The Juniper Tree (17 page)

After the birthday party he drove us home and, when I’d put my sleepy daughter to bed, he asked if he could stay for the evening and settled down in his chair in the odd little room behind the shop while I prepared a simple meal of mushrooms on toast and cheese and fruit. The few bottles of wine in the cottage were provided by Bernard so I told him to choose his own bottle and open it before I made the toast so that we could drink and talk a little before eating.

At first we talked of Brussels and the new gallery partnership. Then, while we were eating, we talked of Johnny and what a splendid child he was and how Gertrude would have loved him, and it was as if she had crept into the room. He talked about her great beauty and intelligence and how everyone had loved her, how extraordinarily graceful, and all her movements so perfect. ‘Do you remember the way she used to slowly turn her head and look at you with her great heavy-lidded eyes? Sometimes she was laughing – she loved to laugh, didn’t she?’

By this time we were sitting very close and he was ruffling my hair with his long fingers and I pondered on something to say to change the conversation, if you could call it a conversation. Eventually I said: ‘Bernard, did you really mean I chatter?’

His mood changed and he laughed and stopped ruffling my hair. ‘No, of course I didn’t, you are the mistress of
Bel-Gazou,
my dear.’

I asked, ‘But what does
Bel-Gazou
mean?’ and he said I’d know when I’d studied my French. Then we stood up and we kissed for the first time and went upstairs and, for the first time, lay on the bed together. Bernard was in my arms but I wasn’t in his and we stayed like that until my arms grew stiff. The street lamps dimly lit the room and I could look at his beautiful, haughty profile for as long as I wanted and it was heaven to be touching him, but I wished Gertrude wasn’t there. In real life she had never been in my bedroom.

At about six-thirty there was a great rumbling and hissing and the room was filled with flashing lights. Bernard, all startled, asked what was happening, so I told him it was only Flash Harry, a street-cleaning engine that passed every morning. He said, ‘We don’t have things like that in Richmond as far as I know, but of course we sleep at the back.’ He kissed me on the forehead and said, ‘Goodbye, little
Bel-Gazou,”
and in moments of tenderness he continued to use that name.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A
t the end of October, when there was no warmth left in the sun, I heard that Miss Murray had suddenly died of peritonitis. It was Mary who told me and we were both shocked because it was she who had introduced us to each other. She had been so kind in her reserved way, bringing me china when stocks were low and the helpful advice she had sometimes given me. Although I didn’t see her often she had become part of my life, and then I’d met her on the same snowy day that I’d met Gertrude.

A few days after I’d heard of her death I received a letter from her lawyers saying that under the will of the late Edith Murray she had bequeathed to me the entire contents of her shop with the exception of three objects which were to go to her brother. It was just a matter of waiting for probate, it seemed. I couldn’t believe the letter was true at first and re-read it before I telephoned Mary.

Mary was almost as pleased as I was and we made plans for collecting and storing the contents of the shop, but, to my surprise, Bernard was against me accepting the legacy; he thought everything should go to the brother. So I rather bravely telephoned the lawyers and said I was prepared to give up my claim to the contents of the shop if Miss Murray’s brother felt bitter about it. The lawyer assured me that Mr Murray had no interest in the shop whatever and had already taken away the three quite valuable pieces of furniture that had been specially willed to him, and now all he was waiting for was for the shop to be emptied so that he could hand over the lease. When I told Bernard this he seemed a little annoyed at first, but eventually he laughed and said that, if the brother didn’t care about his sister’s shop, it was perfectly right for me to accept it. Then he admitted that he’d felt a little jealous. He wanted any good fortune that came my way to have come from him. He appeared quite ashamed about this and turned his face away, so I said, ‘All I want is for us both to help each other as much as we possibly can,’ and for a moment our hands touched.

I was working hard at my French. My teacher was quite a young girl and not at all severe. Her English was good so she had no difficulty in explaining things to me and I enjoyed our French conversations. Lucie came twice a week and after the lesson she often stayed for a meal and we talked about our lives and loves and ambitions, sometimes in English and sometimes in French, and I could feel my French improving when I was talking naturally and it wasn’t a lesson. Bernard came round one evening to see how I was progressing, but Lucie and I became self-conscious and the lesson wasn’t a success. I wondered how good I’d have to be before Bernard took me to Brussels. I tried not to look forward to it too much but it was always there at the back of my mind, this magical journey with Bernard to a place where Gertrude had never been as far as I knew. Sometimes we would be travelling in the car and other times flying first class and drinking champagne and in my dreams we’d even be travelling by sledge, surrounded by snowy forests. Very occasionally we’d be voyaging by night in a small cargo boat and we’d walk on the empty dark decks with our arms round each other and, when we kissed, our lips would taste of sea spray. Actually, when we did go to Brussels, we made the short journey by air.

