Papaya 4, Sangria 14 [Divide and Rule]
Title: The Past Is Neither Dead Nor Distant
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Papaya #4 (have it your way), Sangria #14 (Into each life some rain must fall)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Gummy Bunnies hc_bingo square “lost childhood”.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5182
Notes: 1954; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves (& some family history).
Summary: Julia doesn’t like strangers in the house (or mushroom soup), and Edward doesn’t want to talk about his mother. It all comes down to much the same thing, in the end.
***
“Oh, Julia,” said Edward, poking his head round the door, having just returned from some meeting or other - Julia realised rather guiltily that she had barely the haziest idea of what it might have been. “Have you seen my reading glasses anywhere?”
She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor with Emily on her lap and frowned in thought for a moment. “On the bedside cabinet, perhaps? Edward -”
“You may be right,” he said, emerging fully into the room. “And I’m sorry - good afternoon, Julia, I should say.”
Julia smiled. “Oh, I’ll forgive you this once.” She didn’t tease him; holding back as she had something to ask him, something she wasn’t at all sure he would take well.
He hovered by the sofa, not quite staying, not quite going; watching her with Emily. “We really should see about finding another nanny.”
“No, we shouldn’t!” said Julia, instantly forgetting her question. She tightened her hold on Emily, causing her small daughter to protest. “Mrs Crosbie and I can manage perfectly, thank you.”
Edward perched on the arm of the sofa. “Julia, be sensible. You may think so, but what about Mrs Crosbie? It’s not as if she’s getting any younger, you know.”
Julia lifted her head, looking over at him with a sudden gleam of amusement in her face. She raised an eyebrow at him and then released Emily, their daughter wanting her freedom now. “Oh, darling, you should say that to her. Exactly like that, especially the last part. Then we’ll never be able to employ any other help without mortally offending her.”
“It’s hardly an unreasonable question,” said Edward. “I know you have this odd dislike of having other people in the house, but I do think -”
Julia shook her head, cutting him short. “No, honestly, Ned, I mean it. Mrs Crosbie does most of the work, and I keep an eye on Emily, and it’s all fine. She was pleased, anyway - one of her ladies had died, and she’d just lost another who’d gone to live with her sister, so she wanted the extra hours. And that suits us all,” she finished, picking up Emily who’d fallen over. She kissed her daughter’s head, as Emily pulled at her hair. “Nice Nanny was one thing, but nobody wants another Cross Nanny.”
“Really, Julia!”
Julia glanced up, unsure what it was she’d said this time. “The point is that everything is fine as it as. And it’s not an odd dislike, it’s only -” She stopped and waved a hand vaguely, as Emily set off toddling again. Then she shrugged, and merely said, cryptically, “Cream of mushroom soup.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
She shook her head. “I’d be very surprised if you did. Perhaps, one day I shall explain. In the meantime, don’t tell me that it isn’t much nicer sitting here like this, with no threat of Cross Nanny coming in and telling us all off.”
“Julia, you can’t keep referring to Miss Armitage in that ridiculous way!”
“I shall call her what I like,” said Julia. “Honestly, Ned, she just waltzed in and positively snatched Emily from Aunt Daisy that day! Don’t you try to tell me you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing. And isn’t it so much nicer now? I know you worry, but it’s been nearly two years and there’s not the least need.”
Edward didn’t answer, having been distracted by Emily, who’d made it over to the sofa and wanted his attention. Julia brushed down her skirt, now crumpled and with some sticky fingerprints on it, and then watched them with a smile, before she remembered what she was supposed to be saying. She hesitated a little while longer, not wanting to spoil the moment, but it couldn’t wait forever.
“Edward, I have to tell you something,” she said, as soon as Emily had moved away to play with her coloured bricks. “Oh, Emily, don’t throw them! That’s better.”
Edward came over to join them. “Tell me what?”
“The thing is,” said Julia, hurried and breathless, “I went to Mr Taylor’s funeral this morning. Your - your stepfather, I mean.” She watched him and saw his face turn carefully blank. “While I was there, I spoke to his housekeeper, and the thing is -”
“Why?” Edward said, and he was very still suddenly, looking at her hard. “Julia?”
