âYes, indeed.' Gussie sighed. âQuite alone.'
âMay I join you?' Phoebe dragged up an adjoining chair without waiting for Gussie's gesture. âI'm glad to see you. I wanted to ask you how you thought Nell was doing?'
Gussie put her thoughts in order.
âShe's coming along very well, under the circumstances. Wouldn't you agree? You see something of her, don't you?'
âYes, I do.' Phoebe stretched out her long legs in their shabby cords and gazed out over the roofs of the Courtyard. âShe's begun to talk about things a little.'
âThings?' queried Gussie cautiously.
âJohn,' said Phoebe and grimaced. âIt's terrifying. I'm so afraid of saying too much. Or not enough. The balance is terribly difficult and I'm not one of your tactful women.'
Gussie smiled. âI'm sure that you're just what she needs. She's very reticent and it's probably easier for her to unburden herself to you, being closer to her age than I am. And, of course, you've been married.'
Phoebe snorted.
âOh, yes.' Gussie nodded. âIt makes a difference. We all have something different we can give. I'm so glad you've made friends.'
They sat for a while in the sun. Presently Phoebe shifted in her chair.
âGussie?'
âYes, my dear?'
âWho were you talking to â when I came up just now? You were saying something about silence being frightening.'
âI was talking to the Lord, dear,' Gussie told her calmly. âI find it helps to straighten out my thoughts to have a little chat to Him from time to time.'
âRight.' Phoebe nodded, raised her eyebrows, drew down the corners of her mouth, shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips in quick succession. âFine. Good.'
Gussie, her eyes closed against the sun, pictured Phoebe's discomfiture with a certain amount of sympathy. Unlike Mrs Ridley, Phoebe would have difficulty in coming to terms with the idea of chatting to the Almighty, whether it was on the terrace or by the swimming pool.
âAfter all, my dear,' she said, âwhy not? “For in Him we live, and move, and have our being.” '
âAbsolutely!' said Phoebe, after a moment of profound silence.
âSo.' Gussie opened her eyes suddenly and beamed at her. âShall we go up? Henry's away today and Gillian likes company.' She looked sombre for a moment. A little bell tolled and was silent. Why did Gillian dislike being alone? It reminded her of that earlier thought, but why?
Phoebe was looking at her anxiously and Gussie shook her head and got to her feet.
âI'm a silly old woman,' she told her. âCome on. I must get these poor flowers into some water.'
Above them, up on the terrace, they could hear voices and the clink of china. Gussie inhaled the scent of cut grass and nodded her head.
âSo lucky, my dear,' she said to the startled Phoebe and led the way through the gate.
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AS THE SHOCK WORE off, Nell became slowly and frighteningly aware of her situation. Apart from the pieces of furniture saved from the cottage at Porlock Weir, she had nothing but the small portion of John's pension and with this and the various benefits allowed for Jack she had barely three thousand a year on which to live. To begin with she revelled in the financial freedom she had gained. It might be a tiny amount but it was all hers to budget with and allocate how she chose and there were no more outstanding bills, no terrifying debts. It had been touch and go as to whether she would have to be declared bankrupt but she could not be made responsible for John's business debts and, unknown to her, Henry settled the arrears on the rent and the telephone bill at the flat. The bank, having a second charge over the Bournemouth property, was prepared to see what the house might bring and agreed to freeze the overdraft on the joint account. Nell opened a separate account which she was not allowed to overdraw. She didn't care. After the horrors of the last four years she vowed that she would never owe anyone anything ever again. Her housing benefit arrived regularly and was passed on to Henry and, at first, she felt quite rich on her small income.
It was as the summer holiday drew nearer that Nell was forced to see that life wasn't quite so simple. Oil was needed to run the Rayburn which, since it supplied all her cooking needs and heated the water and two tiny radiators upstairs, was more economical than buying an electric cooker and using the immersion heater for the water. As
Henry pointed out, the Rayburn also warmed the kitchen and the house in general and Nell agreed that it was the sensible option and arranged to pay for her oil on a monthly basis. She discovered an enormous stock of logs in a shed at the back of the house but the Ridleys refused to take payment for them. They received them free from the estate as part of their wage and they didn't need them now in their cosy little flat. She could have them and welcome. Nell decided to accept thankfully, knowing that there was enough to keep the little woodburner going through several seasons. It was Gussie who dissuaded her from having the telephone disconnected. If an emergency arose she would need to be able to get in touch, she argued. Or Jack might need to contact her. True, messages could be taken at the house but one simply never knew ⦠In the end, Nell gave in, saying that she would try it for a quarter and see what sort of bill arrived. Since she had no car to run, the other main cost would be Jack. He had his scholarship but there were so many other expenses. The uniform alone would probably cost a fortune. After much heart-searching, she telephoned the bursar with whom she had a long, frank conversation and who was quite wonderfully helpful.
