It had turned back the clock for her. His body was young and strong and vigorous. It had been a revelation to her; she knew he could make her happy. She didn’t care that Marigold would be derisory if she knew, and call him her toy boy. Rex was wise beyond his years, and gentle and kind, and the garden gave them so much in common.
For a long time she’d been wondering how he saw her. She felt close to him and he seemed pleased to accept her little invitations and always tried to repay her so she could ask him again. But did he love her? Last night, for the first time she’d begun to think he did. He’d been passionate. It warmed her to think about it and helped to blot out the awful trouble that had befallen Chloe.
Helen had felt bad enough when Chloe had stayed overnight in Adam’s house and brazened it out. Marigold had had plenty to say about that since the day she discovered it was happening. Helen had told Marigold what Chloe had said to her, that science had made such strides that nobody needed to get pregnant today unless they wanted to.
The truth was that nothing had really changed. This was the last thing Chloe wanted. Helen and John had longed to start a family. They’d been trying for years before it had happened, and then there had been only Chloe when they’d wanted more. She’d believed her daughter would have a similar experience and that had reduced her anxiety. How silly that was, now she thought of Marigold and her own birth.
Chloe had been wrong to believe modern methods could save her from the consequences of what she was doing. How could she and Adam be so careless as to let this happen to them? And then keeping it hidden for so long had cut Helen completely out of it. Worst of all was seeing Chloe made so utterly miserable and unable to talk about it.
Helen knew she’d stayed in bed too long; she felt terrible. She made herself get up eventually, though her head ached, her eyes were red again and she felt exhausted. It surprised her to find it was bright and sunny. She went out into the garden and spent most of the morning there. It was so large that there was always work needing to be done on some part of it. As always, it soothed her.
That evening, Helen was busy in the kitchen making a chicken pie for their supper. Rex came back after work, wearing the pullover she’d given him last Christmas.
‘How are you?’ he asked, presenting her with a box of chocolates.
‘I’m all right. Fine.’
‘Have you spoken to Chloe today? Made your peace?’
Helen had to shake her head. ‘I’ve been trying to put all that out of my mind.’ It was only by thinking of Rex instead of Chloe that she’d been able to keep her tears at bay.
He came and took hold of her hand. ‘Ring her, Helen, I want you to.’
‘She’s deserted me, she’s the one who . . .’
‘She knows she’s upset you; she knows she should have told you sooner and she’s full of guilt.’
His earnest urging was more than she could take. She was biting her lip till it hurt.
‘Keep the lines open or this will fester and be between you for years. I think you should stay in touch.’
That made her swallow hard. ‘I will, I will, but not now . . .’
‘The sooner the better. What’s her number, do you know?’
She walked out to the phone in the hall. ‘She wrote it down for me.’
‘There you are, then, it’s what she wants. What she needs.’
‘But what can I say that I didn’t say yesterday? I don’t want to start it all up again.’
He lifted the handset, dialled the number she’d shown him, then pushed it into her hand. ‘Ask her how she is,’ he said and went back to the kitchen.
She heard it ring and Chloe’s voice answer. ‘It’s Mum,’ she said softly. ‘Chloe, are you all right?’
She heard Chloe’s tears. ‘Mum, I’m sorry. I knew you’d be horrified. Please forgive me.’
For Helen, the following days passed in much the way they always had. Rex gardened with her and they did all the things they used to do. She felt they were closer, but he made no move to make love to her again.
She asked him to lunch on Sunday. ‘I haven’t told Gran and Marigold about Chloe yet, but she won’t be here. They’re bound to ask where she is, so I’ll have to tell them. I’d like you to be on hand to help me.’
For once, he did not seem delighted with the invitation. ‘Please, Rex,’ she urged. ‘I need you.’
‘Of course I’ll come,’ he said then. ‘You know I’m always glad of a good dinner.’
His presence probably prevented Gran making too much of a scene, but she did say that she was feeling ill again. Marigold burst into tears, saying it was history repeating itself, and Helen found, as she’d expected, that it was very hard to keep her own tears under control.
Rex did his best to comfort Marigold and said his bit about it being the swinging sixties now and that nobody took that sort of thing to heart any more.
