A Dream of her Own (60 page)
‘I understand,’ Polly said.
But, of course, Polly couldn’t understand fully because she didn’t know what Constance was going to do.
‘And shut the door behind you,’ Constance continued, ‘I need to be alone with my husband.’
They were standing in the darkened sitting room. ‘I hate leaving you here alone, Constance,’ Nella said.
‘I’m not alone. I have my daughters, Polly, Mrs Green ...’
‘Maybe, but the girls aren’t old enough to know what’s gannin’ on and I’m certain sure you’re not gannin’ to invite either Polly or Mrs Green to sit in here with you and hev a good chinwag. You’re just gannin’ to stay here all alone and brood.’
‘Nella, I’m not going to brood, believe me.’
‘I don’t believe you!’
They stared at each other challengingly and then, suddenly, they both smiled. ‘Ee, Constance,’ Nella said, ‘times hev changed but we hevn’t, hev we? We can still argue like bairns in the school yard!’ Constance laughed. ‘And what do we look like now?’ Nella continued. ‘A couple of old crows, dressed all in black and flapping our wings and squawking at each other! ’
They hugged each other for a moment and then Constance drew away. ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Have you time for a cup of tea with me before you go?’
‘Just about. It feels wrong heving to gan work on such a day but I hev to, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. I’ll ring for Polly and explain that she’ll have to be quick.’
‘And, while you’re about it, could you ask her to open these curtains? It’s nearly midday and the room’s like a tomb—Oh, what have I said!’
Constance sighed. ‘It’s all right, Nella, but we can’t open the curtains, not on the day of John’s funeral. I’ll get Polly to bring in some more lamps.’
As they drank their tea, Constance and Nella discussed quietly what had happened that morning. The children had been considered too young to attend a funeral and had stayed in the nursery with Florence, where they still were. And Nella had not brought Valentino. She’d explained to his mother that she wanted to be able to concentrate on Constance’s wellbeing and, besides, she knew that the funeral would upset him.
John’s uncle, Walter Barton, had arranged for the ceremony to take place very early, before the streets were busy. One or two of Barton’s senior managers had attended the church as a sign of respect, but only the family had come back to the house for the funeral ‘tea’, except that it was early enough to be a late breakfast.
‘So you’ll be all right financially?’ Nella asked now. ‘John has left you well provided for?’
‘Yes. Uncle Walter is to come back and explain everything to me after he’s taken Muriel and Esther home. But he says I’m not to worry.’
‘Then I’ll be off now, Constance.’ Nella rose but looked reluctant to leave. ‘I wish I wasn’t gannin’ to Scotland next week. If there was only some way to cancel it ...’
‘What, and disappoint the whole of Edinburgh? No, you must go and win over a whole new audience! Come, I won’t ring for Polly; I’ll see you to the door myself.’
John’s uncle looked haggard. Apart from the horror of the events he had had to deal with, Constance knew that he was genuinely grief-stricken. He had loved his only sister and, for her sake, he had cherished her son. It was not just Constance that John had hurt by behaving as he had.
After reading through various documents with her and making sure she understood them, he said, ‘All that this means is that the house is yours. But the shares in Barton’s will be held in trust for your daughters. I’m sure you will agree that that is fair.’
‘Of course.’
Constance averted her eyes. What else could she do but agree? If the truth were known, it wasn’t fair. Amy alone should be John’s heir - but for her daughters’ sakes, both of them, that was a secret she would have to keep.
‘I’m sorry if this conversation is upsetting for you; that’s why I wanted to explain things myself. When there are papers to be signed I’ll make sure Silverman comes here, rather than have you go to his office, and I’ll come with him.’
Constance remembered another occasion when papers had to be signed. Her mother had had to face the ordeal alone. How much worse it must have been for her when her marriage had been so happy; when she had loved her husband so very much ...
‘Constance? Are you all right? I’ll ring for Polly, shall I?’
‘No, I’m fine. And thank you for coming; you’ve been very kind.’
‘Right then. Anything you need, you just have to tell me, you know that, don’t you? And I’ll tell Muriel and Esther to call by. That will be a comfort for you, won’t it?’
Constance nodded to hide her expression of dismay. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said faintly. ‘A great comfort.’
‘It’s Dr Alvini, Mrs Edington. Shall I show him in?’
Constance looked up in surprise. She saw that Polly was surprised too. ‘I suppose so ...’
Polly hesitated. ‘I think it will be all right. I mean, I know you’re in mourning, but he is a doctor, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. Well, show him in.’
Frank stood just inside the room and regarded her gravely. Constance understood the questions in his eyes and fought to suppress an upsurge of emotion.
No ... this is wrong ... I cannot cope with this ... not now.
‘Will you sit down?’ she asked.
She noticed how Polly smiled at Frank and asked him, without being instructed, whether he would like tea or coffee. She guessed that Frank, without trying, had this effect on most women.
‘Coffee, please, Polly,’ he said and then when she had gone: ‘Have I made a mistake?’
‘Mistake?’
‘Asking for coffee.’
