Wild Lily (20 page)

‘I’ve thought about it – nothing else to do but think about it. But it’s the money, isn’t it? Think about it, Simon. I’m going to be crock for ever. It takes money and that means Aunt Maud. I can’t sell the pictures because technically I’ve stolen them from the government, which purloined all my father’s estate, and I’ve nothing else. I need the old bag just to keep me – it’s as simple as that. When I’m turned out of here, on crutches, not a penny to my name, not even the glimmer of a recommendation from the old school, where do you think I’m going to go? I don’t stand a chance of getting a job without her twisting her poor friend’s arm. Your parents wouldn’t stand for it, of course they wouldn’t – a week or two at most, out of kindness, but I’m someone’s burden for ever. It’s hard to believe, but I’m
lucky
to have Aunt Maud.’

There was no humour any longer in Antony’s diatribe. Lily’s heart turned over for him.

‘I’ve got some money for you, Antony! I sold one of the pictures to Clarence. He gave me a thousand pounds and I’ve never spent it! It’s still in a jam jar in the kitchen. You can have it. You can have it all.’

She quite dismissed the idea of the money being her life-line, to buy a new cottage, the comfort she had nursed ever since the accident. It quite flew out of the window, seeing Antony’s anguish.

But he laughed and said, ‘Please, it’s yours, Lily. I wouldn’t dream of taking it from you. Good old Clarence! Now you are going to be homeless you will need it, surely? You and your family.’

‘Yes, but we can manage. We can rent a cheap place.’

‘It’s lovely for you, a fortune. But it wouldn’t go far for me, honestly, can’t you see? I wouldn’t dream of taking it.’

‘I’ll buy a cottage and you can come and live with us! I will look after you.’

‘You’ve already got Squashy and your old dad to support. Come off it, Lily, talk sense. Just imagine trying to talk Aunt Maud into the idea! Her whole life is now devoted to what she calls making a man of me. I can’t deny her the pleasure.’

‘She is so horrible!’

‘Horrible and very rich.’

‘Pity your old man didn’t leave you well provided for before he made off. I bet he’s still got plenty stashed away somewhere.’

‘Said to be in Mexico. Who knows?’

‘Who says?’

‘The powers that be. I’ve had them in here, you know, asking questions. He’ll never come back. They’re still after him.’

‘Yeah, they always will be. He’s not only a murderer but a traitor and they don’t like that. A hanging, for sure.’

‘I think traitors are shot.’

‘Oh, good. That’s nicer than hanging.’

The two men continued their usual bantering conversation just as if no years lay between the present and the days of their schoolboy larks. Lily did not join in, merely feasting her eyes on the gaunt husk that had once been the love of her life. He had been so lovely, useless but lovely. She could not stop loving
him in spite of the disappointment he had turned out to be. The stupid, stupid idiot to have done that to himself! But at least there was no whining, no self-pity. The sister whom they saw as they departed said he had been incredibly brave and never a word of complaint.

‘Our star,’ she said.

My star, Lily thought. The light was fading.

Mrs Butterworth, said to be ‘failing’, lived on for another five years, and saw the new Lockwood Hall completed before she died. Like everyone else in the village she thought it an aberration – a white stucco boxlike structure, ultra-modern, with big windows and a flat roof.

The new owner, a wealthy young architect, was, unlike his building, much appreciated. He had no desire to evict the tenants of his inherited estate cottages, nor sell off the farm. Gabriel had been offered his job back, but was too infirm to accept it, crippled with arthritis. He now only pottered around his own garden, and Lily was unable to leave him for long. In his angry old age he was a hard task-master. Driven by the need to make money without leaving home, Lily had turned back to her old dressmaking skills and used some of the money out of the jam jar to buy a sewing machine. This burgeoning career was so far proving more successful than she could have hoped, the only light in her disappointing life. The great excitement of the Sylvester saga was now forgotten and the
anxiety about the future of the estate was set at rest, so Mrs Butterworth’s funeral was the only gossip-worthy event in the summer of Lily’s twenty-fourth birthday.

Simon came home for it, prompted by his mother: ‘You owe it to your old friends.’

He did not demur, attracted by the knowledge that Melanie Marsden would be at the funeral, not to mention the wild Lily. He now had a well-paid job with a firm of insurance brokers in the City. He lived in Chelsea and did not come home often.

Lily longed to see him. It was a hard to believe it was five years since he had taken her to see Antony in hospital and she had never seen Antony since. Mrs Goldbeater had told her that he was soon to leave the convalescent home in Richmond and go back to London, to Hampstead, to live with Aunt Maud, so then she knew she would never see him again. She had gone to the convalescent home once under her own steam, finding the journey very difficult, and when she had arrived had come face to face with Aunt Maud. Antony’s bed was empty and Aunt Maud was sitting beside it, knitting.

She had glared at Lily and said bluntly, ‘What are you doing here?’

Instead of saying, ‘What do you think, you stupid old bag?’ Lily had stammered that she had come to see Antony.

