Winter Solstice (33 page)

“You don’t have to explain to me.”

“No, but I want to.”

“We drove together from Dibton to Scotland. I drove most of the way, and the conditions were horrible and the Al heavy with traffic. It had been a traumatic few days before we left, saying goodbyes and making arrangements, and I think we were both exhausted. Oscar scarcely spoke at all. By the time it was dark we’d had enough of the motorway and we got off it at some junction and drove down into Northumberland. Oscar said there was some little town he remembered with an old hotel in the main street, and by some miracle we found the town and the hotel was still there. So I sat in the car with Horace, and Oscar went in to see if they had rooms for us, and if they minded the dog as well.

“After a bit, he came out and said that they didn’t mind about the dog, but they only had one room with a double bed. By then I was so tired, I’d have slept in a cupboard, so I told Oscar to go in and book it, and we wrote Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Blundell in the register, and I felt like a giddy girl sneaking off for the weekend with her boyfriend.

“We had baths, and a drink, and dinner; then, because we had an early start the next morning, we went upstairs. There then took place a ridiculous conversation, with Oscar saying he would curl up on the sofa, and me saying I would sleep on the floor with Horace. And then, suddenly, we were too tired to argue, and we just got into bed together and fell fast asleep.

“But what I didn’t know was that Oscar was having these terrible nightmares. He told me later that he’d been having them ever since the crash, that he put off going to bed at night because he was so filled with dread, so afraid. That night, he woke me with his screams, and for a moment I was terrified, and then I knew I had to wake him. So I did, and he was weeping … it was so awful for him … and I gave him a drink of water and calmed him down, and I put my arms around him and held him close and after a bit he went back to sleep again. After that, I would never let him be alone during the night. When we came here, he was a bit worried at first about what people would think, what they would say. We have a sweet woman who comes and cleans for us, Mrs. Snead…. He was afraid she would gossip, and there would be disapproval and bad feeling. And I said I didn’t care if there was, I wasn’t going to leave him.

“I think, Carrie darling, that all this might sound a little suspect. Opportunist. As though, the moment Gloria was dead, I crashed into Oscar’s life and leaped into bed with him. But truly, it wasn’t like that. I’d always liked him immensely, but he was Gloria’s husband, and I liked her, too, though perhaps not quite as much as I liked Oscar. It’s rather difficult to explain. But everything I have done, every choice I have made was only with the best of intentions in mind. He asked me to come to Scotland with him, and because he was a man on the verge of’ desperation I agreed.

“It could have been a disaster, but instead we have a relationship which I think is a comfort to both of us. We first made love about a week after we got here. It was, of course, inevitable. He is a very attractive man, and for some reason he seems to find battered old me attractive, too. Since then, the terrible dreams have begun to fade, and sometimes he sleeps through till morning. There are still nightmares, but not nearly so frequent. And if you do hear shouts in the middle of the night, don’t be alarmed, because I am with Oscar.

“I’ve kept nothing secret, told no lies. I confided in Mrs. Snead, privately, at the first opportunity, the circumstances of our design for living. Mrs. Snead is a Londoner and quite unshockable, as well as being a good friend and a mine of useful information. When I had finished explaining, all she said was “I think, Mrs. Phipps, it would be a cruel thing to let that man suffer, if you can give ‘im a spot of comfort in ‘is hour of need.” So that was that. And now you know.”

For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Carrie sighed.

“Poor Oscar. But how much poorer he would be without you.”

“And Lucy? What shall we do about Lucy? She doesn’t look a stupid child. Ought you to tell her?”

“Let’s not make an issue. If she asks questions, I shall tell her the truth.”

“We’re so old, she’ll be astonished.”

“I don’t think so. Her own grandfather has a very young wife and a couple of little children. Nothing new to Lucy. She’s clearly taken a shine to Oscar and she’ll be thrilled, as I am.” Carrie put her arms around Elfrida’s skinny shoulders and hugged.

“It’s all so sweet. Needing each other and finding each other.”

“Oscar’s not out of the woods yet by any means. He still has a long way to go. Some days he’s been so depressed that he scarcely speaks. But I’ve learned to leave him alone. He has to deal with his grief in his own way.”