The impact of the news about Chloe was softened by Gran saying in her quavery voice, ‘Helen, I want you to promise to look after Marigold when I’m gone.’
Marigold was indignant. ‘You’ll be here for many years yet, you know you will.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Gran shook her head. Her white hair was very sparse now, her face wizened with wrinkles. ‘Marigold will need help,’ she went on to Helen. ‘She won’t be able to manage on her own. She won’t be left well provided for as you were.’
Helen could see that that had taken Rex by surprise, but she was used to little digs from her family. She did her best to smile from Gran to Marigold. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You know I’ll do all I can.’
Helen felt that Sunday lunch had been wretchedly embarrassing for them all. They could talk of nothing but Chloe’s plight and how she and Helen had ignored their warnings. Marigold said she’d hoped Helen would be a better mother to Chloe than this, and that shocks like this were bad for Gran’s health. Gran seemed switched off and left most of her dinner on her plate. Only Rex looked interested in food.
Helen was bringing in the bread and butter pudding when Marigold suddenly leapt up and said they must go home straight away. Helen felt shocked and gave in to the tears that had been threatening.
It was a relief when Rex got to his feet. ‘I’ll run you home, Marigold,’ he said. It was he who brought in their coats, and buttoned Gran into hers.
Helen kissed them goodbye and whispered to Rex as he passed, ‘Please come back.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long.’
She was a miserable wreck when he got back. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘A brisk walk along the beach at Formby, that’ll make you feel better.’ They were out all afternoon and though he tried to cheer her up, she was still very much on edge when they got back.
‘I’d like you to stay for supper,’ she said, ‘but I haven’t much to offer. Would it be OK if I fried up the Yorkshire pudding and potatoes left over from lunch to have with the cold beef?’
‘That’ll keep until tomorrow,’ he smiled. ‘I know a pub that’s open on Sunday nights where they do good food. You need a little treat.’
She felt more herself when he drove her home; she could see he meant to drop her at the gate and drive on. ‘Stay with me tonight, Rex,’ she pleaded. ‘I don’t want to be by myself.’
Once they were indoors she put on some soothing music and sat with him on the sofa. ‘You’ve been very kind to me today,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ They were late going upstairs to bed and she fell asleep in his arms.
Helen was woken by the telephone ringing and ringing in the hall below. It felt like the middle of the night. Beside her she heard Rex stir.
‘This happened once before,’ she told him. ‘It was a wrong number.’
‘Shall I answer it?’
She put on her bedside light and looked at her alarm clock. It was five fifteen. The ringing stopped. She sighed and sank back against her pillows. ‘No need.’
She was about to switch her light off when the phone burst into life again and rang relentlessly on.
‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘You aren’t supposed to be here at this time of night.’
She was afraid Chloe might have had an accident or the baby was coming early. She jerked herself out of bed and ran down to the hall. ‘Hello,’ she barked into the phone.
She recognised Marigold’s voice immediately, though it croaked with fear. ‘Thank goodness I’ve got you, I’ve been trying for ages, I thought you weren’t there.’
‘Where else would I be? I was asleep. What’s the matter?’
‘It’s Mother, I can’t wake her up . . .’
‘Leave her, it’s much too early.’
‘Helen, I think she’s dead!’
‘What!’ Helen felt the hall begin to eddy round her. ‘Oh my God! Are you sure?’
‘No, no, I’m not. I need you to come and help.’
‘Oh my goodness! Ring the doctor, Marigold. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She flew back upstairs.
‘It’s Gran, Marigold thinks she might be dead but she isn’t sure. She’s in a flat spin. She wants me there.’ Helen started pulling on the clothes she’d worn last night.
Rex leapt out of bed and threw his arms round her. ‘I’m so sorry, this is terrible for you. Another shock on top of Chloe’s bombshell.’
Helen pushed herself out of his arms and shook her head. ‘I’m stronger than Marigold. Gran knew she’d need me.’
‘How can I help?’ Rex started to dress too.
‘You can’t. You aren’t supposed to be here. Stay in bed a bit longer and then go to work. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.’
‘You must feel awful, as though the bottom has dropped out of your world. Are you all right to drive?’
