My Name is Eva An absolutely gripping and emotional historical novel - Suzanne Goldring Page 0,90
dying daffodils. ‘I always dead-headed the daffs,’ she said, pointing with the walking stick in her right hand at the dead flowers that had been golden only weeks before. ‘It helps the bulbs build up their strength so they flower again the following year.’
‘Well, there’s no way I’m doing that as well as everything else,’ Pat grumbled. ‘And I’m not getting a gardener in to do jobs like that when there’s more than enough mowing and pruning to get on with, to make this place look half respectable. God knows what people will think if we don’t make a bit of an effort.’ She hovers in front of her aunt, watching her slow progress along the stone path to the heavy oak front door. ‘Here, you can use your walking frame now. Careful on the mat, and watch yourself on the step up to the hall.’
‘I know my way,’ Evelyn said. ‘I know every single inch of Kingsley inside out.’ And as she crossed the threshold she was greeted by the instantly recognisable scent of the home she had known for over ninety years. She breathed in the timeless, ever-present smell of woodsmoke from the countless logs that had smouldered over the centuries in the inglenook fireplaces of the ancient house, seeping into every timber, every inch of plastered wall, the carpets and the curtains of every room, and she felt that she had come home at last.
‘I’m sure you do know your way round, Aunt. But it’s one thing being totally mobile and quite another when you’re not too sure of yourself. This old place is full of hazards. You just don’t notice them when you’re fit and well, able to skip about.’ She watched Evelyn negotiate the step and then they walked slowly but surely towards the kitchen.
‘I thought we’d sit at the table in here, where it’s warmer. I haven’t kept the range going, but there’s a small heater I found. We’ll have a coffee and then sort out the bits you want to take to the care home.’
‘I’d like to go upstairs first.’
‘Oh no, I’m not having you do that! Those stairs are far too narrow and steep. If I get you up there, I might never get you down again. No, we’ll stick to the ground floor, thank you very much. You know I didn’t even want to risk you coming here. You’re only just walking properly again.’
You didn’t want me to see what you’d been taking away or neglecting, you mean. ‘Well, all right, but before we go, I’d like to take a little walk around the gardens. Just for old times’ sake.’
Pat frowned. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe we could just look at the garden from the doorway. If you fall again, I’d never forgive myself.’
No, I bet you wouldn’t. That would be far too inconvenient and take up even more of your time. Such a nuisance for you, having to look after this beautiful house with its lovely furnishings and gardens, all held in trust for you and your family, such a dreadful nuisance. ‘Well, dear, I’ll just sit here then, and tell you what I’ll need.’ Evelyn manoeuvred herself around the table and onto a chair Pat pulled out for her. ‘Why don’t we have a little glass of sherry as well as coffee?’
‘Sherry? It’s not even lunchtime yet.’ Pat was clattering mugs and boiling the kettle on the range. ‘I don’t think there’s any in the house and anyway, I’m driving.’
‘What a pity. Are you sure there isn’t any here? Papa always kept a very good cellar. He was very fond of manzanilla. There must still be a bottle or two down there, surely?’
Pat turned to look at her aunt and shook her head. ‘You’ve got to be joking. It’s all gone. You never maintained the cellar. There’s nothing left down there now.’
‘What, all of it, Pat? All the wine, port and sherry? Who drank it then?’
‘I’m beginning to think you probably had most of it, the way you rabbit on sometimes. Here, have a biscuit.’ Pat plonked an opened pack of chocolate digestives on the table and two mugs of coffee.
‘Shouldn’t we put them on a plate?’ Evelyn peeled away the wrapper and parted the biscuits with her fingers, looking around the kitchen.
‘No, I’m not bothering with fine china and all that palaver. We’ll eat them out the packet.’ Pat broke a biscuit in two, crumbs falling onto the sweater, thick with pills of wool, curving over her stomach.