“It can’t have been easy.”

“Oh, darling Carrie, nothing is. And now we must waste no more time, otherwise the day will have died. I shall find you a hot-water bottle, and you shall go to sleep.”

Friday, December 15

We are here, and it is now ten o’clock at night and it has been a long day. Carrie came to Gran’s flat about half past eight in the morning, and she had a taxi waiting, and then we drove on to Heathrow. Mummy and Gran were still at the flat. Mummy doesn’t fly to Florida till Tuesday. They were still in their dressing-gowns and being very kind. I think they both felt a bit guilty about all the discussions and crossness. They gave me Christmas presents, all wrapped, and I put them in my suitcase. Mummy gave me one hundred fifty pounds and Gran gave me fifty more pounds for spending money. I have never felt so rich and am frightened of losing my purse, but it’s all right, quite safe in my new haversack.

The flight was all right and not bumpy and we had a son of breakfast on the plane. At Inverness a nice man called Alec was there to meet us and drove us here. There was snow on a hill and it took about an hour and a quarter.

Creagan is very old, pretty, and full of quite large houses and a huge church. This is an amazing house, it is much bigger than it looks and is on three storeys. It was rented out, and a lot of the furniture, Oscar told me, came from Carry-dale, the big house he used to stay in when he was a boy and had a grandmother there. I say a lot of furniture, but in fact there isn‘t much, and no pictures or anything. The sitting-room and bedrooms are on the first floor, but I am up again, and in an attic, which Elfrida has done up especially for me. She didn’t have to paint it, as it’s all white and quite fresh, but she has had to buy furniture, which was very kind of her.

So. My worn. It has a sloping ceiling and a skylight (no window) and a striped blind on the skylight, but I don’t suppose I shall ever pull it down, as I am able to lie in bed and look up at the sky. Like being out of doors.

The bed is dark wood, and there is a blue-and-white striped duvet and a tartan rug in case I feel cold. There is a white dressing-table, with a swing mirror and little drawers, and a chest of drawers as well. Then, a bedside table, a lamp, and a very useful table against one of the non-sloping walls. I think it must once have been a kitchen table, as it’s a bit battered, but just right for writing up diary or writing letters, et cetera. Then there are two chairs and some hooks on the wall for me to hang my clothes. I haven’t brought very many. The floor is scrubbed floorboards and in the middle is a wonderful thick rug with lots of bright colours, and by my bedside there is a sheepskin for stepping out onto on cold mornings. I find it all so different and romantic.

Elfrida and Oscar are really nice. I thought they would be terribly old. They are old, but don’t look it, or talk like it. Elfrida is very tall and thin with orangey hair, and Oscar is also tall, but not quite so thin. And he has a lot of white hair, a very soft voice, gentle eyes. Before we left London, Carrie told me about his wife and his daughter Francesca being killed in a terrible car smash. And their dogs as well. I was rather dreading meeting him, because it is difficult sometimes to know what to say to someone who has suffered something so awful. But he is really nice and didn‘t seem at all upset when he saw me and Carrie. We had lunch, and then he asked me to go out for a walk with him and Horace. Horace is Elfrida’s dog. So we went, and it wasn‘t too cold, and we looked at shops and sat in the church for a bit, and then we went out again, and crossed the golf links and went to the beach. The beach is lovely, long and clean, with no plastic bottles or rubbish. Lots of shells. I picked up two scallops. I shall go again, and take Horace with me.

I am really happy. I’ve never lived in such a big house, but it has a nice feel, as though well-to-do and cheerful people had always lived here. It has a big garden, too, at the back, but not much growing there at this time of year. Tomorrow I shall explore.

Oscar, rather to his surprise, was having a bonfire.

At Dibton, at the Grange, he had become an enthusiastic gardener, mostly because he was retired, and a little piano teaching and the occasional Sunday-morning duty in the village church still left him with time on his hands. To begin with, he was totally inexperienced. Had never even watered a window-box. But, starting up, he realized that long-forgotten wisdoms came floating up from his subconscious, wisdoms left over from the holidays he had spent at Corrydale with his grandmother, a natural gardener so experienced and accomplished that others came to view the glories of Corrydale and seek her advice.

