The Angel Tree (41 page)

‘Thank you,’ Greta said, feeling the difference between Mary’s warm, genuine sympathy, and that of Tor.

‘And I hope you won’t be a stranger to Marchmont any longer after this. Young Ava’s going to need as much support as she can get when the little one arrives. I remember you
being a wonderful mother to your two.’

‘Do you?’ Greta glowed with pleasure. ‘Well, yes, even if things weren’t exactly perfect, what with Owen’s problems, I’ve remembered now that I was very
contented.’

‘You were, and’ – Mary blushed suddenly – ‘can I let you into a secret? I always used to tell you everything. Do you remember Jack Wallace, the estate
manager?’

‘Yes, of course I do, Mary. He used to spend a lot of time in your kitchen, eating your home-made cakes.’

‘Well, he’s asked me to marry him, and I think I might say yes.’

‘Oh Mary! That’s lovely. You must have been very lonely since Huw died.’

‘I have been, and so has he since his wife passed away. But do you think it’s too soon? I’ve only been widowed three years, see. I wouldn’t like people thinking I was a
hussy!’

‘I doubt anyone’s going to think that.’ Greta chuckled. ‘And, honestly, Mary, having just wasted twenty-four years myself, if you’ve found happiness with someone,
my advice is to go and grab it. Life’s too short to worry what people think.’

‘Thank you, Miss Greta,’ Mary said gratefully. ‘Now then, I’ve finished, and I’m off downstairs to prepare some lunch. I know Tor thinks she’s helping, but I
don’t like anyone interfering in my kitchen.’ She bustled out with a snort of irritation.

Greta sipped her tea, feeling comforted by Mary’s words. They’d once been friends and Greta hoped they could be again. Finishing her tea, she went back downstairs in search of David;
she didn’t feel she had congratulated him appropriately the night before. Besides, before he and Tor left for Italy, Greta knew she had to ask for his help with the rest of the story.

He was in his usual chair by the fire, reading the
Telegraph
.

‘Good morning, Greta. How are you today?’

‘Well, thank you,’ she said, as his eyes peered enquiringly at her over the newspaper. ‘You?’

‘Apart from the fact that I drank far more champagne than is good for me last night, yes.’

‘I just wanted to tell you again, David, that I’m thrilled for you and Tor. I hope you’ll be very happy. You certainly deserve it.’

‘Thank you, Greta. And I hope you know it won’t mean that I’ll suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke from your life. Tor’s still a few years from retirement, so
it’s very likely we’ll keep everything as it is now, in terms of living arrangements.’

‘David, honestly, you really mustn’t worry about me,’ she replied, more brusquely than she meant to. ‘But listen, have you any plans this morning?’

‘No, not as far as I know. Why?’

‘Well, obviously, there are a lot of things I now remember
before
the accident, but I was just wondering, given what I now know happened before, whether you’ve told me
everything. Because I have a feeling you’ve probably – out of the best intentions, of course,’ she added hurriedly, ‘edited bits out. Would that be right?’

David folded the paper neatly and placed it on his lap. ‘Yes. I didn’t want to upset you. You’ve been so fragile, Greta.’

‘Well, would it be all right if I went through what I know has happened since then and you fill in the blanks for me? It shouldn’t take very long. I think it’s important I know
the full story. About Cheska,’ she added pointedly.

‘Okay.’ David didn’t sound too keen. ‘If you begin, I’ll do my best. I’m just concerned it’s all going to be a bit too much for you.’

‘It won’t be,’ she said firmly. ‘So I came out of hospital after eighteen months. Ava was here at Marchmont, and Cheska was in Hollywood, yes?’

‘Yes, and nothing of particular interest happened that you should know about over the next sixteen years. Sadly, it all turned into a bit of a nightmare – some of which you
do
know – just before Ava’s eighteenth birthday . . .’

