The Linden Walk

Which made them all laugh and the tension in the room to ease, and Tatty, desperate to make amends, said, ‘Why don’t we have a cup of tea and a piece of cake? I stood in a queue for ages in Creesby, this morning, but I got a cream cake. Cream, would you believe!’

So everyone said cream cake would be just marvellous, because they all knew things had got a bit dicey for a while, and each of them thought, as Tatty hurried to the kitchen, that Lyn had taken it pretty well, all things considered.

And they wondered, too, if ever the time would come when they could think about Kitty and speak about Kitty, and not feel disloyal to Drew. And to Lyn, as well, for that matter …

Daisy and Keth had left Denniston House early, because of Mary’s ten o’clock feed, and as Drew and Lyn walked back to Foxgloves alone, Drew said, ‘You’re quiet, darling. Tired? Sure all this coming and going between here and Wales isn’t getting a bit much for you?’

‘N-no. Of course it isn’t. I’m fine. Just fine.’

‘Then is it about Montpelier Mews? Have you changed your mind about us going there, in June? Something is wrong, Lyn, I know it.’

‘Look, Drew – Montpelier is fine. If you must know, it’s June that isn’t. I’m sorry, but June seems to be an anniversary month, sort of. The month you and Kitty should have been married. The month she was killed. And white orchids on her grave, always, in June. I – I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can cope with it. Not then. Some other time. July, perhaps …?’

Her voice trailed off in a trembling whisper.

‘Sweetheart.’ He gathered her into his arms. ‘Why didn’t you say something? How long have you been bottling it up?’

‘Don’t know. Since the night I tricked you into marrying me, I suppose.’

‘Tricked, Lyn? What are you talking about? I asked you to marry me.’

‘All right. So you did. But only after I made a fuss, yelled like a hoyden at those damned rooks, put the words into your mouth, practically.’

‘Lyndis Carmichael – what am I to do with you?’ He tilted her chin, kissing her gently. ‘Didn’t I tell you that I thought you were a career girl, had bought your own home and was happy with your life the way it was? I hadn’t the gumption to realize, I suppose, that you might still care for me like once you did. I thought, you see, that you hadn’t minded at all when Kitty and I got engaged. Not till you told me not so long ago that you’d sat on the stairs in the Wrennery, and cried your heart out. I want us to be married, Lyn. I want you and me to live in Rowangarth and bring up our kids there. Hand on heart, I do.’

‘And I want to marry you, Drew, but please not in June? It’s the best month for weddings I know, but the war is over now, and we can pick and choose when we marry.’

‘So when would you like it to be, darling? Do you want a quiet wedding, like Tatty and Bill are having? Shall it be at Christmas, too, in the Lady Chapel? I don’t care at all where or when. I just want us to be married.’

‘Christmas?’ She gave a shaky laugh and he felt the tenseness in her lessen a little. ‘Not Christmas, cariad. I haven’t got around to telling you, but Auntie Blod and my father would like to come to Wales for Christmas.’

‘Auntie Blod? When are you going to call her Mother, Lyn?’

‘Never, I suppose. And it doesn’t matter what I call her as long as I know she’s my real mother. But what do you think about them coming for Christmas? I think Auntie Blod is getting homesick for Wales. Wants to see the little cottage again, she says. I really think, though, that she wants to meet your folks, and see Rowangarth and talk about the wedding. I don’t think I’d like it, either, if my daughter was getting married and I was stuck miles and miles away. And I miss her, Drew. I want her to be with me, when we get married.’

‘Of course you do. Seems to me that neither of us has got used to the idea of being married. It did happen a bit – sort of quickly.’

‘I can’t argue with you on that point.’

‘So let’s take a deep breath, and think things out?’

‘Come down off our pink cloud, you mean?’

‘Not if you don’t want to. Pink clouds are fine by me. But let’s suggest your folks spend Christmas at Rowangarth? Mother would be in high old delight with all the wedding talk. And let’s you and me settle now – right now, here on this spot – when you’d like us to be married.’

‘All right. I’d like us to be married in April, like Daisy was. That suit you, Drew?’

‘If it can’t be soon, like Christmas in the Lady Chapel, then April sounds a good month to me. Agreed, then?’

‘Agreed. And we’ll fix a date when I’ve had a peek in my diary.’

‘The date. Of course. Very important. Now, shall we kiss on it and shall I take you back to Foxgloves? With a bit of luck Keth and Daisy might still be up and we can tell them the news.’

‘They’d better be up. I haven’t got a key!’

So laughing, and hand in hand, they ran as quickly as they could in the darkness to Foxgloves with the news.

November, and the government, in its magnanimity, lifted control on the manufacture of cutlery, fountain pens and jewellery. A small step towards normality, some said, but wouldn’t it have been better by far if food rationing had been done away with, or at least the present miserable rations doubled.

In that month, too, a son was born to Princess Elizabeth, and if you wanted to put not too fine a point on it, another infant to help swell the baby boom, because that was what the amazingly large number of babies being born in the United Kingdom was called.

But by far the most startling event, and the most startled teacher of mathematics ever, was the arrival home of Keth Purvis on the last Friday in November – he would never forget the day – to find the path at the side of his house blocked by a car, which gleamed in his headlights and was shiny black and very new.

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’

He got out of his own much less shiny motor and walked around the intruder, squinting inside to see gleaming upholstery – it couldn’t be leather, surely? And the thing, as far as he could see, had key ignition, indicator lights that flashed left and right and heaven only knew what else.

The back door opened and Daisy stepped out with Mary, swaddled in a shawl, in her arms.

‘Happy birthday, darling.’ She took his hand, wrapping his fingers around a small key.

‘My birthday is in July,’ Keth said, dry-mouthed. ‘You know it is.’

‘Well then – Happy Christmas! You do like it? It’s a Morris Minor, the new model.’

‘Like it? Daisy Purvis, I don’t know what to say. I mean, where did you get it? How did you get it? I don’t believe it!’

‘Then you better had, because it’s yours. And I got it from Creesby Motors by writing out a cheque.’

‘But wife darling, what was the magic word, for heaven’s sake!’

‘The magic word was Purvis. I went to see them just before you and Drew went to London, and the man said there was no chance at all. Three new cars was all he’d ever had and they were gone straight away. So I asked him if he would put your name on his waiting list. And when I said Purvis, Mr Keth Purvis, he asked me if you were the schoolie who taught his boy maths at Creesby Grammar. And I said you were.

‘“Then in that case, Mrs Purvis, your husband has a fair old chance of getting one of the next new motors I get in,” he said. You see, darling, it seems his son is a bright enough lad, but had a mental blockage when it came to maths. Was making the boy’s life a misery. Then you started teaching there and his son came on in leaps and bounds, and all because of you. “Good at sums he is now,” I was told.’

‘It gets queerer by the minute,’ Keth laughed. ‘The boy isn’t called Colin Chambers, is he?’

‘Our Colin? Sounds like him.’

‘But Daisy love, schoolteachers – schoolies – don’t have the kind of money to buy new cars. At least, this one doesn’t.’

‘So are we going to get onto The Money subject?’

‘No, darling. No, of course not. But –’

‘No buts. Either you like it as much as I do, or it can go back to Creesby Motors. Keth – just think? When the better weather comes, you’ll be able to take your mother to Hampshire. She’s never seen your dad’s grave since we left there; only the photograph we took of it when we were on our honeymoon.’

‘But petrol is rationed. How am I to get to Hampshire and back?’