A Man Called Darius Page 17
I am sure there are many who judged me a ‘hard nut’ in that time. God bless them. I wore a dark, heavy veil to hide my mourning, but my tears were only for Jeremy and the one single blood-red rose that I placed on his coffin when I kept my nocturnal vigil by his side, meant more to me... and to him, I am sure than the large, expensive bouquet of lilies that I bought for Monty. The latter even seemed vulgar in comparison to my single virginal offering and I was reminded again of what I had thought so many times when Monty had bought me those expensive, loud, breathtaking perfumes. ...Perfume should always whisper... and not shout...! The lilies shouted alright... straight back at me from the curtain as the coffin disappeared to the accompaniment of the appropriate sombre music, but the little red rose stood alone in modest blush as the clods of earth pressed it relentlessly into the ground.
I wished Montague Blythe-Summers everything he could wish for himself... He had taken all of my tears in life and I had none left to give him in death...
***
Aunt Martha came to Jeremy’s funeral and was held up by Monica. She was in so much grief that I thought she would die from it. Her face was haggard and she looked much older than her years should have allowed. Her eyes were sunken and red against her dry pale skin, as she removed her dark glasses and threw her little earth clod into the hollow where her young love lay so still. The air was full of mystery... each mourner with his or her thoughts as to why Jeremy Shackleton had died as he had done. There were many tears in that vale of silence and there were many mourners... but when I looked about for Sebastian... he was nowhere to be found.
***
I returned to the flat and looked around, thinking that at last, I could do whatever I wanted... free and unbridled. It was a strange feeling... because I realized that now when I had that freedom, I didn’t want it any more... not in that flat at any rate. I hated it there and I knew I would never be totally free within those walls. I put a record on; just force of habit, I guess, but I turned it off again immediately as the Polonaise in ‘A’ flat came through to taunt me of what was not there. I decided there and then in that brief moment that I would sell the place and all its contents and give the proceeds to some charity or other. Cancer research came to mind. I didn’t want a penny of what had belonged to Blythe-Summers and certainly not any memory of what he had left behind. Everything was repugnant to me and I couldn’t wait to get rid of it, as quickly as I could.
How ironical all those thoughts and resolutions were... because when I did get a copy of Montague’s will, he had left me nothing... not a bean. Everything went, lock, stock and barrel to the German woman and her child. ...Unknown to me he had married this woman twelve months before he had even met me and I laughed hysterically... not for the loss, nor for the fact that it would seem that Monty had the last laugh, but for the fact that I had shared those seven miserable years with him... seeking all the time for a divorce when I never really was his wife. It was typical of Monty. He wanted everything twice over. He was greed personified and he choked on the lot I resolved never to think of him again.
***
I decided... or it was all decided for me, I suppose, that I would take up residence at Rowan Trees and start my life afresh, even if I had the problem of having very little money apart from the sum I had saved from my appointment at the hospital and I presumed that would have to go too, when I moved to Banbury. Rowan Trees was a large house and needed a lot of attention as well as improvements to the garden, which had been so long in neglect due to my having no gardener. I decided to get a local job around Banbury as a Health Visitor and it was also a great asset when Ethyl, the Matron, offered me a post of Tutor, once a fortnight at the hospital in London, to train theatre staff and to give lectures to various other young probationary nurses. The fee for this helped me enormously and I jumped at the offer. I learned later that many young doctors attended the lectures and found them stimulating and informative, so there must have been something worth listening to, I should imagine.
***
I had only been at Rowan Trees for less than a month when I got the news that Aunt Martha had passed away. She died peacefully in her sleep and in a way, I was happy for her, although I experienced a great sense of loss. One by one my friends were being taken from me and I was beginning to feel very lonely and isolated.
I dreamt that night that Jeremy had come to meet Aunt Martha and she looked like a young girl. All her harrowing lines and wrinkles had disappeared and she smiled at me proudly as she held Jeremy’s arm tightly. Her cheeks were like those of a young girl and her hair fell down her back to her waist. I wondered if this is what she had looked like as a young girl and then I remembered a photograph I had once seen when she asked me to fetch the album from her bureau. It must have been the memory of this photograph that had sparked off the dream, I suppose, but I woke up feeling very happy.
