Death is a Word (10 page)

I was interested to see how Daniel had changed. From being rather remote and formal, he was now
lively and enthusiastic, eagerly asking questions about Taviscombe before the war.

‘Isn’t it extraordinary,’ he was saying to Mrs Dudley, ‘how life has changed in such a relatively short time.’

‘And not for the better,’ was the reply.

It was obvious that Mrs Dudley was revelling in this attention, something that didn’t happen every day, and I was grateful to Daniel for giving her this treat and hoped that this unexpected relationship would continue for the benefit of both of them.

‘Well, I do think it’s been a great success,’ Anthea said complacently.

I looked over to where the speaker, an elderly man in spectacles, was surrounded by a group of enthusiasts. Though, sadly, the pile of signed copies of his book, the reason for his talk, seemed to be undiminished. ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Local history is always popular.’

‘It was so splendid that he was able to give Sybil and Pauline a history of their cottage,’ she went on. ‘Of course he’s made quite a study of that particular period.
Our
house is very much earlier – we have entries in the church records. He was most interested when I told him all about them.’

Alison Shelby detached herself from the group and came over.

‘Such a good talk! I’ve always been fascinated by local history. Such a pity Maurice couldn’t come today. He’s quite an expert, always looking things up on the Internet. I often say he’s living in the past not the present!’

‘I’d better go and see how the refreshments are getting on,’ I said, moving towards the kitchen.

I found Rosemary taking the cling film off plates of small cakes.

‘I think we might start taking these in now,’ she said. ‘That poor man looked as though he could do with a cup of tea, at least.’

‘I think he was a bit overwhelmed by the response,’ I said. ‘It was a mistake asking if anyone wanted to ask questions. So, of course, after Sybil and Pauline, everyone wanted to know about their own houses.’

I helped Rosemary to take in the refreshments and, out of pity (having also taken part in book signings in my time), I bought a copy of
Taviscombe Revisited
, signed by the author.

‘Of course, your cottage is really old, isn’t it?’ Alison suddenly materialised at my elbow. ‘Our house is quite new – well, I think it was built about 1980 or thereabouts. I would have liked an old property, something thatched, you know, but Maurice is so practical, he said there would always be something that needed doing to it.’

‘As far as thatch is concerned,’ I said with feeling, ‘there always is.’

‘That cottage poor Eva bought, that was old, wasn’t it? A bit remote for me but she seemed happy there. So sad. And her son, poor Daniel, is he staying for long?’

‘I don’t really know.’

‘Someone said he seemed quite settled there.’

‘Really?’

‘I heard he was spending a lot of time with Rosemary’s mother. I suppose he’s interested in the family. This often happens, doesn’t it, when someone dies? Poor Eva told me she was doing some research about it on the Internet. Perhaps he is carrying on with that? It’s really very interesting, people get quite absorbed in it.’

‘I really don’t know. Do excuse me,’ I said, edging away, ‘I really must go and see to things in the kitchen.’

Gathering up some discarded cups and plates, I made my escape. I was peacefully washing up when Rosemary came in looking very ruffled.

‘I’m absolutely fed up,’ she said.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Well, for one thing, Anthea’s being quite impossible,’ she said. ‘She’s going on about the refreshments – says they weren’t
adequate
. I told her that if she’d let me know in time how many tickets
she’d sold, we’d have known how many people we had to cater for.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘Completely ignored me as usual, of course, and swept off to persecute poor Derek.’

‘Well, he can hold his own. So what else?’

‘Oh, that tiresome Alison Shelby buttonholed me and kept going on about poor Eva and poor Daniel. It was all I could do not to be thoroughly rude to her.’

‘Yes, she is a menace. She got hold of me so I had to take refuge in here.’

‘You’re all right in here,’ Rosemary said sourly. ‘She’s always talking, but you never see her doing anything useful like washing up.’

‘Well, thank goodness for that,’ I said. ‘At least we’re safe in here. Anyway,’ I said, ‘I’m more or less finished, so let’s slip out the back way and go home for a restorative drink.’

Daniel and Patrick seemed settled at the cottage, keeping themselves to themselves and not really taking part in Taviscombe life. Daniel continued to visit Mrs Dudley (much to Rosemary’s delight – ‘I’ve never known Mother so easy, it’s wonderful!’) and occasionally having supper with Rosemary and Jack.