Julia didn’t answer the question, determined to get to the end of her sentence first. “I was saying I spoke to the housekeeper - Mrs Welland. Well, actually, she was the one who cornered me as soon as she realised who I was -”
Edward had been holding a couple of envelopes in his hand, bills he must have picked up in the hallway on his way in. Now he was gripping them so tightly, he was crumpling them. He paused to glance down, as if surprised to find them there, and threw them onto the coffee table out of the way. “Julia,” he said again. “Why were you there? You know that I never wanted anything to do with that man again. You had no business being there.”
“Please let me tell you what she said,” Julia continued, clenching her hands into fists, because she disliked him being quite so accusatory towards her. “She wanted me to talk to you, to ask you to come over. She says there are still a lot of your mother’s things in the house and his family don’t want them - certainly not odd things like photographs, that sort of thing. She says there are some pieces of jewellery, too, that were definitely hers.”
“Oh, is that what you were after?” he snapped. “Well, I doubt it would be worth your while! How could you, Julia?”
She flinched, growing angry despite her resolution to keep her temper, though she didn’t dignify that particular insult with an answer. “There’s very little left on my side of the family - all I have are a handful of photographs that I had with me at school, and that old necklace of Mother’s she let me have for luck before she left. I thought perhaps it might be nice to have some things for Emily one of these days when she’s old enough to ask. Besides, even if you’re not interested, you ought to remember that the rest of the family might be - Aunt Daisy, your cousins, even Uncle Ted. I think, from the things they’ve said, that they would be very happy to have something to remember her by.”
“How did you know?” said Edward, barely taking any note of her careful reasoning. “How did you even know he’d died? Don’t tell me you saw it in the paper, not with a common name like Taylor! Somebody told you, didn’t they? Come on, Julia!”
Julia coloured, since she’d been hoping to avoid explaining that part. She didn’t answer him directly; she ploughed on, trying to finish her tale. “So, I think you ought to speak to her - Mrs Welland, I mean. She was very anxious that you should.”
“I’d like to know who told you!”
Julia had to take hold of Emily, who was on the point of crying now, upset by his obvious anger. “Shh,” she said, letting it double up for both of them. “Keep your voice down, Edward. And if you really must know, it was Aunt Daisy. She telephoned and asked me to go.”
“Well, she’s got no right to interfere,” said Edward. He walked sharply away. “I have no intention of setting foot in that house again, even if he is dead! My God, she should know when to leave something alone.”
Julia quietened Emily and wished herself that Aunt Daisy hadn’t brought her into this. “She asked me, Edward. It was her sister, after all. She said to find out what had happened to her belongings, because -”
“As if Aunt Daisy cares about things!”
“I don’t see why she should lie to me,” said Julia, nettled. “If she has some ulterior motive, well, that’s between the two of you - but, Edward, don’t say anything to her now, when you know she isn’t that well.”
“I won’t,” he said. He sounded a little calmer, but she wasn’t sure he could be, not yet. “I still don’t see any reason to go back to that house. If Aunt Daisy wants something, then ask her what it was, and you can go. It’s nothing to do with me.”
Julia had to bite back an instinct to tell him not to be so silly - of course it was to do with him, whether he liked it or not - but she managed to stop herself. “Mrs Welland really did want to speak to you. If you don’t go, she may telephone you anyway. Edward, please at least think about it.”
“Do excuse me,” was all he said, however, and left the room, wrapped in an impenetrable politeness.
Julia sighed to herself and kissed Emily’s head again, as her small daughter started to cry. “Yes, darling, I know,” she said under her breath, and wished again that Edward and Aunt Daisy could have worked this out between them without dragging her into it. Aunt Daisy’s phone call hadn’t been a great deal more rational than Edward’s reaction, either. (“You’ll go, won’t you?” Aunt Daisy had said. “I’m sorry I can’t, but on the other hand, you’ve a good deal more tact and I can trust you to make enquiries without offending anyone. I’m not sure I would.”
“I’ll do my best,” Julia had promised. “Although I can hardly see you making a scene at a funeral.”
