she would be sick; then she took a deep breath, smiled, went
forward, took Anna’s hand. Or what had been her hand; it had
changed in texture, in form, become weightless and heavy at
the same time, a dead hand already.
‘Anna, hallo. It’s Octavia.’
The blue eyes struggled to focus, looked puzzled, then,
very slowly, she smiled; a strange drawing back of the mouth, a
tightening of the skull-like jaw. ‘Lovely to see you, darling.’
‘It’s lovely to see you, Anna.’
There was a long silence. Then Anna said, ‘The—children?’
‘Very well, Anna. The twins, so naughty and noisy, but
such fun. And the baby, Minty, she’s lovely. I wish you could
see her again.’
‘I shan’t now, darling.’ Again, the awful smile. ‘Does she
look like you?’
‘No, not really. She’s just like -just like Tom.’
‘Darling Tom. Louise was — talking about him — the other
day.’
‘She was?’ Surely she couldn’t have told Anna?
‘Yes. Very very fond of him.’
The voice stopped; the eyes closed. Octavia was puzzled by
Anna’s words. It was hard to imagine Louise sitting by her
mother’s bed, saying how fond of Tom she was. Especially at
the moment. Obviously the drugs. Obviously confusion. A
past conversation.
There was a very long silence; Anna appeared to have gone
to sleep.
Louise came into the room, very quietly. ‘Mummy, we’re
just going to go and have a bit of lunch. See you later.’
‘Back — again, Octavia.’ Anna’s voice was very slurred.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Octavia. She stood up, smiled down at
the bed. ‘I’ll come back. Very soon.’
‘Oh, Louise. Before you go, darling. Something’s been
worrying me, I keep forgetting these wretched - wretched Something
I need your help with …’
‘Of course, Mummy. Excuse me, Octavia, I’ll be with you
in a minute.’
As she closed the door, she heard Anna say, her voice
suddenly clear and lucid, ‘Daddy mustn’t know about this,
he’d be so cross!’
As if Charles would be cross with Anna about anything ever
again.
She felt very drained. And she had only been with Anna for
ten minutes. What must it be like to see your mother dying,
day after day, before your eyes? Suffering, hurting, struggling
to be brave. No wonder Louise looked so terrible.
She came into the kitchen now, smiled at Octavia rather
weakly. “We’ll go and sit in the garden, shall we?’
‘Yes. Where’s Dickon?’
‘Daddy wanted to take him out,’ said Louise, sinking on to
the rather mossy wooden seat that had been set in the
courtyard outside the back door for as long as anyone could
remember.’ I thought it was a good idea. Do them both good.’
‘And you? Are you all right?’
‘Oh, you know. Yes, I think so.’ Her mouth shook as she
tried to smile.
‘Poor Louise!’
‘No, you mustn’t say that. I don’t deserve it. Poor Daddy,
yes. Not poor me. Honestly.’
‘What was the problem, then?’ said Octavia, trying to
lighten the mood just a little. ‘That your father was going to be
cross about?’
‘Oh, poor Mummy. Years and years ago, when we were
really tiny, her parents had an old caravan. It’s in a field on a
farm somewhere and we went there a couple of times.
Anyway, when they died, Daddy said she had to sell it and she
couldn’t bear to. Now she’s terrified he’ll find out. She wants
me to see to it.’
‘Poor Anna, as if it mattered.’
‘Yes, but she does get very het up about things like that at
the moment.’
‘Does he know about the caravan?’
‘I don’t think he does actually, no. Oh - hallo, Janet.’
‘You want lunch, Louise? You and Octavia?’
Janet had appeared in the courtyard; to her they would
always be schoolgirls, Octavia thought. And wished fiercely,
passionately that they were.
‘Well, Octavia would, wouldn’t you, Boot? Don’t know
about me.’
‘Now you must eat, Louise,’ Janet said. ‘You can’t get
through this without. Even if it all comes up again. How you
feeling today?’
‘Oh, fine,’ said Louise quickly. ‘Better.’
‘I’ll make a salad, then. You want it out here?’
‘Oh, no. It’s not,warm enough. We’ll come in. Thank you,
Janet.’
