Death is a Word (8 page)

‘I was saying to Maurice, the other day, what a job it would be to clear it. I mean, Eva had more or less just come down here with all her stuff from London – downsizing, isn’t that what they call it? – and Maureen said there were a lot of papers and things of her husband’s. All to be sorted out.’

‘No doubt he will make his own arrangements,’ I said shortly.

But, as always, there was no way of stopping Alison.

‘Of course, he’s got that nice friend of his to help him. A pleasant young man, very quiet, not much to say for himself, but I’m sure he’s a great help. Maureen said he more or less organised the funeral. But at such a time! And a dreadful shock. I mean, who would have thought poor Eva would go, quite suddenly like that. And a post-mortem, too, terribly upsetting for everyone. I was so sorry for Rosemary, losing a relation like that.’

‘Do you need any help with those leaflets?’ I asked.

‘Oh no, they’re the ones about the recital. I was just seeing how many I needed to take – I promised Anthea that I’d hand them out at the next WI meeting.’

‘Oh, right, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ I said, edging through the door.

It was obvious that Daniel (now they knew that he was a television personality) was exciting quite an interest among the members of Brunswick Lodge, but I was sure that Patrick was more than capable of protecting him from their attentions.

I was just coming out of the chemist when I ran straight into Donald Webster. Flustered, I muttered some sort of apology and he looked concerned.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘You look a bit put out.’

‘Oh, I’m all right,’ I said, ‘but it’s chaos in there. I’ve been trying to collect my prescription – it was silly to come at this time of day, of course, it’s always crowded, an endless queue and, when you do reach the counter, they’re so busy it takes forever for them to find anything. I was there for ages. Then,’ I went on, ‘when I finally got the prescription it turned out to be the wrong one – I’d almost got to the door when I realised. So I had to go back again … well, I
am
a bit put out!’

He smiled. ‘You poor thing. What you need is a coffee.’ I hesitated for a moment and he said, ‘Come on; a coffee and a nice sit-down.’

‘Oh, yes please,’ I said gratefully, ‘that is exactly what I need.’

Amazingly, the Buttery wasn’t as crowded as usual and we managed to get a table out of the way at the back.

‘Better?’ he asked when I’d sipped my coffee.

‘Much better.’ I could see how this sort of sympathetic attention – even over such a trivial occurrence – could be very attractive. ‘I was hoping to have a word with you,’ I said.

‘And I wanted to have a word with you.’

We were both silent, then he said, ‘You go first.’

‘It’s just to say how sorry I am – it must have been such a terrible shock to get the news like that when you got back.’

‘It was pretty devastating. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you. I still only have the bare fact of … her … of Eva’s death. I don’t really know what happened.’

‘That’s awful,’ I said. ‘I assumed someone must have told you.’

‘I hadn’t seen anyone,’ he said, ‘and, although I went to the service, I didn’t feel I could face seeing people afterwards.’

So I told him all the circumstances, trying to soften things as best I could.

When I’d finished, he turned his head away so that I couldn’t see his face. Then he said, ‘Thank you, Sheila. I’m afraid it must have been painful for you to go over it all like that.’

I shook my head. ‘I’ve gone over it all in my head almost every day since she died,’ I said. ‘Feeling so guilty that I didn’t try again when there was no reply. I might have been able to save her. Instead …’

‘No,’ he said swiftly, ‘you mustn’t feel like that. There’s no way you could have known.’

‘It’s the “if only” thing. Poor Rosemary feels the same. If only she hadn’t gone away that week …’

‘If only I hadn’t had to go away,’ he said. ‘I feel it too.’ He paused. ‘It’s the awful thought of her lying there when something could have been done.’

‘Accidental death, they said, and of course it was. But it’s knowing that it could have so
easily
been prevented that really hurts. It was so … so unnecessary!’

‘Yes.’

‘Just a combination of circumstances – that’s what I keep telling myself. But it doesn’t help.’

‘I don’t think anything will really help,’ he said. ‘Not for a long time, anyway.’

‘She’ll be missed by a lot of people.’

‘Eva was the sort of person everyone warms to, she was such a warm person herself.’

‘She always did make friends easily, people felt comfortable with her.’

‘You and Rosemary were lucky – you knew her all those years ago.’

‘It’s like school friends,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘you either lose touch completely or are friends for life. There’s no real reason for it. I remember, after one Old Girls’ reunion I said to Rosemary about one of the people there, “She’s really such a nice person. Why did we hate her?” Very odd.’

