Everything to Gain and a Secret Affair (40 page)

“Yes,” I agreed. “It did.”

My father looked at me for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful. “And it
is
all right for you to be angry, Mal, it really is. You'd be abnormal if you weren't. However, if you allow it to, it will eat you up, destroy you. So . . . just let it go, darling, just let it go.”

“How, Dad? Tell me how.”

He paused, then he leaned forward and stared into my eyes. “Well, there is one thing you could do.”

“There is?”

He nodded. “When we were at Kilgram Chase in May, I asked you where you had scattered the ashes, and you told me you hadn't done so. You confided that you had bought a safe and locked the ashes inside it. ‘To keep them safe,' you said to me, and you added, ‘Nothing can ever hurt them again.' I'm sure you remember that conversation, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “You're the only person I ever told about the safe, Dad. Why I wanted it.”

“And are their ashes still in the safe here? Still upstairs?”

I nodded.

“I think it's time to put your family to rest, Mal, I really
do. Maybe if they're at peace, you might be able to find a little yourself. Anyway, it would be a beginning . . .”

The following morning I got up at dawn.

I had taken my father's words of the night before to heart, and in the early hours, unable to sleep, I had come to a decision.

I would do as he had suggested.

I would put my family's ashes in their final resting place. It was fitting to do so now.

I dressed quickly in a pair of cotton pants and a T-shirt, and then I went downstairs, heading for the basement. Only last week I had purchased a large metal cash box for the shops, and it was ideal for what I had in mind.

Carrying the box, I returned to my little sitting room upstairs. Putting it down on the sofa, I went into my walk-in closet. The key to the safe was in a hatbox on the top shelf; climbing up on the small stepladder, I retrieved the key, got down, and opened the safe.

First I took out Andrew's ashes and Trixy's; then I went back for the small containers that held Jamie's and Lissa's. I placed the four cans in the metal box, closed it, and took it downstairs with me.

I had always known in my heart of hearts that if I ever buried their ashes, I would put them under the ancient maple tree near my studio.

The tree was huge, with a wide, gnarled trunk and great spreading branches, and it must have been three or four hundred years old. It grew on the far side of my studio and sheltered the building from the fierce heat of the sun in the summer months, yet without blocking the light.

The tree had always been a favorite of Andrew's, as had
this shady corner of the property, where we had often had picnics. The twins had loved to play near the tree; it was cool there under its leafy green canopy on those scorching hot, airless days.

I dug a deep hole under the tree.

When I had finished, I straightened, stuck the spade in the earth, and went to get the box.

Kneeling down at the edge of the grave, I placed the box in it, then paused for a moment, letting my hand rest on top of the box. I closed my eyes and pictured them all in my mind's eye.

You'll be at peace here
, I said to them silently.
You're forever in my heart, my darlings, always with me. Always.

Standing up, reaching for the spade, I began to shovel the earth on top of the box, and I did not stop until the grave was filled.

I stood there for a few moments, then I picked up the spade and went back to the house.

Later that morning I told my father what I had done.

Then I took him down to the maple tree to show him where I had buried their ashes.

“If you remember, we used to have picnics under the tree sometimes, and the twins often played here, especially when I was in the studio painting.”

My father put his arm around my shoulder and held me close to him. He was visibly moved and could not speak for a few moments.

At last he said, “And there shall be in that rich earth a richer dust concealed.”

I looked up at him, my eyes filling. “That's lovely . . .”

He held me tighter against his body. “Rupert Brooke.”

“What's the rest of it? Do you know the whole poem, Dad?”

My father nodded. “But it doesn't really apply.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's to do with a soldier's death. An English soldier's death. Rupert Brooke wrote it before he died en route to the Dardanelles in the First World War.”

“But Andrew was English, and the twins were half English, Daddy. So it is appropriate. Please, I'd love to hear you recite it, the way you used to read to me.”

“Well, if you really want me to.”

“Please.”

My father began to speak slowly, softly, and I leaned into him and closed my eyes, listening.

“W
hat a stunning success you've got on your hands!” Diana exclaimed, turning to me and smiling broadly. “It's just wonderful, Mal, what you've accomplished in the first four months of being in business.”

“I know, even I've been a bit surprised,” I admitted. “And I couldn't have done it without your support and Mom's. And Sarah's help and advice. You've all been terrific.”

“That's nice of you to say, but it's actually all due to your own hard work and inspired ideas, and let's face it, your extraordinary business acumen,” Diana replied with a laugh, looking pleased. “Who'd have thought you'd turn out to be another Emma Harte?”

“Not quite, not yet,” I said. “I've a long way to go.”

Diana laughed again. “I like to think of you as a woman of substance for the nineties.”

“Let's hope so. I'll tell you this, Diana, I do love retailing. Every aspect of it, in fact. Getting the shops here running properly has been tough, but doing it
and
getting it right has given me a lot of satisfaction.”

“Meeting a challenge usually does,” Diana answered. “And in my opinion there's nothing quite like hard work. It helps to take our minds off things, and certainly it gives us a great outlet for our energies. I know at the end
of the day I'm ready for bed, and I fall asleep immediately, I'm so exhausted.”

“I'm the same way,” I said.

Diana fell silent, studied me for a moment, and then asked in a careful voice, “How are you really, darling?”

