Читать книгу The Secret of Orchard Cottage: The feel-good number one bestseller - Alex Brown - Страница 13

An hour or so later, as April said goodbye to Molly, she closed the front door behind her new friend and smiled to herself. She felt as though she’d known Molly her whole life, which it turned out was pretty near true, as Molly remembered cycling around Tindledale one summer as a child with the ‘girl down from London’. April couldn’t remember this exactly, it seemed so long ago, but she did have fond memories of those carefree days in the school holidays with a big group of children from the village, so it had been lovely to reminisce with Molly. A rare treat for April, as apart from Aunt Edie, there wasn’t anyone else in her life who shared those memories from years back. When she had gone to live with her grandparents, after her parents died, April had lost contact with her school friends. It was as if the rug had been pulled from under her, and she’d been left dealing with a massive thing when she should have been concentrating on exams and filling her time with reading Jackie magazine and such like. But instead the grief took over and since then she had always found it hard to connect with that period before her parents died. It was often too painful to remember the happy, good times, only for the reality of not having them in her life to then come crashing back all over again. And later, when April had finished her nurse training, she had immersed herself into working as many shifts as she could in the hospital, until she met Gray. It had been easier that way, especially after her grandparents died and she had felt so very alone.

Yes, she had friends now, but was conscious that she had retreated into her shell again after losing Gray, and even though her friends had made such a tremendous effort to re-engage her in life since his death – taking it in turns to visit on a Saturday night with a bottle of wine and ideas for fun nights out, bowling, ice skating, cinema, etc. – she just hadn’t felt up to it. Preferring instead to curl up on the sofa in her pyjamas staring at her wedding video, and then the honeymoon weekend in Venice on the flatscreen TV. No lights on, no volume, just silence and Gray waving and pulling a silly face at the camera. It had been a comfort. But April knew it wasn’t right, she couldn’t carry on like that for ever. Even Nancy, when she returned from her nights out, wouldn’t come into the lounge, probably couldn’t bear to; instead she had crept upstairs to bed and left April alone with her memories.

This had made April very self-conscious, often feeling whenever she left the house for essential trips, such as the bank, supermarket and such like, that everyone was looking at her, as if she had a big sign hanging around her neck that said, ‘My husband died and now I’m turning into a very sad and lonely recluse’. It was an utterly awful way to be. But slowly, it had subsided and her confidence was starting to return – just driving to Tindledale had already given her a boost, something she wouldn’t have even contemplated doing a while ago. Although, she reflected, some of those friends had drifted away … maybe it was too late and they had run out of patience already, moved on. After all, they had their own life ups and downs to deal with, so she couldn’t blame them for that. April chewed the inside of her cheek, and resolved to make more of an effort when she got back home. She’d neglected her aunt, and it wouldn’t do to neglect the few friends that she had left as well. Yes, a change of scenery sure had given her a different perspective on things. And maybe she’d go back to work, find a nursing job again – she’d thought about it on and off since Gray had died, but somehow hadn’t managed to actually put herself forward, get a plan in place and be proactive about it. It had felt, somehow, in that time, that going back to work meant the part of her life with Gray was properly over, and she hadn’t been sure she was ready for that …

April went back into the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see that her aunt was laying the table for dinner. Humming to herself, Edie seemed perfectly sprightly as she nipped around the table making sure everything was just so. Knives, forks, pudding spoons, napkins and even a jug of iced water with two glasses. It was nice to see, and gave April a warm glow, a sense of having come home, belonging, just like she had felt as a child during those trips to Tindledale …

‘You’re just in time. Dinner won’t be long, dear. Sit down and I’ll dish up.’ Edie smiled, reaching for a very faded, holey tea towel with which to open the Aga to check on the pie. April hesitated, unsure whether to intervene or not as the tea towel really wasn’t up to the job of protecting an old lady’s hand from getting burnt. But April was conscious that she was in her aunt’s home and didn’t want to be seen as interfering – and, besides, her aunt seemed to be managing just fine, as she then flung the tea towel over her shoulder and pushed a masher into the saucepan of potatoes and started mashing, so April sat down. On second thoughts, maybe not! Hot water was splashing everywhere. April jumped up and gently took the masher from Edie as she winced when a droplet landed on her bare arm.

