Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Page 19

  The nurse looked at the slip of paper. “Oh yes. Albert Spinks. I helped him send this. He’ll still be in casualty, in one of the cubicles there. Down that passage and then to the left.”

  Our feet echoed as we walked down a white-tiled hallway. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. We came to a waiting room in which a lot of sorry-looking people sat on benches, some bleeding, some coughing. People glanced up and nudged one another when they saw us, or rather saw my mother, I suspected. A harried-looking nurse went past, clutching a clipboard.

  “I’m looking for Albert Spinks,” I said. “He sent a telegram.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, my dear,” she said. “Down at the end there. Last one on the right.”

  Then I heard her call, “Mrs. Jenkins? This way, please,” as she moved past me.

  We walked down a row of curtained-off cubicles. Moans came from one, the sound of a person being sick from another. It felt like walking into hell. Mummy pulled back the curtain and we both froze. The body on the bed was now covered with a sheet.

  Chapter 25

  TUESDAY, JULY 2

  IN ESSEX AT A HOSPITAL

  I don’t want to write anything today. Too emotional to handle.

  Mummy let out a great cry, “Daddy! Oh no. Not my dad.” I was too shocked to say anything. I don’t actually think I was breathing. All I could do was stare at that sheet.

  I felt a great sob working upward through my body. I tried to swallow it back but it came out anyway.

  “Oh, Granddad!” I gasped.

  Mummy and I looked at each other; then we hugged in a way that had never happened before. As a small child I don’t remember my mother ever hugging me. I don’t ever remember sitting on her knee. When I saw her after I had grown up, we kissed, cheek to cheek, about two inches apart. Now we really hugged, clinging to each other.

  “I can’t imagine the world without him,” Mummy said. “He was such a good man.”

  “Yes, he was. He was the only . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Mummy released her hold on me and went toward the bed, her hand on the sheet, but hesitated, as if she didn’t dare pull it back, as if it might not be true if she didn’t see it with her own eyes.

  We heard footsteps approaching and the curtain was pulled back. Someone coming to take away the body, I thought, and I wasn’t going to let them. Not before I’d said good-bye. I turned to say, “Just a minute, please, we need . . .”

  Then a voice behind me said, “Well, blow me down. I didn’t expect to see you two here this quickly.”

  My grandfather was standing there, very much alive.

  “Daddy!” Mummy said and reached out to touch his shoulder, as if needing to verify she wasn’t seeing a ghost.

  “So you got my telegram,” he said. “Good of you to come.”

  “You’re alive,” I said. “Then who . . .” I looked back at the bed.

  “Poor old Hettie,” he said. “Her ticker gave out. Must have been all the excitement of planning a wedding. At least she died happy.”

  I went over to him then and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Oh, Granddad, I’m so sorry,” I said. “But you’re alive. That’s wonderful. When we got the telegram we thought that . . .”

  “The telegram said that you were in the hospital and it didn’t look good,” Mummy said in an accusing voice. “We thought it was you. We worried all the way here.”

  “I’m glad you finally show some feelings for your old dad,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I put you through a lot of worry. I told the nurse what I wanted to say on that telegram but I told her to keep it as short as possible because you have to pay by the word and I ain’t made of money.”

  “So she left out that it wasn’t you, it was Mrs. Huggins,” I said, laughing through the tears that kept trickling down my cheeks.

  “Poor old Hettie,” he said. “She was so looking forward to that wedding. Her first wedding, to Mr. Huggins, was a bit of a letdown, she said, on account of no one having any money and Mr. Huggins not being a big one for pomp and ceremony. Just the registry office, then a pint and a sausage roll down the pub. This time she was going all out. She’d got her dress being made and the cake on order and everything. And then we were going for a week in Clacton-on-Sea.”

  “Oh, Granddad. I’m sorry,” I said.

  He nodded. “We’ll get through it, won’t we? We have to soldier on. I remember when we lost your gran it felt like the end of the world. But I came through it in the end.”