“At that funeral I might. You know, one of my few regrets in life is that I didn’t kill that man when I had the chance.”
Julia had raised her eyebrows on the other end of the line, and also reflected on the fact that when Edward and Aunt Daisy spoke of his stepfather, they both used the same phrase, with implied capitals: That Man. She supposed she couldn’t blame them. She’d started to laugh, but Aunt Daisy had cut her off.
“You don’t think I’m serious, do you? Well, maybe not, but there was a time when I certainly felt like it. It’s probably only due to the fact that there were no weapons to hand that I walked out of there without committing violence. And ever since I’ve wondered if it might have been better if I had.”
Julia had raised her eyebrows still higher, and managed, “It would have been rather a scandal, you know - to say the least!” Aunt Daisy hadn’t sounded entirely convinced, leaving Julia more curious than she could admit to over what on earth must have happened.)
Julia’s own thoughts on the matter were that it all sounded very sad, but she couldn’t help feeling sceptical about Edward’s mother as well as Mr Taylor. It wasn’t as if she’d been locked up, she thought, and nobody had forced her to marry Mr Taylor, even though she had, as far as Julia could glean from what the rest of the family would tell her, known already that he didn’t want Edward around. Julia couldn’t imagine ever agreeing to marry someone under those conditions; nor, she thought, would anything short of being locked up keep her away from Emily. And she was biased, of course. She had never met Edward’s mother, and while she said nothing, deferring to the people had had known her, she could hardly feel anything for her other than anger at the way she’d hurt Edward, whatever her reasons had been.
Once Edward had calmed down, he condescended to ring Mrs Welland and arrange to go round to see her, as Julia had hoped he would. He did it with such a bad grace, however, that she refrained from making any further comments. She knew he was still angry with her, though he tried to mask it. She knew his moods too well by now to miss the way he strategically hid himself behind the newspaper at breakfast to avoid talking to her, and suddenly found the need to work anywhere other than his study.
Julia merely pretended for the moment that she didn’t notice, and hoped that he’d manage to get over her interference after he’d been to the house. He had occasionally mentioned his mother or his stepfather, but never in any detail, and she had felt instinctively even early on that it was something he must tell her one day if he would, not something she could ask from him. She could understand it, at least to some extent. Her family history was nothing like as complicated, but there were things she avoided telling him, too.
She was out when he returned, having taken Emily out for a walk, and hadn’t even realised he was back until after she’d put Emily down for her nap. She saw his hat and coat hanging in the hallway when she came back downstairs, and stopped, listening for him in the house, but it still felt too quiet.
“Edward?” she called out in the hallway, having failed to find him in the study or the living room, but he gave no answer. Julia frowned and paused to tap her fingers along the banister, beginning to feel worried as she made her way upstairs again, and found him in the bedroom, scowling over a pile of old letters lying on the bedcovers.
“Ned,” said Julia. “What are you doing?”
He gestured at the letters, but she couldn’t read his expression or understand what it was she was supposed to be seeing. She crossed over, and sat down on the other side of the bed, and leaned over to look.
“Oh,” she said, touching the nearest. They were letters from Edward to his mother, and no doubt that must be an eerie thing to read again, but it didn’t seem to account for the strangeness of his mood. “Your mother kept your letters all this time? I suppose she might, but I don’t see -”
Edward shook his head, interrupting her. “No, no, she didn’t,” he said. “Or, at least, yes, some of them - those are over there in the box with the other things.”
“I don’t understand,” Julia said. She checked the nearest letter again, not reading it, but the signature, to make sure that she hadn’t misread his name.
“Neither do I,” said Edward. “You know, I wondered about this before - I finally went to see her during the war, and she said something odd about never having received the wedding invitation. It crossed my mind then, but I told myself not to be so suspicious - after all, things do go missing in the post every day, and anything else would be too much like some Victorian melodrama.”
Julia finally comprehended what she was looking at, and with it, the strangeness of his mood. She found it as hard to swallow as he evidently had, though. “Mr Taylor kept these from your mother?”
“It seems so,” he said. “I don’t understand it myself. Not that I would ever take your letters, but I would assume that if one did, one would burn them, but it seems he kept them in the back of the wardrobe.”
