The Linden Walk

All at once Lyn wanted to see her parents at Christmas; no, dammit, needed them with her because there was so much to tell them, so much she was unsure about. Now, it was important she talk to Auntie Blod – to her mother – and tell her of the doubts she sometimes had about marrying Drew. Not that she didn’t love him. She did; loved him with all her heart and mind and wanted no other. But she and Drew were chalk and cheese and the life Drew had been born into and accepted as normal would take Lyn Carmichael a lot of getting used to, even with Daisy nearby to open her heart to.

Drew and Kitty, now, had been another matter. Kitty was a Pendenys Sutton whose parents were richer, even, than the Suttons of Rowangarth. Kitty would have fitted in well; would have slipped into her role as lady of the manor with no trouble at all because a manor – or its Kentucky equivalent – was what she was used to. And though a flying bomb had snuffed out that young eager life, Kitty would always be at Rowangarth, sleeping away time beside Drew’s grandmother, beneath a white marble gravestone.

Kathryn Norma Clementina Sutton

KITTY

1:11:1920–18:6:1944

Lyn jumped to her feet, pulling in her breath, holding it, then letting it out in little calming huffs, closing her eyes, whispering, ‘I’m sorry, truly sorry …’

But sorry for what? That Kitty would never carry white orchids at her wedding, the flowers every Rowangarth bride carried; those same special orchids Jack Catchpole laid at the white gravestone every June, on the anniversary of that tragic death.

And there was something else. She recognized it, truth known, the moment Drew suggested the eighteenth of June for their wedding. Yet she had stubbornly pushed it to the back of her mind, even though she knew it was the anniversary to the day, almost, when he and Kitty should have been married; and a year later, on that same June day, when a bomb took Kathryn Sutton’s life.

‘Damn!’ Lyn reached for her coat, not caring that it was late and that they might be in bed, not even caring that the ringing of the phone might awaken Mary. She had to speak to Daisy now because if she did not, it would be Drew she would ring and heaven only knew what might be the outcome then.

She slammed the door shut behind her, then wheeled her cycle from the shed, determined to pedal to the crossroads and the telephone box that stood there.

All right, so it was a long-distance call and she couldn’t be sure, even now, that she would get through straight away, but she had at least to try. For the sake of her peace of mind she must face the doubt that had nagged her since the night Drew asked her to marry him and Daisy, dear Purvis-from-the-bottom-bunk, was the only one who could help, give the comfort Lyn was so in need of.

How could Drew not have remembered, she fretted. And even if he had and was determined to put it behind him, did he expect Lyn Carmichael, much as she loved him, to walk down the church path to her wedding and ignore the white gravestone beside it, which bore the name Kitty?

Surely July would have been a better month, or May, even? Did it have to be June because the white orchids would be flowering and because Rowangarth’s gardens would be at their beautiful best, and days long, and warm? Did it have to be the anniversary month?

She was glad, when she reached the crossroads, that there was a light inside the phone box; relieved, too, she had put her door key and purse in her pocket, though she had no recollection of having done so.

She leaned her cycle against the phone box, heaved open the creaking door, then whispered, ‘Please don’t be asleep, Daisy?’

‘Well, now, look who’s here so early in the morning,’ Alice smiled. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’ There was, of course. She hadn’t been Daisy’s mother all these years, and not know. ‘Bring Mary in, and let me have a cuddle?’

‘You can get her wind up, an’ all,’ Daisy shrugged. ‘I came here in such a rush that I didn’t bother, after her feed. It’s Lyn, Mam,’ she said when they were settled in the safe familiarity of Keeper’s Cottage kitchen. ‘She phoned last night in a right old state.’

‘Problems? Surely not about the wedding?’

‘Sort of. Said she was sorry for ringing so late, but she had to speak to someone. To put it in a nutshell, she thought a June wedding wasn’t right.’

‘But I thought it was all agreed?’

‘Seems not. Lyn isn’t having doubts, exactly, but I know her only too well. When Drew asked her to marry him and even when she’d got the ring, there weren’t a lot of stars in her eyes. Not like there should have been. Something was bothering her, I knew it.’

‘So why isn’t June right? A lovely month, but surely it can be changed?’

‘Of course it could be. Lyn knows it – we all know it. It isn’t just the date Drew suggested, though now that I think of it I can understand why Lyn has got herself so upset. June is the anniversary month, she said. Even over the phone, I knew she was near to tears, and you can understand it. She said she accepted that Kitty was and always would be a part of the order of things, but I know that a June wedding apart, Lyn has always had doubts about following Kitty. I don’t think she’s ever going to be sure that Drew will forget her entirely.’

‘Well of course he won’t! He wouldn’t be the Drew Sutton I know, if he does. But there are all kinds of love, surely Lyn’s got the sense to know that? She isn’t the lass I thought she was if she’s going to start putting obstacles in the way. She’s always been mad about him. Why the doubts, now?’

