Holding On (16 page)

These outings had begun nearly two years ago, quite by chance, but Theo, pocketing his loose change and rummaging in his drawer for a clean handkerchief, even now felt a twinge of something akin to remorse. It was Caroline who had asked if he would drive Fox to his appointment at the surgery. Some crisis had occurred so that she was unable to take him and she was afraid that he might insist that he could manage alone. Remembering, Theo smiled wryly to himself as he hastened downstairs. It must have been quite an emergency for her to suggest that
he
go with Fox. He had never amounted to much as a driver, and he was rarely allowed behind the wheel. He'd managed the journey to Totnes very well, however, and, when Fox was once more seated beside him, suggested that they might take the opportunity to go for a little drive. It had been spring and the bluebells were just coming into their full glory. The lanes were vivid with freshly minted colours: pinky-red campion, bright yellow celandine and white ramsons. They'd paused to watch a dipper, bobbing on his rock in a tumbling, rushing stream, and listened to the yaffingale, laughing in a distant wooded valley. They were enjoying themselves so much that Theo had ventured onwards, through Ashburton and up on to the moors. He'd stopped the car at a high point on the narrow white road and smiled with pleasure at the scene before them.

‘Glorious, isn't it?' he'd asked, indicating the sweep of country across to the impressive granite outcrop of Haytor rocks and far beyond the patchwork of fields and woods to the sea, glittering in the pale spring sunshine. ‘I love this bit. It encapsulates all of Devon for me. Moor and sea. Woods and valleys, farmlands and villages. It's all here. Glorious Devon. Got a favourite view?'

There was no answer and he'd turned to look at Fox, surprised at his silence. He'd been staring out over the moor, a rapt expression on his seamed, weather-beaten face, his eyes dazed. He'd shaken his head at last.

‘'Tis beyond anything,' he'd said simply. ‘I've never been this far from home, sir, and I'd no idea of it, if you take my meaning. Beats our old hill into a cocked hat, this does.'

Theo had sat for some moments, shocked and ashamed. ‘My dear fellow,' he'd said. ‘Do you mean to tell me that this is the first time you've been on Dartmoor?'

‘It is indeed,' Fox had said. ‘There's been no call, you see. Mrs Chadwick always liked to drive herself, and then Caroline took over the ferrying of the children to and fro. Had my old bike, of course, for getting round the lanes and I've been to Totnes many times.'

‘As a boy?' Theo had ventured. ‘Did you get about much?'

‘Born and brought up in Devonport, I was,' Fox had answered cheerfully. ‘No money, nor no transport for getting about in those days. Joined the Navy when I was fourteen and I was twenty-two when war broke out. Since the first war finished I've been at The Keep.'

This morning, as he came through the hall, Theo still felt an echo of the shock he'd felt at that moment: eighty-two years old and Fox had hardly been further afield than the grounds of The Keep. It was quite clear that he felt no resentment, quite the contrary. It had never occurred to him that the Chadwicks might have given him the opportunity to go to the moors or to the coast. His humility had touched Theo's heart and so it was that the outings had become a regular occurrence. Not so regular as to become a habit – he'd known instinctively that Fox wouldn't have liked that – but as a delightful treat on sunny days.

‘Fancy a spin?' Theo would put his head round the kitchen door, eyebrows raised, and Fox's face would dissolve into a hundred creases as he smiled joyfully back at him. He'd guessed the reason for Theo's kindness. With Ellen gone the time lay heavy on his hands, although Caroline did everything she could to mitigate his loss. Freddy had been faintly surprised at Theo's philanthropy but understood that Fox, more than any of them, must be suffering terribly without Ellen. They'd been close companions for nearly sixty years and it was inevitable that he must be lonely and lost without her. It would not have occurred to Freddy to take her servants on outings and Theo knew this and accepted it. Yet she was quite ready to approve anything which should lessen Fox's grief and help him to come to terms with it, even if it meant trusting Theo with the car.

‘Just don't kill yourself doing it,' she'd said tartly. ‘It would rather destroy the object of the exercise.'