Octavia looked at Louise. ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you
well?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Louise firmly. ‘Absolutely fine. Just tired.
And stress always makes me sick.’
‘Mummy! Mummy, hallo.’
It was Dickon, tugging Charles Madison by the hand. He
certainly didn’t look traumatised, Octavia thought, but rosy
and smiling. Janet and Derek were clearly doing a good job.
‘Dickon, darling. Hug! And one for Octavia.’
Dickon hugged her.
Charles Madison came forward, kissed her too. ‘It’s good of
you to come. Anna’s been looking forward to it so much.’
‘It’s the least I could do.’
‘Well, not everyone would. And Louise was thrilled.
Weren’t you, darling?’
‘Yes,’ said Louise. ‘Of course I was.’ She smiled rather
anxiously at her father; she seemed ill at ease suddenly, Octavia
thought. ‘You’re back early, Daddy. Three o’clock, you said.’
‘No, it was you who said that. When you ordered me off.’
He twinkled at her.
‘Daddy, I didn’t order you off.’
‘Well, all right. Asked me to take Dickon out. I know, but
Dickon wanted to get back. Said he had to work in the garden
with Derek. Anyway, aren’t I allowed to see your friend?
She’s one of my favourites, you know.’
Octavia smiled at him, rather uncertainly, puzzled by this
exchange. Louise had said her father had wanted to take
Dickon out: why the change of story? She supposed the stress
of the situation was confusing everybody.
‘She told you her news, Octavia?’
‘No,’ said Octavia, looking at Louise, puzzled. ‘What news,
Louise?’
‘Can I tell her?’
‘Oh, Daddy, I’d rather—’
‘She’s your best friend, isn’t she? She’ll be so pleased. Louise
is pregnant, aren’t you, darling? Such lovely news, don’t you
think, Octavia? A new life in the family. Makes things seem
better. Even though she does feel so terrible.’
‘Oh, Louise!’ Octavia stood up, put her arms round Louise,
kissed her. ‘I’m so pleased. So very pleased. No wonder you
look so terrible!’
‘Thanks,’ said Louise, slightly fretfully.
‘You know what I mean. When’s it due?’
‘January. About.’ She sounded odd; rather flat.
Octavia was puzzled. Then she remembered the innumerable
times Louise had said she would never have another baby,
after Juliet; never try to replace her, never risk it again. She was
frightened, terrified already. It was totally understandable. She
wondered what surge of courage had enabled her to go
through with it: how Sandy felt about it. All things she
couldn’t ask.
‘Well, I’m thrilled,’ she said again. ‘So pleased for you.
What does your mother think?’
‘She hasn’t quite taken it in,’ said Charles Madison. ‘We’ve
tried to tell her, but … Well, I still hope she’ll understand.
Before …’
Octavia was surprised. Anna hadn’t seemed that confused.
‘Lunch,’ said Janet, appearing at the doorway.
Octavia had gone back into Anna’s room to say goodbye:
probably for the last time, she knew. She was finding it almost
impossibly painful. She looked at the distorted, emaciated face
on the pillow, and realised that not only was lovely, blithe
Anna gone for ever, but so was all that she associated with her;
long golden days, the first real family life she had ever known,
childhood, hopefulness, and a source of great wisdom and
strength. She thought of Anna welcoming her that first day,
with her wide smile, her warm hug, remembered being
drawn into the heart of her home, remembered realising how
it must be to have a mother. She remembered how Anna had
written to her often after that, not as often as to Louise, but still
at least two or three times a term, remembered her pride,
genuine and almost proprietary, when she had won her
scholarship to Oxford, her sweetly tender little speech to Tom
when she had first-taken him to meet her, telling him what a
lucky man he was, remembered the careful serious wisdom
she had given her when she had gone to ask her advice over— well, over Minty. Anna had taken a central place in her life for so long; wrong, of course, to compare her loss with that of
Louise, but it was still huge, a great fissure of pain.
Somehow she smiled down at Anna, took her hand. ‘I have
to go now,’ she said, fighting back the tears, ‘but it was lovely
to see you. I’ll come again soon.’
‘Darling, do. But I won’t be here. Of course.’
‘Anna—’
‘No, darling, I won’t. But Louise will need you. She’s so
very frail. And Charles loves you.’