‘We-e-ll, knowing Carmichael, I’m pretty sure it’s because she hasn’t ever – I mean, to put it bluntly, Mam, that for all her supposed sophistication, Lyn is still a virgin and she’s always known that Drew and Kitty were close. Very close. Lyn, it seems to me, is worried about not measuring up – and not knowing what to do, either – making a mess of her wedding night.’

‘And why should that worry her? A woman isn’t supposed to know anything about – well – things like that. It’s taken for granted that the man –’

‘Mam! There’s been a war on, had you forgotten? Things change.’

‘All right. I’ll grant you that, our Daisy, and that couples might have taken liberties, from time to time. But does she have to be so nervous about it? I’d have thought that anyone who was in the Armed Forces as long as Lyn was would have been a bit more relaxed about such things, even if she hadn’t exactly –’

‘Dabbled a toe in the water,’ Daisy supplied. ‘Done it. And to save you mentioning it, like Keth and I did!’

‘I’m sure no such thought entered my mind, Miss!’ Alice flinched at her daughter’s directness. ‘But is there some reason for Lyn feeling the way she does? Was she brought up strictly? Prudish, even?’

‘Lyn went to boarding school, don’t forget. She said you learn a lot in a dormitory of curious girls. And Auntie Blod wasn’t the least bit prudish. I don’t know why Lyn should have doubts about marrying Drew. It was all she ever wanted, from the minute she laid eyes on him, yet now, when he’s asked her, she’s got a fit of the inferiorities! It’s as if she’s waiting for something to go wrong – and it won’t! I told her there’s no reason for her doubts. Kitty and Lyn are totally different. Drew won’t always be comparing one with the other. He wouldn’t do such a thing.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t and I hope you managed to convince Lyn. Are you going to have a word with Drew about it? Did Lyn ask you to? Because if she didn’t, I think you should be very careful what you say, Daisy.’

‘She didn’t ask me. I think she was unburdening, sort of. But I think I should tell Aunt Julia about it. Lyn seemed pretty desperate and it was me she rang, don’t forget, not Drew. I’m hoping Aunt Julia will be able to sort something out – tactfully, I mean.’

‘Oh, Daisy Purvis! Your Aunt Julia tactful? More like you should have a word with Nathan, if you’re determined to interfere.’

‘Mother! I can’t talk to the Reverend like I can talk to you, old love though he is. I can’t tell Drew about it, either. Don’t want him to think me and Lyn have been talking about him, now do we?’

‘You’re right. And I think I’ll put the little one in her pram, then you and I can decide what’s to be done. Mind,’ Alice said from the doorway, ‘it might be best if it were me had a word with your Aunt Julia, work it out between us what’s to be done. If anything needs to be done, that is, and you’re not making a big drama out of it.’

‘No drama, Mam. All I know is that Lyn phoned late last night and she was worried. And she shouldn’t be. This should be one of the happiest times of her life and it isn’t. I know it.’

So what was wrong? Alice thought as she tucked in her sleeping granddaughter. Surely nothing that couldn’t be sorted, one way or another? Trouble was, that it was no one else’s business but Lyn’s and Drew’s. And Lyn had chosen not to tell Drew.

Ah, well. Tom would be home soon for his morning drinkings. Best set the kettle to boil and warn Daisy not to say one word about Lyn’s call in front of her dad. The less people who knew the better, in Alice’s opinion, because she did so want to see Drew married. She wanted it so much it worried her that Lyn might be having second thoughts.

Trouble was that Lyn couldn’t make it to Rowangarth next week. Her duties at the hotel, she had said, prevented it. And Drew and Keth were talking about going to the Motor Show in London the weekend after, so the poor girl was going to be alone in North Wales with her doubts for the best part of three weeks, and that would never do. Oh, my word, no!

SIX (#ulink_fbbdb271-ac38-57ad-ab06-93e548235f92)

‘Alice! Am I glad to see you!’ Julia called, striding across the grass to the wild garden and the stile Alice was climbing. ‘The place is so quiet. Nathan’s having forty winks – Miss Clitherow, too. And Mary and Tilda have gone to Creesby …’

‘Aye. And Drew off to London, with Keth.’

‘Bill Benson is with them, too. Going on business. They’re all staying at Montpelier Mews, by the way. I asked them to light a fire and open windows – air the place a bit.’

‘Montpelier. Dear Aunt Sutton’s little white house. Do you ever remember, Julia? I mean, do you ever allow yourself to remember?’

‘The time you and I stayed there? The time we went to a Suffragette meeting?’

‘Aye, and got into a fight. And me supposed to be there to chaperon you, yet I turned a blind eye when you slipped out to meet Andrew.’

Should they be talking about Andrew? Alice brooded. Didn’t he belong to the past and wasn’t Julia happy with Nathan, now? She must watch what she said, even though it was years and years ago.

‘Doctor Andrew MacMalcolm. Oh, Alice. Think of Andrew and we are both young again. You were only seventeen and being so bossy about me meeting him. And don’t look so embarrassed. I can think about Andrew, talk about him too, and it doesn’t hurt any more; just makes me glad that I met him and married him, even though the war only let us have ten nights together.’

‘That war was – was obscene, Julia. Try to forget it.’