The Angel Tree (23 page)

‘The funeral’s here at Marchmont on Thursday afternoon. I’m letting you know because I thought you might want to come.’

‘Er, well, thanks, David, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to. Cheska has a photographic shoot all day.’

‘I see. Well, even if you don’t come to the funeral, you’re going to have to come for the reading of the will. Owen insisted you attend just before he died. From what he said
to my mother, I think it might be to your advantage.’

‘Do I have to come? I mean, we don’t need any more money and, to be honest, as you can imagine, I’m not keen on going back to Marchmont.’

‘That’s exactly how Ma and I felt when we came here a couple of weeks ago. It holds some unpleasant memories for all of us. But now I’ve spent some time here, even under these
circumstances, I’ll be sad to return to London. One forgets how beautiful it is.’

‘To be blunt, David, I’m nervous. And what about Cheska? She’s never asked, so I’ve told her nothing about Owen. I never knew what to say.’

‘Then maybe it’s time you did enlighten her, Greta. After all, one day, she’ll ask, so now’s as good a time as any. Anyway, it would do Cheska good to get out of
London.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said, but she sounded unconvinced.

‘Look, Greta. I know how you feel but, legally, you are still Owen’s wife and, to all intents and purposes, Cheska is his child. The solicitor won’t read the will without you,
which means if you won’t come here, myself and Ma will have to travel to London. My mother has been nursing Owen almost non-stop for the past couple of weeks and she’s exhausted.
I’d prefer it if it could all be over quickly so she can start to recover.’

‘Does she want me there?’

‘She feels you should come, yes.’

Greta sighed. ‘All right, then. I suppose we could cancel Cheska’s shoot. The funeral will be family only, won’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What time will it start?’

‘Half past three.’

‘I’ll ask the studio to provide a car to drive us up. We’ll leave early on Thursday morning.’

‘As you wish. And Greta?’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there.’

‘Thank you, David.’ Greta put the telephone down, wandered over to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a small whisky from the bottle she kept for David when he visited. Still
wrapped in a towel, she slumped onto the sofa and wondered what on earth she should tell Cheska about Owen. And about Marchmont.

‘Darling, I . . . I had a telephone call last night.’ Greta watched her daughter eating her porridge. ‘It was bad news, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh dear, Mummy. What about?’

‘Well, we have to go away tomorrow for a few days. You see, darling, your daddy is dead.’

Cheska looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know I had a daddy. What was his name?’

‘Owen Marchmont.’

‘Oh. And why has he died?’

‘Because he was a lot older than me to begin with and he got sick. And you know everyone dies when they get old. Is there anything else you want to ask me about him?’

‘Where does . . . I mean, where did my daddy live?’

‘Wales, where Uncle David comes from. It’s a very lovely place. He lived in a beautiful house, and we’ll be staying there.’

Cheska’s face brightened. ‘Will Uncle David be there, too?’

‘Yes. And we’d better go and buy you some play-clothes. Marchmont isn’t the place for party frocks.’

‘Could I have some dungarees like Melody used to wear?’

‘We’ll see what we can find.’

‘Thank you, Mummy.’ Cheska slid from her place at the table and wrapped her arms round her mother in an unsolicited show of affection. ‘Are you sad that my daddy
died?’

‘Of course. People are always sad when other people die.’

‘Yes. They always are in my films. I’ll go and wait in my room for you to brush my hair.’

‘Good girl.’

Greta watched her walk out of the sitting room, realising she would need all her courage to face the past, for both their sakes.

The night before the funeral, David was inspecting some of the old books in the library when his mother appeared at the door.

‘I’ve almost finished helping Mary with the food for tomorrow. Could we have a drink together in twenty minutes or so? I . . . need to talk to you, David.’

‘Of course.’

LJ gave him a wan smile and left the room. He wandered over to inspect the contents of the drinks cabinet. There were many bottles, but they were all empty. Right at the back of the cupboard he
found and retrieved the dregs of a whisky bottle. He took out two glasses and poured out what was left equally between them.

He and his mother had found empty whisky bottles all over the house, stashed behind sofas, in cupboards and under Owen’s bed, to the extent that David was surprised his uncle had lasted as
long as he had. He settled himself in an armchair with his glass and waited for his mother to join him.