We really went earlier than we intended because of a looming domestic crisis. Catalina wanted to marry her waiter, so we had to go away together while we still had her to look after the children. We couldn’t leave them in the charge of Miss May who made it quite clear that she was there to cook and housekeep and not to look after young children. She did occasionally take Johnny for a short walk in his pram and was known to babysit when he was deeply asleep, but she was really a little scared of children.

It was a Sunday morning when Catalina dropped her bombshell about getting married. In spite of all the sewing that had been going on we hadn’t expected her to marry for a year at least and now she was hoping to have a Christmas wedding. She had offered to stay on after her marriage if Bernard didn’t mind her husband living in the house. ‘He’d help at your dinner parties, Mister Bernard, and he’s very good with electrical apparatus.’

For a moment Bernard was speechless, then he said, ‘Yes, er – yes, I’m sure he would be most helpful; but I don’t think it would quite work out, although I’ll keep it in mind.’

Catalina smiled. ‘Okay, Mister Bernard, you think about it. Not to worry,’ and she skipped from the room.

Bernard sank on to a sofa and said: ‘Where does she get her English? Not from this house, I hope.’ He pulled me down beside him and smoothed my bare arm with the tip of one finger and I felt as if I’d been touched by a rainbow, but it meant nothing to him, he only wanted my attention and advice. ‘Bella, you don’t think I ought to have that man living in the house for Johnny’s sake, do you? He’d be all over the place, in here, everywhere. He’s so pushing, like a badly-trained dog. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it all the time. You’ve hardly seen him, Bella. But off duty he usually wears a brown plastic imitation-leather outfit, and his hair has been curled in some horrible way.’ He turned away and his fine nostrils appeared to quiver, though it may have been my imagination.

I said, ‘Bernard, don’t torture yourself. Of course you needn’t have that man living in the house. Why, he might even borrow your suits!’

‘Fortunately they wouldn’t fit,’ he said in a more relaxed way. ‘After all, there are about six weeks before Catalina leaves. Let’s see what Mrs Vic has to offer.’

A day or two later Bernard came to the shop on his way home. I was standing on a stool reaching for something hanging high in the window and he stood outside watching me. When I’d finished he came in and lifted me off the stool, held me to him, then kissed me on the lips in a really loving way although the shop lights were shining brightly. We went into the back room where Tommy was sitting at the table eating her supper of apple pie and drinking milk through a whirly glass tube – this evening the milk was tinted pink.

Bernard kissed her on the top of her curly head and said, ‘If mummy has a little holiday with me, will you come to Richmond and help Catalina look after Johnny?’

Tommy blew the milk in reverse and said, ‘Of course, I always do.’

That was the first I’d heard about going to Brussels so soon. Apparently Bernard had to meet several important people there the following week and had suddenly decided we should leave immediately. ‘And as for your French, your accent may be individual, but you’re amazingly fluent.’ He then insisted on giving me a cheque for a hundred pounds to buy anything I needed, a dress perhaps. ‘These people in Brussels are really rather formal and will expect you as my protégée to be well dressed. I hope they won’t bore you.’

With all the excitement I became quite emotional and said, ‘Dear Bernard, I can never be bored if you are there.’

We left the following Tuesday and, although the journey wasn’t quite like my dreams, it was very pleasant flying first class and sitting close to Bernard as he worked, not very seriously, planning out an itinerary for our visit which would only last five days. Part of the time I was to be in the care of a secretary who would take me to museums and galleries while Bernard attended to his really serious business.

