Coming Home (45 page)

‘And my things?’

‘I think Mary Millyway has dealt with them. Arranged your belongings, probably unpacked your clothes. Ma told me very firmly that the pink bedroom is now yours.’

‘She's been so kind.’

‘No skin off her nose. And she likes a mass of people around.’ He looked up. ‘Oh, hurray, here come our pasties. I was beginning to feel faint with hunger.’

‘There you are, my love.’ The plates were slapped down before them. ‘Get round those and there won't be much wrong with you.’

The pasties were, indeed, enormous, steaming and fragrant. Judith took up a knife and cut hers in two, and bubbling morsels of steak and potato slipped out from between the folds of pastry. She smelt the onion, and her mouth watered. A breeze gusted from the sea and blew her hair over her face. She pushed it back and smiled at her companion.

‘I'm so glad,’ she told him, in a burst of contentment that was almost happiness, ‘that we didn't go to The Mitre.’

Returning to Nancherrow, bowling down the hill into Rosemullion, Edward was visited with yet another brilliant idea. ‘Let's go and call on Aunt Lavinia. I haven't seen her yet, and perhaps we can prevail on Isobel to give us a cup of tea.’

‘I'm still full of pasty.’

‘So am I, but that doesn't matter.’ He leaned forward and gave Palmer a thump on his solid shoulder. ‘Palmer, you don't have to get back to work, do you?’

‘I've got these things I picked up for the Colonel. He's waiting for them. I said I'd be straight back.’

‘In that case, you can drive us up the hill and dump us, and we'll walk home.’

‘Whatever you want.’

‘Okay. We'll go.’ He sat back once more, pushing his forelock out of his eyes. ‘You'd like that, wouldn't you, Judith? Lavinia's always good for a gas.’

‘If that's what you want, yes, of course. But will Aunt Lavinia mind us dropping in on her with no warning?’

‘She won't mind. Always adored nice surprises.’

‘It's only half past three. Perhaps she'll be resting.’

‘She never rests,’ Edward informed her shortly.

And indeed, he was quite right, and Aunt Lavinia was not resting. They walked into the house without so much as a by-your-leave, and found her in her sun-filled drawing-room, sitting at her desk and dealing with her correspondence. In the grate, a little fire flickered, and, as before, the charming room dazzled and sparkled with reflected light. When the door burst open, she turned abruptly in her chair, putting up a hand to remove her spectacles. Her expression, finding herself so rudely disturbed, was a little surprised, but only for a second. Recognising Edward standing before her caused her features to fill with delight.

‘My dear!’ She laid down her pen. ‘What a splendid surprise. Edward. I didn't even know you were home.’

She flung out an arm, and he went to embrace and kiss her. Judith saw that today she was dressed far less formally than she had been for the remembered Sunday luncheon, and wore a heavy tweed skirt, thick stockings, and sensible shoes. A long cardigan was buttoned over a cream silk blouse, revealing a glint of gold chain and a loop of pearls.

‘We decided to drop in. We're on our way back to Nancherrow from Penzance. We got Palmer to drop us and we're going to walk home.’

‘Heavens, what energy. And Judith as well. Better and better. In school uniform. Have you just broken up? What a treat for me. Now, both come and sit down and make yourselves comfortable, and Edward, you must tell me everything you've been up to…how long have you been back?’

She leaned back in her chair, Edward drew up a low stool, and Judith went to sit in the window and watched them both, and listened, and heard about life at Harrow, and the possibility of becoming Head of House, and the success, or otherwise, of the rugby football team. And he was asked about examination results and the possibility of going to Oxford or Cambridge, and they talked of mutual friends, and the boy whom Edward had brought home for the summer holidays, and Judith marvelled that anyone so old should be so astute and interested; that a person who had never had family of her own could be so perceptive of the younger generation, and so aware of the truly important aspects of that generation's life. She guessed that it was probably because she had always been deeply involved with the Carey-Lewis children, and because of them had never allowed herself to become out of touch.

Finally, she had heard it all, and was content, and only needed to be brought up-to-date. ‘And what are you up to today, the pair of you?’

Edward told her. About picking Judith up from St Ursula's, and getting his new tweed measured, and then eating pasties in the garden of the little pub.

