Hothouse Flower (28 page)

‘I know,’ Alicia agreed as she walked to the door. ‘Thanks, Kit, for all your help.’

‘Believe me, it’s been a pleasure.’

An hour later, after Julia had used the bathroom and found her legs were no longer the puddles of unset jelly they had been, she gingerly attempted the stairs.

Kit was sitting reading a book in front of a roaring fire. He’d closed the curtains against the evening chill, and the sitting room looked far more welcoming and cosy than it normally did.

‘Hello,’ she said from the stairs, not wanting to startle him.

He turned round and stood up immediately. ‘Julia, what are you doing out of bed? You’ll catch your death.’

He made as if to steer her back up the stairs, but she shook her head. ‘How will I catch my death? It’s absolutely boiling in here. Besides, I’m bored upstairs. I wanted a change of scene.’ She felt like a defiant child as she stood there, waiting for Kit to agree.

‘All right, but not for long.’ He put his hand under her elbow and led her to the sofa. ‘Right, you lie down on there and I’ll run upstairs and get you some blankets.’

‘Really, Kit, it’s lovely and warm in here and I’ve had enough of being boiled-in-the-bag,’ she sighed, as she lay back on the cushions he had provided for her head.

‘Feeling peckish or thirsty?’ he questioned. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No really, please, sit down. I’m fine,’ she reiterated.

‘What you mean to say is, will you please stop fussing over me,’ Kit acknowledged as he sat down in the armchair by the fire. ‘Sorry.’

‘Oh, Kit, please don’t apologise!’ Julia said, contrite. ‘You’ve been wonderful and I’m very grateful. I just feel guilty, that’s all. And I’m sorry if I’ve been “grumpy”.’ She grinned at him. ‘I don’t mean to be, really.’

‘Apology accepted,’ Kit nodded. ‘Personally, I prefer grumpy to sweaty and incoherent, so it’s fine by me.’

‘As you can see, I am getting better. You really are free to leave tomorrow, Doctor Crawford.’

‘Yes, I must anyway, actually. Things are starting to pile up back at Wharton Park. But, listen, whilst I’ve got you with your marbles more in place, tell me what your grandmother had to say about the Changi diary.’

‘Yes …’ Julia’s mind strayed back to what was merely a few days ago, but felt like a lifetime. ‘I don’t know how much you already know about the Wharton Crawfords …’

‘More these days than I used to. And, remember, my great-grandfather, Charles, was Lord Christopher Crawford’s younger brother, so he grew up at Wharton Park. Unfortunately, he got blown up in a trench in 1918, leaving his wife, Leonora, with two young babies, one of whom was my grandfather, Hugo.’

‘That would have been before Elsie’s time, but how fascinating,’ mused Julia. ‘I certainly heard a lot about Lord Christopher –’

‘My namesake,’ added Kit. ‘Sorry, I’ll try not to interrupt. Pray, begin.’ He settled back in his chair to listen.

Julia began to tell him, conjuring up as best she could the world that Elsie had so vividly described to her.

Kit sat quietly until Julia reached the end of her tale. ‘What a story,’ he breathed. ‘Of course, Penelope, the girl who had the dance at Wharton Park, was my great-aunt, sister to my grandfather, Hugo, who also died in action in the Second World War. His wife, Christiana, my grandmother, gave birth in 1943 to my father, Charles, who became the heir to Wharton Park on Harry Crawford’s death, just before I was born. We didn’t move into the house for some reason, my father loathed the place and certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to restore it. Besides, Aunt Crawford was still alive and very much the chatelaine. Thanks for telling me, Julia. It’s interesting, tying the family history together.’

‘It must be and, to be honest, from what Elsie’s told me so far, it all seems far more relevant to the Crawfords, and therefore to you, than it does to my family’s past.’

‘Well, I’m sure there’ll be a link in there somewhere,’ said Kit, ‘though I can’t quite see how, unless it’s to do with Harry and Bill being in the same battalion during the war. Yes,’ he nodded, ‘I’ll bet that’s it. Perhaps there’s some dark Crawford secret lurking somewhere in the pages of Bill’s diary.’

