Holding On (5 page)

Fox could think of nothing to say. He felt inadequate and helpless, guessing that anything he suggested would be rejected by Ellen in her present frame of mind. He gave a sigh of relief as Caroline and Perks came in to the kitchen together.

‘It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the weather can change,' said Caroline, shutting the door behind her as Perks headed for her basket. ‘Summer one day, autumn the next . . .'

She paused, sensing the atmosphere, her glance passing between the two of them. Fox shook his head slightly, jerking it towards Ellen, pulling down the corners of his mouth warningly. Caroline raised her eyebrows questioningly and put her hand lightly on Ellen's shoulder as she passed.

‘I need a cup of tea,' she said. ‘It's not that it's
cold
exactly, but there's a kind of dankness. Thank goodness for a nice warm kitchen. Cuppa, Ellen? I see Fox has got one already.'

‘I think I will,' said Ellen, not moving. ‘I've got the hump today and that's all there is to it.'

‘Poor old Ellen.' Caroline lifted the big brown teapot from the Aga and put it on the table. ‘Any particular reason or is it Mole's old “black dog” kind of depression?'

‘It's that Fliss,' wailed Ellen, plaiting her fingers together and wringing her hands. ‘She's not happy, Caroline. No two ways about it.'

‘No,' said Caroline after a moment. ‘No, I realise that. Here.' She poured Ellen's tea and pushed the cup towards her. ‘I've been thinking about it, too. She's trying to be brave about it but there's a lot on her mind. The baby, going to Hong Kong, being away from us all for two years. The trouble is there's nothing to be done about it. If she stays behind to have the baby at home and then waits for it to be old enough to travel, half of Miles's time will be over before she gets out there.'

‘In my young days,' said Ellen grimly, unimpressed by this argument, ‘young navy wives didn't go gadding round the world with their husbands. They stayed at home sensibly, bringing up their children. I recall fathers not seeing children till they were two years old and upwards.'

‘No aeroplanes in those days,' put in Fox. ‘The sea voyage out to the China station and suchlike was enough to put off most young wives.'

‘But it's not new,' said Caroline gently. ‘Think of the British out in India. And surely you wouldn't want Miles not to see his child until it was two years old, Ellen?'

‘It's not the Commander I'm thinking of,' said Ellen stubbornly. ‘It's Fliss. A young mother should be contented and happy, not scared and lonely for her people.'

‘There's the British Military Hospital in Kowloon. There will be other young wives just like Fliss having babies. She'll make lots of friends. The Navy looks after its own, Ellen. The naval base is called HMS
Tamar
after the river. That's a nice familiar Devonshire name, isn't it?'

‘Even so what the name of the base has to do with whether Fliss is happy or not I
can't
see.'

Caroline and Fox exchanged glances while Ellen sipped angrily at her tea and set down the cup with a clatter in its saucer.

‘The point is,' said Caroline, who came from an army background and could sympathise with both points of view, ‘there is nothing we can do. If Fliss senses our fears for her she'll be even more distressed. The way I see it, the less she has to think about, the better. Of course she's worried about leaving us all and going so far away, let alone the anxiety about having her first baby among strangers, but there are no options. She thinks it would be wrong – and I agree with her – to stay behind. The least we can do is to go along with her brave attitude that it's all a great adventure otherwise we shall undermine her courage—'

The door opened and Fliss came into the kitchen. The instant silence was so charged with emotion that she stood for a moment looking at them each in turn. They stared back at her, shocked and unmoving, as if they were all playing the game known as statues.

‘Sorry,' she said, smiling but looking faintly anxious. ‘Did I interrupt something?'

‘Only,' said Ellen, rising heavily to her feet, ‘
only
the old argument about that dratted cooker. Terrible waste of money to my mind, though Mrs Chadwick meant well. It may be cleaner and more convenient but
what
we'd do without the Aga on a morning like this I
don't
know. But I
do
know that sitting talking about it is getting us nowhere. And me behind with the breakfasts.'

Caroline smiled at Fliss as she slid into a chair. ‘Tea?'