‘Oh dear. I forgot to drain the potatoes,’ Edie said, wiping her arm on her apron before clasping her hands together.

‘It’s OK. Easy mistake to make,’ April consoled, carefully lifting her aunt’s arm to check that she wasn’t hurt. Thankfully, she was fine. ‘How about you sit down and let me wait on you for a change? Think of me as your waitress for this evening. Dinner will be served in five minutes, Madame.’ April did a little bow and laughed, remembering the game they always played in the past when she had visited as a child. Aunt Edie would let her carefully bring the plates to the table, reminding her to use two hands, and April had felt so grown up. Sometimes, the game had started earlier with April pulling out a piece of paper from her letter-writing set on which to write a menu, and then Aunt Edie would pretend to choose her favourite dish – naturally it was always the meal that they were actually having. April wondered if her aunt would remember – probably not, it was such a long time ago – but to her delight Edie’s face broke into a smile of recollection.

‘Well, that would be marvellous, my dear. But aren’t you forgetting something?’ April raised an eyebrow, mentally crossing her fingers. ‘The menu? We must have a menu.’ And as if by magic, April instantly felt transported back in time. Just like the old days, before her parents died and her whole world changed, to a simpler section of her life, halcyon, where nothing bad ever happened, or so it had seemed back then. And it really was rather lovely to relive the memory … if only for a few minutes. And Aunt Edie looked calm and relaxed too, her eyes had come alive and gone all sparkly, but then there was a certain safety in the past, a comfort. April had seen it with Gray, especially towards the end when she knew he had been feeling frightened, and Aunt Edie had seemed fearful earlier too when she couldn’t remember who Harvey was. Gray had coped by cosying up with a blanket and watching all the old Monty Python shows with Nancy – something they had done together when she was a child – the pair of them nodding along to that upbeat ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ song. Gray, with a very content smile on his face, cocooned almost in a bubble of familiarity and happy memories that this simple pastime recreated.

‘Coming right up!’ Keen to see if reconnecting with the past would have a positive effect on Aunt Edie, April darted off to the sitting room to retrieve her handbag – there was a notepad inside, but she needed something to write with. She popped her head through the hatch. ‘Do you have a pen, Aunty?’

‘Look in the sideboard, dear.’

‘Thanks.’ April pulled open the door and immediately inhaled. Mothballs and lavender. Ahh, she really was ten years old all over again. She selected a pencil from an old, washed-out Del Monte peach tin, then went to close the door, but paused to run her finger over the red felt lining inside the sideboard, just as she’d loved to do as a child. Then, after closing the door, she stood up and quickly glanced again at the framed photos: her parents – Dad with his arm around Mum, her long hair blowing out in the breeze – and April in her Brownie uniform with a big gappy smile after losing two front teeth. There were also photos of various people she didn’t recognise – although on closer inspection, the one of a teenage girl standing under an apple tree looked just like Edie, only much, much younger, with lovely long dark plaits (it was hard to be sure with the picture being black and white) and a gorgeous smile that lit up her whole face. Next to this was a picture of the woman in the uniform, only this time she was wearing a lovely, floral tea dress and had a beautiful, sunny smile, and there was definitely a family resemblance. Molly was right, because if this was Winnie, she did look a bit like April with her dark curly hair and petite frame.

Having polished off Molly’s scrumptious pie, runners and mash, April went to clear the plates away, but Aunt Edie stopped her by placing a hand on April’s forearm.

‘What is it, dear?’

‘Um, what do you mean?’ April, her hand still clasped around a plate, hesitated.

‘Well, you’ve been awfully quiet, and that’s not like you.’ Edie’s voice softened. ‘What is it, Winnie?’ April blinked. And sighed inwardly, as she had already corrected her aunt three times over dinner, but to no avail. So, deciding on another approach, April tackled the issue head on.