Theo grinned to himself as he took his stick from the brass container by the front door and waved it cheerfully to the patiently waiting Fox. Caroline hurried out behind him to give him the car keys and to remind him to stop for the coffee which was made up in a flask in the hamper, and Freddy came to the door of the garden room to wave them off.

‘So,' said Theo, easing himself behind the wheel. ‘Where shall we go today?'

‘I wondered whether it wouldn't be a right day for the moor, sir,' answered Fox rather shyly. He still wasn't used to having his preferences so readily consulted. ‘But wherever you fancy will do me. Can't go wrong on a day like this.'

‘The moor it is, then,' said Theo cheerfully, crashing the gears woefully, and juddering the car between the gatehouses. ‘We'll go out through Ashburton and have our coffee by the bridge below Rushlade Common.'

Fox sighed with deep contentment as they passed down the lane. Any strain between the two of them during these outings had long since passed. In the early days at The Keep, Fox had called the young Theo ‘Padre', later he had become ‘Mr Theo' but now he simply called him ‘sir'. He had gently but firmly resisted Theo's request to drop the formality when they were alone together, and Theo had respected his need to retain it.

Once through Ashburton, always a rather breathtaking business with Theo at the wheel, they turned right at Ausewell Cross and drove out on to the moor. Beyond the cattle grid, a shaggy, heavy-headed pony stood immobile in the road and Theo edged cautiously round him, narrowly missing the sheep that were grazing at the verge. Fox smiled to himself as he leaned from the window to pat the pony's rump, wishing that Ellen was still alive that he might regale her with his adventures on his return. On the other hand, if Ellen were still alive there would have been no adventures, nothing to tell . . .

The car swung right at Cold East Cross and, having pulled in by the stream, Theo switched off the engine with a sigh of relief. They sat for a moment or two in companionable silence, listening to the gentle splashing of the water and the outpourings of a skylark somewhere above them. The bracken was just beginning to turn to fiery rust: rowan berries gleamed brightly crimson amongst the yellowing leaves. High cirrus formed whorls and streaks of white against the chalky blue sky whilst, lower down, cushiony creamy clouds tumbled and bumped along before the strong west wind. It was sheltered here, by the stream, and Fox sat quite still, his eyes bright and wondering as he surveyed the scene before him with delight.

‘Coffee,' said Theo, getting out and going round to open Fox's door, lending him tactful assistance to swing his legs out of the confined space. ‘Sit there for a moment in the sun while I get organised. What d'you say to going over to have a look at Jay's grave later? Or we could go round by Trendlebeare Down.' He opened the tailgate and reached for the hamper. ‘Now let's see what Caroline has given us today.'

 

‘An odd alliance,' murmured Freddy, listening to the sound of the engine dying away and returning to the garden room where she kept her tools and the rest of the paraphernalia necessary to her gardening activities. It was many years now since Fox had plumbed in the cold water tap to the small sink and built shelves round the walls to hold vases and bowls and her reference books. The walls were whitewashed and, above a row of gumboots and overshoes, old coats hung from a line of wooden pegs. Today she was transferring the bedding varieties of her fuchsias into pots and the big deal table was covered with plants and earth. It was a pleasant sunny place to be on such a morning, with its warm pungent smell and the door standing open to the courtyard.

Caroline left her amongst her plants and went back to the kitchen, the portly Perks waddling faithfully behind her. She thought it was good for both Theo and Fox to have these times together but secretly she rather envied them. She, too, would like to drive off in the car, to spend the morning pottering about the moor or along the coast. It had taken her a week or two to recover from the wedding but now the house was quiet again and she could afford to relax a little; a little but not too much. There was a great deal of work to do even though they were such a small household now. She sometimes wondered how on earth they had managed when the children were small. Of course, they'd been much younger, capable of so much more. And they'd had Ellen. Nevertheless, even with Josh working most days in the grounds she wondered if they could cope without the property deteriorating, becoming neglected.

