Coming Home (106 page)

Judith shook her head. ‘No.’

‘And you don't write to him?’

‘No.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That's not true.’

‘Really.’ She looked at him. ‘Nothing.’ But she was useless at lying.

‘You loved Edward.’

‘Everybody does. I think he is a man born to be loved. Fairy godmothers must have been thick on the ground when he was born.’

‘I didn't mean that.’

Judith dropped her eyes. In the garden, the trees rustled in the wind, and a couple of gulls wheeled, screaming, high overhead. When she stayed silent, he spoke again.

‘I know how it was. I knew, that last Sunday, when you were all sitting out in the garden at Nancherrow, before lunch. And Edward and I brought the drinks out, and you looked up and saw him, and there was an aura of such joy about you that it seemed like a lightbulb being switched on. And he went over to speak to you, and it was as if some magic, glittering ring enclosed the pair of you…held you apart from the rest of us.’

She found it almost unbearable to be so reminded. She said, ‘Perhaps that's what I wanted you all to think.’

‘After lunch, you both left us, and came to see Mrs Boscawen. And then Edward turned up at the cove, but we never saw you again because you'd gone. You'd left Nancherrow. Something happened, didn't it?’

He knew. There was little point in denial.

‘Yes. It happened. It happened, and I thought he felt as deeply about me as I felt about him. I think I always loved Edward, Jeremy, right from the first moment I ever met him. But then, there is something irresistible about a person who can make the most humdrum of occasions into a celebration. And he always had that incredible gift, even when he was a schoolboy.’ She turned to smile at Jeremy. A wry smile, but he responded instantly with his old, encouraging grin. ‘But you, of all people, know about that.’

‘Yes.’

‘I imagined that he felt the same about me. But of course he didn't.’

‘He was immensely fond of you.’

‘But not taken with the idea of a permanent commitment.’

‘He's too young for commitment.’

‘That's what he told me.’

‘And you let that end it all?’

‘I'd gone too far, and said too much. I had to back away.’

‘And leave Nancherrow?’

‘I couldn't stay. Not in the house, not with him, and the family. Not seeing him every day. Surely you understand?’

‘I can understand the end of love. But not the end of friendship.’

‘I wouldn't know. Athena might know, perhaps, but I'm not as experienced as she is.’

‘Are you still in love with Edward?’

‘I try not to be. But I suppose you never fall out of love with the man who was the first love of your life.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Nineteen. Just.’

‘So young.’

She said, ‘I'll be all right.’

‘Do you worry about him?’

‘All the time. At the back of my mind. I look at newspaper photographs of air battles and Spitfires, and although I
think
about Edward, I find it impossible to
identify
him with it all. Perhaps, as well as being charming, he's charmed. One thing we can be certain of: whatever he's doing, he's enjoying it.’

Jeremy smiled, understanding. ‘I know what you mean, and I'm sorry to have pried. I didn't intend to invade your privacy. It's just that I know Edward so well…his good points and his faults…and I was concerned. Afraid that he'd hurt you.’

‘It's over now. And I can talk about it. And I don't mind
you
knowing.’

‘Good.’ He had finished his coffee. He laid down the cup and looked at his wristwatch. ‘Now, if you're going to show me around your property, perhaps we'd better get moving, because before very long I shall have to be on my way.’

So they got up off their chairs and went indoors, and the peaceful tranquillity of the old rooms dissolved the last of the constraint that had lain between them, to be replaced by Judith's pride of possession and Jeremy's boundless enthusiasm. He had been to the house, of course, many times, in the days of Aunt Lavinia, but had never ventured farther than sitting-room and dining-room. Now, they embarked on a regular tour of inspection, starting at the top with the new attic nursery, and ending in the kitchen.

‘…Diana and the Colonel let me have all the furniture and stuff that the family didn't want, so I haven't had to buy anything. I know the wallpaper's faded, and the curtains worn, but I always rather like things that way. Even the bare bits in the carpets. It makes it friendly and familiar, like wrinkles on a nice person's face. Of course, there are gaps, where things have gone to Nancherrow, but I can live quite happily with that. And the kitchen works really well…’

‘How do you heat your water?’ He was being comfortingly practical.

‘With the range. It's incredibly efficient, provided you remember to feed it twice a day…The only thing I really
would
like is a proper refrigerator, but I haven't had time to do anything about that yet, and the shop in Penzance hasn't got one for sale, so I suppose I'll have to go to Plymouth. And Mr Baines talks about putting in another bathroom, but honestly, we don't really need one. I'd much rather put in central heating, like Nancherrow, but I suppose that will have to wait until after the war…’

‘You'd have to have an extra boiler for central heating.’

‘There's room for one beyond the scullery…’

She showed him the space that she had in mind, and they spent another satisfactory five minutes discussing the subject, and considering the difficulties of inserting pipes through and around the old, thick stone walls of the house. And then they were joined by Phyllis and Anna, who had been picking peas for lunch, and after a bit more chat Jeremy looked at his watch once more, and said it really was time he took himself off.

Judith went with him to his car. ‘How long are you staying at Nancherrow?’

‘Just a couple of days.’

‘Will I see you?’ she asked a little wistfully.

‘Of course. Tell you what, why don't you come down this afternoon, and we'll walk down to the cove together. With whoever wants to come. We could swim.’

It was an inviting idea. She hadn't been to the cove for too long. ‘All right. I'll bike over.’