‘Oh, how envious I am. Nothing more delicious than a good pasty eaten in the open air. And now I expect you're hungry again.’ She pushed back her cuff and looked at her small gold wristwatch. ‘It's nearly four o'clock. Why don't you pop into the kitchen, Edward dear, and ask Isobel to bring us a tea-tray. With a bit of luck, she'll have some shortbread for us. Or perhaps hot toast and gentleman's relish?’

‘Delicious. I was wondering when you'd bring up the subject of tea.’ Edward got to his feet, stretched enormously, and departed in search of Isobel. As the door closed behind him, Aunt Lavinia turned to Judith. ‘Now, I can talk to you.’ She put on her spectacles and inspected Judith over the top of them. Her expression, now, was serious once more. ‘I didn't want to speak in front of Edward, but I was so distressed for you when I heard that your aunt had died in that dreadful motor-car accident. Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I'm all right.’

‘Such a tragic thing to happen, and most of all, to you, with your family abroad.’

‘It would have been much worse if everybody hadn't been so kind. Miss Catto, and Mr Baines, and Diana. Everybody, really.’

‘Diana has a very generous spirit. And the most important thing is that you have been made so welcome at Nancherrow. That was a great comfort to me, when she told me her plans for you. It stopped me worrying for you. It means that you have a loving home to come to, and nothing is unbearable provided you've got some sort of a family, even if it isn't your own.’

Judith felt that it was necessary to explain. ‘Actually I do have a bit of family in this country, because I've got Aunt I Biddy and Uncle Bob. They're great, but she's rather occupied with a new house just now, and both Uncle Bob and my Cousin Ned are in the Navy. But they're always there, and I know I can always go to them. But even so, being at Nancherrow makes everything different.’

‘And such a cheerful house! Always something going on. Sometimes I think poor Edgar becomes quite bemused. You'll be happy there, I know, but do remember, dear Judith, that if for any reason you do feel a bit blue or depressed or lonely, or you want to talk about things, or just mill problems over, I am always here. At The Dower House. And after years of being married to a barrister, I have become an excellent listener. You won't forget, will you?’

‘No. I won't forget.’

‘And now I can hear Edward coming back. I sent him I because Isobel adores him, and usually I don't have my tea until half past four, and I didn't want there to be a sulky face brooding in the kitchen. But for Edward she will make toast and gentleman's relish, and for the remainder of the day will be wreathed in happy smiles.’

Nancherrow,

The same day, but later.

Now I can finish the letter. As you can see, I am here, back in my same bedroom, but it is really mine now because I have all my things. They look quite at home, and Mary Millyway moved the bed so that I have space for my desk and my books. It is six o'clock and a beautiful evening and beyond my window I can hear the doves in the courtyard, and if I stick my head out of the window I can actually hear the sea.

Such a surprise. Edward, Loveday's brother, was there to fetch me from school with one of the gardeners driving Colonel Carey-Lewis's shooting-brake. We went to Penzance and to Medways, because he had to have a new suit measured, and then we went out for lunch, and then on the way back called in to have tea with Aunt Lavinia, Mrs Boscawen, at The Dower House. We had hot toast, and then, after, walked home, much farther than I'd remembered, and it was a relief finally to arrive. Edward is very nice. He is nearly seventeen and at Harrow and going to Oxford, I think, when he leaves school. It was he who went to Windyridge to fetch all my things. He saw Edna and Hilda, who are still there, but they have another post to go to.

I haven't seen Loveday or Diana yet, as they're not back from a pony club rally, and I haven't seen Colonel Carey-Lewis either. Only Mary Millyway, who came to help me unpack all my clothes and settle in. Later on, when I go down for dinner, I shall see them all.

Please write soon and tell me everything you are doing so that I can imagine it. Or tell Dad to take some snaps so that I can see if Jess is growing. I want to know if she is going to school, or having lessons. And is Golly still alive, or has he been eaten by a snake?

Rather a muddled letter, but there has been so much to tell you. Everything is changing so quickly, that sometimes it is quite difficult to keep up with it all, and from time to time I find myself wondering if I have remembered to tell you everything. I wish I could be with you and talk about it all. I suppose growing up is always a bit lonely.

Lots of love, and please don't worry. I'm all right.

Judith