Daisychain Summer - Elizabeth Elgin

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course I will. Not a lot of use being at home, come to think of it; no one there. I’ll just nip back to Pendenys and pick up a few odds and ends. Won’t be long. We’ll have a pot of tea when I get back. Chin up, Julia?’

      Gently he kissed her forehead. Always there when she needed him? And he always would be, just as he would always love her, though please God she would never know.

      ‘Only be a few minutes,’ he smiled. ‘And then I hope to meet my godson. He’s well?’

      ‘Drew’s fine – wonderful – walking and talking. But hurry back, Nathan – please?’

      Exactly on time the train from King’s Cross to Edinburgh pulled into York station and Julia wished she could have brought Drew to see the thundering green monster that hauled it. But her mother was returning from France and it was not a day for watching trains.

      ‘Dearest!’ Julia saw her at once; saw sorrow in her face, the sorrow they all felt.

      ‘Oh, my dear! Awful. So awful.’

      ‘Hush, now.’ Julia took her hand, holding it tightly. ‘The Holdenby train is already in. Let’s get ourselves settled.’

      With luck they would find an empty compartment and her mother could pour out the heartbreak she had carried with her from the bedside of a dying woman.

      ‘I spent last night in London,’ Helen offered when they were seated on the train that would take them to the tiny, one-line station. ‘I wanted to get back, but –’ It had been her instinct to make like a small, bewildered animal for the safeness that was Rowangarth, but there had been things to do. ‘I went to see Anne Lavinia’s solicitors, you see – and her doctor. Only when I told him she had died, would he tell me.’

      ‘I know Aunt had seen him last time she was in London, but she made nothing of it.’

      ‘Well, it wasn’t nothing. She had a serious heart condition; she shouldn’t have been riding that great strong horse. Probably that was why she took a tumble. She didn’t regain consciousness – died not long after we got there.’

      ‘She went the way she’d have wanted to.’ Julia’s mouth was right with hurt. ‘Will it be in France?’ She couldn’t say the word; not burial.

      ‘No. We want to bring her home. She was born at Rowangarth and your Uncle Edward and I want her in the Sutton plot. She’ll be near your Pa. When all the French formalities have been seen to, Edward will come home with – with her.’

      ‘When?’ The train began to move. Julia looked out to see the Minster towers, blinking her eyes against tears.

      ‘A week today, I think it will be. I’ll have to see the vicar. Sad that it couldn’t be Luke to do it.’

      Luke Parkin had a kindly way at burials; gentle-voiced, so those who stood at Holdenby gravesides drew comfort from his compassion. Poor Luke.

      ‘Mother – I don’t want that vicar!’ Not the locum; Luke Parkin’s stand-in, Julia called him derisively. ‘Nathan is home – why can’t he read the service? There’s nothing in canon law, surely, that says he can’t?’

      ‘Oh, but I’d like that. Your aunt would have, too. I phoned Cheyne Walk, by the way. Clemmy and Elliot will come back to Pendenys, of course, when I can give them a date.’

      ‘Of course.’ Julia didn’t want Elliot at the funeral; not standing there, imitating sorrow. And why should he be alive and Andrew dead? ‘Try not to be upset, mother. You know how Aunt Sutton loved horses …’

      ‘Yes, I do. Her solicitor holds her Will, by the way. He wants to see you, Julia.’

      ‘Yes – but not yet.’ That she was her aunt’s sole beneficiary had not slipped her mind, though now it seemed less important than on the day she had learned of it. Just a few days after their wedding, it had been. She and Andrew hadn’t had a honeymoon – not the usual one, because of the war – but 53A, Little Britain had been an enchanted place. Andrew’s cheap lodgings near St Bartholomew’s church had seen their first, fierce loving. She still paid the rent on those rooms; couldn’t bear to let them go. Now, she had two London addresses and decisions would have to be made.

      ‘Try to make it soon, dear. He said things had best be settled quickly. He’s putting her death in The Times obituary – save me the trouble, he said.’

      ‘He’ll charge for it, you know.’

      ‘Doubtless he will but oh!’ Helen covered her face with her hands. ‘It seems that life is slipping away from me. Everyone I love, leaving me one by one.’

      ‘But there’s me, and Drew. We won’t leave you.’ Julia smiled as the train hooted three times as it always did when it neared the bend, half a mile from Holdenby station. ‘And we are almost home, now.’ Soon they would be back within the shelter of Rowangarth’s dear, safe walls and things would not seem so bad. ‘Chin up, dearest.’

      Alice waited in the village shop that was also a Post Office and telephone exchange, glancing up at the clock almost every minute, wondering what could be so important. Julia’s last letter had told her of Aunt Sutton’s death. Dear Aunt Sutton; such a fine lady. Indestructible, somehow. Alice had never linked her with death.

      … I know how much you cared for her and I have ordered flowers for you, Alice. I will write a card, with your name on it. But there is something, more important, and I need you with me.

      Is it possible Tom will allow you to come to London? I’ll telephone, and explain. Can you be at your Post Office at eleven, on Wednesday morning …

      So now she waited, one eye on the clock, glancing all the while through the window at Daisy’s pram.

      Julia had always been dramatic, always spoke before she thought. Marriage and widowhood hadn’t changed her. To her, everything was larger than life; her lows abysmally low; her highs acted out on a pretty pink cloud.

      Alice had passed the letter to Tom who said of course she must go. Daisy would be no trouble, her being on breast milk and sleeping most of the time, though he’d heard London water was dirty, and best boiled – especially if a baby was to drink it.

      ‘It seems that Julia needs you urgent and a few days away will make a change from the quiet, here,’ he’d smiled. ‘Though by the time you get back, there’ll be someone in Willow End …’

      ‘It’s here, Mrs Dwerryhouse,’ called the postmistress from the switchboard at the back of the shop. ‘Just lift the phone, my dear. You’re through, caller,’ she said most professionally, then went to stand at the counter to let it be known she wasn’t listening in. And anyway, she’d be content with Alice’s half of the conversation.

      ‘Julia? What’s the matter? You’ve got me worried.’

      ‘Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to. But I’m coming to London. It’s Aunt’s funeral on Friday and I plan to travel down on Saturday. I’m her executor, you see – me and her solicitor. I’m seeing him on Monday. But could you come down, some time after that – I’d meet you at the station. Daisy will be all right. I’ll get hold of a pram and cot, for her. We’ll stay at Aunt Sutton’s. There’ll be plenty of room – but please come?’

      ‘Julia! Calm down! What’s so awful about seeing a solicitor that you want me there? What’s really the bother?’

      ‘Little Britain, if you must know. I’ve made up my mind to go there!’

      ‘To Andrew’s place? But you haven’t been there since he –’

      ‘No. Not since he died. You understand, Alice, so I want you with me. I’m not brave enough to go alone. Please tell Tom, so he’ll understand. I’m sure he’d let you

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