Coming Home (100 page)

But Biddy, despite herself, was still uncertain. ‘How about Bob?’

‘We'll ring him up and tell him our plan.’

‘But leaves, and things. I must be there if he has leave.’

‘It's only a little further than Devon. Or if you wanted, you could nip up to London in the train and meet him there. Please don't think of any more objections. Just agree. Anyway, till the end of the summer.’

‘I'll think about it,’ Biddy said feebly, but Judith disregarded this.

‘What we'll do is, we'll go back to the Mitre tonight, and spend one more night there, and then we'll buy a bit of food and come back here tomorrow. And we'll make up the beds and pick heaps of flowers. We'll stoke up the range tonight so that it doesn't go out, and then there'll be lots of hot water for baths and things, and that's absolutely
all
we've got to think about.’

‘And Morag?’

‘Oh, Biddy, Morag will love to live here. Won't you, darling creature? She's already perfectly at home. Please, don't think of one more damping thing to say. What's the use of my having a house if we can't all enjoy it?’

Finally, Biddy succumbed. ‘All right. We'll give it a try. We'll give it a couple of weeks.’ And then she laughed. ‘For the life of me, I can't imagine where you get your persuasive powers from. Certainly neither your dear mother, nor your father.’

‘I'd like to think I get them from you. Now, quickly, before Mr Baines appears and says it's time to go back to Penzance, come with me and let me show you the garden.’

So Biddy got to her feet, and together they stepped out into the sweet warmth of the late afternoon, and went across the grass and along the path that led through the rose garden and down into the orchard. Here, the gnarled old apple trees were misted in young green; they had shed their blossom and the tiny buds of new fruit had already formed. The grass was long, studded with wild poppies and marguerite daisies. Soon, all would have to be scythed down, and raked into little haystacks.

Biddy breathed the scented air. ‘It's like a painting by Monet.’ Morag bounded ahead. ‘What's that little house?’

‘Oh. That's the Hut. I've got the key. Aunt Lavinia had it built for Athena and Edward Carey-Lewis. They used to camp out here in the summer-time.’

‘Do you want to show me?’

‘Yes, I think I do.’

She went ahead of Biddy, ducking her head beneath the apple branches. She climbed the wooden steps and smelt the warm smell of creosote, and put the key in the door and pushed it open. Saw the bunk, with its scarlet blanket, where she had found and lost her love.

This is just the beginning of loving.

But it had been the end.

It's pointless to give your love to the wrong person.

She remembered the bee, droning around the roof. She looked up, and there were cobwebs there again, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘Judith.’

Biddy, behind her.

She brushed the tears away, and turned. She said, ‘So stupid.’

‘You and Edward?’

‘I had to come. I haven't been here since; I had to come today.’

‘Grasping the nettle?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Does it still sting?’

‘Yes.’

Biddy said, ‘This is yours now. You can fill it with your own experiences, make your own memories. You were brave to come.’

‘Right now, I don't feel very brave.’

‘And failing all, you can always use it as an extra spare room. For, possibly, guests who snore?’

And all at once the stupid tears receded, and they were both laughing. And Biddy gave Judith a hug and shooed her out through the door, and they locked it up again, and started back through the orchard. And as they went, they heard Mr Baines calling them from the house, and hurried back up through the garden to tell him immediately, losing no time, of the plans that they had laid.

‘Nancherrow.’

‘Diana, it's Judith.’

‘Darling! Where are you?’

‘At The Dower House. I moved in yesterday. I'm living here.’

‘Oh, what bliss. I didn't even know you'd come down.’

‘I brought Biddy with me. And her dog. We got the keys on Monday, and then yesterday we moved in.’

‘For good?’

‘Not sure about that. Anyway, for the time being. It's heaven. And I have to thank you so much for letting me have all the furniture. I feel I should pay you for it or something…’

‘Heavens, don't suggest such a thing or Edgar will be mortally offended. I'm afraid we left a few gaps, removing all those goodies, but I really wanted the children to have just one little remembrance of darling Aunt Lavinia.’

‘The gaps hardly show. One day I'll fill them up with bits of my own. How is everybody?’

‘In rude health. We've just had Edward down for a couple of days. Totally unexpected. But his commanding officer gave him a weekend leave, and it was utter bliss to see him again. I can't bear it that you just missed him.’

‘…how is he?’

‘Looking a bit tired and thin, and he slept a good deal of the time, but by the time he went back to darkest Kent or wherever he is, he was quite himself again. I told him about you buying The Dower House and he was delighted — as, of course, we all are. He said it felt like keeping it in the family, and to tell you that next time he comes down, he's going to descend on you and make sure you're not making any radical changes or improvements.’

‘What would he imagine I might do?’