Clearly they had been wrong. Anna did understand about
the baby.
She smiled at her. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it? About the baby?’
‘What baby, darling?’
‘Louise’s. Such lovely news. So brave of her.’
‘I wish everyone would stop talking about Louise’s baby,’
said Anna fretfully. ‘There is no baby. There can’t be. It’s
impossible. I’ll have to explain to Charles again. Darling, bless
you for coming.’
Octavia bent and kissed her; suddenly the face looked
neither ugly nor distorted, but sweetly Anna again, the blue
eyes searching hers, tender and concerned.
‘Look after yourself, my darling. Goodbye, Octavia. God
bless.’
‘Goodbye, Anna. Goodbye. Thank you for - for everything.’
She
turned then, left the room, blinded with tears, and ran
down to the kitchen, crying helplessly. She saw Louise
looking at her, put out her hand to her, thinking to comfort
her, to draw comfort for herself—
She stopped, shocked. The expression on Louise’s face was
not grief stricken at all, but oddly fierce, almost exultant.
‘You must tell Tom about my baby,’ was all she said. ‘He’ll
be pleased. I’m sure he will.’
‘Yes,’ said Octavia trying to smile at Louise through her
tears, too distressed to wonder at what she was saying. ‘Yes,
I’m sure he will too.’
‘Now this is nice,’ said Ian. ‘Lovely proportions, these
rooms, aren’t they? Right up your street, I imagine, Zoe.
And how do you like them cupboards in the alcoves? These
fair hands fitted them only yesterday.’
‘They’re really nice,’ said Zoe. ‘Yes, it’s a — a lovely
house.’
It was: a four-storey, perfectly proportioned Georgian
terrace house in Cleaver Square, Kennington, but her
mother’s perfect taste would have been deeply affronted by
the fussy wallpapers, marble flooring, fake-coal gas fires.
Well, she was “hardly likely to see it, Zoe thought, half
horrified, half amused. Ian had lit one of the fires and now
he sat back on his heels in front of it, turned and grinned up
at her.
‘Come and sit down, Zoe Flinders, and warm your
pretty little toes. I’ll fetch us some bubbly in a minute.
Plenty here. Now give us a kiss. Relax, Zoe, calm down,
for Christ’s sake. Safe as — well, safe as houses, we are here.’
Zoe took a deep breath, forced herself to smile at him.
‘Good.’
But she didn’t feel it; it was more dangerous here, she
knew it was …
‘Boot? It’s me.’ Her voice sounded raw; raw and weak at
the same time.
‘Yes?’ said Octavia. ‘What is it?’ But she knew.
‘She’s gone. Mummy’s gone …’
‘Oh, Louise, darling Louise, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’m not,’ said the voice, stronger now, fierce, angry. ‘I’m
glad. Glad it’s over. It was so horrible for her.’
‘Was she — was it …”
‘Peaceful? Yes, in the end. Very peaceful. Only Daddy
was with her. He was just there, loving her, holding her
hand. He said — oh, Boot, he said he watched her go, just
drift away from him, he said he could see her leave him,
and all he wanted was to go with her, follow her. Poor
Daddy. Poor poor Daddy, he loved her so.’
‘How is he now?’
‘Fine. In that odd state, you know? Quite calm, almost
cheerful. Shock, I suppose. And relief of course.’
‘Would you like me to come down? Come and see you?’
‘No, honestly, I don’t think so. I’ll let you know about
the funeral as soon as I can. You will come, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course I’ll come.’ Octavia felt shocked that
Louise should even doubt it, however briefly.
‘Good. I’ll be better if you’re there. I’ll ring you when I
know. Thank you for being there.’
‘I’m always here for you. You know that.’
‘Yes, Octavia, I do.’
It was a long, sad, difficult day. Even Minty seemed
subdued. After lunch, Tom took the twins cycling and
Octavia tried to read the papers. They got back at five and
Tom said he had to go to the office.
‘The office. On a Sunday?’ she said.
‘Yes, the office. Aubrey and I have a crisis meeting.
There could be a lot of those over the next few weeks.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Octavia, icily polite.
Early in the evening, Louise phoned again. ‘Wednesday,