***
I went to the Manse to arrange for the disposal of the house etc., and to settle any dispute that may have been outstanding with the solicitors after the funeral. It was a sad place to visit at that time and I had an even sadder task to perform when I had to tell Frampton and Monica that they would have to go. A deathly gloom surrounded me wherever I walked in the house and most of all when I went into Aunt Martha’s bedroom. Marigold peered out at me from under her bell and made a funny noise, before she cocked her head to one side as if to tell me she was alone and what was I going to do about it. She was the least of my worries and I resolved to take her home with me to Rowan Trees where I knew she would love the country air. I gave Mrs. Frampton and Monica excellent references and three months pay in advance. (This was specified in Aunt Martha’s instruction... a little note she left, in the event of her sudden death and had nothing to do with the will.) I never saw Monica again although I understand she went through University, taking her degree with honours, as she had hoped... and pursued her career into the deepest jungles of West Africa. Of Mrs. Frampton, I will write later…
‘What you lose on the swings, you gain on the roundabouts ‘ ...they say and I found this to be true, for Aunt Martha had left me everything in her will. Her property, of which she had three other houses and all her bonds and other benefits, including a directorship in the Company of Hammond and Gore... The latter was the biggest surprise of all and I laughed when I thought of how Monty must have turned in his grave... or in his earth-mound, when he knew of this... if he could. I arranged for the transfer from Hammond and Gore’s directorship, as I didn’t want anything that would associate or bring up memories of my past seven years and I was paid handsomely for the offer to relinquish my responsibilities in that regard. Enough to employ a gardener and get the land surrounding Rowan Trees into some sort of decorative order, but I insisted that he should never touch or even re-arrange the clematis arch. I just wanted that kept as it was when I remembered Jeremy coming through it to greet me on the night of the confessions ...I was also able to redecorate Rowan Trees as I had always wanted to do and in the style and colour that had been in my mind when I had a little day-dream about the place.
***
Two months after Aunt Martha’s death, when I was sitting in the garden with Marigold squawking in her usual complacent, arrogant way, beside me in her new cage on the lawn, I answered my doorbell to find none other than Mrs. Frampton standing in my porch. I was pleasantly surprised to see her of course and greeted her most cordially, inviting her to stay for tea with me and for supper too, if she had the time. She must have been the first visitor I had since I moved into Rowan Trees to take up permanent residence. The decorators were still working upstairs in the bedrooms but they worked very quietly and you would never know they were in the house. It was in the middle of our tea, that Mrs. Frampton began to cry ...
“I miss the old lady so much, Mrs. Barrington-Smythe, I really do,” she sobbed and I quickly corrected the title. She apologised but I patted her hand to reassure her that no
thing was amiss, that I just didn’t use that name any more and asked her to call me Frannie. She blushed and smiled rather demurely.
“We all miss Aunt Martha, Mrs. Frampton,” I sympathised with my visitor “ but it so nice of you to share your sentiments with me. I do appreciate that.”
“Please Mrs... Miss...oh dear, what should I call you now Madam, I can’t call you Frannie.”
“Why not? That’s my name and I use my own maiden name of Smith now. I am no longer Barrington-Smythe... Just plain Smith, that’s all... and I like it better that way.”
Mrs. Frampton looked wide-eyed at me and dabbed her eyes with a large handkerchief.
“Please don’t cry, Mrs. Frampton. I hate to see you so distressed. I am really fine, you know. Please don’t feel sorry on my behalf.”
She reached over and put her hand on mine.
“Frampton...please, Miss, Just Frampton, if you please.” she said and I thought she looked a lot happier for having said that. I smiled and poured another cup of tea.
“Just plain Frampton and plain Smith,” I said and she laughed with me.