Nell sat on her little lawn and marvelled at the kindness and generosity that she had been shown. How on earth would she have managed without the help of all these people who had rallied round? She and Jack could, by now, have been living in a DSS bed and breakfast boarding house in some Bristol back street and, instead, she was living in this delightful cottage with its pretty garden which looked across the meadows and up to the moors, blue and hazy in the morning sunshine. Since she had no garden tools Mr Ridley would jolt along the avenue in his old car once a week, take a Flymo from the boot, cut the lawn and do a general tidy round before jolting back again. One morning, Phoebe had arrived with a tray of bedding plants, insisting that she'd bought far more than she needed and would be grateful if Nell could find a hole for them. She returned from her long solitary walks to find new bread or a sponge and some
scones left in the porch â results of the big bake at Nethercombe â or a pot of Mrs Ridley's special jam and felt overwhelmed with gratitude.
Nell lay back on the rug, her fingers smoothing and flattening the warm wool. Slowly, very slowly, the loss of her unknown baby was becoming a more bearable pain, probably because he had never become a person to her. She had borne him and lost him but she knew, by the sudden clutch at her heart strings, how very much more terrible it would be if she were to lose Jack. It was not to be thought of! And how would she have managed now with a new baby to look after? Nell rolled over on to her stomach, letting the heat soak into her back, and thought about John. Her anger, too, was subsiding. She could make some effort now to understand all that he'd been through and she could even feel pity for the desperate fear that had driven him to take his own life but, if she were absolutely honest with herself, her most consistent emotion now was relief. Each time a new fear or worry assailed her the anger returned, a stab of fury that he should have reduced them to such a state and then abandoned her, but at least her life was in her own hands. She wondered, as she lay in the sunshine, whether she had ever really loved John at all. It was for Rupert that the spark had been lit and his unattainability had ensured that it had never gone out. Yet she had loved John in a different way. She had loved them both.
âRemember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land.' Well, they were both gone now into the silent land and the unknown baby with them and she was left alone. Nell let the tears slip from her eyes, soaking the rug beneath her cheek, and Phoebe, standing with her hand on the gatelatch, saw the heaving shoulders and heard the gasping sobs and turned quietly away.
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FOR GILLIAN, NELL WAS a permanent reminder of her folly. She woke each morning with a deep thankfulness that she was in her bedroom at Nethercombe with Henry beside her. Their reunion had seen
the blossoming of a new sort of love. On Henry's part it was really his old love blessed with a new awareness for Gillian's needs and a confidence to offer a fulfilment of those needs as he saw them. Gillian, nervous, fearful, grateful, clung to him with a passionate offering of herself that even Henry recognised and responded to and, if it hadn't. been for the continued proximity of Nell's presence, Gillian's happiness would have known no bounds.
She knew that she deserved no better. Why should she live, surrounded by love and beauty, whilst Nell struggled alone? If, by going to Nell and telling her the truth, there might be some restitution, some relief for Nell, then it would be worth the sacrifice of her pride. As it was, it could do no good and so the knowledge stayed in Gillian's heart, a gnawing canker, eating away at her new love and joy.
Gussie suspected that all was not well but couldn't imagine what could be wrong. Anyone could see that Henry and Gillian were happier than they had ever been but Gussie was not deceived. She noticed that Gillian hated to be alone; preferring the company even of Mrs Ridley rather than solitude, hurrying down the drive to see Phoebe, seeking Gussie out. Rarely now did she go rushing off to Exeter except to see Lydia. Nevertheless, Gillian appeared to have a secret. Gussie pondered thoughtfully.
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IT WAS ELIZABETH WHO guessed the truth. When Lydia telephoned to tell her the glad tidings she was relieved and pleased for her old friend. A few weeks later, on her way to Plymouth, she decided to drop in at Nethercombe and turned up unexpectedly to find Gussie on the terrace with a singularly beautiful young woman who made her excuses and hurried off.
âWhat a remarkable-looking girl,' said Elizabeth, gazing after Nell. âI seem to have frightened her away.'
âIt's a very sad story,' confided Gussie, who considered Elizabeth to be one of the family. âHer husband was taken in over a property deal. Invested all their money, raised loans against their house, you
know the sort of thing. And then found that it was all bogus. He was already desperately in debt and in a mad moment shot himself. Nell heard the shot and the sight of his body sent her into premature labour. They couldn't get her to the hospital in time and there was an abruption of the placenta. They had to perform a Caesarean section but it was too late and she lost the baby.'
âGood God, Gussie!' Elizabeth was staring at her in horror.
âI know.' Gussie shook her head. âShe's lost everything, of course. She's living in the Lodge so I can keep an eye on her. She's a very dear friend.'
âBut can't the man be traced?' demanded Elizabeth, her mind still on the practicalities of the case. âSurely something can be done? Was there no site, after all, or what?'
âOh, yes. The site was over at Dartmouth. Apparently a very desirable one but the man, whoever he was, was so much in debt that he used John's money to sort himself out. The site went to auction and there was nothing left for John. It seems that the man has gone abroad somewhere.'