Ava

April 1980

Ava Marchmont walked up the lane and then down the long drive towards Marchmont. It was a trudge she hated in winter, especially if it was snowing. By the time she opened the
kitchen door, her feet would be completely numb and she’d have to toast them by the Aga to thaw them out. But thankfully, winter was only a memory now and the ten-minute walk was one she
relished during the spring. As she strolled along, she noticed the daffodils blooming at the base of the trees that lined the drive. The newborn lambs, some of which she had helped bring into the
world, had begun to find their feet and gambolled happily in the nearby fields.

She gazed up at the clear blue sky and experienced a sudden burst of happiness. Dropping her heavy leather satchel onto the ground, she stretched her arms above her head, exhaling slowly. She
felt the late-afternoon sun on her face, took off her glasses and let the world become a blurred mass of green, blue and gold, amazed at how her vision of life could be altered so completely. Eyes
the colour of her mother’s, LJ had always said. Ava only wished they worked the way most people’s did. She’d worn glasses from the age of five, when her form teacher
couldn’t understand why such a bright little girl was struggling to learn to read and write. Chronic short-sightedness had been diagnosed.

She put her glasses back on, picked up her satchel and walked on. Spring term was over and for the three weeks of the Easter holidays she could relax and enjoy doing what she loved best.

Since she was a small child Ava had helped out on the farm, tending the animals. The sight of a creature suffering had always filled her with dismay and when the farmhands had shaken their heads
Ava would refuse to give up on the animal and would nurse it back to health. As a consequence, she now had her own ‘menagerie’, as LJ called it.

A sick lamb, the runt of the litter, whom she’d bottle-fed until he was old enough to be weaned, had been the first. Henry was now a woolly, old-aged pensioner of a sheep and Ava doted on
him. There was a fat, pink pig called Fred, numerous chickens and two bad-tempered geese. Then there were the leverets, covered in mites, which she’d saved from the claws of the farm cats,
taking them to her bedroom in shoeboxes and tending their wounds as LJ shook her head and told her that there was little hope. Her great-aunt said small animals were more likely to die of fear than
from their injuries, and looked on in surprise as Ava’s gentle ministrations restored them to health. Her menagerie was housed in a large disused barn, and most of the animals in it became
tame and greeted their saviour noisily whenever she appeared.

There was also a small burial ground in a quiet spot under an old oak tree at the back of the house. Each death was marked with a cross and copious tears on Ava’s part.

As she grew older Ava became single-minded about what she wanted to do with her life. Her schoolwork was erratic, as she had little interest in subjects such as art or history, but when it came
to anything to do with nature and biology, she shone. The past few months had been hard work, as she knew she must get excellent passes in her A-levels to get into veterinary college. However, over
the next three weeks she could spend her time with her animals, which she was sure taught her a lot more than sitting in a classroom ever could.

Ava reached the bend in the drive where Marchmont itself came into view.

Watching the sun glinting off the slate roof, she thought how lucky she was to live here. It had such character and looked so warm and welcoming, she’d never wanted to live anywhere else.
Her intention was to come back to Marchmont as soon as she was a qualified vet and, eventually, open a small practice of her own. Ava hoped her local reputation for helping animals would give the
practice a good start.

She approached the house and was glad to see the dressmaker’s car wasn’t yet parked in the drive. She grimaced as she thought of the fitting she’d have later. She could only
remember three occasions on which she’d worn a dress and, in the summer, there would be a fourth. Still, she thought, she’d have to grin and bear it. After all, it was going to be a
very special day. Aunt LJ would be eighty-five. And she herself would turn eighteen just a few weeks before.

Ava opened the door that led into the kitchen. Jack Wallace, the farm manager, was sitting at the pine table drinking tea as Mary rolled out pastry.

‘Hello, Ava,
fach
. How was your day?’ asked Mary.

‘Wonderful, because it was the last school day for three whole weeks!’ Ava giggled and gave Mary an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

‘Well, if you think you’re going to have an easy time of it during the Easter holidays, you’ve got another think coming,’ said Jack with a grin. ‘I’ll be
wanting your help with the sheep dipping, now Mickey has moved to the town.’

‘Fine by me,’ said Ava, ‘as long as you promise to take me to the cattle auction next week.’

‘You got a deal, missy. Now, I’ve got to be going. Thanks for the tea, Mary. Goodbye, Ava.’