‘You’re not a relation. They only allow relations to visit. Didn’t you know that?’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s undergoing some therapy or other. He won’t be
back until tea time so there’s no point your waiting, is there?’

‘I’ve come a long way.’

‘Nonsense. It’s quite near.’

Aunt Maud had come by taxi – Lily had seen it waiting outside. The journey to Lily, however, completely unused to finding her way around the suburbs, had been difficult. Scarcely ever having left home, she realized that she was a complete country bumpkin, with no prospect of bettering herself until, if ever, her father died. Even then there would still be Squashy, a perennial worry now that he was discovering the blandishments of sex.

So she had left without seeing Antony, weeping all the way home.

The day of Mrs Butterworth’s funeral was beautiful, the coffin taken to the church in the farm cart with the decorated horses just as Helena’s had been, with family and friends walking behind. Lily walked with Cedric and his siblings, having helped at the farm during Mrs Butterworth’s long illness, mostly with the cooking. The girls were married now and lived away. They had been grateful for Lily’s input, glad that the burden hadn’t fallen only on them.

‘Gawd knows what the boys’ll do now without their mum,’ they said cheerfully.

Lily reckoned she already had two helpless men to care for without taking on any more burdens; she did not offer. Thank
God she had the dressmaking. She knew she had a flair for it and decided to exhibit her prowess at the funeral by wearing her own model in delphinium blue chiffon, outdoing even the ladies from the big houses who were all in black. She knew Mrs Butterworth would have laughed at the sight of her in black: ‘You wear your brightest on the day, dear, I’ll be lookin’ down cheering you on.’

‘Crikey, I didn’t recognize you,’ Simon said rudely. His eyes were roving for Melanie, who looked stunning in grey silk with a lilac hat and gloves.

But Lily knew she outdid her.

‘I must admit you do look rather splendid,’ he acknowledged. ‘Have you got a boyfriend these days?’

‘Antony.’

‘But you never see him.’

‘It doesn’t make any difference. I love him just the same.’

‘I never see him either, not now that he lives with Aunt Maud. It’s asking too much of a friendship. But she’s working on getting him a house of his own. So we might get a chance then.’

‘He never writes to me.’

‘Do you write to him?’

‘You know I can’t write – not a proper letter. I don’t have to show him how ignorant I am!’

‘He can’t write either. His writing arm was smashed. Anyway, when did he ever write a letter? Only to his dad for more cash, as I remember. If he gets a house of his own we’ll visit him.’

‘Who will look after him?’

‘Aunt Maud is going to get him a live-in nurse.’

‘I could do that!’

‘Except you’re not a nurse, Lily.’

‘I would look after him better than any nurse!’

‘Oh, Lily, if only!’

Simon was truly sorry for Lily with her amazing, misguided devotion to Antony who wasn’t worth it, never had been. But he was glad to see her with her spirit apparently undented, her jam jar full of money scarcely touched and her budding career as a dressmaker looking hopeful.

But not long after Mrs Butterworth’s funeral Lily was shopping in the village when Cedric came by in a wagon, pulled by the beautiful shire horse Olly.

‘Want a lift home?’ He pulled to a halt beside her. ‘I’ve been delivering corn to old Ambrose, on my way back now.’

‘It’s out of your way, my place.’

‘No, I can go round the lake. I’m not in a hurry. Jump up.’

She handed up her basket and clambered on board with a foot up on the shaft. She was as agile as a child.

Cedric laughed. ‘You’re no lady, Lily, showing your knickers.’

‘Don’t be rude!’

She hadn’t seen him since the funeral, but had become close to him during his mother’s long illness. She was always comfortable with him, good old Cedric, the village boy his smart friends had always looked down on, using him as a useful entry to the farm and the fun that could be had up
there, shooting rabbits, sliding down the haystacks and riding on the carthorses.

‘I’ve been thinking, Lily, would you marry me?’

Lily wasn’t sure if she had heard right. ‘What do you mean, marry you? Why should I? I don’t love you.’

‘No, but we get on, don’t we?’

‘I love Antony.’

‘You can still go on loving Antony. I wouldn’t mind. I just thought it would make sense, if we got married. Ma said it would be a good idea, before she died. She said you were a gem.’

‘A gem?’ Lily was finding the conversation difficult.

‘Yeah, well think about it. We like each other after all, and you’d have a nice home. We’d take care of Gabriel and Squashy if you want.’

Lily could find nothing to say. The shock had silenced her. She had taken Cedric for granted ever since she could remember and now, looking sideways, she saw a strong, brown, handsome, self-confident young man, ideal husband material. But marriage? She had never thought of getting married, save to Antony. She had never seen anyone she fancied, save Antony, even though plenty of the lads in the village had made advances. And got short shrift.

After Olly had continued his way down the track to the lake and Cedric had offered nothing more, she said, ‘What about your brothers, and your father?’

‘Oh, they wouldn’t mind.’