The practical aspects he taught himself-by trial and error, and by intensive study of huge gardening tomes. As well, he had the help of the two local men who came in to cut grass, do a bit of forestry, and deal with the heavy digging. Before long, his new hobby had absorbed him, and he enjoyed the physical exercise, the pleasures of planning and planting, and the simple satisfaction of being out of doors.

Coming to Creagan in the middle of winter, there wasn’t much he could do about the steep terraced garden that climbed the slope behind the Estate House. He had swept up a number of dead leaves and cleared blocked drains, and that was all. But this morning, at breakfast, Elfrida had complained about an overgrown lilac bush that spilt out over the path and got in her way when she went up to the washing-line with her basket of wet laundry.

Oscar said that he would deal with the wayward lilac.

After breakfast, he took down the key of the potting-shed from its hook on the dresser, and went out to investigate. It was a strange sort of day, overcast, and with only a slight movement of chill air. From time to time the clouds parted to reveal a scrap of blue sky, but looking, he could still see the snow lying on the hills, which meant there was more to come.

He managed to turn the rusty key and tug the warped wooden door open, revealing a dark and musty interior scarcely lit by a small cob webby window. There was a potting-table, on which lay a lot of earth, some broken flowerpots, a stack of yellowed newspapers, and a few archaic tools, like dibbers and bill hooks There was no mower or trimmer, nor any piece of modem equipment, but around the walls, on huge masonry nails, hung heavy old forks and spades. A rake, a hoe, a rusted saw, a formidable scythe. All were in dire need of care and attention, and he thought he would clean and oil them all, but could find no oilcan amongst the chaos and decided that that particular job must wait.

In a box filled with nuts, bolts, and rusted spanners, he found a pair of secateurs, ancient but more or less workable. Using these, he went out and dealt with the lilac, which left him with a pile of branches in need of disposal. There was no wheelbarrow, and indeed a wheelbarrow would be useless in this precipitous plot, so he found a ragged potato sack, stuffed the branches into this, and lugged it up to the top of the garden where, behind an old plum tree, there were the blackened remains of some previous bonfire.

He decided, then, to clear out the potting-shed and burn all the rubbish while it was a dry, still day, and while he was in the mood.

There was a great deal of it, and it took several journeys up and down the path to get it all collected. He made spills out of the newspaper, chopped up some rotted wooden seed-boxes, and got his fire started. Soon it was blazing nicely, and he was raking up leaves and getting quite warm. He took off his jacket, hung it on the plum tree, and worked in his sweater. The thick smoke rose and billowed and made everything smell of autumn. Then he started in on some smothering ivy, cutting and tearing it back off the old stone wall, and so intent was he on this labour that he did not hear the back gate open and shut, and he did not see the man who walked up the path behind him.

“Oscar.”

Startled, Oscar swung around, to face Peter Kennedy. Peter was dressed for golf, in his red jacket and with his long-peaked baseball cap pulled down over his brow.

“Heavens, I never heard you.”

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. But I’m on my way to the Golf Club, I’m playing at half past ten. I saw the smoke from the fire, and guessed I’d find you here.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, really. But I wanted to tell you that I was in Inverness yesterday, and I dropped in at the hospital to see Godfrey Billicliffe.”

“That was good of you. How is he?”

Peter shook his head.

“Not good news, I’m afraid. He’s very ill. He has cancer….”

Cancer. Oscar said, “Oh, God.”

“… I think, he already had his own private suspicions, fears. But never said a word to anybody. He told me he’d been feeling unwell for a long time, but had never gone to see the doctor. Just dosed himself with pain-killers and whisky. He didn’t want to be told … he was frightened of the truth.”

“He was frightened that day I found him in his bed.”

“I know.”

Oscar thought about the sick old man, remembered the weak tears that had brimmed his rheumy eyes.

“Does he know?” he asked.

“Yes. He persuaded the young consultant to tell him.”

“How long has he got?”

“A little time. He’s dying. But he’s comfortable and quite peaceful, I think, rather enjoying all the attention and the nurses taking care of him. It will be a relief.”