‘I don’t think I’d recognise a single person I was at school with,’ Donald said. ‘But then that was in another country and I’ve moved around quite a bit since then. I envy you people; you have the sort of stability I’m only just beginning to need.’ He paused for a moment and then said, ‘How about Eva? Did she come to want that sort of stability? Did she resent Alan being away so much? I never got around to asking her.’

‘I’m sure she accepted Alan’s lifestyle when she married him. Perhaps, after Daniel was born, she may have wished he’d been there a bit more, but she’d never have wanted to change him. She knew that was the life he’d chosen – absence, danger, the lot – and she understood.’

‘A rare quality.’

‘Yes. And I believe it was a happy marriage.’

‘What about Daniel? Do you think it made a difference to him?’

‘I don’t really know Daniel very well. He’s very eccentric, I suppose, but I have the feeling that’s
him
if you know what I mean. In the genes, perhaps. He admired his father, probably loved him, and he and Eva were devoted but apart; they loved each other but didn’t feel the need to be together all the time. At least, that’s how I see it.’

‘She never really talked about him to me, just the occasional, casual reference. I suppose it might have struck me as odd – most mothers are full of their children’s doings – but, somehow it didn’t occur to me to wonder about it. Of course,’ he went on, ‘it might have cropped up quite soon.’

I looked at him enquiringly. ‘Oh?’

‘I asked Eva to marry me and I expect the subject of how Daniel would take it would have been mentioned sometime.’

So that had been the serious thing that Donald wanted to talk to her about that day at Brunswick Lodge. Somehow I wasn’t really surprised.

‘I see,’ I said. ‘And did she accept you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask you that.’

‘No, it’s all right. I’d like you and Rosemary to know. I don’t know if she’d been expecting it or not.
We’d been good friends and just good friends, but I felt we’d become really close to each other and I think women see these things more clearly than men do.’

‘True.’

He smiled. ‘Anyway, she said she needed time to think about it. I felt it wasn’t a refusal, but simply what she needed to do. That’s what I hoped, anyway. As you know, I had to go away for a while and she said she’d give me an answer when I got back …’ His voice broke on the last word.

‘And when you got back – I’m so very sorry. So much worse for you than I realised.’

‘Yes. Another if only,’ he said sadly. ‘I persuaded myself she would have married me. Not then, too soon after Alan’s death, but sometime, when we’d really got to know each other.’

‘I don’t know if it helps,’ I said, ‘but I think you’re right. You suited each other and enjoyed each other’s company. That’s no bad basis for marriage.’

‘Well, we’ll never know now.’

‘Will you stay in Taviscombe?’ I asked. ‘Now, I mean.’

‘I don’t know – it’s all too soon to decide. I suppose I’ve built up a sort of life here, even if …’

‘You’ve made a lot of friends. People want to involve you in things – if that’s enough.’

‘I hope you and Rosemary will count yourselves
among my friends,’ he said. ‘That is, if Rosemary will forgive me for having monopolised Eva.’

‘I think so. It might take a little time.’

He smiled. ‘Oh well, there’s always Mrs Dudley.’

When I told Rosemary that Donald had asked Eva to marry him, she said, ‘There, I knew that would happen!’

‘Would it have been such a bad thing? It wouldn’t have been right away, and I think it would have made Eva happy.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said impatiently. ‘It might have worked out. I’m sorry I was so dog-in-the-manger-ish, it was selfish of me, I can see that now. It’s just that we know so little about him.’

‘I think he was genuinely fond of her and she really enjoyed being with him. You must admit, she brightened up considerably when he came into her life. To be honest, I don’t think Eva was cut out to be a widow – some people just aren’t.’

‘You seem to have managed all right.’

‘That’s different. Peter and I were together all the time, all those years. He was part of my life, that’s why I could never think of anyone else. Eva and Alan were quite different – in a way they led separate lives, even though they were married. And Donald was very much her sort of person, he’d lived in the kind of world she knew about; they had a lot in common.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘It was awful,’ I said. ‘He didn’t know anything except the actual fact that she’d died. He was absolutely shattered when I told him how it was.’

‘Poor man.’ Her voice softened. ‘That must have been terrible for him.’

‘Like us, he feels guilty that he wasn’t there for her. He really did love her.’

‘And you’re right,’ Rosemary said, ‘he did seem to make her happy – she was much more like the old Eva when he was around.’ She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘What’s he going to do? Is he going to stay here?’

‘I don’t think he knows what he wants to do. Like I said, he hasn’t had a chance to come to terms with what’s happened.’

‘What about Daniel?’ Rosemary asked. ‘Had Eva told him she might be marrying Donald?’

