The Secret of Orchard Cottage: The feel-good number one bestseller. Alex Brown
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went to correct her, but didn’t get the chance before the old lady carried on talking, and besides, April wondered if it really mattered. Especially as she had lost count of the times now that she had reminded her great aunt that her name wasn’t Winnie. And when April had taken the opportunity again over breakfast to find out more about the elusive Winnie, her aunt had given April a baffled look, just as she had last night, before swiftly changing the subject. Not to mention the fact that Edie still hadn’t said a word about Gray; it was as if she really had forgotten he had died, and that in itself was worrying as April knew that her aunt had been very fond of him. Until his death she’d always asked after him when they spoke on the phone and she had never missed his birthday. In fact, when they last visited Edie together, it had been Gray that her aunt had seemed most keen to chat to, even taking him around the orchard and regaling him with stories of how she had enjoyed many summers playing in the fields, running in between the apple and pear trees with her brothers, paying special attention to Robert, April’s grandfather. Gray had said she was very lucid for a woman of her age – she had remembered the tiniest of details, such as the time Robert had found a baby starling with a broken wing and nursed it back to full health before setting it free.
‘That’ll be where your compassion comes from, April,’ Gray had said later in the car on the way home, and April had liked the thought of having inherited something of her grandfather. It was comforting, knowing that a genetic part of him lived on in her. It seemed important to April, with her not having any living relatives left apart from Edie. And April and Gray hadn’t been blessed with babies, despite them both wanting a family – they had tried at the start, soon after the wedding, but then when Gray became ill … it hadn’t seemed important any more. Although still young enough to have a baby, April doubted now that she’d ever be a mother, but she felt very lucky to have Nancy and Freddie in her life. Being their stepmum was a wonderful next-best thing …
‘Now, I shan’t be gone for very long – will you be all right without me for a bit?’ Edie smiled sweetly as she patted the sprig of cherry blossom.
‘Er, um …’ April managed before nodding her head, curious to know what this was all about. ‘You look amazing, Aunty. May I ask where you’re off to?’ she ventured, making a mental note to see if she could have a chat to her aunt’s GP before she went back home – just to see if she, or he, had any concerns too about Edie’s mental health. But her aunt didn’t answer. Instead, she did a blank stare before busying herself by plucking dead leaves from a nearby rhododendron bush. Perhaps she hadn’t heard – maybe Edie’s hearing was diminishing, and April could ask the GP about that too.
April had a little bit of experience of caring for elderly patients, having worked a summer, many years ago, on a geriatric ward as part of her training, but no real first-hand knowledge of dementia. Or memory loss. Perhaps that’s all this was – with the obsessive Aga-cleaning thing, and wandering out and about in her slippers, forgetting to put on her shoes, and of course continually forgetting April’s name – and Edith was in her nineties so it was to be expected … she guessed, hoped. Full-blown dementia could be a very cruel thing. Debilitating, just like Grey’s motor neurone disease was, which had progressively robbed him of the man he used to be. He had kept his independence for as long as was possible though – going to work in a wheelchair with oxygen piped directly into his nostrils, wearing an elastic strap around his head to keep the plastic tube in place. April had admired him for that as he had always hated wearing stuff on his head, ever since childhood when his mum had said she could never get him to keep a hat on even in winter. April hadn’t known this until later in their relationship when she had knitted him a lovely red wool hat as a stocking filler for their first Christmas together. And, to give him his due, Gray had worn the hat a couple of times before stuffing it into his coat pocket, later admitting that hats just drove him mad. She could still see his face now – apologetic but exasperated too, followed by silliness when he had made light of it all by suggesting several ludicrous alternative uses for the hat, culminating in April crying with laughter at the ‘cut in two leg holes to turn it into a pair of woolly pants’ option.
April smiled at the sudden memory before focusing her attentions back to her aunt who was still busy inspecting the rhododendron.
‘Aunty, is everything OK?’ April started.
‘Of course my dear, why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Well, I …’ April paused to take a breath, and changed tack. ‘You look marvellous, where are you off to this afternoon?’
‘To the tea dance of course! My escort will be here soon, and a very dashing chap he is too,’ Edie smiled, making herself look much younger as she pulled a powder compact from a sparkly evening bag that was swinging on a delicate silver chain from her elbow.
‘Oh! I see,’ April said, watching her aunt pat powder across the bridge of her nose. ‘Well, perhaps I can drive you there, where is it?’ she asked, thinking on her feet, for she didn’t want to alarm her aunt by going in gung ho and telling her that a dance on a Tuesday afternoon was very unlikely and perhaps she should go inside and take the ballgown off. What if it just added to her confusion? There had been no mention of her going to a dance over breakfast so it was obviously a spur of the moment thing. Or what if Edie got upset or cried with disappointment? It could happen – April vaguely recalled watching a documentary about Alzheimer’s where an elderly lady had sobbed like a little girl and it was heartbreaking, distressing, pitiful and poignant and there was no way she was going to put her aunt through that unnecessarily. Right now, Edie could very well be thinking she was young again, waiting for a suitor to arrive to escort her to the ball, so to burst that bubble of joy was the last thing April wanted to do. But how long should she let her aunt stand on the path waiting for the imaginary man to not show up? April had no idea, and ordinarily would have rung Gray and said, ‘Guess what …’ and they would have chatted about it and worked out the best course of action between them, but …
April pressed her fingertips into her palm and was just about to put an arm around her aunt to gently guide her back into the cottage when a woman’s voice trilled out from the turning-point piece of tarmac where April’s Beetle was parked.
‘COO-EEEEEEEEE. Only me!’ April swivelled on her heel. ‘Ooh, Edie, you do look a picture!’ a vivacious, sixty-something woman chuckled as she swept a glittery pink pashmina around her shoulders and practically skipped on up the path towards them, her super-strong perfume permeating the air. ‘The general is going to be so very pleased to see you.’
April marvelled at the transformation in her aunt. She was absolutely glowing at the mention of the general, whoever he was, but there was something more. A sort of luminance radiating from within Edie now, as if she had suddenly come alive. And clearly wasn’t imagining there to be a suitor after all! April was now even more fascinated to see how things were going to unfold.
‘And I’m so looking forward to seeing him,’ Edie cooed, popping the powder compact back inside her bag. ‘But where’s the bus?’ she asked, leaning forward as if to scan the lane.
‘Oh, not to worry, the general had to park it a bit further back near the main road,’ the woman said brightly, and then turned to April with a saucy look on her face and added, ‘it’s getting very bushy down this end!’ before doing an extremely filthy laugh.
‘Yes, I really should—’
‘I’m Audrey by the way,’ the woman said, letting the pashmina slip down into the crooks of her elbows, revealing a tight, low-cut bodycon dress, before April could offer to get the hedgerow sorted out too before she returned home – maybe a local gardener? April made a mental note to ask Molly later if there was someone she could pay to keep on top of her aunt’s garden and the section of the single-track lane that was her responsibility, as she was quite sure Edie didn’t have the means to pay for help around the home. And April had some funds, a third of Gray’s modest life insurance money (she hadn’t thought it fair to keep it all, so had split it with Nancy and Freddie), not very much, but certainly enough to help her aunt get the garden straight. ‘I run the weekly speed-dating tea dance …’
‘Ooh, sounds intriguing,’ April said, fascinated