Julia gave a slight shrug. “Maybe he could justify hiding them to himself, but not destroying them. People are very odd sometimes, and he certainly sounds as if he was odder than most.”
“I brought the box up to show you,” he said, still paying more attention to the letters than to her. “I meant to burn these myself, but I couldn’t quite. I don’t know why - as if they’re evidence against him, when it’s much too late.”
She couldn’t ever remember seeing him like this before. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, but she held back, unsure what his reaction would be if she did. “Ned.”
“I’d like to kill him,” he said, pale and taut with some unidentifiable emotion.
Julia couldn’t help a slight laugh; it escaped her before she could stop it. When he shot her a startled look, she leant forward, and said gently, “I’m sorry - don’t be angry again. It’s just that Aunt Daisy said almost exactly the same thing.” And, she thought, they were both about the last people she could imagine ever trying to murder someone.
He merely looked at her, his face blank, as if he couldn’t quite take in her words.
“Not that I blame you,” Julia said, putting a hand on his arm. “I should think anyone would feel that way after finding out something like this! But you can’t, you know, not now. It’s much too late, and, anyway, I really couldn’t have you being arrested for murder.”
Edward gave an unwilling laugh, which seemed to break his odd mood, and he put his hand to her face lightly, and she took that as an encouragement, putting her arms around him, and feeling something like a small tremor pass through him as he held onto her in return. She closed her eyes, saying nothing, threading her fingers through his hair.
“I always wondered,” he said, drawing away from her, but kissing her briefly on the side of her head as he did so. Then he stopped, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, I don’t suppose I can ever be sure, not even given this. It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Julia leant against him. “No, tell me, please. Whatever it is.”
He took her hand. “I suppose - you see, logically, one has to assume - either she let me down, or I let her down.”
“But you were only a boy when she married him,” said Julia. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Edward shut his eyes momentarily. “Oh, at the start, yes. But later on -” He stopped again, and she played with his hand. “I let things go for years, never even trying to visit her, all because -” He halted once more, and shrugged this time. “I despise myself.”
“But what could you have done?” said Julia. “It wasn’t only you, was it? Aunt Daisy, Uncle Ted - nobody else could do anything, either. Sometimes you simply can’t, and especially not when you don’t really know what the situation was.”
Edward looked away. “Still. I could have done what I did do in the end, and visit. God, Julia, you’ve no idea how nearly I didn’t go at all.”
She didn’t try to argue again, only stayed where she was for a while, until eventually, she broke the silence by saying, “Well, I think you can ask me about the mushroom soup now.”
Edward shifted in surprise, turning to look at her. “What on earth -?”
“Or why I really don’t want another Cross Nanny,” said Julia. “If you like.”
He gave a slight smile, still watching her quizzically, one eyebrow raised. “Very well, then. Why?”
“Because,” she said, after a short hesitation, mostly trying to think how to explain it before she tried his patience too far, but also out of the same fear that had kept her silent until now, “when Father was alive and Mother was busy being the life and soul of Society, our family wasn’t really the way it must have looked from the outside. I don’t know what was wrong, but our fortunes were always so up and down. Perhaps I’m exaggerating how often or how much in my memory, but one day we’d have everything, and a house full of servants - well, those that stayed despite Father’s temper - and the three of us with a governess, and then the next suddenly everyone would be gone and we’d have to be careful about everything, and Rudy and I would be sent to local school for a while till things evened out again. We didn’t mind that so much, but it meant that the household changed several times over - people never stayed. And I hated it - always different people in the house, listening to us, disapproving of us, and Father and Mother keeping up a façade for them all.”
Julia paused to glance at Edward, but he still only looked a little puzzled rather than annoyed by this strange digression from his problems.
“You said something about that once before,” was all he said. “I suppose I can see it would have been disconcerting for you.”
Julia gave a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how silly all this was going to sound. It’s just that - it isn’t silly when you’re small, is it? And then it stays with you. That’s not the point, though - bear with me.”
“No, no,” he said, shifting his position on the bed. “Carry on.”