I sighed. “Well, there's not a day goes by that I don't think of them, of course, and the sadness and the grief are there, deep inside me. But I've forced myself to keep going, to function. And as we both know, being so incredibly busy works wonders.”

“I learned that myself a long time ago,” Diana murmured. “It was the antique shop and my business that saved my life, after Michael died. Work is a great cure-all for anyone with problems.”

“Talking of work, I'd like to show you something,” I said, getting up and walking across the administration office I'd created in a corner of the big red barn.

Opening one of the filing cabinets, I took out a couple of manila folders; then I returned to the seating arrangement in front of the window, where Diana and I had been having coffee.

Sitting down opposite her, I went on, “Last May at Kilgram Chase, when I had the idea of opening the shop-café, it also occurred to me that I could start a catalogue, that this would be a natural outgrowth of the shops.”

“You didn't mention it,” Diana said, settling back against the quilted throw pillows and crossing her legs.

“No, I didn't, because I thought you'd think I'd gone totally mad, that I was being too ambitious.”

“Nobody can be too ambitious, as far as I'm concerned.”

“That's true,” I agreed. “Anyway, the shops have been so successful, such good money earners in such a short period of time, I've decided to go ahead with the catalogue. I've already designed it, created the mock-up.
Sarah and I have done it together, and she's putting up some of her own money. We're going to be partners in this venture.”

“I'm delighted to hear it, Mal. You're so close, and who better to have as a partner than your best friend? Besides which, I'm sure her input will be invaluable.”

“It has been already, and she's helped tremendously with the shops as well. I thought it only fair to ask if she wanted to participate. I suggested it months ago, when I'd already started to create the catalogue, and she jumped at the opportunity.”

“Is she going to leave Bergman's?”

“No. The catalogue will be a sideline for her.” I joined Diana on the sofa and showed her the catalogue.

She took out her glasses, drew closer to me, then looked at the cover. This featured the red barn where the kitchen shop and the café were housed, and underneath the picture, a painting I had done especially for the catalogue. It said:
Indian Meadows
, and on the next line:
A Country Experience.
The third line read:
Spring 1991.

“So you're not going to bring it out until next year?” Diana asked, raising a brow.

“No, it wouldn't work before then. I've got to stockpile a lot of merchandise to begin with, and then I've got to do a mailing. We've already purchased several mailing lists for key areas across the country, and Eric and Anna have compiled a local list. We'll mail out the catalogue early in January for the spring. There's a lot of planning involved when it comes to a catalogue, you know.”

“I can well imagine.”

I flipped open the catalogue to reveal the inside cover. “Here's a more detailed painting of the little compound of barns, the pastures, and the stables, and on the page facing is my letter telling them about Indian Meadows,” I explained, and handed Diana the dummy of the catalogue,
continuing, “It's divided into three comprehensive sections, as you'll see. The first is Lettice Keswick's Kitchen, featuring the jams and jellies and bottled items, as well as a good selection of products from the kitchen shop. All of the things we sell there, such as cookware, pottery, porcelain. The middle section is called Indian Meadows Boutique and offers clothing, accessories, and American quilts, that kind of thing. The last part is Kilgram Chase Gallery, presenting decorative items with an English flavor.”

Diana opened the catalogue and began to look through it, exclaiming about the clever way we had presented everything. When she had perused it carefully for a few minutes, she gave it back to me and said, “I'm very impressed, Mal, very impressed indeed.”

“Thank you. Mom and David thought it was pretty good, too. Very inviting, with appealing merchandise. My mother said she could buy half of the things without batting an eyelid. But come on, I want to show you two places you haven't seen yet.”

“More surprises! How wonderful,” Diana exclaimed, as always enthusiastic about everything I was doing.

I led her across the barn. “As you know, I divided this floor of the barn into separate areas. There's the office, where we just were, and this is the packing room,” I explained, opening the door and taking her inside.

“The helpers pack everything which has to be mailed out in here, on these trestle tables. Then the packages are stacked up over there, ready for UPS, who already pick up every day.”

“Do you still get a lot of orders that people want sent?”

“Yes. As you know, we've always had a good number of mail orders, ever since we opened in the spring. They have steadily increased, and that's what made me believe a catalogue would work very well.”

I guided Diana next door, into one of our storage rooms. “This is where the kitchen merchandise is stored.”

“And all of the Lettice jams and jellies are in the basement of the house, that I do remember,” Diana added.

I nodded. “On the floor above this, which I had built last summer, we store clothing, soft toys, table linen, that kind of thing.”

We strolled back to the administration office and sat down. Diana said, “You seem to have covered everything. And let me say it again, Mal. You've worked miracles here.”

“Thanks, but I will need some extra storage space soon. That's my only real problem left to solve. In fact, when she arrives tomorrow, Sarah is going to talk to my neighbor, Peter Anderson.”

“The stage director?”

“Yes. He owns the big pasture opposite the entrance to Indian Meadows, on the other side of the road, where there are two big barns. He doesn't use them. Sarah's hoping we can buy the land and the barns from him, but I don't think he'll sell.”

“Perhaps he'll rent to you.”

“We're hoping so, and if anybody can persuade a person to do something they don't want to do, it's Sarah.”

An affectionate expression slid onto Diana's face. “She can charm the birds out of the trees, that's true, and I
am
fond of her; she's such a special woman.”