Death on the Rocks (27 page)

They reached London the next day and went straight to Nassau Street, the front door being opened by a footman who, though keeping a solemn face and demeanour, winked one eye at them to show that some secret lay within.

The house was strangely quiet and John, sensing this to be part of the surprise, went from room to room calling, ‘Rose, where are you? Sweetheart, are you here?’

Sir Gabriel, somewhat fatigued by the journey, made his way to the library door, and as he opened it there was a squeal of laughter and he was assailed by Rose and her two little half-brothers with a great hug that sent the old man reeling on his feet.

‘Grandpa,’ she shouted, and kissed him heartily a dozen times.

‘Ganpa,’ echoed the twins in unison, and kissed his knees.

John hurried to join them, and Mrs Fortune came out of the parlour, also laughing. How happy everyone was; one could sense joyfulness as if it were a tangible thing, passing from one person to the next. Eventually, though, Rose escorted Sir Gabriel to a chair and poured him a sherry while he was reintroduced to the twins and took them to sit upon his knees. He smiled at them both.

‘Which is which, John?’

‘Do you know, Papa, I am never quite sure.’

‘I’m Jasper,’ they chorused, then giggled and said, ‘I’m James,’ simultaneously.

‘You little scamps,’ said the great beau, and began to laugh at them once more.

Later on in the evening, when the twins had been washed and fed and were ready for the night, Sir Gabriel said something very strange.

‘Do you know, my boy, I am at last ready to join Phyllida.’

John looked up, rather shocked, for he had never heard his father say anything like that before.

‘What do you mean?’

‘That I have been in this world so long, seen fashions come and go, people change, countries at war, then at peace, that I now feel I am finally ready to depart.’

‘But, Father, I don’t like to hear you say those words. They have an air of finality about them. Where would I be without you?’

‘My son, you are a grown man. You do not need your old father tripping along beside your every step.’

A voice spoke up from the corner, where Rose had been sitting so quietly that her father had completely forgotten her presence.

‘If Grandpa feels it is time, then surely he has that right.’

John did not know how to answer because an enormous truth lay in what she said. If a very old man had decided he had done enough living, then who had the authority to try and persuade him otherwise?

‘Do you believe in Heaven and Hell, Grandpa?’

Sir Gabriel took a sip of sherry and answered thoughtfully, ‘Not as such, no.’

‘Then what do you believe?’

‘In an altered state. A state where everything is so changed that this time and this place are completely unimportant.’

‘Then how will you recognise Phyllida if you meet her?’

‘I should think that a love as great as ours will transcend everything.’

‘But Grandpa, how do you explain my gift? Where does that enter into your altered state?’

Sir Gabriel laughed. ‘This is a deep conversation, child.’

John opened his mouth, not sure whether to speak or not, but Rose said, ‘Because I do have second sight. It is a fact.’

‘I am not denying it. But how that fits into anybody’s conception of life after death I have no idea. It would take a far more worthy theologian to explain it.’

‘I think a worthy theologian would be the last person to explain anything to do with matters relating to the psychic mind,’ put in John. ‘And now, Miss Rose, it is time you went to bed.’

‘Oh, Papa.’

‘You can “Oh, Papa” me for the rest of the three minutes you have left. It will make no difference.’

She obeyed instantly, made much of delivering smacking kisses to Sir Gabriel’s powdered cheeks, gave her father a quick cuddle, then left the room without further demur.

The two men stared after her.

‘A really delightful child.’

‘She is indeed.’

‘And
is
it true what she says about having second sight?’

‘I’m afraid that it is. Sometimes it worries me.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Too much knowledge on such very young shoulders.’

Sir Gabriel stretched his long legs before him.

‘I should imagine, my boy, that she has also been given the gift of learning how to cope with it.’

The next morning they set off for Kensington. It had originally been intended that John alone would accompany his father, but Rose had begged – with tears – that she should be included in the party. So Irish Tom, who had grown as close to his master as it was possible for a servant to get, had helped John raise Sir Gabriel into the carriage, lifted up Rose, giggling and smiling, and finally closed the door behind them before clambering up onto the box.