‘I don’t think so. He said that they hadn’t got around to talking about that. How do you think Daniel would have felt?’

‘Goodness only knows – Daniel seems to live in a world of his own most of the time. I don’t think he’d have minded – who knows!’

‘Will you tell him?’

‘I don’t know. What do you think?’

‘I think, perhaps, he ought to know.’

‘I’ll see how it goes. He and Patrick are coming to lunch tomorrow – though that may not be the best time – Mother suggested it and I think she was right. I know he’s not a great one for family, but I do feel he ought to know we’re around if he wants us. Actually, he and Mother get on rather well – he seems to connect with her in a way most young people can’t.’

‘They’re both individuals,’ I said ‘perhaps that’s the reason.’

‘Well, whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.’

‘And what about your mother, will you tell
her
about Donald?’

‘Since it’s something she’s been predicting more or less since he came here, I’m sure she’ll be telling me!’

Daniel and Patrick seemed to have settled into Eva’s cottage and there was no talk of them going back to London. They weren’t seen much in Taviscombe – there were occasional sightings of Patrick in the farm shop and the local delicatessen, but that was all.

‘Such a shame they don’t take
part
in things a bit more,’ Anthea said. ‘I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear a talk about London restaurants from Daniel.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Anthea!’ I said in exasperation. ‘The poor boy has only just lost his mother! Just leave him in peace.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of asking him to do anything
now. But I do feel it might help him to get out into the world again. It can’t be good for him to be shut away out there with that friend of his.’

I could see that Anthea was dying to extract more information about Daniel and Patrick so I changed the subject to the continuing battle between her and Derek about ‘improvements’ to the kitchen in the hope that, if she did approach them, Patrick would be quite capable of fending her off.

I thought about them a great deal over the next week or so, there in their own little world, so I was surprised to get a phone call from Patrick, inviting me to dinner the next day.

‘Of course I accepted,’ I said to Rosemary. ‘Will you be there?’

‘Yes, Jack and I will both go. Jack was a bit reluctant; he says he never knows what to say to Daniel. But he can talk to Patrick,
he’s
always easy to talk to.’

‘Who else will be there?’ I asked.

‘Oh, just us, just family.’

‘I’m honoured! I must say, I was surprised to hear from them.’

‘Well, Daniel knows you go way back with Eva too. Anyway, I expect Daniel wants to talk to you about those Victorian novelists. You both seemed to have a lot to say last time you met.’

I thought it would be upsetting, going to the cottage,
but somehow it didn’t feel the same as it had when Eva was there. It’s not that there were any actual alterations, but the furniture had been rearranged and there were quite a few magazines lying around and some very beautiful flower arrangements. It seemed that Patrick (I was sure that it was Patrick) had managed to recreate Daniel’s world around him and I felt that was probably something he did whenever they were away from home. It was Patrick, too, who had done the cooking. Nothing fancy. Beautifully cooked roast lamb and vegetables, all of the highest quality and all tasting perfectly of themselves, followed by a superb lemon tart.

Daniel and I did have a short chat about George Eliot (who we both disliked) but the conversation was general. Daniel said that he was going to stay at the cottage for a while.

Patrick said Daniel had been working too hard and needed a break anyway. And, of course, there would be quite a lot to do about things – deciding about the cottage and so forth. Also, Daniel said, they ought to go through his father’s papers – to prepare them for publication – he knew that’s what his mother had been going to do and Patrick was good at that sort of thing. Jack asked if Daniel was going to keep the cottage and Daniel said he hadn’t decided, but if he did sell, it wouldn’t be to the neighbouring farmer who’d been
badgering him with offers, and Jack said he’d be happy to help with contracts and things if Daniel decided he did want to sell. It was a surprisingly ordinary evening and not at all what I’d been expecting.

I said as much to Rosemary when she phoned the next day.

‘That’s Patrick. He knows exactly how much “ordinary” life Daniel needs and provides it when necessary. He saw how good he was with Mother and I suppose he decided that what Daniel needed just now was family.’

‘I’m surprised Daniel wanted to stay at the cottage, especially considering how he was just after Eva died.’

‘That was Patrick too. He apparently thought that Daniel needed a project – his father’s papers. A real break from his usual life.’

‘He really is an amazing person – Patrick, I mean. He must be very devoted to Daniel.’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

‘You don’t seem very certain.’

‘I really don’t know what to make of him.
Is
he devoted, or is he just a sort of super-secretary? It isn’t that he’s a cold person, but there’s a kind of cool decisiveness about him.’