‘It’d be all cooking.’ She had seen how it had been with
Mrs Butterworth. She saw now that they were all tired of going without a cook in the house. ‘It’s just to keep you comfortable, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, a bit. But you’d have security, a much nicer house than that awful little cottage, men to help you, not you always helping two men. And my brothers – they’d move out when they marry. They’re courting, and there are two cottages empty that they’d take. And we like each other, after all.’

Lily remembered all Cedric’s kindnesses, his unspoken support, his spirit on the night of the party, how he had stood up to the drunken posh boys, how he had swum and swum looking for Helena, how caring he was of Squashy and how he had never taken offence at the rough way the others treated him. She had never found fault with him.

He said, ‘And our lovely horses would be yours too, Lily, think of that.’

‘I am thinking,’ she said. She jumped down outside her house and he handed down her basket.

‘No hurry,’ he said, and clicked to Olly and the cart rolled away down what had once been Antony’s airstrip, still mown out of habit.

Lily stood watching, feeling as if she had been hit over the head with a shovel.

Later, she talked it over with her father. He was quiet, thoughtful, but did not say much. It was her life, he said. She thought he would like her to be married to Cedric, but was nervous of doing without her, although he would not say as much.

‘He said he would take care of you and Squashy if I marry him.’

He snorted at that and said he could take care of himself. Lily knew he couldn’t, not adequately. But Cedric had said no hurry.

The next day Barky died of old age, and the ensuing uproar with Squashy took her mind off the impasse. He hugged and shook Barky, willing him back to life, and then would not put him down, hugging the body in his arms and crying.

‘We have to give him a nice funeral, Squashy, like for Helena and Mrs Butterworth. We have to lay him in the ground and cover him with flowers.’

‘I don’t want him buried in the earth! He won’t like it. He’ll hate it.’

‘But he’s not here any more, Squashy. He’s gone to heaven, like Mrs Butterworth. That’s just his body left behind, his shell. His heart and his soul have gone to heaven. And we just have to cover up his body, which is no good any more, else it’ll start getting smelly.’

‘Not in the ground! Not in the ground!’

He went to bed that night hugging the dead dog down under the blankets. In the morning the dog was stiff and cold and looked horrible.

‘See, Squashy, he’s gone away. That’s not really Barky any more, just his old body which we must put away. You can see it’s not Barky any more.’

But Squashy went round all day carrying the body in his arms. Soon it began to stink out the cottage.

‘Enough is enough,’ said Gabriel. ‘Get that bloody dog buried.’

Lily went outside and dug a large hole on the edge of the potato bed. In the afternoon, having lost the argument with Squashy about letting the dog out of his grasp, she walked up to the farm and sought out Cedric.

‘Please, if you can help me with Squashy, I’ll marry you. Barky’s died and he’s gone potty.’

Cedric smiled. ‘Is it as simple as that for you?’

Lily didn’t know what he meant. She ignored his words and explained how Squashy was refusing to bury the dog. He said he would come up later. Lily went home, wondering if she had promised to marry him. She wasn’t sure.

Later in the evening he came along the lake with the farm dogs trailing at his heels. They weren’t used to being taken for walks and looked slightly bewildered. They were a motley crew, used for rounding up the cattle, for ratting and guarding the barns at night. Only a collie bitch lived in the house and she trailed two overgrown puppies. Ludo barked his head off at them, wagging his shaggy tail.

‘Hey, Squashy, my dogs have come for Barky’s funeral. You don’t mind, do you? I told them Barky had died and gone to heaven and they wanted to come and see his remains laid away.’

Squashy looked bewildered. One of the puppies came up and jumped up at the dead dog in his arms.

‘Lily has already made a place for him. My dogs will wait for him there, and you come with Lily.’ He walked towards
the potato patch where Lily had dug the grave. His dogs followed him and he lined them up beside the grave and told them all to sit. His dogs were very obedient and sat in a long row, looking expectant.

Lily could not believe her eyes. ‘Oh, Squashy, how lovely! They’re waiting for Barky. Take him over there and lie him down.’ She had filled the bottom of the grave with hay and thrown in a few wild flowers and thought it looked very nice. ‘Come on, Squashy. His friends are waiting.’

She led the way and Squashy laid poor dead Barky down in his grave, kneeling amongst the dogs. His tears splashed down.

‘We’ll cover him with hay and he will be nice and warm, and then when the earth goes back we’ll make him a cross with his name on it, and plant some lovely flowers on top, just like Helena had, do you remember?’

Squashy nodded. All was well. He said, ‘They like a nice funeral,’ nodding towards Cedric’s dogs and using a phrase much used in the village.

Lily heaved a sigh of relief. Cedric filled in the earth while the dogs still sat obediently, and then he waved them off and they all went leaping about with Ludo, and Squashy ran after them laughing.

‘Oh, Cedric, you are magic!’

Lily’s relief made her feel quite weak. Cedric came and took her in his arms and said, ‘So now you’ll agree to marry me?’

‘Yes. Yes, I will. I promise.’

And so the engagement was announced.