‘Maybe,’ agreed Julia, ‘but I won’t speculate until I’ve heard the full story. It’s also odd for me to think that my grandmother was in service to your family, and my grandfather still working for them when I was a child. So much can change within two generations, can’t it?’

‘You mean that a mere gardener’s granddaughter can achieve the kind of fame and riches Elsie could never have dreamt of?’ Kit teased.

‘I suppose I do.’ Julia blushed again. ‘I think what really struck me was the fact that Wharton Park was a throwback to a completely different era, even though it was only seventy years ago.’

‘That’s certainly what I felt when I stayed there during the summer. And of course, Olivia, who was technically not related by blood to me, but was always known as “Aunt” to our family, never left it until the day she died,’ Kit reasoned. ‘I’m sure her continued presence held Wharton Park in a time warp.’

‘Oh my goodness,’ Julia remarked, ‘I’ve just realised …’

‘What?’ Kit asked.

‘That the scary old lady with those cold blue eyes, who came and ordered me to stop playing the piano on the day I first met you, was Olivia Crawford!’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Kit, raising his eyebrows, ‘and what a bundle of laughs she was, poor thing. Lord knows what had happened to her during her life, but it must have been pretty awful to change the lovely young girl you describe into the sour old boot I knew.’

‘Don’t mince your words, Kit,’ Julia grinned.

‘Well, she was, so there! And I used to dread going to stay with her.’

‘To be fair, it must have been pretty awful, discovering your husband in the act of kissing another man,’ Julia sympathised.

‘But then, from what you said, Olivia and Harry did manage to sort out their problems before he went off to war.’

‘Yes, it seems they did.’

Kit saw Julia yawn. ‘Right, bed for you, young lady. I don’t want you exhausting yourself. Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.’ He stood up and came over to her. Julia was grateful for his arm to lean on.

As he settled her under the sheets, she smiled up at him.

‘Pity you didn’t continue your medical career. You seem awfully good at all this.’

‘Seems like life had other plans for me.’ He shrugged, as he handed Julia her paracetamol and a glass of water. ‘Drink up.’

‘Why did you stay away abroad for so long?’ she asked suddenly, handing him the glass back.

‘It’s a long story,’ Kit replied shortly. ‘Sleep for you now.’

‘Okay.’ Julia snuggled under the covers and watched as he moved towards the door. He stopped just in front of it and paused.

‘I do understand, you know.’

‘Understand what?’

‘Some of your pain. Night, Julia.’

‘Night, Kit.’

26

The following day saw Julia take a bath and get dressed. As she lay on her bed, exhausted from the process of putting on her jeans and a jumper, she glanced out of the window and saw that since she had been sick, spring had arrived. She could hear birds singing outside her window, and smelt a hint of the freshness that indicated nature coming back to life.

She felt it was a metaphor for her own existence, as there was no doubt that, although physically weakened, she felt stronger mentally. Just because she no longer thought of them for every second of the day – in fact, occasionally, whole minutes had gone past – did not mean she loved them or missed them any less. Just like the spring appearing, it was nature’s way of helping her heal and re-grow.

She heard Kit climb the stairs and shut the bathroom door behind him. He was sleeping on one of the narrow bunk beds meant for children, not for six-foot-plus adults. She smiled as she thought of his kindness. He was a true-life Good Samaritan, who’d helped her in her hour of need. And she realised how much she had enjoyed being looked after.

Even though Julia was in no doubt Xavier had loved her, it was
she
who had been the carer in the relationship. He had been far too wrapped up in his music to think of Julia’s domestic and practical needs. And, like the adorable child he was, he looked to her for constant reassurance and praise.

Julia pushed down the ember of guilt that told her she must remember her husband as she had for the past eight months: perfect.

There was a soft tap on her bedroom door. ‘Come in,’ she called.

Kit’s head, with its mop of curly hair, appeared around it. He smiled when he saw she was dressed.

‘I don’t think I need to ask if you’re feeling better, do I? Looks like I’ll be redundant at any second.’

‘And I’m sure you’ll be relieved,’ retorted Julia quickly. She indicated the window. ‘I was thinking how much I’d like to go and have a breath of fresh air. I’ve been in this house almost a week now – Oh God!’ she uttered, as a thought struck her. ‘Is it Friday today?’