‘So, there it is, David.’ LJ sighed deeply. She had talked for the past fifteen minutes, explaining to her son for the first time why Owen had always resented him
so strongly. ‘You mustn’t think that I didn’t love your father, because I did. I was devastated when Robin died. But Owen and I . . . well . . .’ LJ paused. ‘He was my
first love and I believe that kind of love never really dies.’

David was surprised to discover that he wasn’t shocked by what his mother had told him, just saddened. ‘Why didn’t Owen offer to marry you when Pa died?’

‘Pride, mostly. I suppose it all comes down to lack of communication.’ LJ stared into the distance. ‘Owen took forty years to tell me he still loved me. A whole lifetime
wasted.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘At least we had two precious weeks together at the end, which is some comfort.’

‘So one of the reasons Owen asked Greta to marry him was to hurt you?’

‘Undoubtedly, yes. And the thought of you inheriting Marchmont was just too much for him.’

‘And what about Marchmont now? Will it go to Greta? After all, legally, she is his wife.’

‘Owen wouldn’t discuss it, so we’ll have to wait until the reading of the will. I have no idea what he’ll have decided.’

‘Why is life so complicated?’

‘Oh my dear boy, I have asked myself that time and time again during the past forty years. But if life has taught me anything, it’s that you mustn’t waste a day of it. And,
more importantly, if you love someone, for goodness’ sake, tell them how you feel.’ She stared hard at her son. ‘I wouldn’t like to see you suffer the way I have.’

David had the grace to blush. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Do excuse me, but I’m going to retire. It’ll be a long day tomorrow and the past couple of weeks have taken their toll.’ LJ stood up and kissed David on the forehead.
‘Goodnight, dear boy. Sleep well.’

David watched his mother leave the room, then sat pondering over what she had just told him.

Love could alter destiny and control lives. As it controlled his own.

Ma was right: life was too short.

And she could only say no.

Cheska watched from the back of the studio limousine as the London skyline disappeared and was replaced by green fields. She sat quietly, staring out of the window until,
finally, the steady drone of the car’s engine made her doze.

‘Darling, we’re almost there.’

Cheska felt her mother shaking her gently and opened her eyes.

‘This is Marchmont, Cheska,’ Greta said as the car approached the house.

The front door opened and David appeared, walking briskly towards the car.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said, lifting Cheska out and into his arms.

‘Did my daddy really live here?’ she whispered to him, looking up in awe at the huge house.

‘Yes, he really did. Hello, Greta.’ He kissed her on both cheeks, then looked at her in admiration. The short black A-line dress she was wearing accentuated her slim figure, and her
new ‘Hepburn’ haircut suited her delicate features. ‘You look wonderful.’

‘Thank you. You look very smart, too.’

‘I rather like this suit but, unfortunately, I only get to wear it on sombre occasions such as this.’

The chauffeur had taken Greta’s suitcase out of the boot and was standing waiting for further instructions.

‘Thank you for such a pleasant journey,’ Greta said, turning to him. ‘Would you like some tea before you leave?’

‘No, thanks. I’m off to see my cousin in Penarth. Have an enjoyable stay, both of you.’

David noticed how used to handling staff Greta had become. A far cry from the nervous, insecure young woman whom he’d packed off to Marchmont all those years ago. ‘Come on,
let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘Ma is waiting to see you.’

Greta took Cheska’s hand and followed David towards the front door. ‘This is where you were born, darling,’ she explained.

‘Goodness!’ said Cheska. ‘It’s as big as Buckingham Palace!’

‘Almost.’ David winked at Greta over Cheska’s head.

‘Are those real sheep?’ Cheska pointed to the white dots on the misty hillside some distance away.

‘They are.’

‘Gosh! Could I possibly go and see one close up?’

‘I’m sure we can arrange that.’ David smiled.

Nervously, Greta followed David and Cheska into the house. The same smell of dogs and woodsmoke that she had noticed when she was first carried inside it assailed her nostrils. As they walked
into the drawing room LJ stood up. Her hair had turned snow-white in the intervening years, but her posture was still ramrod-straight and she showed no other sign of her advancing years.