“Miss Smith... er... Frannie. Oh I like that name. It’s so friendly-like... Frannie, I was wondering... well, you know I’m working at the Frobisher’s place in London... do you?”
“Well yes, Frampton, I do... They wrote to me for a reference, if you remember?”
Frampton sniffed and looked down towards the floor as she fidgeted with her handkerchief, twisting it around her fingers.
“Yes... yes, of course you would... of course.” she said and continued to look agitated.
“Frampton... is there anything wrong? Is there anything I can do to help? The Frobishers are very lucky to have someone like you, I do assure you. It is almost impossible to get good, reliable people to work for you these days. I know... I’ve tried hard enough, I can tell you.. Are you happy with them Frampton?”
The elderly lady looked again to the floor and shook her head slowly.
“No... no, I’m not happy... I’m not happy at all... Frannie, could I please come and work for you? I wouldn’t want any payment, just my board will do... oh please say, you’ll have me?”
I was stunned at Frampton’s request, but should have guessed something of the reason for her visit to Rowan Trees and wondered if perhaps Jeremy didn’t have a hand in this somehow, from where he was resting now... and I could almost hear him call me dahling again, pleading with me not to turn our dear Frampton away... I needed someone with so large a house to run but I hadn’t thought of employing anyone in the capacity of a Frampton... that would have been too much even to have considered. She was worth her weight in gold, but above all that, I was so sorry that she was unhappy. Such a person as she was, should never have to suffer in this way, because she had been so faithful and so devoted to Aunt Martha in every way and I made my resolve swiftly.
“I wouldn’t hear of it Frampton... not under any circumstances.” I said firmly and her face fell. I watched her swallow hard as she put her cup down in her saucer with gentle care and looked askance at her hands... “Unless you accept a wage that is comparative to what you are receiving from the Frobishers.” I said, equally as firmly....
Frampton jumped up from where she was sitting and threw her arms around me, nearly knocking over one of my best china tea-cups. She cried again and looked around her with such joy and relief on her face that I was sure I had done the right thing... for both of us.
“You won’t regret it Miss... er, Frannie, I assure you. I’ll work my fingers to the bone if necessary an’ I won’t never complain... honest, I won’t …Not never.”
***
Frampton handed in her notice to the Frobishers and came to me on the last Saturday of that month. She had very little that you would call possessions, but her face gleamed and she looked ten years younger than when she first came to visit me such a short time before.. She was delighted to be re-united with Marigold, who showed off to let Frampton know that she was the first to have been adopted, but Frampton became a very good friend as well as everything else. She excelled in her kitchen crafts as I knew she would. She loved the garden and was more than content to sit with me , under the oak tree on a summer evening, just as I had done with that other good friend who was the instrument of giving me all I had, so that I could share it with the good lady who had cared so much for his beloved Aunt Martha ...and I did not feel so alone, nor so vulnerable any more...
***
I watched the television with very little interest or enthusiasm over the conquest of Mount Everest by Edmund Hillary and his friend Sherpa Tenzing. I had so many other things on my mind and so very much to do at Rowan Trees, but I remember that it was a very wet day in June 1953 when the young Princess Elizabeth became Queen of the British Empire and the Commonwealth. She looked beautiful as she went forward to take her vows of allegiance to her people, but I felt a pang of sorrow for her when I thought of the responsibility that was laid on her delicate shoulders. More power to them all, I thought... to Mr. Hillary and to Her Majesty. My heart went out to them and I wished them every success in everything they did.
