Hothouse Flower (35 page)

It was the signature tune to her grief.

That terrible night, as she had played for her enraptured audience, wrapped up in her beautiful music, lost in her own world, then enjoyed the applause and the cheers and the bouquets and felt the selfish exhilaration of her achievement, her little boy and her husband had been dying in agony.

Julia had tortured herself over and over, agonising about just
when
it would have been during the concerto they had drawn their last breaths. Would Gabriel have screamed out for her as he lay suffering intolerable pain and fear, wondering why his
maman
wasn’t there to help him, to comfort him, to protect him?

She’d let him down at the moment he’d needed her so very much.

The thought was unbearable.

And Julia knew the worst part was that the piano – an inanimate instrument, with no heart or soul – had stolen her love and attention. It had come before the needs of her child and her husband, and now represented all that was selfish and inadequate about her. She slumped in despair, only comforted by the thought that the skinny carrots and the one lettuce she’d found were self-sown descendants of those planted by her beloved grandfather.

‘Oh, Grandfather Bill!’ she entreated the heavens. ‘What would
you
have said to me right now, if we’d been sitting together in the hothouse, like we used to?’

She knew he would have been calm and rational, like he always was when she had gone to him with a problem. He’d have looked at the facts, not the emotions surrounding them. He was a great believer in fate, and God, she knew that. When her mother had died, Grandfather Bill had taken Julia into his arms after the funeral. She had wept on his shoulder, inconsolable, the thought of her mother alone in the cold, hard, ground unbearable.

‘Your mum’s safe now and at peace, up there. I know she is,’ he had soothed. ‘It’s us lot left behind that are suffering without her.’

‘Why couldn’t the doctors make her better?’ she’d asked pitifully.

‘It was her time to go, my love. And if it
is
that time, then there’s nothing to be done.’

‘But I wanted to save her …’

‘Don’t punish yourself, Julia,’ he had comforted her. ‘There was nothing more any of us could have done for her. Us humans think we are in control, but we’re not, you know. I’ve seen enough of life to realise that’s a fact and there isn’t no changing it.’

Julia sat quietly, thinking about what Grandfather Bill had said that day. Was this also true of Xavier and Gabriel? Had it been their ‘time’? Could she have made the difference if she’d been with them?

It was an unanswerable question.

And as for the fact she’d been playing the piano … Julia wiped her streaming nose and knew, in reality, she could just as easily have been at home, waiting for the two of them to come back from the local beach along the same treacherous road.

And was she, as Grandfather Bill had said all those years ago, punishing herself? Depriving herself of the one thing in her life she knew could provide comfort and a balm for her troubled soul?

More of Grandfather Bill’s words came back to her as the piano tuner played the last few notes. ‘
You have a God-given gift. Don’t waste it, will you, Julia …
’

As silence descended from the drawing room, a thought came into Julia’s mind: she’d lost so many people she’d loved, but the one thing she still had that was
hers
, and could never be taken away from her, was her talent.

Eventually, as the piano tuner’s car drove away, Julia stood up and walked slowly back towards the house. She stood on the terrace, a sudden ray of hope and understanding lighting up her face. Her gift was the one thing she could count on, it would be there for her until the day she died. It couldn’t desert her, because it was part of who she was.

And she mustn’t desert
it
.

Would Xavier and Gabriel thank her for never touching the keys again? Would they wish that, out of their deaths, came the death of her ‘God-given’ gift?

No.

Julia put an instinctive hand to her mouth as she realised clearly for the first time how her grieving, guilt-ridden mind had played tricks on her. She had allowed the demons in when she was so vulnerable and let them take root.

They had to be banished.

She strode purposefully towards the drawing room, her head full of all those who had loved her and still did love her, and sat down at the piano. Ignoring her body’s reaction, she placed her shaking hands on the keys.

She would play for them all.

And for herself.

When Kit arrived home from his meeting an hour later and heard Chopin’s ‘Études’ coming from the drawing room, his eyes filled with tears. He sat down abruptly on the staircase in the entrance hall, in the spot where he’d first set eyes on Julia. And listened in awe, humbled by her magnificent talent.

‘I’m so bloody proud of you, my darling,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You not only have a rare gift, but you are brave and beautiful and strong. And, God help me,’ Kit wiped his eyes on his forearm, ‘I only hope I can be worthy of you, and keep you with me forever.’

32

From then on, the silence that had held dominion for so many years over Wharton Park was broken. Instead, the house was filled with the sound of beautiful music, as Julia banished her demons and played on the exquisite piano in the drawing room for hour after hour, relishing her return to the instrument that was simply part of her soul.

‘Thank you for helping to lead me back,’ she had whispered to Kit, as they lay in bed on the night that her fingers had first retouched the keys.

‘Don’t thank me, sweetheart. It’s you that’s managed to be brave enough to break the spell,’ he had answered generously. ‘Besides, the piano
did
need tuning.’

But Julia knew that, without Kit’s thoughtfully executed prod in the right direction, she would not have got there alone.

‘I spoke to Elsie today,’ said Julia over supper a couple of weeks later, ‘and she announced that now I’m living at Wharton Park, she’d like very much to visit us. She suggested this coming weekend. Would you mind if she stayed for a couple of nights?’

‘Of course not,’ Kit was quick to reply, ‘you don’t need to ask. This is your home too. Actually, I’ve been asked to play cricket for the village team this weekend, so that’ll keep me out of your hair on Saturday, at least.’

Julia could see Kit was pleased about the cricket invitation. ‘I’d also like to ask Alicia and her family over for Sunday lunch. They haven’t seen Elsie for years.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Kit. ‘And, actually, if Elsie’s up to divulging the rest of her tale from the past, it’ll be evocative listening to it here. Living in the house makes it even more fascinating to find out what my relatives got up to in days gone by,’ he added.

