The Children's Hour (41 page)

Lyddie would sigh with pleasure at the end of each telling, the thought of the life in the house stretching back, helping to heal her hurt from Liam and the loss of dear Aunt Mina.

‘William might be over tomorrow,' she'd say casually – and she'd take the dogs down to the sea, trying to control the strange lifting of her heart at the thought of seeing him again.

‘It's too soon,' she'd tell herself savagely. ‘Don't be a fool! You did this with Liam after James . . .' but she knew that William was no Liam. His clear gaze and quiet smile betokened a quite different character and she felt at peace with him, relaxed and content. Both of them were recovering from broken relationships and neither was in any haste to rush into a new commitment. They were simply happy to spend time together, discovering one another. As they walked together in the woods, listening to the restless hush-hush of the waves on the shore, passing beneath the ghostly birches whose blood-red wands glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, a quietness stole upon her heart.

Nest too was comforted; not only by the sight of Lyddie and William together but by Tony's company. How extraordinary it was that he should reappear now, as a result of Mina's
death, to be such a staunch comfort to her. He came with William when he could; Lavinia was failing and he tried to be with her for as long as was practicable each day.

‘If only Mina had known who you were,' Nest had mourned when Tony explained how he'd received Jack's e-mail, described how he and Mina had ‘talked'.

‘I was afraid to tell her,' he'd said, his still-handsome face sad. ‘It was so amazing when I first saw her name. She made no attempt to hide it. Why should she? I was more cautious when I started experimenting on the Internet and decided to use a part anagram of Tony Luttrell and call myself Elyot. It wasn't long before she mentioned Ottercombe and you, and then I knew. Oh, Nest, I can't tell you what I felt! How often I longed to tell her the truth. But I didn't know whether she still hated me and I was afraid to take the chance. I needed her too much.'

‘She never hated you,' said Nest gently – and found herself telling Mina's story yet again, the whole truth of it, so that Tony was unable to contain his emotion and they sat together in the dusk, comforting each other.

‘She needed you too,' she told him. ‘You helped her through these last few years. You
must
know that.' She hesitated. ‘I have to say that Jack printed off your “conversations” and showed them to me. Forgive me for that but it meant so much to see that she had all that love and support from you. Perhaps it was better this way, for all sorts of reasons.'

‘Perhaps.' He blew his nose. ‘I shall never forget that e-mail from Jack. It was exactly as if I'd lost her all over again. I simply had to come, just once, to see this house and you.'

‘And now you'll come often, I hope,' she said. ‘You and William.'

He looked at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘It would mean so much. Thank you, Nest.'

So now, with Christmas less than a week away, they were waiting for more visitors: for Jack and Hannah and the children, and the puppy.

‘I think it's utterly noble of you to have us all,' said Hannah, on the telephone to Lyddie. ‘Poor Captain Cat!'

‘He's learning to adapt,' said Lyddie robustly, ‘like the rest of us. It's really good of you to come, Han. Don't think I can't imagine what it must be like to transport two children and all your Christmas this far.'

‘We can't wait,' promised Hannah. ‘Once Tobes knew that you had a chimney worthy of Father Christmas he was ecstatic. A Christmas with
five
dogs? I ask you. What more could life hold?'

‘I've been trying to make the house Flora-worthy.' Lyddie sounded anxious. ‘When you look at it in terms of a crawling child, a house is a mine-field.'

‘Tell me about it,' said Hannah drily. ‘Don't worry, we'll be just fine. And you've got the tree?'

‘In a bucket in the shed,' said Lyddie promptly, ‘and lots of decorations. Oh, Han, I can't wait to see you all.'

‘Ditto,' replied Hannah cheerfully. ‘Jack's bringing the booze, by the way. Says he doesn't trust either of you with his delicate palate.' A pause. ‘Quite,' agreed Hannah. ‘I was silenced too. Then I hit him!'

Lyddie burst out laughing. ‘Give them a hug from us. Speaks soon. 'Bye.'

Now a peaceful silence hangs over the house. William has arrived and taken Lyddie and the dogs off to the beach; everything is in readiness. Slowly Nest wheels her chair out
of the shadows, the rubber tyres rolling softly across the cracked mosaic floor, and pauses outside the drawing-room. Brightly wrapped Christmas presents are piled upon the ancient settle and a jar of spindle-berries stands on the oak table beside the lamp, whose light glints on the big copper plate. Silence fills the high spaces of the hall and flows about her as she bends her head to listen, her eyes closed. She can no longer see Georgie and Mina, with Timmie propped between them on the sofa, nor Josie, working at her jigsaw on the floor, whilst Henrietta leans to look at the pictures in the book. Mama's voice is stilled, the children are gone.

Their story is finished; a new chapter is beginning.