‘Greta! How lovely to see you.’ LJ walked towards her and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Was the journey horrendous?’

‘No, it was fine, thank you,’ Greta replied, grateful for LJ’s generous welcome.

‘And this must be Cheska.’ LJ held out her hand to the girl, who put her small fingers into LJ’s palm.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Cheska replied solemnly, as they shook hands.

‘What beautiful manners,’ LJ said approvingly. ‘Now, the cars are arriving at three, which gives us half an hour or so. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up after your
journey, Greta dear. I’ve put you in your old room and I thought Cheska could sleep in her old nursery.’ LJ turned her attention back to the child. ‘Are you hungry,
Cheska?’

‘Yes, I am. We didn’t have any lunch.’

‘Well, why don’t you come down to the kitchen and meet Mary, who can’t wait to see how you’ve grown up.’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Right then.’ LJ offered her hand to Cheska, who took it happily.

The two of them disappeared from the room and Greta heard her daughter chattering to LJ as she led her down the corridor. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom in which her two babies had been
born.

As memories of Jonny began to trickle back into her consciousness, Greta shuddered. Coming back here to Marchmont was extremely unsettling. The sooner it was over and they were back to their
usual life, the better.

Cheska watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. She supposed she should be sad. When she’d stood by the grave of her father in the last film, the director had
asked her to cry.

She didn’t really understand about dying. Only that you never saw the person again and they went to a place called Heaven and lived on a fluffy cloud with God. She looked up at her mother
and noticed that she wasn’t crying. She was looking off into the distance, not down into the big, dark hole.

The sight of the coffin reminded Cheska of the nightmare she had all the time. She turned away and rested her head against her mother’s arm, hoping it would all be over soon and they could
go home.

‘I think it’s time to go to bed, young lady.’

Cheska was sitting contentedly on David’s knee in the library.

‘All right, Mummy.’

‘How about I come up when Mummy has got you ready for bed and tell you one of my special stories?’

‘Oh, yes please, Uncle David.’

‘Right you are, then. See you in a minute.’

‘Goodnight, Aunt LJ.’ Cheska climbed down from David’s knee and kissed her aunt on the cheek.

‘Goodnight, my dear. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’

‘I won’t.’ Cheska giggled and followed Greta out of the room. ‘I like it here, Mummy, and Aunt LJ is so nice. I’m glad I’ve got another relation. Do you think
she’s very old?’ she asked as they mounted the stairs.

‘No, not very.’

‘Older than Daddy?’

‘Probably a bit younger.’ Greta led Cheska along the corridor to the nursery, hoping the child couldn’t sense her own apprehension at the thought of entering the room where
she’d once spent so many hours with the twins. ‘Here we are, sweetheart,’ she said brightly, forcing a smile. ‘See, this is where you slept when you were a baby. Cheska,
what on earth’s the matter?’ Greta looked at her daughter, who had stopped at the entrance to the room. The colour had drained from her face.

‘I . . . Oh, Mummy, could I sleep with you tonight instead?’

‘You’re a big girl now, and anyway, this is such a cosy room. See, this is one of your old dolls.’

Cheska remained rigid in the doorway.

‘Don’t be difficult, Cheska. Mummy’s had a very long day. Come and put your nightie on for me.’

‘Mummy, let me sleep with you,
please
. I don’t like it in here,’ she pleaded.

‘Well, why don’t you get changed like a good girl, then climb into bed and let Uncle David come and tell you a story? And afterwards, if you still don’t want to sleep in here,
you can come into my bed. How’s that?’

Cheska nodded and took a tentative step into the room.

Sighing with relief, Greta helped her undress. That done, she tucked her into the narrow bed and sat down beside her. ‘There, you see. This really is a nice, friendly sort of
room.’

But Cheska was staring at something behind Greta. ‘Mummy, why are there two cots over there? Was one of them my brother Jonny’s?’

Greta turned and saw them. Not wanting to distress her daughter, she fought back her emotions. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘So why are they still here?’

‘Oh, I should think Mary forgot to move them after we left.’

‘Why did we leave?’

Greta sighed, bent over and kissed Cheska on the forehead. ‘I’ll tell you tomorrow, darling.’