Daisychain Summer. Elizabeth Elgin
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I’ll come, Julia. When I know the train times, I’ll write you. I’ll send the letter to Aunt Sutton’s – and yes, I do know the address! I’ve stayed there before, remember?’
‘I know you have. That’s why I need you with me. Bless you for coming – and say thank you to Tom, for me.’
‘Goodness, mother, I didn’t know a small boy needed so much paraphernalia!’ Julia put her head round the sitting-room door. ‘Be with you in a tick. Almost finished packing, then we’ll have a sherry. I think I’ve earned one!’
‘You could always leave him with me …’
‘Thanks, dearest, but no. He’s got to meet Daisy.’ And more important, Alice.
The door closed with a bang. Her daughter had never learned, Helen thought, the smallest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, to enter and leave a room in a lady-like manner. Only she could hurtle into a room, setting it into chaos at once, or leave with a door-slamming that set ornaments dancing.
Thank you, God, for Julia and Drew, she had whispered inside her as she stood at her sister-in-law’s grave. Had it not been for Nathan’s kindness, she must surely have broken down and sobbed, and that would never have done. So she had listened instead to the gentle, sincere voice reading the burial service – so like Luke Parkin’s, the poor dear man – and thought about anything save that Anne Lavinia was leaving them.
Another Sutton gone; one more from the good days, she had thought with pain; days that would never come back.
Things were changing. Now, young people danced all the time; an act of defiance, almost, to convince themselves that the fighting was over and never, ever, would they go to war again. So they laughed too loudly, some of them, and smoked too much and danced foxtrots and two-steps and lately, a dance called a Tango.
And young women cut their hair defiantly short and wore tight brassieres to flatten their breasts as if it were important they should look more like willowy boys than girls. Now, picture houses flourished, with two different films each week, even though there had never been such unemployment with mills and factories going bankrupt every day of the week.
Seaside outings seemed to have become essential and charabancs set out every Sunday morning as if everyone was frantic to live a little before people who should know better started another war.
I think, when the living is vacant, that Nathan should be our next parish priest. Helen directed her thoughts to the flower-covered coffin. It would be splendid to have Nathan with us. He’d be such a good influence on Drew; Drew needs a man, Anne Lavinia – even you, who had little time for men in your life, must agree. Maybe, even, Nathan could give Drew his lessons. I don’t want to send him away to school. Not as they had sent Robert and Giles away. So many precious young years gone, but they hadn’t known, she and John, that neither of their sons had so few years left to live.
I shall miss you, dear Anne Lavinia, but I will never forget you. Not John’s sister. Two of them gone, now. Only Edward left, of the three of them.
She looked over to where Edward and Clementina stood. Clemmy was heavily veiled; always went too far, when it came to a public show of grief. Jaws clenched, Edward stared ahead. Remembering, was he; thinking back to the way it had been at Rowangarth, when they were all little?
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Helen had stooped, taking a handful of Holdenby earth.
Goodbye, Anne Lavinia Sutton …
Once the train had come to a standstill, Alice laid Daisy on the seat, reaching for her cases, placing them one by one on the station platform. Then she scooped up her daughter.
‘We’re here in London and oh, it’s such a place you’d never believe it, Daisy Dwerryhouse!’
Carefully she stepped down, and then she saw them. Julia did not move nor take Alice into her arms, kiss her, say how glad she was to see her. Instead, her eyes spoke for her.
I’m sorry, they said. I know it shouldn’t have been this way, but try to understand?
A small boy held her hand. He was sturdy and he was fair. His hair was carefully parted and looked as if it had recently been combed. He hopped from one foot to the other, excited by the noise and bustle.
‘I had to bring him,’ Julia whispered. ‘I promised I would, next time I went on a train. And you’ve got to come to terms with the way it was.’ She held out her arms for Daisy. ‘Let me have her – show her to him?’
Bemused, Alice did as she asked, running her tongue round lips gone suddenly dry.
‘Drew, darling,’ Julia said softly, ‘this is my dearest friend, Mrs Dwerryhouse and this –’ she bent low so the small boy might see the child she held, ‘– is baby Daisy. Say hullo.’
‘Hullo, baby,’ he repeated obediently, then gazing up, he held out a small, gloved hand and whispered, ‘Hullo, lady.’
Alice looked down at her son; at the child of rape she had wanted never to love, and saw only a small boy, not yet two years old; saw Julia’s son.
‘Hullo, Drew,’ she said softly, bending down, cupping the small face in her hands. ‘You are so like Giles, except that you have Andrew’s eyes …’
The child pursed his mouth, frowning. Giles and Andrew were words he did not know and Mrs Dwerryhouse was a word too difficult to say. So instead he smiled brightly, pointing to the engine that still hissed steam and puffed coal smoke.
‘Puffing train,’ he said.
‘Nice puffing train,’ Alice nodded, kissing Julia warmly. ‘It’s all right, love. You’ve done well. He’s grown into a fine little boy.’
‘Let’s get a taxi.’ Julia closed her eyes briefly, relieved that the meeting of mother and son had gone better than she had dared hope, holding up a hand to call a porter. ‘Soon be at Montepelier Mews. Sparrow knew where to lay hands on a pram and cot.’
‘Sparrow? I’d forgotten …’
‘But she’s been looking after Andrew’s place for me – you knew that. I sent her the key to Aunt’s house – asked her to light fires, air the beds. She’s there, now.’ Emily Smith, who had cleaned for Andrew and devotedly washed and ironed his shirts. His cockney sparrow, he’d called her. ‘I send her wages each month – surely you remember? She still talks about Andrew as if he’ll soon walk through the door, back from Bart’s, and asking how her rheumatics are. It’s as if she wiped the war from her mind. Bless you for coming, Alice. It’s going to make going back to Little Britain so much easier.’
‘Do you have to go back?’ Come to think of it, did she have to keep up the lease on Andrew’s lodgings, act like Sparrow who tried not to admit he would never come home?
‘Yes, I do, but I’ll tell you about it when we get to Aunt’s house.’
‘Yours now, don’t forget.’
‘Not quite. Almost, though. Still a few things to be seen to before it’s legally mine. And I haven’t been in Hyde Park, yet. I was waiting for you …’
‘Then we’ll take the children there, tomorrow,’ Alice said firmly. What was Julia up to? Why the urgency of this visit? She offered her hand to Drew. ‘Come along, Drew. Take lady’s hand.’
Her eyes smiled into Julia’s. It’s all right, they said. At least my problem is solved – now let’s get you sorted out, Julia MacMalcolm!
Aunt Sutton’s little mews house behind Montpelier Place had changed little, Alice thought, since she had stayed there that enchanted May, seven years ago. Then, she had been maid and chaperon to Julia Sutton, her employer’s daughter, and never had she had such a time! It had been in nearby Hyde Park that Julia and Andrew met and –
‘Sparrow! Here they are! Here are Mrs Dwerryhouse and Daisy.’
Alice