‘They’re actually getting down to going through Alan’s papers,’ Rosemary said. ‘Patrick’s doing, of
course. But I think Daniel is becoming really involved. He never seemed to be interested in his father’s work.’

‘Odd, really,’ I said. ‘I mean, you’d think he’d be fascinated by all the adventures Alan had in those exotic places. Michael would have boasted about them to all the other boys.’

‘Yes, it was strange. Eva always thought that he’d sort of withdrawn himself from his father’s job because he was afraid something would happen to him.’

‘Didn’t want to get too close so that he wouldn’t be hurt?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But such a grown-up way of thinking about things when he was so young!’

‘Daniel was always grown-up, in many ways. He never had friends of his own age, only really liked to be with adults. Patrick is the first person, the first contemporary, he’s ever connected with.’

‘And
he’s
odd too,’ I said. ‘Well, it’s splendid that they’ve found each other.’

‘Eva was very relieved. She and Daniel were never close – she did try, but, again, he sort of held aloof. All part of the same thing, I suppose. So, after he was grown up and had his own life, she became more and more involved in her own work.’

‘Which she was very good at.’

‘Very good. And I suppose they drifted apart.’

‘I don’t think I could have done that,’ I said thoughtfully.

‘I certainly couldn’t,’ Rosemary said. ‘But Eva was the sort of person who could detach herself from situations. You remember how she was, all those years ago, when Lassie, her beautiful collie, was run over? You and I would have been in floods, but she just
accepted
it, and we all knew how absolutely devoted she was to that dog.’

‘I suppose it’s good to be like that. I mean, I’m sure she grieved as much as we would, but she was able to focus on other things. If you think about it, she was like that when Alan died.’

‘True. With Daniel she recognised how things were and simply got on with her life as he was getting on with his. It didn’t mean she loved him any less.’

‘I suppose that’s how she coped with Alan’s job,’ I said. ‘All the being away and the danger.’

‘You’re probably right. But,’ she went on firmly, ‘it wouldn’t do for me.’

I’d had a tiring afternoon’s shopping in Taunton. Tiring and frustrating. I’d set out, not without hope, to buy a brown corduroy skirt. I should have known better. Plenty of brown skirts, also a few corduroy skirts, but never, of course, that particular combination. I should have learnt from experience.
A few years ago I wanted a red skirt. But, though I persevered for several months, there was never one of the right size, shape or shade of red (you’d be surprised how many shades of red there are). Eventually, when I had given up, I found it – perfect in every way. Exactly what I’d been looking for. But, by then, I felt I’d actually
had
a red skirt. So I didn’t buy it. Exhausted by my fruitless search, I came to rest in rather a nice tea shop that had just opened and comforted myself with a pot of tea and a large piece of coffee and walnut cake.

I’d just settled down to enjoy it when I saw Maurice Shelby holding a tray and looking about him for an empty table. The tea room was quite small and now very crowded. His eye lighted on me and he made his way towards me.

‘May I join you?’ he asked very formally.

‘Of course,’ I said, though my heart rather sank at the thought of having to make conversation with him.

‘It does get very busy in here,’ I said. ‘I suppose it’s because it’s only just opened and people want to see what it’s like.’

He nodded gravely, removed his plate and tea things from the tray, found nowhere to put it and replaced them.

‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘there’s never anywhere to put the trays.’

He nodded again and poured himself a cup of what looked like Earl Grey tea (no milk).

‘Still,’ I said, ‘the cakes are delicious.’ I looked at his modest teacake and felt, as I frequently do with Maurice Shelby, inadequate.

‘I must say,’ he said with a smile, ‘your cake looks much more inviting than this.’

Encouraged by the smile I said, ‘I’ve had a very frustrating afternoon so this is comfort eating.’

‘I suppose this,’ he poked the teacake with his fork ‘is my version of the same thing, but rather inadequate for the purpose.’

‘Have you had a frustrating afternoon too?’

‘Frustrating might be an extreme way of describing it – let us say tiresome.’

Since there was no way I could enquire further, I concentrated on my cake.

‘I was so very sorry to hear of the death of your friend,’ he said. ‘I would have spoken to you about it sooner but, as you know, such things are not easy to speak about at Brunswick Lodge.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘I was a great admirer of her husband’s work; he seemed to me a remarkable man, and she must have been remarkable too, to have lived with that kind of uncertainty.’

