. ‘The whining, youngest one.’ She halted by the door and added, ‘You forgot Goneril and Regan and their tiresome ninny of a sister, Cordelia.’
‘What’s brought this on, Addy?’ I intervened hastily.
‘Mrs Mortimer,’ she said.
I waited but she seemed to have shot her bolt.
‘Well?’ I could be enigmatic too, if I wanted.
‘She cornered me before luncheon when I went to fetch a book that Judith wanted and I got a lecture about the manners of modern young women. She doesn’t approve of large families, she says.’
‘We’re not a large family, but pay no attention to her.’ Alix, calm again, reappeared from the scullery carrying a new jar of bramble jelly and proceeded to make jam sandwiches. ‘Here, this is our tea, the lodgers are all up at the Hall. Mrs Mortimer is worried sick, Addy. Her son’s not doing well and Dr Pemberton is making noises about possible amputation.’
‘Henry told me Matron had words with Mrs Mortimer about him,’ I put in. ‘Did you hear that she invited herself to tea with Granny this afternoon? Matron, I mean. I wished you’d been there to share the burden.’
‘Remember what Papa said about Miss Hereford?’ Out of the blue Addy started to giggle. ‘He said she was an acidulated spinster who, when she dies, will be returned to sender, unopened. I think the same applies to Matron.’
‘Addy!’ Alix jumped on her. ‘You’re not supposed to say things like that. Don’t let the lodgers hear you, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Hah!’ Addy smirked in triumph. ‘And you’re not supposed to know what it means, or you, Christabel. So there.’
‘Don’t be vulgar,’ I said sanctimoniously. ‘I know you have a French précis to write for Judith, go up to your room and do it before dinner.’
When she sulked off out of the room Alix raised an eyebrow.
‘Were you tired of her or do you have news?’
I told her what I had discussed with Henry. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind him knowing what we’ve been talking about, he’s very sensible. I know it sounds ridiculous, Alix, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Henry’s suggested Matron as another possible suspect and I can’t help agreeing.’
Alix nodded. ‘She’s efficient, I’ll say that for her, if all you want is sparkling clean wards, floors you could eat off, sheets with knife-sharp creases, staff on their toes and patients who lie quietly in their beds. But a ward full of convalescent men can’t possibly be neat and tidy, they’ve suffered so much, yet she pulls them up sharply as though they were at prep school or a reformatory. It’s kindness and distraction from their situation that they need and she hasn’t a compassionate bone in her body. In fact I think she has ice in her veins.’
She looked thoughtful. ‘Matron certainly had the means and the opportunity but are we saying she could have given Lt Trevelyan something in his sleep to tidy him out of the way?’
I shrugged. ‘I see what you mean.’ she sighed. ‘It seems an unduly harsh way of keeping a ward shipshape. Still, I suppose we’ll never know.’
‘Actually, Alix, I didn’t tell you what Henry said about Lt Trevelyan…’ I glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘There’s no time now, I’ll tell you when we’ve gone to bed.’
I was right about the time because Granny appeared in the doorway.
‘Hasn’t anyone cleared Mrs Peebles’s tea things yet?’ she asked and I jumped up.
‘I’ll do it now,’ I apologised. ‘I’ll lay the table for dinner in there too.’
The stew, though homely, was comforting on a chilly evening and was much appreciated in both houses. Even Mrs Mortimer stopped looking bleakly anxious and asked me to present her compliments to the chef.
I stared, because it was an open secret that the chef was either Granny or me, and to my amazement something like a twinkle gleamed faintly in her Gorgon eye. The twinkle was succeeded by the ghost of a smile as the door was pushed open and in danced the two black kittens, Harald and Tostig.
‘Oh my goodness.’ I rushed to pick them up and was surprised when Mrs Mortimer interrupted me.
‘Let them be,’ she said in a softer, kindlier tone than I’d ever heard from her.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I looked round at the two Peebleses as well. ‘We do try to keep them in our own house but these two aren’t very old yet and they can vanish in a puff of smoke.’
‘We like them,’ declared Mrs Peebles, bending down to stroke Tostig. ‘They’ve been sneaking into this side of the house for days but we didn’t give them away. We thought you would banish them.’