‘Bring your bathers.’

‘I will.’

‘About three, then?’

‘I'll be there. But if they've all made other plans and want you to do something else, just give me a ring.’

‘I'll do that.’

He got into his car, and she stood and watched him drive away. And then went back into the kitchen to sit at the table with Phyllis and Anna and help pod the peas.

The long driveway of Nancherrow was lined with hydrangeas in full flower. In the suffused sunlight filtering through the branches of tall trees, it felt a bit like bicycling along the bed of an azure-blue river. Judith had changed into shorts and an old Aertex shirt. In her bicycle basket were her striped beach towel, her bathing costume and thick sweater, and a packet of ginger snaps to eat after the swim. She looked forward to swimming, and hoped that Loveday, and maybe Athena, were going to join Jeremy and herself.

Out of the trees, and the bicycle tyres rattled over gravel. The haze of the morning had cleared, but the soft west wind still blew. The windows of Nancherrow blinked in the afternoon sunshine, and Loveday's hens, penned into their wire enclosure at the side of the house, clucked and tocked away to themselves, making all the traditional sounds of cheerful, healthy poultry who have just laid — or are about to lay — an egg.

There didn't seem to be anybody about, but the front door stood open. She parked her bike, leaning it against the wall of the house, gathered up her bathing-things and her sweater, turned to go indoors and find everybody, and instantly jumped nearly out of her skin, because Jeremy had appeared from nowhere and was standing right behind her.

‘Oh! You brute. What a fright! I never saw you, never heard you!’

He put his hands on her arms, holding her still, as though she were about to escape in some way. He said, ‘Don't go in.’

His face was taut, and under his tan, very pale. A nerve throbbed just above the angle of his jaw-bone. Judith stood bewildered.

‘Why?’

‘A telephone call. Half an hour ago. Edward's dead.’

She was grateful that he held her so steadily, for her knees were trembling, and for an instant she experienced a terrible panic, as though she wasn't going to be able to breathe.
Edward's dead.
She shook her head, in passionate denial. ‘No.’

‘He was killed this morning.’

‘No. Not
Edward.
Oh, Jeremy, not Edward.’

‘His commanding officer rang up to break the news. He spoke to the Colonel.’

Edward. The gnawing fear that had lived with them all for so long, lurking, and waiting, had finally struck. She looked up into Jeremy's face, and saw, behind the spectacles that were so much part of him, that his eyes shone with unshed tears. And she thought,
It's all of us. We all loved Edward, in different ways. Each single one of us, every person who ever knew him, is going to be left with a great hole in his life.

‘How did it happen?’ she wanted to know. ‘Where did it happen?’

‘Over Dover. Hell-fire Corner. There was a tremendous enemy raid on the shipping in the harbour. Stuka dive-bombers and Messerschmitt fighters. An immense, intense bombardment. The RAF fighters tore into the German formations. They got twelve enemy planes, but lost three of their own machines. Edward's Spitfire was one of them.’

But there had to be a shred of hope. Shock had drained her. Now she found herself suffused with useless rage. ‘But how do they
know?
How do they
know
he's dead? How can they be
sure?
’

‘One of the other Spitfire pilots put in his report at the debriefing. He saw it all happen. A direct hit from one of the Stukas. A plume of black smoke. The plane plummeted down, in a spin, hit the sea. Then exploded. No ejection. No parachute. There's no way any man could have survived.’

She listened to his painful words in silence, and the shred of hope died forever. Then Jeremy stepped forward and took her in his arms. She dropped the bundle of towel and sweater onto the gravel, and put her arms around his waist, and thus they did their best to comfort each other, Judith with her cheek pressed against his shoulder, the clean cotton smell of his shirt, the warmth of his body. Standing there, in his embrace, she thought of the family, somewhere indoors. The charmed Carey-Lewises, and the desolation of grief, the enemy, that had invaded the lovely, happy, sun-filled house. Diana and the Colonel. Athena and Loveday. How were they going to come to terms with the agonising finality of their loss? It scarcely bore thinking about. All that was certain was that she, Judith, had no part in this private desolation. Once, she had felt part of the Carey-Lewises. Sometime, she would probably feel that way again. Now, at this moment, she was no more than an intruding stranger at Nancherrow, a trespasser.

She drew away from Jeremy, gently detaching herself from his arms. She said, ‘We shouldn't be here, you and I. We shouldn't stay. We must both go away. Now. Leave them.’

Garbled words, spoken with urgency, but Jeremy understood.

‘You go if you want to. I think you should. Go home. Back to Phyllis. But I must stay. Just for a couple of days. I think the Colonel's anxious for Diana. You know how protective he is of her…So I'll hang around. There might be something I can do to help. Even if it's only giving him a bit of moral support.’

‘Another man in the house. If I were the Colonel, I would want you to stay. Oh, Jeremy, I wish I could be like you. Strong. You have so much to give them all, but at the moment, I don't feel I've got anything. I just want to escape. Go home. Go home to my
own
home. Is that awful?’

He smiled. ‘No. Not awful at all. If you like, I'll drive you.’

‘I've got my bicycle.’

‘Ride carefully. You've had a shock.’

He stooped, then, and picked up her rolled towel and her sweater, and brushed the gravel dust and grit from them, and went to stow them back in the basket. Then he took the handles of her bicycle and wheeled it over to where she stood.