They had a pleasant drive through London, Tom going all the way down Piccadilly to Hide Park Corner, passing the Tyburn gallows, that melancholy place of execution, and passing through the toll gate to Knight’s Bridge, where they stopped for a while for refreshment and nature’s call. Then they turned up The King’s Old Road to Kensington, which had been opened to the public and was quite the fashionable place, the
beau monde
gathering in numbers to be seen out exercising their horses and waving gaily to one another.

Eventually, the creatures walking slowly now, they turned up Kensington Church Street and Sir Gabriel gave a great sigh.

‘My dear, I can tell you that much as I enjoyed myself at the Hotwell – and met so many charming and interesting people – it is indeed a pleasure to be back home.’

John jumped out of the carriage as it stopped at the top of the row, but to his astonishment Sir Gabriel was almost too weak to walk down the step. The Apothecary had to pick the old man up and carry him to the street. It was then that the first terrible thought crossed his mind and refused to go away again. Was a visit from the Grim Reaper destined to come to him three times this year?

He imagined Elizabeth’s last terrible act, leaping towards the sun like Icarus; the death of Lady Tyninghame, whom he had once thought so delicate and delightful; and last night his own father speaking of dying. And yet, practical person that he was, he knew that it awaited all, had attended dying patients in the past and no doubt would have to do so again.

Sir Gabriel was apologising profusely. ‘My dear boy, can’t think what came over me. Must have been a sudden cramp in the legs. Caused by too much dancing at the Hotwell, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Yes, I wouldn’t be at all surprised,’ answered the Apothecary seriously. ‘You had quite a few dances with various ladies, I noticed.’

Miss Rose, bright as a new-minted coin, said, ‘Would you grant me the honour, Sir?’ and sank in a low curtsey.

Sir Gabriel took the proffered hand, bowed deeply and executed a few stately steps of the minuet before laughing and saying, ‘I think, my sweetheart, that I’d best go indoors before one of my neighbours thinks I have taken leave of my senses.’

‘Very good, Sir,’ and she offered Sir Gabriel her arm.

They made a stately entrance, John following behind, and Irish Tom assisting, the servants coming out of the front door with cries of welcome.

They passed a quiet but splendid evening, Rose behaving herself beautifully, and Sir Gabriel resplendent in a flowing white robe and black turban, its only adornment the huge zircon stone that had been mined in Russia and exported to England.

‘I love it when you are
en
deshabille
, Grandpa.’

‘Why is that, my child?’

‘Because you always look so imposing, and I particularly like that jewel you wear in your headgear. It is so brilliant and alive, like gazing into the heart of the sea.’

‘Ah, my pretty Rosebud, you have such a beautiful way with words.’

‘I believe it is a magic stone.’

‘Then it shall be yours after I die. I have not mentioned it in my will, but remember what I say, John.’

Somewhere in the depths of his soul the Grim Reaper grinned and John shifted in his seat.

‘Anything wrong, John?’

Yes, everything is wrong. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, of no longer enjoying your friendship, your love, your wisdom. Father, you who have been so good to me. Why must you be taken from me?

Aloud he said, ‘No, I am feeling in good health. What about you, Rose?’

‘Blooming,’ she said, and laughed loudly at her own joke.

Sir Gabriel rose to his full height, an awe-inspiring sight, and said, ‘Well, I am rather tired. I think I’ll to bed. It’s all this travelling. It takes it out of one so.’

Rose jumped to her feet. ‘Can I get you anything, Grandpa?’

‘A glass of cold water, if you would carry that up for me, my dear?’

‘Of course.’

She clattered off in the direction of the servants’ quarters and Sir Gabriel said, ‘That is a wonderful child you have there, John.’

‘‘I thank God for her. And for the twins. They are quite agreeable little monsters.’

‘They are fine boys, but I have only met them a few times. Tell me, my son, do you miss Elizabeth?’

‘I miss her every waking hour. Oh, Father, if you could have seen her towards the finish. It was pitiful. She was like a twig, a shrivelled leaf. And then to put an end to the pain by taking that dying horse of hers and leaping over the cliffs into the sea …’

‘To me it sounds a happy release for them both.’

‘That is what I think too. And somehow it has made it easier for me to cope with her loss. Because, if I was another sort of man, I could wrap myself in grief and never emerge again.’