Constance thought of the delicious coffee served at Alvini’s and she laughed. ‘Probably. But Polly will do her best.’
‘Good. But I’m not a doctor, you know. Not yet. That was just Nella’s way of making it look official that day - that day when—’
‘Yes. Quite. But why have you come today? Is that Nella’s doing too?’
Frank smiled. ‘Of course. Nella is fretting away up in Edinburgh and wishing she could be with you. She telephoned me—’
‘Telephoned?’
‘Yes, we have a telephone now and so has the hotel in which Nella and my brother are staying. Anyway, she telephoned me and asked me to call and see if you were coping.’
‘Really.’
‘She said that you might be cross.’
He paused while Polly brought in the coffee and by the time they were alone again, Constance remembered uneasily another favour that Nella had asked of Frank Alvini ...
She watched him sip his coffee. ‘Is that to your taste?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly. It’s dreadful.’
‘What!’
‘Have I spoken out of turn? Was that not polite?’
‘Of course it wasn’t. Oh, Frank, you know it wasn’t and you’re doing it deliberately.’ She began to laugh weakly.
Suddenly he put his coffee down and came and stood beside her. ‘Constance,’ he said, and took her hand.
‘No, don’t.’ She snatched her hand away, and rose and backed away from him. ‘You must go now,’ she said. ‘You have done what Nella requested, you can see that I am coping and that I can even laugh. Now please go.’
‘Forgive me. But may I offer you my friendship?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know if you and I could be friends, Frank. There’s something ... something ...’
‘Something else? Some barrier between us rather than your too recent loss?’
She didn’t answer.
‘It’s the children, isn’t it?’ Once more she got the feeling that he could read her mind. ‘It’s because of what Nella asked me to find out for you ... because I know—’
‘Yes, you know,’ Constance said quietly.
‘Constance, listen to me. What do I know? I know that you were badly, shamefully, treated. That nothing that happened was your fault. And that if Gerald Sowerby had not had a drunken accident and become a shambling, useless wreck, I would probably have killed him at the first opportunity.’
She stared at him. His eyes were glittering with the kind of passion she had never seen before. She did not doubt that he meant every word. ‘Accident? Gerald Sowerby?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, he will never be able to harm another woman as he has harmed you.’
After he had gone Constance wondered if Nella could have the faintest inkling of what she had done. Her friend couldn’t have known that the manner of John’s death would leave Constance with a burden that she would have to carry for ever ... that she would never be entirely free from the past. Perhaps Nella had had the best of intentions when she had sent Frank Alvini to see her, but she had only succeeded in upsetting the fine balance of emotions Constance had fought to achieve since John’s death.
Chapter Thirty
March 1909
‘Can’t you sleep?’ Nella asked.
Constance turned away from the window of the garden room to find her friend coming towards her. Instead of a robe, Nella clutched a large paisley shawl around her shoulders; she looked tired.
‘I’m sorry, did I disturb you?’ Constance said.
‘No, Valentino’s the one who disturbed me! He’s snoring like the proverbial pigs being driven to market and, as a result, he drove me out of bed! I was on the way down to make meself a drink of hot milk and honey in the kitchen, but I saw the light on in here.’
Constance smiled. ‘Does he often snore like that?’
‘Only when he’s excited - as he is about the wedding tomorrow. But why aren’t you safely tucked up and getting yer beauty sleep?’
‘Too much to think about.’
‘I know. But what on earth can you be looking at at this time of night?’ Nella stood next to her and peered out. There was a moon but the light was intermittent as the clouds scudded across the sky, driven by the wind.
‘Just the trees,’ Constance said. ‘Look at the branches swaying ... I think I can hear the swing creaking.’
‘The swing yer father made for you and Robert?’
‘Mm. For Robert, really. He lived here before I was born.’
‘And now I live here. I had no idea when I bought it, you know. Do you mind?’
‘I would rather it were you and Valentino living in Lodore House than anyone else. I can see how much you’ve grown to love the place.’
‘And you are welcome here always. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘But for goodness’ sake come away from all this cold glass, you just in yer nightgown and robe and all.’ Nella shivered dramatically, as if she were on the stage. ‘You’ll catch yer death if you stand here much longer. Come away down to the kitchen with me. It’s not a room I normally visit so you can show me round!’
Nella insisted that the house should be kept warm and, as they went through the door and down the stairs that led down to the domestic quarters, the comforting smells of Constance’s childhood rose up to greet them: the smells of warmth and cleanliness and recent baking. When they reached the bottom and opened the door that led into the kitchen, Constance almost expected to see Maggie Muff and her kittens curled up in the basket near the range.
‘Are you crying, sweetheart?’ Nella had switched on the light and she paused to look up into Constance’s face.
‘Perhaps. But I’m not sad.’
‘Gan on, then - gan and sit down by the table. I think I can just about find me way into the larder and discover where the cook keeps the milk.’ Nella opened one of the doors that led off the kitchen and a draught of cool air wafted in. ‘If I don’t come back, come and rescue me!’
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