âThe site was at Dartmouth?' repeated Elizabeth.
âThat's right. I expect John heard of it through the estate agents' grapevine unless it was while he was down here for Christmas. It might have been advertised in the local paper. Do sit down. I'll go and call Gillian. She'll be so pleased to see you.'
She left Elizabeth in the library and disappeared. Elizabeth remained deep in thought and when Gillian appeared she studied her carefully. She'd lost weight and all the old gloss had gone. Elizabeth extended her cheek for the usual greeting and took Gillian's hands. Gussie had tactfully left them alone, muttering about tea.
âI'm glad that you had the sense to come home,' she said. She gave the hands a squeeze and let them go. âI've got hopes that you might have grown up after all.'
âAbout time, wasn't it?' Gillian's tone was almost bitter. âIt's taken long enough.'
âWhat went wrong? Did what's-his-name beat you? Sam something, was it?' She broke off abruptly as Gillian gave a gasp of real fear, her eyes on the door.
âDon't! Please don't tell anyone his name, Elizabeth. Please! I can't say why, but please don't!'
She was quite frantic and Elizabeth held up her hands placatingly and shook her head.
âOK, OK. Don't worry.' She paused but decided to test her theory a little further. âOh, by the way. What happened about that site in Dartmouth you were trying to sell me? Did you find an investor?'
Gillian was on her feet. âOh God, Elizabeth! Please don't mention that! Not to anyone! It was all a mistake. Oh God!'
She looked so anguished, so frightened, that Elizabeth got up and took her by the shoulders.
âCome on, Gillian. Pull yourself together! I shan't say a word to anyone, I promise.'
Gillian stared into her eyes and Elizabeth saw that she was close to tears. She nodded reassuringly, gave her a little shake and pushed her down into a chair just as Gussie arrived with the tea tray. During tea, Elizabeth wondered if her guess could possibly be right and decided that the sooner she spoke to Gillian in private the better. She sipped her tea and made conversation and wondered how long it might be before such a load of guilt might drive someone out of his or her mind.
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IT WAS GUY WHO made Nell think seriously about getting a job. Physically, she was much stronger and she'd already come to the decision that she must try to find work of some kind. Although she had a degree in Fine Arts, she'd married before putting her knowledge into practice and now she wondered whether to try for a refresher course, if such a thing were possible. She spent long hours thinking about this and getting books from the library in Totnes when she went in with Phoebe to the Friday market. It was Guy, however, who
brought her down to earth and pointed out that, in the present economic climate, she'd be lucky to get any sort of job at all. It didn't take Nell long to find out that he was absolutely right. She had no computer skills and no selling experience and she began to feel frightened again.
âI'll never find a job,' she said to Guy, one evening at the pub. âI plucked up courage and asked about a sales assistant's job at a shop in Totnes today. The woman told me that I was too old.'
She stared at him in alarm and Guy, who couldn't think of age in connection with Nell, sensed her fear and came to a decision.
âTo tell you the truth,' he said, âI'm glad to hear it. I need someone to help me in the office but I didn't like to ask you. I know it's not the sort of thing you're looking for as a career but, for the time being, it might help both of us.'
Nell was looking at him in surprise. âBut how could I help?' she asked. âI can only type with one finger and computers terrify me. What sort of help?'
âIt's all very simple but time-consuming,' he said, remaining purposely vague. âAnd as much as anything I need someone to mind the office. As you know, I often have to move boats to and fro or take clients out and that's always when other customers turn up. I couldn't pay much but it may just give you a chance to pick things up without someone breathing down your neck.' He shrugged and took a swig from his glass. âJust a thought.'
âOh, Guy! It sounds exactly what I need. Do you really think I could cope?'
âOf course you can cope! You'll get the knack in no time. And you'll be able to be flexible when the holidays come. Jack can come too if you like. He can help with the boats.'
He looked away from the joy and excitement on Nell's face lest he should forget himself and fling his arms round her and kiss her. He had no idea how he would squeeze enough money to pay her anything. All he knew was that, for her company, he would willingly go
without himself if it came to it. The thought of having her with him on the drives to and from Dartmouth or coming and finding her in the office made him want to shout aloud. Instead, he downed his pint and bent to pat Bertie so that his face was hidden until he could control it. He was fastidious enough to imagine that any declaration of love would be quite abhorrent to Nell after her recent experiences. To press his needs upon her would be selfish whilst she was recovering from her loss and coming to terms with her situation. Also, being Guy, he was nervous of the strength of his feelings. Never had he felt so carried away by his emotions, so moved by beauty and distress, and instinctively he listened to the inner voice which urged caution. He didn't know what he wanted. The thought of marriage frightened him to death and it was impossible to imagine having a casual affair with Nell. The sensible thing was to give it time and, meanwhile, the idea of a working relationship seemed ideal.