The Forgotten Letters of Esther Durrant - Kayte Nunn Page 0,75
that you are often in danger of slipping.”
She blinked, touched that he had noticed. “Thank you. That is most thoughtful.” She looked across the room to see that Robbie had retrieved the small parcel she had left for him and was reading the label she had attached.
“For Susie!” he cried as he opened it, beaming with delight.
“About time she was decent,” laughed Wilkie, who snapped a photograph of Robbie holding up the bonnet.
“Thank you,” Robbie said to Esther, looking her in the eyes, at last.
“It was nothing. My needlework skills aren’t exactly those of Monsieur Balmain or Madame Chanel, but hopefully the dress will fit.”
“She will be the best-dressed baby on the island,” he said, coming over to embrace her. She squeezed him tight as he held her, feeling the bones beneath his sweater. He’d lost weight in recent weeks, she was sure of it.
More presents were handed out and gifts exclaimed over. Between them, the doctor and Mrs. Biggs had managed to find something useful for each of the patients—for George a pair of binoculars. “T’were my late husband’s,” she said as George unwrapped them. “But I’ve no need of them.”
“You are a woman of infinite kindness,” said George with a gallant smile.
For Wilkie, a book on photography, for Robbie a new spade and several packets of seeds—“Cucumbers!” he exclaimed—and for Jean a pretty box of soap. Esther opened a slim envelope to reveal a print of one of the photos Wilkie had taken down at the beach a few weeks earlier. In it, she was staring straight at the camera, her hand shielding her eyes, her hair blown by the breeze. “I look rather fierce,” she said as she took it in.
“You are a warrior, Mrs. Durrant,” Wilkie replied.
“Hardly,” Esther retorted. “But that is most kind, thank you, Wilkie.”
He had made another print for each of them, showing the six of them standing in formation outside the front of the house. It was a picture he’d cajoled them into a week previously. The doctor and George were standing behind the others and George’s hand rested lightly on Robbie’s shoulder, with Esther and Jean flanking him and Mrs. Biggs standing slightly off to one side. Robbie held his doll in the crook of his elbow, and all of them had managed a semblance of a smile, though they didn’t exactly look like carefree holidaymakers. “I shall treasure it,” said Richard with sincerity as he looked at the print.
George had shyly presented Robbie with a slim volume of poems and Esther noticed a wave of color rise up from his collar as he read the inscription on the flyleaf. Before she could begin to wonder at what it might say, a parcel with a London postmark was thrust into her hands. Her fingers fumbled with the paper as she began to open it. She turned away from the group toward the window, desiring privacy. A box of barley sugar, its amber twists catching the light, and a new book, a novel. There was also a letter. “My darling Esther . . .” it began. “I hope by now you have begun to forgive me and that you are much improved in spirits. I received a report just this week from Richard, who says you are making splendid progress, of which I am so glad to hear.” Her eyes scanned further down the page. “. . . Teddy misses you but he is looking forward to the pantomime, Jack and the Beanstalk, which his aunt Clementine will take him to in the company of his cousins. The arrival of Father Christmas is anticipated with much excitement, as I believe he has begun to understand what it all means—plenty of presents for him.” Esther stared at the drizzle that was snaking its way down the windowpane. She could not believe that she was missing her son’s third Christmas.
“Everything okay?” The doctor was beside her.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“It’s a difficult time of year, especially hearing from home like this. Try not to dwell on it.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said bravely. “After all, I won’t be here for too much longer, will I?” Esther looked at her forearms, where no evidence of her former scourging could now be seen.
A beat of silence and the doctor cleared his throat. “It’s possible you will be well enough to return home before too much longer. We shall see how you progress in the coming weeks.”
Esther felt a small, but unexpected balloon of optimism well