  “Granddad, why don’t you come home with us?” I said. “I don’t want you to be alone and it would be good for you out in the country with plenty of fresh air.”

  “I can’t do nothing right now, ducks,” he said. “I’ve got to make sure everything is arranged for old Hettie. Of course, I’m not family yet, so it won’t be up to me how it’s done. First things first, I have to locate her daughter. I know she works at a café down in Southend, but I don’t rightly remember the name. So I’ll have to go over to her house and break the news. Then I suppose it’s up to her what sort of funeral she wants and where she wants her mum buried. Maybe it’s beside her dad, although Hettie always said he was a right rotter.” He looked up and our eyes met. “I’ll offer to help with the expenses, of course. That would only be right.”

  “I can help with the funeral, Dad,” my mother said, sounding for once like an ordinary person and not her famous actress persona.

  “Kind of you, love, I appreciate it, but I couldn’t take German money. You know how I feel about that. He might be a good bloke, your Max, but he’s still a Kraut, isn’t he? And they killed my boy, my Jimmy.”

  “Oh, Daddy, that’s all over so long ago. We have to forgive and move on,” Mummy said. “Besides, Max wasn’t even in the army. And anyway he isn’t my Max any longer. It’s all off. His father died and he has to take care of his mother.”

  “All off, eh?” He looked at her with understanding. “I’m sorry, love. So it’s back to square one for you as well?”

  “It seems that way,” she said. “I’m staying with Georgie, who is being so kind. As soon as you have things sorted out you must come and join us.”

  “I will, ducks. I will.” He managed a smile. “I’d like that. Out in the country with my girls. What a treat.”

  “What would you like us to do now, Granddad?” I asked. “We’ll stay with you here, of course, but would you like us to come back to the house with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “Oh, no, thanks, my love,” he said. “Kind of you, but I’ll be all right. Been on my own long enough, ain’t I? And besides, I may be out quite late waiting for Hettie’s daughter to come home from her job. She’ll be put out, poor thing. Need some comforting, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Then the decision on what to do next was made for us. Two orderlies arrived to wheel the body off to the morgue. We hailed a taxicab to take Granddad back to his house. I offered to cook him a meal but he said he didn’t feel like eating. Then we left him heading to Mrs. Huggins’s daughter’s place in Grays while we took the train back to London.

  “Stubborn as always,” Mummy said. “I would willingly have gone with him to look for this woman. I would even have cooked him supper.”

  “When did you ever learn to cook?” I looked at her, smiling.

  “I’ve had times when I’ve had to fend for myself, just like you,” she said. “I may not be the best cook but I do know how to fry an egg.”

  When we reached Victoria Station, Mummy declared she wasn’t ready to go back to the country yet. She had to visit Claridge’s, just to make sure no post was being held for her there. And she needed her special French soap one could only find at a certain little chemist shop. I decided I might visit Belinda and see how my wedding dress was coming along. I suppose I was still a little nervous that Belinda would deviate from the sensible design we had chosen together and revert to some high-fashion experiment. I really didn’t want to look like a walking white drainpipe!

  So Mummy and I parted company, agreeing to meet for the six o’clock train. I walked up Eccleston Street to Knightsbridge and Belinda’s mews cottage. The door was opened by a straight and severe-looking person in black. I asked if Belinda was home. She asked my name, then informed me she would see if madam was available to receive a caller. I heard words exchanged upstairs and then Belinda herself followed the maid (Huddlestone, one presumed) down the stairs.

  “Georgie, what a lovely surprise,” she said before Huddlestone got a chance to officially announce me, which clearly annoyed her as she stood with pursed lips while we hugged. “What brings you to town? I’m afraid I’m not ready for your fitting yet.”