‘All people that on earth do dwell, sing to the Lord ...with cheerful voice... ‘
They sang in the Abbey as she took her crown... the joyful strains rang through my head and I should have been able to throw my hat in the air and rejoice with her Majesty as everyone else was doing, but I thought the Albinoni would have been more in keeping with my mood at that moment.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I spent the next seven years of my life in comparative peace at Rowan Trees, thanks to the good companionship and friendship... and excellent care that Frampton was able to provide. I travelled up to London every other Thursday to give my lectures and I had the garden extended to include a large vegetable and herb garden patch. I was also able to put right the area in front of the house that had been badly lawned, with the new lawn looking like a pristine cricket field, with its green lines so immaculate, showing with the expert mowing of the grass by Ramsay, the ever faithful gardener who came to me a month after Frampton … She liked him and he liked her and so they were able to work together…Life for me was beginning to take some shape of normality …although there was always something missing, deep down …
Frampton loved to do her knitting under the oak tree where I had a new seat built all around it and the arch was now covered entirely with the pink and white clematis that Jeremy loved. I never ever forgot him and I don’t think a single day passed when I didn’t thank him for all he had done for me, BUT... the ‘other man’ in my life... the one from the desert, was my dream... and he hadn’t escaped either from my imaginings. I would dream of the most impossible situations where we would meet, but he always looked the same as he did when I first saw him in the heated desert of the Persian Gulf ...and the beautiful amber-green eyes followed me wherever I went.
Marigold died in the August of 1960 and we buried her in a little grave by the side of the pond, near the oak tree, together with all her little toys and of course, her ladder and her bell. Frampton was particularly upset as she had cared for her most of the time, when I was in London and on other occasions when I had to leave Rowan Trees for any length of time.
“I’ve known that little Miss ever since she was a tiny bundle of blue feathers, “ Frampton commented sadly, “ It is so sad to think that she came through all we had to endure in the tragedies of Miss Shackleton and her nephew, isn’t it, Frannie? She was one of the family here and I swear she understood every word I said to her.”
The passing of the little bird made me very sad too but I don’t think I heard very much of what Frampton had said as I stared at the clematis arch where I could see Jeremy smiling at me again.
“Bon Voyage....dahling... Bon Voyage,” I could hear him say. But I never did get that holiday in the South of France, with the husband I
never really had.
***
I never really got to know Frampton intimately. She was a wonderful friend and a great companion, but there was much of her private life that I never knew and I would never dream to ask her about it, as I was always aware that it was her own business and was no concern of mine, if she did not chose to discuss it. I always addressed her as ‘Frampton’ as this was how she requested I should call her from the first moment she came to stay with me. I mention this fact, as it may seem strange to anyone that two women should live together in the same house and in such close proximity, with no other person in that house and to address each other as we did. We were GREAT friends... she was my confidante in very many ways and she worked exceptionally hard in my employment, never taking the days off that she was allowed and always agreeable to adapt, should the need arise, which I am reluctant and a little ashamed to admit, was quite often. It got to the stage, when if she wanted any time off at all, which was on a very rare occasion indeed, I would adapt too and we got on very well that way. She was an extraordinary woman, with her own set of rules for life and with a discipline that would scare the pants off a Sergeant Major in the Guards. She would never dine with me, but always ate alone in her kitchen ...or at other times with Ramsay She loved that domain and I allowed her the freedom she wished there, where she would move things about to suit her requirements or mood and I left the decor and the colour scheme to her also. She would sometimes relate some incident of pleasure that had occurred whilst she was in service to Aunt Martha, but she never ever spoke about the Frobishers ...I don’t think she was at all happy there, but I never asked why. Her tales were always related with respect and she never asked any questions about my life with the Blythe-Summers character, although she was a very astute woman and had often seen me turn up at the Manse with a black eye, or something even worse ...Frampton was unlike a woman... in so far as that she was not at all nosy and knew how to mind her own business... under any circumstance. I really cherished her devotion to everything she did for me and in return, I tried to ensure that she never felt trapped in her way of life with me and that she could invite whoever she wished to visit her and even for them to stay over, should she have wished that too. We had plenty of room and she knew and appreciated that, but I don’t think she had friends, with whom she wished to keep contact. She was indeed a very private person and the only other person I heard her talk about was Monica. She spoke of her as one who had the aptitude to get the most out of life and to adapt to any situation in which she found herself. I think this was a quality that Frampton held in great esteem and of course, Ramsay, the friend of the earth was her respectful and constant companion.