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Chapter Twenty
TREAD SOFTLY
Freddie reached under his bed and dragged out a small leather suitcase. He wiped off the dust with his hanky, and put the case on the table. It had belonged to Gra
He unclipped the two rusty clasps and lifted the lid. It squeaked and flopped back, releasing a faint scent of old lavender bags and damp. A few silverfish darted across the dark book covers, escaping from the light. Gingerly he searched inside the books, flipping the gold-rimmed thin pages; he shuffled through a box of letters and cards with crinkled edges. Nothing. Surely he couldn’t have lost something so precious?
Disappointed, Freddie took everything out, laid it on his table and stared at the cream and brown emptiness of the case. Last to come out was a flat brown paper bag, the paper eaten away in little lines and blotches by the silverfish and the damp.
He heard Gra
Smoothing it with his hands he remembered watching Gra
‘What are you doing it for, Gra
Freddie wanted the poem now with an intense spiritual hunger. It said everything he felt about Kate, and he could only remember the last three lines. He wanted all of it. Conscious of the rough, stained skin of his big fingers, he unfolded the cloth, spreading it out over his bed. In the centre, in perfect condition, was a piece of cardboard cut from a fag packet. Shaking with emotion, Freddie took it to the window to read the poem Gra
He tucked the square of cardboard into his wallet. Then he took the dark blue cloth downstairs, past A
Like the ghost of a long ago ocean, the white layers of mist covered the Somerset Levels turning the hills to mystic islands. The windows of Monterose Hospital reflected the pale morning sunlight. It was an imposing building, looming over the summit of the town, and today it had an air of expectancy as if to welcome the attractive young woman who was walking up from the station, her red shoes tip-tapping smartly, her skirt swinging, her dark eyes alert with excitement.
Kate paused at the gates to smooth her clothes and pat her hair which was now shoulder-length again. Then she entered the building with a business-like strut.
About an hour later, she emerged, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips pursed tightly. She walked round to a bench on the other side of the clump of elm trees and sat down to compose herself out of sight of the hospital windows. Only then did she let go of the mixed emotions corked up inside her. She’d managed a dignified exit. Now she wanted to kick off her shoes and dance barefoot and exuberant around the twiggy trunks of the elms, the way she had danced at home under the copper beeches of Hilbegut so long ago. Another part of her wanted to cry and cry. For Ethie. For her family. For the parting of the ways which change must bring.
She had spread her wings, but flying free had happened with ruthless speed as if the west wind had been waiting to whisk her away. There had been no time to contact Freddie, no time to prepare herself for the confluence of emotions that welled up from her as she sat alone on the bench overlooking Monterose. Like folds of butter muslin, the mist retreated across the Levels towards Hilbegut, allowing Kate a glimpse of the tall chimneys and copper beeches.
‘I’ve done it,’ she kept thinking, and then she pictured her parents’ grief-stricken faces. How could she tell them? How could she?
With the sun warm on her face, Kate sat listening to the sounds of Monterose. The town rang with voices and busy hammers, trotting horses and the scrape of cartwheels, but Kate was alert for the sound of a lorry. She tingled with the thought that she might see Freddie. Even to see him driving past would reassure her, just the sight of his profile, his cap, his big steady hands on the wheel, his expression calm and intent on driving. Even if he didn’t see her, she would know he was all right, she would feel that blend of peace and magic his presence evoked.
But she didn’t see him, and no lorries came up the hill past the hospital.
Kate took Bertie’s watch out of her handbag and put it to her ear. It was still ticking, and she had just one hour before the train would take her back on the long trip under the Severn Tu
A
‘What would you like?’ asked A
Kate stepped forward eagerly and held out her hand. A
‘Are you Mrs Barcussy?’ she enquired. ‘Freddie’s mother?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m Kate Loxley. It’s lovely to meet you at last.’
The smile vanished from A
‘What a lovely shop you have here,’ said Kate enthusiastically. ‘You must work so hard!’
A
‘And you make all this lovely bread? My family are cheese-makers. We ought to get together, shouldn’t we? Oh, and is this your DELICIOUS lardy cake? I must have a bit. I’ll buy some to take home.’ Unabashed by A