Authors: Rosamunde Pilcher
But she did not tell Edmund that she had done so.
As for the house, that she had transformed, turning it back to front and opening out all the poky and ill
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proportioned rooms. Now the main entrance stood to the north and the old front door had become a glassed garden door, opening straight out of her sitting-room. The concrete stairs she had demolished, and in their place stood a semi-circular flight of steps built of old stone salvaged from a fallen dyke. Aubrietia and scented thyme grew from crannies between these rocks and smelt delicious when one trod upon them.
After some consideration, Violet decided that she could not bear the dull colour of the stone walls of Pennyburn, and so had them all harled and painted white. Windows and doorways were outlined in black, which gave the face of the house a crisp and down-to
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earth appearance. To embellish it, she had planted a wistaria, but, after ten years, it had scarcely grown as high as her shoulder. By the time it reached the roof, she would probably be dead.
At seventy-seven one was perhaps better off sticking to hardy annuals.
All that was missing was a conservatory. The one at Balnaid had been built at the same time as the house. Its erection was due to the insistence of Violet's mother, Lady Primrose Akenside, a woman not addicted to the great outdoors. It was Lady Primrose's opinion that, if forced to live in the wilds of Scotland, a conservatory was absolutely essential. Quite apart from the fact that it was useful for keeping the house supplied with pot plants and grapes, it was somewhere to sit when the sun shone and yet the wind blew with an edge like ice to it. Such days, everybody knew, occurred with amazing frequency during the winter and spring and autumn months. But Lady Primrose spent a good deal of the summers in her conservatory as well, entertaining her friends and playing bridge.
Violet had loved the Balnaid conservatory for less social reasons, relishing the warmth, the peace, the smell of damp earth and ferns and freesias. When th
e w
eather was too inclement to garden, you could always potter about in the conservatory, and what better place to sit down after lunch and try to do The Times crossword?
Yes, she missed it, but after deliberation had decided that Pennyburn was too small and modest for such an extravagant addition. It would make the house look pretentious and foolish, and she was not about to inflict such an indignity upon her new home. And it was scarcely a hardship to sit in her sheltered and sunny garden and try to do the crossword there.
She was in her garden now, and had been out working all afternoon, staking clumps of Michaelmas daisies before the autumn winds arrived to fell them flat. It was a day to start thinking about autumn. Not cold but fresh, with a certain smell about the air, a briskness. The farmers were harvesting, and the distant rumble of combine harvesters working in tall fields of barley was seasonal and strangely reassuring. The sky was blue but sailing with clouds blown in from the west. A blinking day, the old country people called it, as the sun went in and out.
Unlike many people, Violet did not mourn the passing of the summer and the prospect of a long dark winter ahead. "How can you bear to live in Scotland?' she was sometimes asked. "The weather so unpredictable, so much rain, so cold." But Violet knew that she could not bear to live anywhere else, and never yearned to move away. When Geordie was alive they had travelled together extensively. They had explored Venice and Istanbul, paced the art galleries of Florence and Madrid. One year they had taken an archaeological cruise to Greece; another time had sailed the fjords of Norway, as far north as the Arctic Circle and the midnight sun. But without him, she knew no urge to journey abroad. She preferred to stay right here, where her roots were deep, surrounded by a countryside that sh
e h
ad known since she was a child. As for the weather, she disregarded it, caring not if it froze or snowed or blew or rained or scorched, provided she could be out of doors and part of it all.
Which was proved by her complexion, weather
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beaten and lined as an old farm worker's. But again, at seventy-seven, what did a few wrinkles matter? A small price to pay for an energetic and active old age.
She drove in the last stake, twisted the last length of wire. Finished. She stepped back onto the grass to survey her work. The canes showed, but once the Michaelmas daisies had thickened out a bit, they would be concealed. She looked at her watch. Nearly half past three. She sighed, always reluctant to stop gardening and go indoors. But she stripped off her gloves and dropped them into her wheelbarrow, then collected her tools, the last of the canes, the drum of wire, and barrowed the lot around the house to her garage, where all was stowed neatly away until the next day's labour.
Then she went into the house by the kitchen door, toeing off her rubber boots and hanging her jacket on a hook. In the kitchen, she filled the kettle and switched it on to boil. She laid a tray with two cups and saucers, a milk jug, a sugar bowl, and a plate of chocolate digestive biscuits. (Virginia would not eat anything at tea
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time but Violet was never averse to a small snack.)
She went upstairs to her bedroom, washed her hands, found a pair of shoes, tidied her hair, slapped a bit of face powder onto her shining nose. As she did this, she heard the car come up the hill and turn into the lane. A moment later came the slam of its door, her own front door opening, and Virginia's voice.
"Vi!"
"Just coming."
She settled her pearls, fixed a stray wisp of hair, and went downstairs. Her daughter-in-law stood in the hall waiting for her; her long legs were in corduroys and a leather jacket was slung around her shoulders. She ha
d a
new hair-do, Violet noticed, drawn back from her brow and fastened at the nape of her neck with a ribbon bow. She looked, as always, casually elegant, and happier than Violet had seen her for a long time.
"Virginia. How lovely to have you home again. And how chic you look. I love the hair." They kissed. "Did you have it done in London?"
"Yes. I thought perhaps it was time I changed my image." She looked about her. "Where's Henry?"
"He's out ferreting with Willy Snoddy."
"Oh, Vi."
"It's all right. He'll be home in half an hour."
"I didn't mean that. I meant what's he doing spending his time with that old reprobate?"
