Julia Williams 3 Book Bundle

‘Let me show you what we’ve discovered,’ said Joel. The trunk with all the paperwork in now inhabited the dining room, which was strictly out of bounds to Sam because it had an open log fire, and was therefore the safest place from sticky fingers.

They sifted through some of the letters that Joel and Kezzie had already read, and then Kezzie exclaimed in delight.

‘Oh my God, it’s here, I’ve found it!’

‘Found what?’ It was impossible not to get caught up by Kezzie’s enthusiasm.

‘Look,’ she said, carefully unfolding a large, brittle piece of yellowing paper. ‘This is Edward’s original design for his knot garden. I can’t believe it. See – here are his plans, he drew the patterns out geometrically, and here are his notes about the plants. This is so incredible. A real find.’

‘I can’t quite make out his writing,’ Joel said, squinting a bit. The writing was very faded.

‘It says the borders are to have begonias, petunias, busy lizzies, and heartsease I think,’ said Eileen. ‘I hadn’t realized the original garden had quite that many flowers, I thought it would be simpler than that.’

‘Those borders round the outside of the knot garden itself are a bit fussy for our tastes today,’ said Kezzie, ‘but the Victorians did like their bedding plants. I think I’m going to need to simplify it a bit and mainly use heartsease for the beds, but I would like to find all the plants he used to commemorate the births of his children. It was such a lovely idea.’

‘Oh look, this must be Edward and Lily with their firstborn,’ said Eileen, finding a black and white picture of a stiff-looking couple. Lily was holding an infant in her arms and looking blankly into the camera; Edward looked proud and a black Labrador sat at their feet.

‘Yes, I think it must be,’ said Joel. ‘I’m guessing the baby is Connie, my great great aunt. Her sister Tilly was Mum’s grandmother. Hang on a sec,’ he rooted around in the bottom of the trunk and pulled out an old book, ‘I thought I’d seen it in here. This is the family Bible, I think it’s got all the births written in it.’

He opened the cover carefully. It was a version of the King James Bible, dated 1881.

To darling Lily, on the occasion of your 7th birthday, your ever loving Grandmother, was written in the flyleaf. Underneath it, Lily had written in childish scrawl, Lily Clark, her first Bible, and then below in a stronger, more adult hand:

Lily Clark b. August 10th 1874 married Edward Handford b. February 22nd 1871, 9th July, 1892

Edward James Handford b. 20th May, 1894 d. 20th May, 1894

Constance Mary Handford b. 24th April, 1895

Harry Edward Handford b. 14th May, 1898

Matilda Harriet Handford b. 12th July, 1900

‘Isn’t that amazing,’ said Kezzie. ‘What a fantastic find.’

‘I know, I can’t believe all this was sitting up in the loft and I never found any of it before,’ said Joel, grinning. He turned back to look at the photo. ‘They don’t look very happy do they? Or maybe that’s just Victorian photography.’

‘Who knows?’ said Kezzie. ‘From reading her diaries, Lily had a very tough time. She lost at least two babies: it was really sad.’

‘That’s how things were then,’ said Eileen tenderly. ‘Thanks for letting me look through all of this, Joel. I think we can make a fascinating exhibition of Edward’s life.’

‘Thank you for the interest,’ said Joel. ‘Without you and Kezzie I would know very little about my own family, and I’m thoroughly hooked.’

‘So can we count on you to help with the preparations for next year’s summer fete then?’ said Eileen, slyly. ‘Our first proper meeting is coming up after Christmas.’

‘Oh go on,’ said Joel. ‘I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?’ But he smiled when he said it, and when he’d said goodbye to Eileen and Kezzie, given Sam his tea and put him to bed, Joel found himself drawn back to the trunk and its contents, and started to idly flick through Edward’s diary once more. He’d got the bit between his teeth now; he was fascinated by the story of his ancestor, and he was desperate to find out more.

Edward and Lily

1895–1898

Edward Handford’s diary, April 1895

The day draws near for Lily’s confinement, and we are both very anxious now. She is so afraid that this baby will not survive, and I cannot comfort her, because she may be right. What if it does not live? And how will Lily bear it if this baby dies? I try to cheer her up by spending time in the garden with her, to keep her mind from morbid thoughts. It is so beautiful here at this time of year, with the spring bulbs bursting with life, and the newborn lambs baaing in Mr Carruthers’ farm. I cannot let myself believe that we will be unlucky again, not at this time of year, not when the whole world is bursting forth with new life …

‘Congratulations, Mr Handford, you have a beautiful baby daughter.’ Doctor Blake came out from Edward and Lily’s bedroom looking tired but triumphant. ‘I’m pleased to report that both mother and baby are doing well.’