She pushed the kettle on to the hotplate of the Aga and stood looking at the breakfast washing-up and the pile of ironing. Which should she tackle first? How she missed Ellen, who'd managed an enormous workload without whining or making a fuss. Perks climbed into the dog basket, turned round a few times on the old blanket and settled with a thump and a deep sigh. Caroline reached for a mug – with a mental apology to Ellen, who would have despised such a drop in standards – and spooned in coffee, brooding on various people's attitudes to the daily round.

She'd been rather surprised at Maria's lack of stamina during the week she and Hal had spent at The Keep after the wedding. The trouble was that Maria assumed that Caroline was there to wait on her and her children. Now that the honeymoon – as it were – was over and she was a well-established member of the family, she made it clear that she expected Caroline to be at her beck and call. She did it very nicely, very polite and charming, but there was an air of expectancy that was often extraordinarily irksome.

Caroline thought: After all, I am a servant, if it comes to that. Why should I resent it?

She made the coffee and sat down at the table, ignoring washing-up and ironing alike, frowning thoughtfully. None of the children behaved like that. When they were at home they pulled their weight. Mole was willing but had to be supervised, Susanna was a reliable, cheerful worker but one who preferred company, Kit was liable to be easily distracted – by a novel idea or the dog doing something amusing – and forget what it was she was supposed to be achieving, Hal liked to be in charge, disliking menial tasks and being rather too ready to delegate, but was first-rate in a crisis, and as for Fliss . . . well, Fliss was the best if you needed simple efficiency. She just got on with it, requiring neither direction nor praise nor company; having Fliss about seemed natural, somehow. Of course this was her home, she knew where everything belonged, the small routines, the way the place was run. She had been a tower of strength during the weeks preceding the wedding and a tremendous help at clearing up afterwards. As for those twinnies . . .

Caroline laughed aloud at the memory of Bess and Jamie perched on cushions placed on kitchen chairs, wrapped in enormous aprons, sorting out the silver: spoons in one lined drawer, forks in another and so on. How careful they had been, how proud of the responsibility entrusted to them. Coming into the kitchen to fetch some milk for Jolyon, Maria had looked faintly put out to see them so employed. Fliss had smiled at her but Maria had barely responded, pouring the milk into Jolyon's drinking cup and hurrying away again with a waiting pile of newly washed and aired, fluffy white napkins. The little Baby Belling boiler had been in continuous use since her arrival and Maria had been outspoken in her amazement and disdain that there should be no washing machine at The Keep.

There'd been a little silence once she'd gone.

‘Jolyon's too young to help,' Jamie said to his sister.

‘He can't do knives,' agreed Bess. ‘He'd cut his little self.'

Her tone unconsciously reflected Maria's; she was always on guard lest the twinnies should perpetuate some horror against the twenty-month-old Jolyon, always explaining why he could not join in their games or be held or taken for a walk in the courtyard.

‘He's just a baby,' agreed Jamie, with all the complacency of someone who was three and three-quarters.

It had seemed odd when Fliss and the twinnies had gone back to Northwood. During the long hot summer, Miles had sent them down to The Keep, to the country. Fliss told Caroline that she'd been only too ready to be packed off. The married quarter in Capella Road, just outside the base, had been stifling, the tiny garden baking in the relentless glare of the sun. The cool spaciousness of The Keep and the shady garden and orchard had been a welcome relief. It was lovely to have the twinnies about, and Caroline and Fliss had spent many happy hours together while the children played near at hand; almost like old times.

For some reason, however, it had not been at all the same with Hal's family for the week after the wedding. Maria rarely came near the kitchen, although she was always ready to give time to Mrs Chadwick or Theo. It was rather as if she used the place as a hotel, leaving Edward's nappies to be boiled up, requesting picnics when she and Hal and the children went off to the beach, arriving back in time for tea in the hall.

Caroline thought: Perhaps it was because Hal was with her. She might have been different if she'd been on her own. And after all, this is Fliss's home. She's bound to behave differently.

As she finished her coffee it occurred to her that, when Mrs Chadwick died, it would almost certainly be Hal and Maria who would be living here at The Keep, not Fliss and Miles. Caroline frowned at this unwelcome thought. Hal, yes; she could imagine Hal here and, no doubt, his children, too, but the idea of Maria as mistress of The Keep was a distressing one.