The five days passed so quickly, not the nights, but the days. I was introduced to people as Bernard’s protégée and they appeared to like me. It was one of those times when I was looking beautiful with happiness and I think they felt this radiance glowing from me and it made them happy too. It was the same at parties: everyone seemed to want to talk to me and there I’d stand, almost like a queen bee, with Bernard by my side; but it was the nights that were so perfect, at least almost perfect. Even in bed Bernard had a certain reserve and in our relationship it was always like that. I must never be the one to make the first advances – answer his passion, but never make the first move. That was how he wanted it and anything he wanted was perfect to me. Just to be with him was the purest happiness. When we left our hotel bedroom for the last time, I said, ‘Bernard, how Women’s Lib would hate me if they knew how I felt about you.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
n Brussels we had really left Gertrude behind, there wasn’t the faintest shadow of her, but when we returned to England her gentle presence was waiting, or so it seemed to me. Bernard would say: ‘I don’t think Gertrude would approve of those playsuits Johnny is wearing. They make him look like a mechanic,’ or to Miss May: ‘I’d rather you didn’t serve boiled cod, Miss May. My wife dislikes it.’ Mrs Hicks would be asked to change the curtains in ‘the mistress’s bedroom’ or even to take ‘the mistress’s dressing-gown to the cleaners.’ The soft blue dressing-gown hung on a hook on the door; but Gertrude’s other clothes nestled in the large cupboards that had drawers as well as hanging rails and her jewel-case was locked away somewhere. Mrs Hicks and I had been greatly daring and cleared the dressing-table of Gertrude’s simple but expensive cosmetics. We kept them for a month in a kitchen drawer, then, as Bernard did not appear to miss them, Mrs Hicks took them home to her young daughter, who said they were ‘wishy-washy’ and threw them in the dustbin.

One of the first things I did on my return was to pay a visit to Mrs Vic’s agency. I brought back a list of five would-be nurses for Johnny. There was the usual elderly nanny, the untrained girl with a baby of her own, and three experienced girls who sounded quite promising; one of them was Dutch which I thought might appeal to Bernard. But in the evening when I showed him the list, he glanced at it and said they wouldn’t do. Gertrude wouldn’t approve of them. Then he asked me to do the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to do even for Bernard, give up the shop and look after the Forbes family and house. We had quite an argument about this, which ended in Bernard admitting that he was a selfish brute, then staying the night with me. It was almost as it had been in Brussels, but not quite, because I felt a selfish brute myself and hoped I had the strength of will to stay one.

After all, Bernard chose the Dutch girl to look after Johnny. She was called Greta and spoke perfect English so the poor child didn’t have to learn a third language – as it was he spoke more Spanish than anything, but his vocabulary was still very limited. For nearly a fortnight he was cared for by two doting nurses; then Catalina left for Spain with her
novio
and Johnny was alone with Greta and he didn’t like it at all. Marline and I were the only ones who could comfort him. He would go to Bernard for a few minutes, but then his bottom lip would quiver and he’d hold his arms out to me. I spent all the time I could with him, but didn’t want to neglect the shop too much, particularly as it was nearly Christmas, my busy time. Gradually Johnny settled down with Greta and his relationship with his father improved. Bernard spent as much time as he could with him, which meant that he seldom called on me on his way home. Marline and I still spent Sunday and most of Monday at the Richmond house and I enjoyed it in a way, the luxury and long talks with Bernard, but we never came close to each other there. Bernard seemed to edge away if I came the slightest bit close.

A strange thing happened in the early spring. Bernard’s gold cuff-links disappeared from the dressing-table. They had been lying there for several days while he wore some Victorian ones I’d given him for Christmas; then suddenly the gold ones vanished. Nothing else was missing. At first we thought Mrs Hicks or Miss May had flicked them to the floor with the feather duster they were fond of using, so the furniture was moved and the floor searched, then the insides of the carpet sweeper and the repulsive bag of dust, but all we found were pins and paper clips. As nothing else vanished in mysterious circumstances the cuff-links were almost forgotten until I found one under the juniper tree in Gertrude’s wild garden. I often sat there on the low bench now the weather was warmer and I’d been there the previous day; but there hadn’t been the slightest glitter of gold in the spring sun and now it was shining on something gold hanging from a twig like a Christmas tree decoration, Bernard’s cuff-link. I took it down and examined it closely, but it was quite unharmed; then I searched for its companion, but there was no more shining gold, only the magpies chattering high in the cherry tree near their domed nest. When I showed Bernard my find, he was all for climbing a ladder to hunt for the other link in the magpies’ nest. But for once our positions were reversed; I said: ‘Gertrude wouldn’t like her magpies disturbed at this time of the year, they might even fly away. Wait until the autumn,’ and he reluctantly agreed.