‘Aunty, I’m not Winnie. But I’d love to know who she is. Can you tell me about her?’ April smiled and waited, eager to hear more about Winnie, the relative she had never known.

Silence followed.

Edith stared at April. She blinked a few times, frowned and then glanced away with a doubtful look on her face. Suspicious almost. And then attempted to cover up her muddle by saying, ‘Oh, now you’re just teasing me. Shall I put the kettle on?’ And she stood up and turned her back.

April’s heart sank with disappointment; she was so keen to know more about her family, but she decided to leave it for now. She didn’t want to put pressure on her aunt, make her feel alarmed by bringing attention to her failing faculties, and maybe there was a valid reason why Aunt Edie was being evasive, confused, or whatever it was that was going on for her.

‘Yes please, that would be lovely. And there’s some cherry madeira cake left if you fancy another slice?’ April offered.

‘Ooh, don’t mind if I do.’ But then Edie hesitated, and changed her mind. ‘But I really shouldn’t, don’t want to ruin my figure.’ And she patted her perfectly tiny tummy with both hands, while a disappointed look darted across her face.

‘I’m sure a second slice won’t hurt.’ April busied herself with opening the tin, and after pulling a knife from the block on the side, she cut a couple of very generous slices, figuring it a crying shame if an elderly lady couldn’t have two slices of cake in one day if she really wanted to, and served them on to plates. ‘There, I’ll finish the tea while you tuck in.’ April put the plates on the table.

‘Well, if you insist, my dear.’ Edie wasted no time in breaking off a corner of cake and popping it into her mouth.

‘I most certainly do,’ April grinned, preparing the tea in a china tea pot, with cups on saucers, just the way she knew her aunt liked it.

‘You always were a persuasive child,’ Edie chuckled, licking crumbs from the tips of her fingers, thoroughly enjoying the treat.

‘Was I, Aunty?’ April asked, seizing the moment to talk about the past.

‘Oh, yes, very much so. Spirited! That’s what we used to say … your parents and I.’ April placed the pot of tea on the table and sat down, allowing herself a moment of contemplation while she remembered her parents. Their smiles. Her mum’s perfume – one whiff of Rive Gauche and April was in her childhood bedroom being kissed goodnight. She swallowed, hard, and rearranged her thoughts, not wanting to go there right now. It was at least twenty years ago and she had only happy, albeit faded, memories of her mum and dad, but she knew from experience that train of thought inevitably led to Gray. But his death was different. Raw. And he had suffered, been forced to be brave and face up to his end of life. At least her parents had gone quickly, most likely went out with a bang – literally, if the newspaper reports at the time were anything to go by with their unnecessarily graphic details about the crash. She had read them online, several years later, out of curiosity mainly, but had regretted doing so ever since.

‘And what did they say about you when you were a child?’ April asked, pouring her aunt some tea.

‘Cheeky!’ Edie shook her head. ‘But I got away with it you know.’

‘Oh, why was that then?’

‘I was the youngest. The apple of my father’s eye. Spoilt, my brothers and sister would say …’

‘Your sister? What was her name?’

‘Winnie.’

Bingo! April leant forward and the faded memory of her dad chatting to Aunt Edie in the sitting room, years ago, flooded into her head. She had been playing with her Tiny Tears doll on the carpet and Dad had picked up the photo of the woman in the uniform. April suddenly felt overwhelmed with joy, figuring it was very lovely indeed to be piecing her family history together – precious memories returning – bringing her long-gone relatives alive and making them immortal. And one day perhaps, she’d reach a point where memories of Gray would create the same feeling within her.

‘What happened to your sister, Aunty?’

‘I don’t know,’ Edie said quite abruptly, before finishing her cake. ‘Mmm, that was delicious. We must bake some more cakes, dear, you used to love helping me cook, do you remember?’ And April’s heart sank all over again on realising that the topic of Winnie seemed well and truly closed … for now.