Mrs Mortimer nodded. ‘Ay find it very comforting,’ she said wistfully. ‘The old tabby creeps in with me at night; a cat on your bed is company, particularly in the hours after midnight. Please don’t feel you have to remove them for our sake.’ I saw her lip quiver and remembered what Alix had told me about her son.
Even Miss Peebles managed to smile at the kittens and I was impressed. Major Larking’s courtship must be progressing satisfactorily.
‘Poor woman,’ Granny said when Alix told her about young Lt Mortimer’s worsening condition. ‘You say the old quack up there is planning to amputate his arm? I trust his mother will insist on a second opinion, and if she finds the cats a comfort, let them go next door and welcome. We must never lose sight of the fact that these women spend every waking moment in a state of mental agony and that a kind word or deed can make all the difference in helping them struggle through the day.’
Addy had not been paying attention and was clearly deep in thought. She stopped staring into space and burst into the conversation.
‘I’d really love a raven as a pet. Christy, do you think…’
‘You’ve been reading Edgar Allan Poe again, haven’t you?’ I sighed and hoped it was yet another passing phase. Addy has the persistence of a woodpecker and I could foresee days, perhaps weeks, when we would be besieged with demands and lectures on the topic of a new pet. I have disturbing memories of the time she brought home a grass snake only to find it was actually an adder. How she escaped being bitten I’ve never understood.
She was predictably aggrieved. ‘I just thought it would be good to take to school and scare the girls, so they’d leave me alone.’
This was new and I peered at her. ‘You’re not at school at the moment, Addy. Have you seen some of the girls in town? Are they being beastly again?’
‘Not really,’ she shrugged. ‘I did see Clara Philpott yesterday and she made a catty remark but I somehow stumbled and knocked her off her bicycle, so that was all right. I ignore the girls anyway, most of the time, but a raven would be top-hole. I could teach it to talk and it would ride on my shoulder.’
I carefully didn’t look at Granny or Alix but agreed with Addy that a raven did sound an interesting sort of pet.
‘That’s ripping, Christy,’ she squealed, leaping up and hugging me. ‘I’ll start looking at once. Where do you think…? I know they have them in the Tower of London.’
Alix hastily attracted her attention. ‘Don’t forget,’ she said solemnly, ‘if the ravens leave the Tower, it’
s said that the kingdom will fall. You don’t want that on your conscience so perhaps you should start by looking up ravens in the library.’
‘You do realise we’ll end up with a raven,’ Alix complained later as we snuggled down in my bed for a chat. ‘They have enormous vicious claws and beaks and we’ll all be scarred for life. You know Addy will move heaven and earth to find one and it’ll terrorise the cats, drive the dog mad, and stop the hens laying.’
‘On the contrary,’ I countered. ‘The cats will gang up on the poor bird, the dog will become its faithful slave and it’ll move into the hen house and start laying eggs which the hens will hatch. Addy will make a fortune out of training and selling raven chicks.’ I giggled. ‘We can only pray she’ll forget all about it and come up with some other mad scheme.’
‘I’ll cross my fingers,’ was Alix’s wry response. ‘Now, tell me what Henry said about Lt Trevelyan.’
I told her and she sighed heavily.
‘I’m not surprised he dismissed your ideas, Christy, and as for fretting about Lt Trevelyan, we’ve been over that again and again. It’s begun to sound just as painfully thin as your German spy nonsense. Dr Pemberton says Trevelyan died in his sleep. That’s certainly what his family have been told. If you’re right, what happened, and how?’
‘I thought some kind of drug at first,’ I said slowly. ‘I think, though, that it would be awkward to arrange so – a pillow over his face? He couldn’t stop it happening.’
I shrugged in the dark and Alix sighed. ‘Henry’s right, you know, about some of them just wanting to die. Mostly they cheer up when it’s time to leave, but they’re all damaged and not just physically. Poor young Trevelyan had no chance of any kind of life, you know. Maybe someone did decide to help him out of his torment… Just leave it, Christy.’
I was drowsing when she wriggled herself comfortable. ‘I can’t see any connection between putting a poor young man out of his misery, if that’s what might have happened, and attacking a perfectly respectable schoolmistress. Are you absolutely sure Judith didn’t just slip on the bank and land in the ha-ha?’