‘Oh, I don't know. Fling out a ballroom wing or something. When are we going to see you? Come for lunch. Bring your aunt and the dog for lunch. What day? Tomorrow?’

‘We can't come tomorrow because we have to go out to St Just and talk to Phyllis Eddy. I want her to come and live here too, with her baby girl. I'm hoping that she's going to jump at the idea, but you never know, do you?’

‘Darling,
anything's
better than St Just. So, what about Friday? Lunch on Friday.’

‘That would be wonderful. And I want you to rope Biddy into the Red Cross.’

‘We could certainly do with a little fresh blood. Barbara Parker Brown's getting dreadfully bossy, and everybody but me's terrified of her. We keep being told that being at war brings out the best in people, but it's certainly brought out the worst in her. Darling, what about all your bits and pieces that are here? Do you want to remove them, or do you want me to keep them for you?’

‘I'll take them away, and then you can have your pink bedroom back.’

‘Too sad. The end of an era. I'll get Mary to pack them up, and we'll send them over with a tractor, or something.’

‘There's no immediate hurry. How's Athena?’

‘Getting more enormous every moment. I'm trimming the cot. White broderie anglaise, too pretty. I'll show you when you come. Friday lunch-time. I'll go and tell Mrs Nettlebed now, so that she can kill the fatted calf or wring the neck of one of Loveday's old hens. See you then, darling. Thank you for phoning. Heaven to know you're back with us again. Bye-eee!’

The Dower House,

Rosemullion,

Cornwall.

Saturday, 25th May.

Dear Mummy and Dad,

Once more, ages since I have written. I am so sorry, but so much is happening. Most important, don't you adore this writing paper? I found it in a drawer and couldn't resist using it. It was in a box from Harrods, all embossed and waiting for me.

As you can see, we've moved in. Biddy and her dog and me. Biddy loves it, she's unravelled like a length of string, and looks better than she's looked forever. I think she finds this house very peaceful, and it has no memories of Ned. Besides, she's always loved Cornwall, and this afternoon we're going to go down to the sea and swim. I hope she will let Upper Bickley, and stay, at least for the summer, but it's an open-ended arrangement, and she must make up her own mind.

Yesterday, we got into the car and drove to St Just to see Phyllis. She's living in her parents' house and there's scarcely room to turn around, but after we'd said hello and everything and had the inevitable cups of tea and slabs of saffron cake, Biddy and I managed to smuggle her out onto the washing-green, and we sat on the grass and invited her to bring Anna and come and live here. (Anna is adorable, toddling around and beginning to say a few words. Luckily, she looks like Phyllis and not like Cyril, whose only good feature seems to have been his lovely eyebrows.) Anyway, the proposal all took a moment or two to sink in, but when it did, Phyllis burst into tears, she was so overcome with delight and gratitude. The arrangement is (with Mr Baines' approval) that I pay her a sort of retainer for caretaking, so that she won't be strapped for cash, and she's got a bit of Navy pay as well, and won't have to pay rent, so she should be all right. I thought she might be a bit reluctant about leaving her mother and going so far away (it's not far really, in miles, but it certainly isn't next door), but she seemed quite philosophic about this, and when we broke the news to the mother, I think she was quite relieved as well, because honestly, the St Just house is quite unhygienically overcrowded.

On Friday I took Biddy for lunch at Nancherrow. I was a bit anxious about whether she and Diana would get on, as they're rather alike in some ways, and sometimes if people are too alike, they don't make friends. But I needn't have worried because they were gassing away in no time, and shrieking with laughter at the same silly jokes, and Biddy is going to join Diana's Red Cross group, which will give her a bit of war-work to do. Meantime, she has settled down here like a cat with butter on its paws, and like I said, is becoming more relaxed, and her old funny self, with every day that passes. I hadn't realised the strain, for her, of getting through the days in a house so filled with memories of Ned.

I can't wait to show you my lovely new home. Aren't I lucky, being a householder, with roots of my own, and I'm still not even nineteen?

I shan't stay forever. I really want to go and join up with the Wrens, but I have to get everything and everybody settled first. Perhaps at the end of the summer.

Now I must go and help Biddy. One of the attics was left piled with old trunks and bits of carpet, et cetera, and she's started clearing it out. At the moment we have only three bedrooms, and Phyllis and Anna are going to have to sleep in the attic, where Isobel used to sleep. But I think, at the rate we're going, we'll need another bedroom, so as soon as we've disposed of all the clobber, we'll give it a coat of paint and buy some furniture.

The war news is ghastly. The Allies have fallen back to Dunkirk. Colonel Carey-Lewis is convinced that the entire British Expeditionary Force is going to be either annihilated, or captured. It has all happened with such terrible speed, and by the time you get this letter, heaven knows what the state of play will be. But Mr Baines is utterly certain that, at the end of the day, we're going to win the war, so I have decided to be certain, too.