‘Thank God you are not. For that would be to the detriment of your children. When Phyllida died, it was only having you, John, that kept me sane. But thank heavens you were young and active and it was all I could do to keep up with you.’

The Apothecary burst out laughing, despite the seriousness of the conversation. ‘Now that I don’t believe. You always were and you always will be the great leader of fine living.’

Sir Gabriel chortled and yawned. ‘My bed calls. Stay up, my son. Have a glass of port. Relax after all your recent adventures.’

With the room quiet, John stared into the fire, wondering how his future would evolve. He hoped that one day he would meet a woman who would rock him to the soles of his feet, so much so that he would ask her to marry him and his life would go off at a different tangent. But sweet though Emilia had been, as much power as Elizabeth had possessed, it was difficult to imagine anyone following in their footsteps. With a deep sigh, John poured himself another port and listened to the creak of the house as it settled and the longcase clock chimed ‘The British Granydears’ on the hour.

The following day dawned very brightly, full of that warm sunshine typical of an October day. Sir Gabriel again chose to remain
en deshabille
and wore a black robe decorated with small silver flowers. His turban was silver, fastened together by the great glittering zircon.

The year previously he had bought some new garden furniture and now he chose to sit on a cast-iron seat decorated with a pattern of fern leaves. It had been placed in the shade of a tree and as the clock struck noon Sir Gabriel ordered a bottle of champagne and three glasses. John looked at these last and asked a silent question.

‘My boy, a drop or two of alcohol has never done anyone any harm. Remember how I let you have little sips of wine?’

‘But Rose is a girl.’

‘The same applies.’

She came into the garden at that moment and John, looking at her, felt astounded by the way she was growing up. Perhaps because he had not seen her for several weeks, he appreciated again the beauty of her skin and the wonderful flick of her black lashes over eyes that were a startling hyacinth blue. In another few years she would have the whole of London at her feet. And just for a moment John had an image of himself with grey hair and an authoritative manner, regarding with raised brow the line of would-be suitors.

Sir Gabriel was ordering the servant to pour two glasses and himself filled Rose’s tumbler, just a quarter full. He raised his.

‘To my son and granddaughter. I would like to thank you both for the enormous happiness you have brought me. You have both been quite exceptional.’

They drained their glasses and had another until the bottle was empty. Then Sir Gabriel closed his eyes and dozed, while Rose, who had been sitting next to him, lowered her head into his lap like a little kitten. His old white hand, adorned with great rings, lazily stroked her hair. John must have slumbered for a while because when he opened his eyes it was to see that everything had grown very still. The hand stroking Rose’s hair was quiescent and the old man slept very deeply indeed.

In a second John jumped up and, kneeling at Sir Gabriel’s feet, felt for the pulse in his neck. There was none. Weeping came instantly. The father he had loved for ever – or so it seemed to him – was gone from him.

‘Oh, Papa, my beloved Papa,’ he cried, the tears pouring down his face uncontrollably.

Rose’s black eyelashes opened wide. ‘Oh, my dearest Father, don’t be sad.’

He wept in her little arms. ‘But I loved him, Rose. I loved him with all my heart.’

‘But he’s gone to find Phyllida, that’s all.’

He looked at her through a mist of tears. ‘And will he? Will he find Phyllida?’

‘Oh yes,’ she answered seriously. ‘For they have been finding and seeking one another since the beginning of time.’

Never had the circle of life been brought home more forcefully to the Apothecary – and never, indeed, had the superstition that bad or good luck comes in a cycle of three. He had stayed in Kensington and organised a rather hectic – and rather beautiful – funeral for Sir Gabriel Kent, the last of the great beaux. Not many of Sir Gabriel’s older friends came because he had, in fact, outlived them all. But people with whom he still played cards, neighbours – including the jolly Mr Horniblow from next door – and people who had served Sir Gabriel in shops and liked the old man’s style, all came aplenty. Then there were John’s friends: Joe Jago, representing Sir John Fielding, Serafina and Louis de Vignolles, Samuel Swann, looking terribly sad. And last, but a million miles from least, came Jacquetta Fortune on the arm of Gideon Purle, followed by Robin Hazell and Fred, terribly small, new hat held hotly in hand.