Читать книгу The Secret of Orchard Cottage: The feel-good number one bestseller - Alex Brown - Страница 14

The following day, having enjoyed her best night’s sleep in ages, up in the sunny rose-print-papered attic bedroom that she remembered sleeping in as a child, April was standing by the white picket fence surveying the front garden and wondering if she really would have enough time to tackle it before she went home. On closer inspection, it was a veritable jungle and there was no way April was going to make a deep enough dent in just one day. Maybe she could come back another weekend, bring Nancy and Freddie with her. Freddie might be inclined to be lazy around the house, but he was always up for doing outdoorsy stuff, and Nancy would be happy to get stuck in, April was sure of it.

Deep in thought, April had just taken a mouthful of her post-lunch mint tea when Aunt Edie appeared on the footpath wearing a floor-length, russet-red organza ballgown and a big sprig of cherry blossom in her hair. April nearly snorted tea from her nose, but managed to refrain from doing so in the nick of time. She then opened her mouth. And closed it. Utterly unsure of how she should react. Edie looked resplendent, like a shiny big Quality Street as she rustled down the path. But she was dressed quite inappropriately for another afternoon of pottering around her rural country cottage, or indeed cleaning her Aga … again, as she had mooted earlier this morning over their scrumptious breakfast of freshly laid eggs. Edie had asked April to check the hen house, and amazingly there were ten feathery, mud-splattered eggs waiting in the straw for them, which they enjoyed boiled with soldiers slathered in salted butter, made from bread from the baker in the village, whose sister lived in the cottage at the top of the lane, so ‘it’s no trouble for him to drop a loaf in when he’s passing by’, apparently. April had heard all about it from Edie over breakfast.

‘There you are, Winnie, my dear! I looked all over for you,’ Edie said in a very chirpy, singsong voice. April went to correct her, but didn’t get the chance before the old lady carried on talking, and besides, April wondered if it really mattered. Especially as she had lost count of the times now that she had reminded her great aunt that her name wasn’t Winnie. And when April had taken the opportunity again over breakfast to find out more about the elusive Winnie, her aunt had given April a baffled look, just as she had last night, before swiftly changing the subject. Not to mention the fact that Edie still hadn’t said a word about Gray; it was as if she really had forgotten he had died, and that in itself was worrying as April knew that her aunt had been very fond of him. Until his death she’d always asked after him when they spoke on the phone and she had never missed his birthday. In fact, when they last visited Edie together, it had been Gray that her aunt had seemed most keen to chat to, even taking him around the orchard and regaling him with stories of how she had enjoyed many summers playing in the fields, running in between the apple and pear trees with her brothers, paying special attention to Robert, April’s grandfather. Gray had said she was very lucid for a woman of her age – she had remembered the tiniest of details, such as the time Robert had found a baby starling with a broken wing and nursed it back to full health before setting it free.

‘That’ll be where your compassion comes from, April,’ Gray had said later in the car on the way home, and April had liked the thought of having inherited something of her grandfather. It was comforting, knowing that a genetic part of him lived on in her. It seemed important to April, with her not having any living relatives left apart from Edie. And April and Gray hadn’t been blessed with babies, despite them both wanting a family – they had tried at the start, soon after the wedding, but then when Gray became ill … it hadn’t seemed important any more. Although still young enough to have a baby, April doubted now that she’d ever be a mother, but she felt very lucky to have Nancy and Freddie in her life. Being their stepmum was a wonderful next-best thing …

‘Now, I shan’t be gone for very long – will you be all right without me for a bit?’ Edie smiled sweetly as she patted the sprig of cherry blossom.

‘Er, um …’ April managed before nodding her head, curious to know what this was all about. ‘You look amazing, Aunty. May I ask where you’re off to?’ she ventured, making a mental note to see if she could have a chat to her aunt’s GP before she went back home – just to see if she, or he, had any concerns too about Edie’s mental health. But her aunt didn’t answer. Instead, she did a blank stare before busying herself by plucking dead leaves from a nearby rhododendron bush. Perhaps she hadn’t heard – maybe Edie’s hearing was diminishing, and April could ask the GP about that too.