‘Please.' Fliss sighed contentedly. ‘I must say I agree with Ellen. I love this kitchen. I was always so cold when we came back from Kenya and it was such a lovely cosy place to be. It was my favourite room in those days.'

‘Remember our games of dominoes?' Fox beamed at her from his rocking chair. ‘And Ellen's tin of Sharps toffees?'

‘Oh, yes, I do,' said Fliss. ‘See-through paper with different coloured squiggles on them. I always liked the red best although I suspect the toffees all tasted the same.'

‘And that Susanna,' said Ellen, bustling back again, ‘always wanting one in each hand. Terror, she was.'

‘Rather typical of Susanna, wouldn't you say?' suggested Caroline. ‘Seizing life with both hands and refusing to let go. She hasn't changed.'

‘I'm glad she's decided to do her art course at Bristol,' said Fliss, leaning both elbows on the table and cradling her cup in her hands. ‘It's a comfort to know that she'll be staying with Aunt Prue to start with. She doesn't know anyone in Bristol and she'd be terribly lonely.'

There was a tiny silence.

‘Make friends in no time, she will,' said Fox bracingly. ‘Right taking little maid, she be.'

‘I quite agree,' smiled Caroline. ‘Poor old Mole used to have such difficulty with her on the train going to and fro school. She'd talk to anyone.'

‘That's why I'm glad she'll be with Aunt Prue,' said Fliss. ‘Dear old Sooz has no discrimination. Everyone's a friend. Goodness knows who she'd find herself sharing a room with. This way she'll have a bit of a breathing space. Time to settle in a bit and get to know people.'

‘Of course,' said Caroline thoughtfully, ‘that's the good thing about the Navy, isn't it? Wherever you go there's that framework. People you know, old friends you meet up with.'

‘That's quite true,' said Fliss at once. ‘It's surprising how many of Miles's oppos are out in Hong Kong. It'll be quite a reunion by the sound of it. The wives will be able to show me the ropes. It's a comforting thought, I must say.'

‘You'll be a real old hand by the time you get home again,' said Fox cheerfully. ‘What a lot there'll be to tell us. Mind you take lots of photos, maid. We'll want to see it all.'

‘Of course I will,' Fliss assured him. She swallowed, pressing her lips together, and tried to smile. ‘I only wish I could take you all with me.'

‘And that's a fine thought I must say,' said Ellen, passing behind her and pausing for a second to grip Fliss's shoulder. ‘Carting a lot of old folk out to Hong Kong. Whatever next, I wonder. But we shall be here waiting for you to come back, just you be certain of that. Now finish that tea and you shall have some porridge.'

Freddy moved slowly along the path under the courtyard wall, dead-heading the roses which climbed and flourished amongst the branches of the wisteria and clematis. Her thick hair had faded now to silver but she still wore it in a heavy bun on the nape of her neck, an old linen hat tilted above it to shield her eyes from the sun. Her arms were bare, tanned a deep brown from hours in the garden, her old tweed skirt snagged and pulled out of shape from years of bending and kneeling amongst her beloved flowers and plants. Yet there was still an elegance and grace about her, emphasised by her tall slenderness. A robin was keeping her company, trilling his tune from the branches above her, cocking his head to see if she were enjoying his song. Occasionally he darted down to forage amongst the woody roots or flew up to the top of the wall to preen his feathers. Freddy talked to him quietly, glad that he was there.

