The Journey

‘Why not?’ In spite of her mother’s emphatic answer, Mary felt she might yet uncover the truth; until her hopes were dashed with Lucy’s firm reply.

‘Because I’m too old now. Travelling tires me, as you well know.’ She laughed as she told Ben, ‘We went to London on the train. Dear me! What a trial. All that climbing in and out, up and down. You wouldn’t believe the traffic in the streets there, and folks rushing about as though it was the end of the world … It was all too much for me.’ Sighing, she finished, ‘No, my travelling days are well and truly at an end.’

With dinner over, they retired to the cosy sitting room. Here, although the hour was growing late, they chatted on; among other things they talked of the introduction in America of the first colour television. ‘The mind boggles!’ Lucy declared. ‘Colour television, indeed! Whatever next?’ She herself thought the wireless was sufficient – why would you need one of those big, ugly television sets?

Mostly they talked about the grave illness of King George. ‘He has been a good King,’ Ben said. ‘He’ll be sadly missed.’

Mary had her say and it was this. ‘You’re right. He will be missed, but his daughter Elizabeth will make a wonderful Queen.’ And without hesitation, the other two readily agreed.

‘Right!’ After tapping on the door, Elsie showed her face. ‘I’ll be off now. I’ve washed the dinner things and cleared them away. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Thank you, Elsie.’ Lucy was fond of that dear woman. ‘Off you go and put your feet up.’

Elsie chuckled. ‘Hmh! Chance would be a fine thing.’

Mary excused herself and saw Elsie out. When she returned to the sitting room, she saw how tired her mother seemed. ‘I think it’s time you went to bed,’ she said affectionately.

‘Nonsense!’ Lucy was bone-tired, though she would never admit it. ‘I’m getting to know our new friend,’ she said. ‘The more I learn about him, the more I like him.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’m flattered,’ he told her, ‘but I have to agree with your daughter, and then there’s that business of you falling and hurting yourself in the churchyard. It’s been a long, heavy day and no one would blame you if you wanted to rest now.’

He had noticed how every now and then she would close her eyes and relax into the chair, and occasionally she would fitfully rub her hands together, as though fighting some inner demon.

‘I see!’ Looking from one to the other, Lucy smiled wickedly. ‘Trying to get rid of the old biddy so the two of you can be alone – is that it?’ Mary smiled, but in fact, she had been concerned about her mother these past months. She seemed to have grown frail, and less mobile, though she would not hear of seeing a specialist.

Changing the subject completely, Lucy told Mary, ‘I think I’m ready for a nice cup of tea. What about you, Ben?’

‘Sounds good to me, thank you,’ he said, swallowing a yawn. It was high time he was in bed, too. The animals would be waiting to be fed at dawn.

‘Go on, then! Get the kettle on, Mary, before we all die of thirst, and don’t bring the teapot, there’s a good girl … too much fuss and ceremony. Just pour three cups, that’ll do.’

Frustrated at her mother’s insistence on referring to her as ‘child’ or ‘girl’, Mary groaned. ‘All right, Mother, I’m on my way.’ Turning to Ben she confirmed, ‘One sugar and a little milk, isn’t it?’ She had remembered when Elsie brought him tea earlier.

‘That’s it, yes. Thank you.’ He was surprised and pleased that she’d remembered.

‘There you are!’ Lucy chipped in. ‘Already she knows how you like your tea. That’s the sign of a good wife, wouldn’t you say, Ben?’

‘I’d say your daughter has a good memory,’ he answered, and that was as far as he would go.

No sooner had Mary departed for the kitchen than Lucy was quizzing him again. ‘You do like her, don’t you?’

He had got used to her directness and thought it refreshing, but now and then she would ask a question that took him off guard. ‘I do like her, yes.’ What else could he say, when he had been drawn to Mary as to no other woman since his divorce.

Lucy seemed to be reading his thoughts. ‘I know I can be impertinent, and I know what you must think of me, but I do worry for my daughter, and when I see how well the two of you get on, I can’t help but wonder if she’s found her man at last …’ Her voice trailed away and her eyes slowly closed.

For a moment Ben thought she had fallen asleep, but then she suddenly straightened herself up in the chair and asked him another question. ‘Do you think you’ll ever get back with your ex-wife?’

Ben shook his head. ‘It was a long and messy business, and now it’s over, and so is our relationship.’

‘And the girl?’

‘You mean Abbie, my daughter?’

‘Yes. How does she feel about you and her mother splitting up?’

To Ben, the question was like a stab below the belt, but he answered it all the same. ‘It was hard for her – hard for all of us. In the end it was all for the best.’

‘And is she an only child?’

‘She is, yes.’

‘Would you like more children?’

Ben smiled, a long, lazy smile. ‘You mean, if I ever got married again?’

Lucy nodded. ‘Of course! When you and Mary get married, I want a whole horde of grandchildren.’ She grew wistful. ‘A boy, especially. It would be wonderful to cuddle a little boy.’

At that moment, Mary returned with the tray. ‘Here we are!’ Setting it on the coffee-table, she handed each of them a mug and pointed to the plate of chocolate slices. ‘Help yourselves,’ she told them.

Over the next half-hour, the conversation centred on Ben and his farming.

‘So you’ve found a new way of life, is that it?’ Lucy was ever inquisitive.

‘It’s certainly a very different world from the one I knew,’ Ben answered. ‘As you said yourself, London is busy and demanding. I used to get up at seven, struggle into the office …’ He had expected her to interrupt, and she did.

‘What work did you do?’

‘I’m an architect by trade.’

Lucy was impressed. ‘And were you good at it?’

‘Yes – or so I’m told.’

‘And was it your own business?’

‘It was, but I eventually went back to work for the local council in my home town.’

‘Mmm.’ She glanced at Mary, who was trying desperately to bring that particular conversation to a halt. ‘So you’re not short of a bob or two then?’

‘Mother, please! No more questions, or I’m sure Ben will never want to set foot in this house ever again.’

Lucy addressed Ben. ‘Have you had enough of my questions?’

He gave her a half-smile. ‘Look, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you all I think you should know, and then there’ll be no more need of questions.’

Lucy agreed. ‘So, you were saying … you got up at seven and struggled into work.’

‘That’s right. Then I worked until eight or nine at night and struggled home again.’