‘Yes, she was.’

‘I did not know she had a son. It must have been very hard for her to bring him up knowing that his father was in constant danger.’

‘Daniel was a very self-contained boy,’ I said. ‘Very old for his age. I think he knew and accepted the situation in a mature way.’

‘Remarkable. And now his mother has gone too, and so tragically. Does he have any other family?’

‘Not close family. Rosemary is his nearest relation and she’s some sort of cousin many times removed.’

‘Very sad.’

‘It’s strange,’ I said. ‘Since Eva’s gone, he’s suddenly shown an interest in the family – previous generations, that is. Eva had started to look things up on the Internet and I think he’s going to carry on where she left off.’

‘Really?’

I poured myself another cup of tea. ‘I believe you are interested in tracing your family too. Alison did mention it,’ I added, in case he thought I was just prying.

‘Yes, indeed. I have always had an interest in genealogy over the years. I wish I had time to pursue it further.’

‘It’s become so popular nowadays. I suppose because it’s so much easier with the Internet and you no longer have to go around looking at church registers.’

‘Church registers can be most illuminating,’ he said, ‘and, when you actually handle them, you have the feeling of being in touch with the past in a way that simply looking up facts on a computer can never give you.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said, surprised at this very human attitude in someone I’d always regarded as lacking this quality. Though, to be fair, I’d hardly ever had any conversation with him and regarded him simply as an adjunct to his tiresome wife. ‘Like when you actually put your hand on a really ancient stone pillar,’ I said, ‘and can feel the hands that have touched it before you. Years ago, before they fenced it off so you can’t get anywhere near it, I used to stop at Stonehenge whenever we were driving up to London – before the motorway when you had to go the long way round. I used to touch the stones to feel the connection. I suppose I shouldn’t have done that,’ I added hastily. ‘If everyone had done it …’

‘It’s turned into a theme park now,’ he said. ‘The mystery and the magic have gone. I’m glad you had a chance to see it properly.’

He finished the last of his teacake. ‘I must return to the office; I don’t normally go out in the middle of the afternoon, but it has been a difficult day.’ He got up. ‘Thank you for your company and your conversation.’ He inclined his head in a sort of salute and departed.

For a while I sat there, my tea going cold, thinking, tritely, that first impressions can be wrong.

‘He was quite human,’ I said to Rosemary, ‘actually conversable. I was really surprised.’

‘He was probably glad of a little rational conversation after living with that wife of his.’

‘I suppose that now his daughters have left home it must be a bit tedious for him. I can’t think why he married her!’

‘Mother said that she had money and that always helps.’

‘Yes, of course, he’s on his own, isn’t he, now his partner has gone. I’m surprised he never merged with a larger firm, Michael said it’s quite a good practice. A lot of work with wills and trusts. People who like an old-fashioned set-up, not all this timed interviews and such.’

‘Well, good luck to him – everything’s too high-powered for me nowadays. Which reminds me, Mother’s decided there’s something wrong with her glasses – I don’t think there is, she’s only had them for a short while – so I have to take her to see Mr Melhuish. Fortunately he’s used to her after all these years so he takes it all in his stride.’

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘that was where she first met Donald Webster, wasn’t it? Does she still see him?’

‘Not so often since Eva died. I don’t think he goes anywhere much now. It’s very sad. He seems to have retreated inside himself.’

‘I suppose it’s not surprising; after all he wanted to marry her.’

‘True. Still, Mother doesn’t miss him that much now she’s so occupied with Dan and Patrick.’

‘Patrick as well?’

‘Mostly Dan, but Patrick sometimes goes along too. I think Mother’s rather intrigued about him – she’s never met anyone so self-contained before.’

‘What does he think about Daniel’s preoccupation with all the family stuff?’

‘He encourages it; even helps a bit with the genealogy search – Dan’s not much good with the Internet.’

‘I can imagine. Have they got very far yet?’

‘Dan’s not bothering with all that while he’s been going over all those photos and stuff with Mother. It’s really been so good for her. Of course she was upset over Eva, and she’d got a bit down. Having Dan around seems to have given her a new lease of life, thank goodness.’

‘I think it’s done a lot for him as well.’

‘Thank goodness for that too.’