Helen was a bit shaky and she could see he was concerned. ‘My knees feel like rubber.’
‘I could take you.’
‘No, Rex.’ She had to stand on her own feet. ‘I’ll need my car to get back, won’t I?’ She was strapping her watch on.
‘It was only yesterday lunchtime,’ Rex said. ‘Mrs Darty said it wouldn’t be long. She must have had a premonition.’
‘I took no notice,’ Helen lamented, as she pulled on a coat and ran out into the cold early dawn.
The only dead person she’d ever seen was her husband, John, but one look at Gran and she had no doubt that she was dead too. Marigold was in floods of tears and walking round in her nightie with bare feet.
‘What about the doctor?’
‘He said he’d come.’ Marigold was shivering, her hands and feet were a mauvish colour and the house itself was freezing cold. Helen led her to her own bedroom, pushed her arms into her dressing gown and knotted her into it. She found her a pair of Gran’s bed socks and made her put them on before her slippers. She pulled the eiderdown from her bed and wrapped it round her.
‘Come on downstairs and I’ll make a hot drink.’ Helen had grown up in this house; it always had been a cold place. She took their tea to the shabby living room. The grate was filled with cold ash and there was no other source of heat. Helen groaned. She’d lost the art of laying fires, if she’d ever had it.
She was relieved to see a car pulling up outside behind her own. ‘Look, here’s Dr Harris.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Marigold shot to open the door before he knocked, but was then too upset to be able to tell him clearly what had happened.
Helen knew Dr Harris well; he’d been their family doctor for years. He was painfully thin, and his tired grey face made him look more ill than many of his patients. On being consulted regarding some indisposition, his soulful grey eyes would stare with benign intensity into those of his patient. Helen followed him upstairs, recounting how they’d both been to her house for Sunday lunch where Gran had eaten nothing; how a friend had brought them home and helped Marigold get Gran to bed for her afternoon rest.
‘What happened after that?’ the doctor asked.
‘She went to sleep,’ Marigold said. ‘I helped her take off her skirt first, so she wouldn’t crease it. It was her best one.’
Helen turned down the bedclothes and was shocked to see that Gran was still fully dressed apart from her skirt.
‘When did she wake up?’ the doctor asked.
‘Well she didn’t. I made her tea – she likes scrambled egg with some soft bread and butter on Sundays – but I couldn’t wake her up to eat it.’
‘Marigold!’ Helen was horrified to think that Gran might have died yesterday.
‘I tried to ring you, but you weren’t there,’ Marigold wailed.
‘Rex took me out for a walk.’ Helen was defensive.
‘I tried again and it was getting dark; you couldn’t have been out walking then.’
‘And out to supper afterwards.’
‘Was your mother breathing, Marigold? Can you remember?’
‘Yes, but it sounded different. Slower and deeper somehow.’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks. ‘I sat here with her for a long time. I held her hand and kept talking to her, but she didn’t answer.’ Marigold clucked with distress. ‘I couldn’t wake her.’
Helen shivered, tears stinging her eyes. She could understand why Marigold was upset now.
Dr Harris smiled gently at her. ‘You did right, Marigold. If your mother could hear you, that would have comforted her.’
He looked at Helen then. ‘It sounds as though she lost consciousness and slipped away peacefully in her sleep.’
They followed the doctor down to the icy living room. Helen watched numbly as he wrote out a certificate and left it on the table.
‘She’s been failing for some time, as you know, and she’s had a very long life. Perhaps she’s glad to be at rest now.’
As he saw himself out, Helen collapsed on a chair and made no effort to stem her tears.
Rex had made himself tea and toast and gone to work as Helen had suggested, but he couldn’t settle. He knew this had come at a bad time for Helen; she was still smarting because of Chloe’s pregnancy, and at the best of times she had little emotional strength. He was worried about her.
The morning was passing. He rang her home, but as he’d half expected, she wasn’t there. He knew where her family lived. They had a small garden and he regularly sent a man round to maintain it. He got in his van and drove round.
It was Marigold who came to the door, with red eyes and a blotchy face. He found Helen still weeping at the living room table.