"Well, there are no children to play with because they're all in school. And he got talking to Willy when he came to cut the grass this week, and Willy invited him to go ferreting. He seemed very keen to go, so I said he could. You don't disapprove, do you?"
Virginia laughed and shook her head. "No, of course not. It's just rather unexpected. Do you think Henry realizes what ferreting entails? It's quite a bloodthirsty business."
"I've no idea. We'll doubtless hear all about it when he gets back. Willy will see that he's on time, I know."
"I always thought you thought the old drunk was quite undependable."
"He wouldn't dare break his promise to me, and he never gets drunk in the afternoons. Now, how are you? Did you have a good time?"
"A great time. Here . . ." She thrust a flat package, impressively wrapped, into Violet's hands. "I brought you a present from the big city."
"My dear, you didn't need to."
"It's a thank-you for having Henry."
"I've loved having him. But he's longing to see you and go home to Balnaid. He was all packed up and ready long before breakfast this morning. Now, I wan
t t
o hear all about everything. Come and watch me open my present."
She led the way into her sitting-room and settled herself in comfort in her own fireside chair. It was a relief to get the weight off her feet. Virginia perched herself on the arm of the sofa and watched. Violet undid the ribbon bow and unwrapped the paper. A flat box, orange and brown, was revealed. She removed the lid. Inside, folded and silken beneath the layers of tissue paper, was a Hermes scarf.
"Oh, Virginia. This is far too much."
"No more than you deserve."
"But having Henry was a treat"
"I've brought him a present, too. It's in the car. I thought he could open it here, before I take him home."
The scarf was all pinks and blues and greens. Just the thing for brightening up that grey woollen dress. "I can't thank you enough-I'm really delighted with it. And now . . ." She folded the scarf, returned it to its box, and set it aside. "Let's have a cup of tea, and you can tell me everything that's happened in London. I want to hear all the details. . . ."
"When did you get back?"
"Yesterday evening, on the shuttle. Edmund met me at Turnhouse and we went into Edinburgh and had dinner at Rafaelli's, and after that we drove home to Balnaid."
"I hope"-Violet fixed Virginia with a firm stare
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"that you used the time together to sort out your differences."
Virginia had the grace to look abashed. "Oh, Vi. Did it show so much?"
"It was obvious to anyone but a blind man. I didn't say anything, but you must realize that it's very worrying for Henry if you and his father are not on good terms."
"Did Henry talk to you about it?"
"Yes, he did. He's much upset. I think he feels that going to Templehall is bad enough, but having you and Edmund at each other's throats is more than he can bear."
"We weren't exactly at each other's throats."
"Icy politeness is almost worse."
"I knowJ And I'm sorry. And Edmund and I have made it up. By that I don't mean anything's changed. Edmund won't budge from his decision, and I still think it's a dreadful mistake. But at least we've called a truce." She smiled and held out a slender wrist circled by a wide bracelet of gold. "Over dinner, he gave me this. It's a welcome-home present. So I'd be churlish to carry on sulking."
"That is a great relief to me. I managed to persuade Henry that you would both have come to your senses and would be friends again. And I'm grateful to you both, because now I don't feel that I am letting him down. He needs a lot of reassurance, Virginia. A lot of security."
"Oh, Vi, don't I know it?"
"And there's another thing. He's very bothered about Edie. He's frightened of Lottie. He thinks that Lottie might harm Edie in some way."
Virginia frowned. "Did he say so?"
"We talked about it."
"Do you think he's right?"
"Children are perceptive. Like dogs. They recognize evil where, perhaps, we adults don't see it."
"Evil is a strong word, Vi. I know she gives me the shivers, but I've always told myself she's just harmlessly dotty."
"I really don't know," said Violet. "But I've promised Henry that we will all keep a weather eye on the situation. And if he talks to you about it, you must listen to him, and try to set his mind at rest."
"Of course."
"Now." With that necessary exchange safely disposed of, Violet steered the conversation into a more cheerful direction. "Tell me about London. Did you get a dress? And what else did you do? And did you see Alexa?"
"Yes." Virginia leaned forward to refill her cup from the teapot. "Yes, I did get a dress, and yes, I did see Alexa. That's what I want to talk to you about. I've already told Edmund."
Violet's heart sank. What on earth was happening now?
"She's all right?"
"Never better." Virginia leaned back in her chair. "There is a man in. her life."
"Alexa has a young man? But that's splendid news! I was beginning to think that nothing exciting was ever going to happen to the dear child."
"They're living together, Vi."
For an instant, Violet was silenced. Then: "Living together?"
"Yes. And I'm not telling tales out of school. She particularly asked me to let you know."
"And where are they living together?"
"At Ovington Street."
"But . . ." Violet, flustered, sought for words. "But . . . how long has this been going on?"
"About two months."
"Who is he?"
"He's called Noel Keeling."
"What does he do?"
"He's in advertising."
"How old is he?"
"About my age. Good-looking. Very charming."
About Virginia's age. A dreadful thought occurred to Violet. "I hope he's not already married."
"No. A very eligible bachelor."
"And Alexa . . . ?"
"Alexa is radiantly happy."
"Do you think they will marry?"
"I have no idea."
"Is he kind to her?"
"I think so. I only saw him for a little while. He came home from the office and we all had a drink together. He brought Alexa flowers. And he didn't know I was going to be there, so he didn't buy them to impress me.
Violet fell silent, trying to come to terms with this astonishing revelation. They were living together. Alexa was living with a man. Sharing a bed, sharing a life. Unmarried. She did not approve but her own opinions were best kept to herself. All that mattered was that Alexa should know that they all would support her, whatever might happen.