April had a little bit of experience of caring for elderly patients, having worked a summer, many years ago, on a geriatric ward as part of her training, but no real first-hand knowledge of dementia. Or memory loss. Perhaps that’s all this was – with the obsessive Aga-cleaning thing, and wandering out and about in her slippers, forgetting to put on her shoes, and of course continually forgetting April’s name – and Edith was in her nineties so it was to be expected … she guessed, hoped. Full-blown dementia could be a very cruel thing. Debilitating, just like Grey’s motor neurone disease was, which had progressively robbed him of the man he used to be. He had kept his independence for as long as was possible though – going to work in a wheelchair with oxygen piped directly into his nostrils, wearing an elastic strap around his head to keep the plastic tube in place. April had admired him for that as he had always hated wearing stuff on his head, ever since childhood when his mum had said she could never get him to keep a hat on even in winter. April hadn’t known this until later in their relationship when she had knitted him a lovely red wool hat as a stocking filler for their first Christmas together. And, to give him his due, Gray had worn the hat a couple of times before stuffing it into his coat pocket, later admitting that hats just drove him mad. She could still see his face now – apologetic but exasperated too, followed by silliness when he had made light of it all by suggesting several ludicrous alternative uses for the hat, culminating in April crying with laughter at the ‘cut in two leg holes to turn it into a pair of woolly pants’ option.

April smiled at the sudden memory before focusing her attentions back to her aunt who was still busy inspecting the rhododendron.

‘Aunty, is everything OK?’ April started.

‘Of course my dear, why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Well, I …’ April paused to take a breath, and changed tack. ‘You look marvellous, where are you off to this afternoon?’

‘To the tea dance of course! My escort will be here soon, and a very dashing chap he is too,’ Edie smiled, making herself look much younger as she pulled a powder compact from a sparkly evening bag that was swinging on a delicate silver chain from her elbow.

‘Oh! I see,’ April said, watching her aunt pat powder across the bridge of her nose. ‘Well, perhaps I can drive you there, where is it?’ she asked, thinking on her feet, for she didn’t want to alarm her aunt by going in gung ho and telling her that a dance on a Tuesday afternoon was very unlikely and perhaps she should go inside and take the ballgown off. What if it just added to her confusion? There had been no mention of her going to a dance over breakfast so it was obviously a spur of the moment thing. Or what if Edie got upset or cried with disappointment? It could happen – April vaguely recalled watching a documentary about Alzheimer’s where an elderly lady had sobbed like a little girl and it was heartbreaking, distressing, pitiful and poignant and there was no way she was going to put her aunt through that unnecessarily. Right now, Edie could very well be thinking she was young again, waiting for a suitor to arrive to escort her to the ball, so to burst that bubble of joy was the last thing April wanted to do. But how long should she let her aunt stand on the path waiting for the imaginary man to not show up? April had no idea, and ordinarily would have rung Gray and said, ‘Guess what …’ and they would have chatted about it and worked out the best course of action between them, but …

April pressed her fingertips into her palm and was just about to put an arm around her aunt to gently guide her back into the cottage when a woman’s voice trilled out from the turning-point piece of tarmac where April’s Beetle was parked.

‘COO-EEEEEEEEE. Only me!’ April swivelled on her heel. ‘Ooh, Edie, you do look a picture!’ a vivacious, sixty-something woman chuckled as she swept a glittery pink pashmina around her shoulders and practically skipped on up the path towards them, her super-strong perfume permeating the air. ‘The general is going to be so very pleased to see you.’

April marvelled at the transformation in her aunt. She was absolutely glowing at the mention of the general, whoever he was, but there was something more. A sort of luminance radiating from within Edie now, as if she had suddenly come alive. And clearly wasn’t imagining there to be a suitor after all! April was now even more fascinated to see how things were going to unfold.