After supper they went to sit outside on the terrace, in Julia’s favourite corner spot. The old metal furniture set was rusty, but proved that someone before her had also decided this was the best and most sheltered vantage-point from which to view the park.

‘What a glorious evening,’ Kit breathed, enjoying the warm night air. ‘I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to find new vistas to enjoy. Yet here I am, sitting on a terrace that’s part of my roots, thinking there really can’t be a more beautiful spot in the world. I’ve finally stopped running. And I’m happy. I love it here with you. Thank you, sweetheart, for helping me stop.’

‘Kit, as you say often enough to me, it’s you that’s made the decision.’ Julia took a sip of the vintage Armagnac Kit had found on a dusty rack in the cellar. ‘Actually, I wanted to … discuss something with you.’

He frowned and looked at her. ‘Sounds serious. Is it?’

‘I need to go back to France,’ Julia replied quietly.

There was a silence as Kit digested this information. ‘Right. I knew you’d have to go at some point.’

‘I don’t want to,’ she sighed, ‘but I have things I need to do there. And, if I’m going to resolve the past and finally put it where it belongs, I must go back.’

‘Yes,’ Kit replied. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No. I think it’s something I have to do alone. Besides, I know how busy you’re going to be here in the next few weeks, what with the harvest.’

‘Yes, I will be.’ Kit raised his eyebrows. ‘Never thought for a second I’d be learning to drive a combine, but it’s all hands to the pump, we’re so short-staffed. How long will you be away?’

Julia shrugged. ‘I really don’t know. For as long as it takes to do what I need to, and make some decisions.’

‘Yes.’ Kit was quiet for a while as he stared out into the blackness, then he reached for her hand. ‘Julia, you know that no matter how long it takes you to return, I’ll be here waiting for you.’

In the darkness, Julia held on to his hand like a lifeline. ‘Thank you.’

Later that night they made love with heightened passion and urgency. Long after Julia had fallen asleep, Kit lay watching her, unable to shake off the feeling of unease that had lodged in his gut from the moment Julia said she had to go away.

Julia spent Saturday morning freshening up one of the bedrooms in readiness for Elsie’s arrival. She realised it would be the first time Elsie had come to Wharton Park as a guest, rather than a servant. She wanted to make sure her grandmother felt comfortable.

Next, she drove into Holt to buy supplies. It was a warm, sunny day, and the pretty town was bustling with the influx of tourists and second-home owners who swarmed into the region during the summer months.

As she piled her shopping into the boot of the car, she resolved that – even though she was now confident she’d be ready for the Carnegie Hall recital – she would not return to the punishing schedules of the past. If the last few months had taught her anything, it was that there was beauty and pleasure in the simple things of life. And that they mattered.

The thought of going back to France terrified her. She didn’t want to lose her new-found sense of tranquillity. She knew, too, that Kit had helped her find it, and she would be leaving his strength behind. But it was an odyssey she could only undertake alone, if she was to be completely free to love him the way he deserved.

At half past three that afternoon, Julia heard a car coming up the drive. She ran to the front door as she watched the driver help her grandmother out of the car, and hurried down the steps towards her.

‘Julia, sweetheart, come and give your old granny a hug.’

Julia did so, then Elsie stepped back to look at her.

‘My goodness me!’ she exclaimed. ‘I always said the Wharton Park air did something magic to you. Look at you! You’re beautiful!’

Julia was still in her apron, covered in a dusting of flour. ‘I’m sure I’m not, Granny, but yes, I’m certainly feeling a lot better than when I last saw you.’

Julia paid the driver, then picked up Elsie’s small overnight case and walked with her to the front steps of the house.

Elsie stopped just before the steps and looked up. ‘It’s exactly the same. Strange, isn’t it? When all our lives have changed so much, these bricks and mortar never alter.’

‘I wish that was true,’ Julia sighed as she helped her grandmother slowly up the steps. ‘It may look the same, but unfortunately, large parts of it are suffering from old age and need to be rebuilt before the whole lot falls down.’

‘Bit like me then, my love, isn’t it?’ Elsie chuckled. ‘Do you know, in all my years at Wharton Park, it’s the first time I’ve ever entered it by the front door.’

‘I was thinking this morning that it might be strange for you coming here. Why don’t I take you up to your room so you can freshen up, and then we can have a nice cup of tea?’

By the time they’d climbed the stairs and reached the bedroom, Elsie was panting.

‘Gracious! My legs aren’t what they used to be,’ she gasped. ‘I used to trip up and down them forty times a day, and not even notice.’

‘I’ve put you in here, Granny,’ said Julia, opening the door to the bedroom. ‘It’s so pretty, and not too big.’

Elsie stepped over the threshold and sighed with surprise and pleasure. ‘My goodness me! Of all the rooms you could have chosen, you picked the very room that Lady Olivia stayed in when she first came to Wharton Park. It was in here that I first set eyes on her. And,’ Elsie added as she looked around the room, ‘I don’t think anything has changed since.’ She walked across to the fraying tapestry stool at the end of the bed and sat down, trying to get her breath back. ‘Sorry, Julia, that bout of flu really did for me and I haven’t recovered my strength proper since.’

Julia watched her with concern. ‘Would you like to have a rest now? I’ll bring your cup of tea up here?’

‘That’s what
I
used to say to Lady Olivia,’ Elsie chuckled. ‘I do feel a bit weary, but it’s probably the shock of seeing this place again.’

‘You take your time, Granny, there’s no rush. Have a rest and come down when you’re ready. We’ve plenty of time to chat – Kit’s out playing cricket for the village team and won’t be back until after seven.’