The children had returned to their respective homes and The Keep seemed quieter than usual without them. There was, she decided as she snipped, a particular feeling when any of the children were about, yet each child created a different atmosphere. She paused for a moment, wondering if this were a flight of fancy, deciding that it was true. Take Hal, for instance. Hal made you feel alert and ready for action. Your privacy might be disrupted at any moment: a carful of young people was likely to roll in beneath the arch of the gatehouse or there might be a complete stranger at the breakfast table, invited back after a jolly evening at the pub. Whenever she felt inclined to resent this somewhat cavalier attitude, Freddy strove to remember that Hal, at some distant time – perhaps not too distant now – might be master here. He was the executor for her will and a trustee, for she had been persuaded at last to take proper legal advice and put the whole estate into a trust, and she had given him power of attorney. She had been grieved to go back on her word for he was no longer her heir – she had no heir as such – but it was understood and accepted by the family that he was the most likely of her grandchildren to use The Keep as his home and to have the salary to help to maintain it. It was good that he felt so at home here, good that The Keep would be thrown open by his generous hospitality. For so many years now it had been more of a refuge: a refuge for herself and her fatherless twins; a refuge for the three orphaned children returning from Kenya; a refuge, too, for Theo when he decided to give up his flat in Southsea and come home at last. Now all the children were gone – or nearly so. Susanna, the last to leave, would be off to Bristol in the autumn, although she would be back for the holidays, but once Mole had passed out from Dartmouth and Susanna had finished her course, The Keep would be left simply as a shelter for the elderly people within its walls.

Freddy dropped her secateurs into her basket and looked about her. It was a faintly depressing thought – and a foolish one. After all, Caroline was not elderly and the children were always returning for weekends and short holidays or simply passing through. This would not cease because none of them actually lived at The Keep. Nevertheless, it did seem that the family was reaching the end of an era.

The robin hopped on to a nearby twig and sang a stave or two, his bright eye encouraging her. She smiled and nodded as if in answer – she simply must not allow herself to become depressed – and, in an attempt to distract herself, continued to pursue her earlier interesting idea regarding the question of atmospheres. Having dwelled on Hal, she moved on to his twin, Kit. Well, darling Kit was simply an eccentric in the making, no question about that. She reminded Freddy of an elderly aunt whom, as a child, she had adored; quite potty but so delightfully unexpected. Just such a one was Kit. She was young yet but all the signs were there: her tendency to curl up in the huge dog basket with the dogs, her penchant for unusual people – Sin and the delightful Jacques, whom she called Jake the Rake – and her loyalty to her old Morris, called Eppyjay because of its number plate, EPJ 43. She was unpunctual, lazy and vague, but there was, thought Freddy, a warmth in your heart when Kit slid an arm around your neck and whispered, ‘Hello, honey' in your ear. None of the other children had ever called her ‘honey' . . .

Fliss, of course, was terribly special, not least because she reminded Freddy of herself when young. She masked her insecurity with the same lift of the chin and the squaring of the shoulders; she cared deeply about the family, and beneath her fragile appearance was a sinewy, springy strength. Having Fliss around seemed utterly natural to Freddy, as though she had a younger, stronger version of herself about the place. If only it had been possible to allow Fliss and Hal to marry. They would have made the perfect pair, the ideal owners of The Keep. His liveliness would have leavened her seriousness and her good sense would have kept a restraining hand upon his recklessness.

The robin flipped up and over the wall and Freddy sat down on the wooden seat, gazing out across the courtyard with a sigh. Well, it was over and done with and no use brooding about it. Hal had Maria; such a pretty child but taking a while to mature. There was a lack of confidence which Freddy was at a loss to understand, in fact there had been moments during this last visit when she had felt almost irritated by Maria. At times she had looked quite sulky and when Fliss had told them that she was expecting a child Maria had behaved in the oddest manner.

Freddy thought: I think she was jealous. But what nonsense! Surely she and Hal are quite capable of having babies. It must have been something else.

She lifted her face to the sunshine and closed her eyes. Where had she got to? Ah, yes, Mole. Now Mole was different again. A true Chadwick, so like Theo, dark-haired, brown-eyed, he was quiet, undemanding, companionable, astute, yet – unlike Theo – there was just the suggestion of strain in having him about. It was all those years of worry, of course. First he had been unable to speak and then, once he regained his voice, there were the nightmares and sleepwalking, the terror of being left, his anxiety that the members of his family might disappear in the same way as his parents and his brother. Poor Mole. For the thousandth time she wondered exactly what dreadful details Mole had heard on the terrible day when he'd been playing under the kitchen table and the policeman had come rushing in, recounting the tragic news of the murders to Cookie. For years this had been her own private anguish. The official story was that the car had been ambushed and its occupants shot by Mau-Mau, but since then many other stories of atrocities had filtered back and she guessed that their end had not been so straightforward.