‘And I’m so looking forward to seeing him,’ Edie cooed, popping the powder compact back inside her bag. ‘But where’s the bus?’ she asked, leaning forward as if to scan the lane.

‘Oh, not to worry, the general had to park it a bit further back near the main road,’ the woman said brightly, and then turned to April with a saucy look on her face and added, ‘it’s getting very bushy down this end!’ before doing an extremely filthy laugh.

‘Yes, I really should—’

‘I’m Audrey by the way,’ the woman said, letting the pashmina slip down into the crooks of her elbows, revealing a tight, low-cut bodycon dress, before April could offer to get the hedgerow sorted out too before she returned home – maybe a local gardener? April made a mental note to ask Molly later if there was someone she could pay to keep on top of her aunt’s garden and the section of the single-track lane that was her responsibility, as she was quite sure Edie didn’t have the means to pay for help around the home. And April had some funds, a third of Gray’s modest life insurance money (she hadn’t thought it fair to keep it all, so had split it with Nancy and Freddie), not very much, but certainly enough to help her aunt get the garden straight. ‘I run the weekly speed-dating tea dance …’

‘Ooh, sounds intriguing,’ April said, fascinated that such things went on in rural villages where she had assumed the elderly residents spent their time making jam and watching Countdown.

‘Oh, it’s just a bit of fun. It’s not full-on dating, or looking for …’ Audrey paused, did furtive sideways eyes and after leaning into April she clutched her arm and mouthed, ‘seeeeex.’ April had to press a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. ‘No, it’s more companionship for the …’ she paused again as if searching for the right words before settling on, ‘our more “young at heart” villagers.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘And just call me Deedee, everyone does,’ the woman continued. ‘My daughter, Meg, is the headteacher at the village school,’ she added proudly.

‘Lovely to meet you, Deedee,’ April replied, feeling a little foolish for doubting Edie. Seemed there was a tea dance here in Tindledale on a Tuesday afternoon after all. Weeeeell, fancy that!

‘You too. And I’ve heard all about you …’ Deedee made big eyes.

‘You have?’ April asked tentatively.

‘Yes, that’s right. You’re April. Molly mentioned that you were here visiting your aunt, our lovely Edie, and the star of the weekly tea dance in the village hall.’

‘Oh, yes, um … that’s right,’ April replied apprehensively, wondering if Molly had mentioned their conversation about Gray too. But then Deedee said, ‘Are you here on your own, or have you got a gorgeous husband hidden about the place?’ in a breezy voice, as she scanned around the garden as if searching for him. So Molly clearly hadn’t gossiped, and April was pleased that she had been discreet, remembering that news usually travelled fast in a small village like Tindledale. Whenever April had arrived to stay with her aunt in the school summer holidays, within an hour or so the local children would be down to the cottage to see if she was coming out to play in the fields after someone had spotted her parents’ green Morris Minor Traveller pulling into the village store on the way to get a box of chocolates to go with the flowers as a present for Edie. Everyone always knew everyone else’s business. Tindledale was just that kind of place.

April took a breath and felt much more prepared for the question this time.

‘No, just me – here to spend some time with my aunt …’ April said as cheerily as she could muster.

‘Lovely. Well, if you’re at a loose end this afternoon and fancy a bit of a booooogie,’ Deedee paused to do an enthusiastic shoulder shimmy, making her boobs wobble around like two jellies, and April laugh, ‘then you are more than welcome to join us. The more the merrier. Isn’t that right, my love?’ And Deedee tucked her arm through the crook of Edie’s elbow, giving the top of her hand a little pat.

‘Ooh, yes,’ Edie agreed. ‘And don’t be put off by it being called a tea dance. It’s not a load of old dears shuffling around the dance floor in pairs because all the men in the village have already popped their clogs. Certainly not. There’s the raffle to think about too. And the general does a veeeeery good quiz.’ Edie nodded her head several times as if to emphasise this fact. ‘And there will be sandwiches and cake. And champagne!’ she continued marvelling, all the while making big eyes.