Ava waited until Jack had closed the door behind him.

‘Jack’s always in here these days, Mary. I think you might have an admirer.’

‘Get along with you, I’m a married woman!’ Mary dismissed the comment with a blush. ‘I’ve known Jack Wallace since we were both babes in arms. I’m only a bit
of company for him now his wife’s passed away.’

‘Well, I’d be careful if I were you,’ Ava teased. ‘Is Aunt LJ resting?’

‘Yes. I had to threaten to lock her in her bedroom, mind. Your great-aunt is too strong-willed for her own good. She has to remember she’s eighty-four now, and that nasty operation
she had would have taken the strength away from a woman half her age.’

‘I’ll take her up a cup of tea.’ Ava went to the Aga, lifted the kettle and took it over to the sink to fill it.

‘Don’t be too long. The dressmaker’ll be here at five. Indeed to goodness, I’ll be glad when this birthday party is over!’

Ava listened to Mary complaining as she thumped the pastry into shape, knowing that she secretly enjoyed all the plans and activity. ‘We’re all going to help, Mary. Stop worrying.
It’s months away yet. If you carry on like this, you’ll have a nervous breakdown. What’s for supper tonight?’

‘Steak and kidney pie, your great-aunt’s favourite.’

‘I’ll just have a plate of vegetables again, then.’

‘Now, don’t you go blaming me for your silly vegetarian ideas,
fach
. Man’s eaten meat for thousands of years, just as cats eat mice. It’s natural, part of
revolution.’

‘I think you mean “evolution”, Mary,’ Ava corrected her with a grin, as she poured boiling water into the teapot and stirred it.

‘Whatever. It’s no wonder you’re so pale. It’s not right for a growing girl, and those tofu things you eat are no substitute for a good piece of red meat. I . .
.’

Ava slipped out of the kitchen with the tea tray while Mary continued to chunter away obliviously, and made her way upstairs to LJ’s room.

‘Come in!’ came the reply to her knock.

‘Hello, darling, have you had a nice rest?’ Ava asked as she placed the tea tray on her great-aunt’s bed.

‘I suppose so.’ LJ’s bright-green eyes twinkled at her. ‘Can’t be doing with all this napping in the afternoon. Makes me feel like a baby or a basket-case.
I’m not sure which is worse.’

‘You only had the hip replacement a month ago, remember? The doctor said you had to rest as much as you can.’ Ava poured the tea into LJ’s favourite china cup and handed it to
her.

‘All this fuss! Never had a day’s illness in my life until that damned cow sent me flying with her hoof!’

‘Everything’s under control, I promise. Mary’s in the kitchen, grumbling and cursing, and the dressmaker will be here shortly. There’s nothing for you to worry
about,’ soothed Ava.

‘So you’re saying I’m dispensable, are you, young lady?’

‘No, LJ. I’m saying that the most important thing is for you to get your strength back.’ Ava kissed her great-aunt’s head fondly. ‘You finish your tea and, when
I’ve had my fitting, I’ll come back and help you down the stairs.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing, there’s no way I’m arriving at my own party on that ridiculous Zimmer frame,’ LJ said vehemently.

‘Aunt LJ! You have weeks to recover, so stop panicking. And besides, think of poor me – I have to wear a dress!’ Ava rolled her eyes in horror. ‘Right, I have to go and
practise being feminine.’

After Ava had left the room LJ put her cup down on the tray and sank back against her pillows. Ava was such a tomboy, always had been since she was small. And so shy, only comfortable with her
close family. The only time her great-niece shone with confidence was when she was handling her precious animals. LJ adored her.

Nearly eighteen years ago, after several weeks of waiting for Cheska to return from LA, LJ had abandoned any plans to distance herself emotionally from the baby girl who’d been left
behind. So, at a time when most women of her age were settling down in front of the fire with a tartan blanket wrapped round their legs, LJ was changing nappies, crawling on the floor after a
toddling infant and joining anxious mothers almost young enough to be her grandchildren in the playground on Ava’s first day at school.