‘Last time I looked it was, yes,’ Kit agreed.

‘Oh no!’ she cried, sinking back into her pillows. ‘I was meant to see my agent for lunch yesterday at Claridge’s. No one stands up Olav Stein. I’ll have to call him immediately and explain.’

‘No you won’t, he knows already,’ replied Kit calmly.

Julia looked at him, puzzled. ‘How?’ she questioned.

‘With your sister’s permission, I listened to your voicemail. This Olav chap had left you a message on Wednesday reconfirming that you were coming to meet him. So I called him back and explained you were at death’s door. He was very understanding. He sent you his best wishes and said to ring him as soon as you were back in the land of the living. Oh, and there were some other messages as well.’

‘Tell me later.’ Julia wasn’t sure she could cope with more from the outside world just yet. ‘But, thank you, Kit, I really appreciate it.’

‘I confess I felt uncomfortable listening to your private world, but under the circumstances, there was nothing else for it.’ He shrugged. ‘Now, I’m going to go and make some breakfast for both of us, then I suggest a short walk down to the harbour and back, to give you some fresh air and test your sea legs. See you downstairs in a few minutes.’

After a breakfast of porridge, laced with double cream and brown sugar, Kit and Julia took a slow walk through the harbour and headed along the spit of land beyond it. Julia remembered sombrely the last time she had walked along here and the despair she’d felt. Now, being with Kit, on a sunny, spring-like day, the world seemed a far brighter place.

‘I have to leave fairly soon, I’m afraid,’ Kit sighed. ‘Amongst other things, I have to see the estate solicitor. There’s a problem on the sale of Wharton Park. The buyer’s trying to screw an even better deal out of me than the one he’s already got.’

‘Christ, I’m sorry,’ said Julia. ‘I hope you can sort it out.’

‘I’m sure I will, one way or the other. Odd, really, isn’t it? The way life turns out. Last thing I thought I’d be doing was dealing with the sale of Wharton Park,’ he said as they turned back for home.

‘You must have known you’d inherit it one day, surely?’

‘Yes, but it was something far in the future and a responsibility I preferred to forget. Especially given that it’s only mine by default, as the true Wharton Park branch of the Crawfords didn’t manage to sprog for a generation.’

‘I really get the feeling you can’t wait to get shot of it.’

‘No, that’s wrong. I –’ Kit’s mobile rang in his pocket. ‘Excuse me, Julia. Hello? Oh, hi, Annie. Everything okay?’

Julia walked discreetly ahead as Kit talked. He caught up with her at the door of the cottage. ‘Sorry about that. Looks like I’ve got to make a move,’ he said, as she opened the door and they stepped inside. ‘Now, are you sure you’re going to be okay here alone?’

‘Of course I will. I’ve been here for seven months by myself and no harm’s come to me so far. I’ll be fine, really.’

‘Can I get you some lunch?’ he asked.

‘I think I might just be able to stagger to the kitchen and get a sandwich. You get off, really,’ she urged.

‘Okay. You’ve got my numbers, both mobile and landline, and Alicia said she’ll drop in later and check you’re okay.’

‘Oh, good.’ Julia rolled her eyes and sank on to the sofa.

‘Alicia is only trying to help. She loves you.’

‘I know.’ Julia felt suitably admonished. ‘She just makes me feel useless. She’s so terribly organized.’

‘That’s her way of surviving life. We all have one, you know, even you.’ Kit smiled down at her and kissed her on top of her head. ‘Keep in touch, won’t you? Let me know how you’re getting on.’

‘I will,’ she said, feeling suddenly vulnerable and close to tears. She stood up again and then, unsure of what to do, shrugged and said: ‘Thank you. For everything.’

‘Don’t mention it. See you around then,’ he said as opened the front door.

Julia nodded. ‘Yes. See you around.’

She watched as the door shut behind him.

After he’d left, Julia went upstairs for a nap, but struggled to settle. She tried reading a book that had been sitting on her bedside table for ages, but she couldn’t concentrate on the story. Eventually, she must have drifted off, for when she woke it was almost six o’clock.