‘Yes, that’s right. My Meg makes it – homemade fizzy elderflower champagne,’ Deedee confirmed. ‘Goes lovely with the buffet – a smashing spread of cold cuts and healthy salad options, courtesy of my Meg’s other half, Dan – he’s a famous chef you know, on the telly and everything … well, used to be, he’s retired now. Not that he’s old or anything, oh no, very fit and vibrant in fact. He just doesn’t need the pressure of the high life any more so he sold his Michelin restaurant in London for an absolute fortune and can afford to take it easy now.’ Deedee paused to take a quick breath and puff her hair up a little more, clearly captivated by her daughter’s partner. ‘And we always have a beautiful selection of pastries and fairy cakes from Kitty’s café. It’s called The Spotted Pig. Can’t miss it, it’s on the corner of the High Street. You must try it if you get a chance … the Battenberg is TO DIE FOR!’ Deedee shook her head and fluttered her eyes as if being transported to her very own personal nirvana, while April felt breathless on her behalf just taking it all in.

Then Edie smiled brightly and added, ‘And my niece loves a little tipple, don’t you April?’

April instantly flicked her attentions on to her aunt. Ahh, a moment of clarity! And suddenly, April felt very thrilled to have her aunt back again, even if she was making her sound like some kind of lush.

‘Weell, I’m not sure I’d put it quite like—’ April started.

‘Do you remember those snowballs, April?’ Edie interjected and April nodded, fascinated that her aunt now seemed able to remember this minutiae – they’d had those snowballs over thirty years ago! ‘I’ll have to make you one before you go home. You loved them as a teenager. We could make a night of it just like we used to – play a few hands of rummy while we are at it too – if I can find the blasted pack of cards that is.’ Edie shook her head and turned to Deedee. ‘I’ve searched high and low and they’ve disappeared. April had a look too but no luck …’

‘Ooh, I’m so sorry, I should have said – I have them in my handbag in the bus for you. I picked them up by accident after last week’s tea dance. Do you remember, Edie? I helped you into your sitting room and plonked my pashmina on the sideboard only to scoop up the pack of cards with it when I left.’

‘Ahh, well that solves that mystery – thank heavens you did, dear!’ Edie smiled kindly at Deedee. ‘For a moment there I thought I was losing my marbles.’ And both women chuckled to themselves before proceeding down the garden path to the waiting bus, leaving April wondering why she had ever worried about her aunt. Clearly her memory wasn’t that bad, and she was having the time of her life, whooping it up at the weekly tea dance with her ‘date’, the general. And in a strange moment of role reversal, April felt quite eager to meet the general, if only to assure herself that he was indeed a suitable suitor for her dear old great aunt Edie.

As she waved the two ladies off, April couldn’t resist grinning. Deedee was certainly a bon vivant, a breath of fresh air, and April admired her zest for life and the ease with which she had brought ‘Old Edie’ to life, practically transforming her into a much younger woman in the blink of an eye. It was infectious. And April felt spurred on by it, in addition to the wave of confidence she now had after reconnecting with her past last night, and so in a rare, but quite welcome moment of spontaneity, she decided to get in her Beetle and go to the High Street.

But first, she would pick a selection of pretty wild flowers from Edie’s back garden as a little thank-you gift for Molly. (April was quite sure her aunt wouldn’t mind; there were hundreds to choose from in any case so April wondered if she would even notice.) April could ask about a gardener too while she returned the pie dish, and it would be a chance to have a look around Tindledale and see if it had changed much since her last visit. She might even treat herself to a nice slice of Battenberg in The Spotted Pig café. Yes, April thought this sounded like a very nice thing to do.

And for the first time in a very long time, April didn’t feel wobbly at the prospect of going out alone, without at least having someone she knew by her side, supporting her as they had for the last eighteen months – Nancy, Freddie, her friends from the knitting club or the girls from the gym … the ones that had stuck around, that is, the ones who, despite April’s lack of desire to socialise, had still visited and taken her out for the occasional coffee. Well, now she’d have something to talk to them about, something other than how she was coping, or how she felt, or if she’d had a good day …