  “I had to come up for my grandfather,” I said. “The woman he was going to marry just died. Mummy and I were in an awful state because the telegram just said that my grandfather was at the hospital and we thought it was he and not Mrs. Huggins who had died.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for your grandfather, but what a relief for you,” she said. “I know how fond you are of him. So while you’re here let me show you where we are up to.” She took me up to her bedroom, which now held three tailor’s dummies on which pieces of fabric were pinned.

  “I’ve been working up here,” she said. “Out of the reach of the dreaded Huddlestone.”

  She went over and closed the door. “She’s pretty grim, isn’t she?”

  “Terrifying,” I said. “I thought you weren’t going to keep her because she can’t or won’t cook.”

  “I know, but I haven’t had time to find anyone else yet. I think she’s about to quit anyway. This sort of establishment is so far beneath her. But she has to maintain a semblance of politeness or I might not give her a good reference.” She grinned, then turned to the biggest dummy. “This is yours,” she said. “I had a brilliant idea. Because the lines are so simple I’m going to do a wide band of pearls around the waist, like this.” And she held up a piece of fabric embroidered with pearls for me to inspect.

  “Oh yes.” I beamed. “That would be splendid.”

  “And I thought I’d echo that theme for the princesses,” she said. “A thin band of pearls at their waists and then random pearls embroidered into their fabric.”

  I looked at her sketches. “Perfect, Belinda,” I said.

  “Good.” She sounded pleased. “I’ll be ready to go to the princesses for a fitting in another week, I think, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d come with me. I’m afraid I’ll get nervous and stick a pin into a princess or something.”

  I shot a glance at her. This was Belinda, who had been afraid of nothing. She who climbed down the roof at school to meet ski instructors. Having a baby had certainly changed her. Secretly I hoped she would gradually get back some of that derring-do personality I had so much envied.

  “Of course I’ll come with you,” I said. “But I wouldn’t worry about sticking a pin. Elizabeth would be too polite to tell you and Margaret would let you know instantly! In fact she’ll probably hit you. But they are both sweet girls and so is their mother.”

  Belinda went to say something, then looked up with an expression of delight on her face. “I’ve just realized: If your grandfather’s future bride has snuffed it, then there will be no talk of including the dreaded granddaughter in the wedding, will there?”

  “Oh golly, you’re right. Thank heaven for small mercies. I was so worried about that.”

  “So was I,” said Belinda. “I didn’t think I’d bought enough fabric!”

  And we both laughed. It felt wonderful.

  Chapter 26

  TUESDAY, JULY 2

  AT RANNOCH HOUSE IN BELGRAVIA AND AFTERWARD BACK AT EYNSLEIGH

  I’m still in shock. I can’t get over the awful despair I felt when I thought that Granddad had died. Now nothing else matters but knowing that he’s alive, and he’ll be coming down to Eynsleigh and I can make everything all right for him. And I’m wrestling with the feelings of guilt that I’m relieved he’s not going to be marrying Mrs. Huggins. I suppose I should be sad for him, but I’m really not.

  I left Belinda, having planned out with her when I’d come for my fittings and when we’d go to the house on Piccadilly for the princesses to try on their dresses. Then I decided I still had time to pop across to Rannoch House and see if any wedding RSVPs had come yet. I was shown into the drawing room, where Binky and Fig were having tea.

  “You’re just in time, Georgie,” Binky said. “Pull up a chair and dig in.”

  There was a big Victoria sponge on the table as well as iced fairy cakes and crumpets. It looked most tempting and I realized that we had missed lunch. “Thank you,” I said.

  Fig looked rather put out that she’d have to share the meal.

  “How is your foot doing, Binky?” I asked as I put a couple of fairy cakes on my plate and poured myself a cup of tea.

  “Right as rain, thank you,” he said. “In fact you’ve just caught us. We’re taking the Flying Scot back home tomorrow. We won’t be back down until a week before your wedding. I’m getting a new kilt made. The old one is a trifle snug these days. I had it made for me when I was eighteen.”

  I noticed that he was getting a little broader around the middle.