It was a hot, sultry evening in April, and Edward felt exhausted from the tumultuous events of the last twenty-four hours when Lily had informed him that the baby was coming. He had wanted to stay with her, to help give her the strength to go on, but convention and the doctor forbade it. Though Edward had been inclined for once to hang convention, when Lily asked him to leave, he could not resist her. He had spent an anxious afternoon pacing up and down, first in the garden, and then outside the bedroom door. The ear-piercing screams that she’d emitted had been harrowing, and it had taken all his resolve not to rush into the room to be by her side. But thank God, it was over.

Finally a child. A baby. Please God, she survived. He didn’t know what it would do to Lily – to them – if they lost this one too. He had longed and longed to take the sadness from her eyes. Now, maybe this baby would finally do it.

‘May I see them?’ Edward said.

‘Of course, but Lily is very tired. She needs rest.’

Edward entered their bedroom. Lily lay in their bed, her black hair straggled behind her, her face pale and pinched. She looked exhausted, but a brief smile crossed her face when she saw Edward. He went to embrace her, and then turned to the midwife, who was wrapping the baby in a shawl, before presenting her to them.

‘Lily, she’s beautiful.’ Edward felt an unfamiliar spasm in his heart as he held the crumpled bundle in his arms. The baby gurgled contentedly, before reaching out and grabbing his finger. He marvelled at the size of that finger next to his own. He felt clumsy, awkward; like a giant holding a beautiful porcelain doll. He knew he would never forget this day, this moment, this meeting, for the first time of the child their love had created.

‘What shall we call her?’ Edward said.

‘I don’t know,’ Lily turned away, as if she couldn’t bear to look at her, ‘but I want her christened quickly, just in case.’

‘Lily, the baby is fine,’ said Edward. ‘Look at her. She’s a beautiful, healthy baby.’

‘But what if she isn’t?’ whispered Lily. ‘What if she dies like the others?’

‘Lily, please don’t talk like that,’ said Edward in distress. ‘You’re tired, overwrought. You need some rest.’

‘But first, the baby needs feeding,’ the midwife said.

Lily looked at her daughter properly for the first time.

‘I’m not sure I can,’ she whispered.

‘Nonsense, every mother can feed her child,’ said the midwife. ‘There’s nothing to it, you’ll see.’

Edward got up to go.

‘I’ll leave you for now,’ he said, ‘and I’ll come back later, I promise.’

At Lily’s insistence, her father was called and Constance Mary Handford was christened within three hours of her birth. But that didn’t seem to satisfy Lily, who was anxious and peevish, and despite her best efforts, totally unable to feed Constance, or Connie as Edward had affectionately named her. Edward sat with them through several long nights, when the baby mewled for lack of food. She was growing weaker daily, and Lily had a set look on her face, sure she was right, and the baby would fail to thrive.

On the third day an exhausted Edward sent out for a wet-nurse, and took over the organization of the care of his daughter; Lily was clearly unable to. He had lost his wife. She had retreated somewhere into a haze of unhappiness and seemed unable to comprehend that she had a living child who needed her attention.

Edward, though, was enchanted with their daughter. As she grew stronger daily, she learnt to smile and laugh and she brought much needed joy back into the house. He was filled with a fierce, protective love that surprised him with its ferocity. But Lily he couldn’t reach. She was so frightened of losing her daughter it appeared she couldn’t learn to love her. All Edward could wish for was time to heal her wounded soul.

As time passed, Connie grew into a lively little girl, who smiled and played and ran everywhere. True to his promise to Lily to plant flowers to mark the births of their children, he’d planted snowdrops in the four corners of the knot garden, for Connie, as a symbol of hope. Lily slowly recovered from her post-birth torpor, and began to engage with the world again. She was often to be found in the garden, picking the heartsease that grew there abundantly and filling in the gaps when plants were lost. But to Edward’s regret, she rarely played with their daughter.