  “And we’re having a first kilt made for Podge too,” Fig said. “He’s very excited about being a page boy. So did you decide on having bridesmaids? I’m afraid I can’t recommend Addy. She is such a willful child.”

  “My best friend, Belinda, will be maid of honor,” I said, “and the two little princesses are going to be my bridesmaids.”

  “Elizabeth and Margaret?” Fig sounded either amazed or impressed. “You asked them to be part of your wedding?”

  “Actually I was asked, by the queen, on their behalf,” I said. “Naturally I was pleased to say yes.” I took a satisfying bite of cake.

  “And the king and queen?”

  “Both coming,” I said, “although the king is quite put out that it’s not at Westminster Abbey.”

  “And they will be coming back here, to the house, afterward?” Fig asked, glancing nervously at Binky now.

  “I expect so.”

  Fig’s eyes were now open rather wide. “Exactly how many royals will be coming?”

  I grinned. “Well, the queen wanted half the crowned heads of Europe, but Darcy and I have kept it down to those that we know personally.”

  “Half the crowned heads of Europe!” Fig sounded alarmed. “Did you hear that, Binky? Coming to this house.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this house, Fig,” Binky said. “I remember Father used to entertain the old king before the war. He was his uncle, after all. And these are all Georgie’s relatives so it’s only natural that they come to her wedding.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Fig could never get over the fact that I was related to the royal family and she wasn’t. It was a constant thorn in her side.

  “Don’t worry, Fig,” I said. “The crowned heads of Europe probably won’t come. Have any RSVPs come back yet?”

  “I think there are a few letters for you in the front hall,” Fig said.

  I jumped up and went through to the front hall, where Hamilton, the butler, appeared in that uncanny way that well-trained butlers have.

  “You’ll be wanting your post, my lady,” he said and handed them to me.

  “Thank you, Hamilton.” I took them.

  “And may I say how delighted I am that we’ll be having the wedding breakfast here at Rannoch House. You’ve brought honor upon the family, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Hamilton,” I said. As I walked back into the drawing room I was deep in thought. This was a butler of the old school. He made sure the household ran smoothly. He knew the right thing to say. And when the family was honored, then he shared in that honor. So unlike that dratted Plunkett. I came back into the drawing room still thinking.

  “Are either of you acquainted with a Countess of Malmsbury?” I asked.

  Binky, as usual, looked blank. “Never heard of her,” he said.

  “You’ve never heard of anybody,” Fig said scathingly. “You are the most unsocial person in the universe, Binky. If it was up to you you’d stay at that dratted castle in Scotland with your Highland cattle and be quite content.”

  “You’re right. I would, old bean,” he said.

  “So do you know this lady, Fig?” I asked. “You come from Cheshire, don’t you?”

  “Derbyshire. Close,” she said. “But yes, I do know of her. I think I met the old countess when I was a child. Rather an eccentric old thing. Wore black shawls like a witch.”

  “You don’t remember her butler, do you?”

  “Her butler?” She gave me a withering smile. “Who ever remembers butlers? Unless they do something terrible like spill the sherry on one.”

  I took a seat again and opened the first envelope. “Oh good. Cousin Fergus and Cousin Lachlan have accepted.”

  “They’ll be wanting to stay here at the house, I expect,” Fig said, her lips pursed. I knew what she was thinking. They were both large Scottish lads with prodigious appetites, for both food and whiskey.

  The next two were from Darcy’s list and were delighted to accept. And the fourth bore a crest on the envelope. It said:

  His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas of Bulgaria and Princess Maria regret they will be unable to attend.

  And then, underneath, in ordinary handwriting Nicholas had written:

  Sorry to be missing this but Maria is due to give birth to our first child that same week. Wishing you much joy.

  I looked up. “That will be a relief for you,” I said. “The Bulgarian royals can’t come. Princess Maria is about to give birth.”

  “Exactly how do you know the Bulgarian royal family?” Fig asked.