“Well, once after we’d returned to normal, we had a new cook and a new maid, and Mother was giving a dinner - that’s where the mushroom soup comes into it - cream of mushroom soup,” Julia added, there being in her mind an irrational world of difference between that and other types of mushroom soup. “You see, my brother Christy liked to make up lurid tales, and Rudy and I always fell for them. You’d think we’d learn, but we never did. He told us that the new cook was a murderer who was going to poison us all - maybe he thought it was funny, maybe he thought we’d leave more helpings for him. And I already hated that new maid for some reason - I don’t remember why. I suppose she scolded me for something - probably deserved, but whatever it was, I was scared of her. I used to hide if I saw her coming. I had it fixed in my head she was going to do something awful to me.” She paused for breath again, feeling more foolish than ever and wishing she hadn’t started this. “Well, there I was, frightened of the maid, and even more terrified of the soup, thanks to Christy, and with all those people there, I couldn’t possibly explain. I had to eat it, of course, but I ended up running away from the table, and being sick in the garden. I was too embarrassed to come back in, and stayed out there crying till Mother came to find me. So, you see, the two things are all tangled together in my mind - strangers in the house and that awful dinner with the soup - and I don’t care to think about either of them.”
Edward was still watching her, his brow furrowed with bemusement. “Julia -”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Julia, colouring at how odd it must have sounded in this context. “I wasn’t meaning to say that it was the same thing at all, only to try and explain - and that I never did before, partly because I hate to bring back the feeling of that moment, and partly -” She halted, with an involuntary glance at the letters, which must have done a similar thing for him, taking him sharply back to a time he would prefer to forget.
He waited, and then, somewhat to her surprise, considering, said, “And partly because of -?”
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling her heart beating harder and herself unsteady at trying to say all this aloud, to him. “No, I do. I mean, because it’s all tied up with the things that I don’t know. You see, looking back, I wonder what my parents’ marriage was like. And the things is, even though I know that Father had a temper and that he could be beastly to Christy sometimes, he was never like that with me. He’d bring me little presents - ribbons and sweets and things - and take me with him to the printer’s sometimes, and they’d treat me like a mascot down there, and I’m afraid I loved all the attention.”
Edward put a hand up to her face. “Oh,” he said, evidently beginning to comprehend what she was trying to say.
“Yes,” she said, leaning against him. “Mother always had so many admirers - and I know it doesn’t really matter, not now anyway, but I didn’t want to think that maybe - maybe she’d had affairs - that maybe they hadn’t been happy. And I always avoided telling you any of that, because your family knew mine. I thought you might easily know and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.”
He shook his head. “Julia, no. My Aunt Anne certainly knew your people, and I believe my parents did, too, but it was never a very close acquaintance. If it helps, certainly I don’t recall ever hearing any such gossip.”
“But then,” said Julia, with a short, affectionate smile, “you probably wouldn’t have, would you?”
“Maybe not. But, Julia, I think you’d have known if there was someone, looking back. That you don’t suggests to me that there wasn’t.”
She took his hand. “I tell myself that, but it’s so impossible to be sure, isn’t it? There were always so many people around - and then, later, I was away at school. How would I know? I don’t think so, but maybe that’s just me being naïve - or wanting to think of her as I did then, almost like some sort of fairy queen in a story.”
“You know,” said Edward carefully, “it may be that you were more unsettled when your parents argued than they were. It doesn’t mean very much with some people - with most of us - but a child doesn’t necessarily know that.”
Julia smiled. She hadn’t ever considered the matter from that angle, and it could easily be true. “Maybe you’re right.” She certainly didn’t mean much of what she said in an argument; maybe she wasn’t so very unlike her parents. She stole a sidelong glance at him, wondering if that was what he’d meant, if he was teasing her with a stealth insult, but he wasn’t looking at her. As she did, it struck her that maybe it was easier to understand this business with Edward’s mother if she thought of it that way round; that maybe the two of them were alike. What if Caroline had come back to him at the start and they’d tried to put work things through? If he’d wound up in a functional but effectively loveless marriage, what would Edward ever say on the subject to anyone else? Nothing, she thought, nothing at all. For the first time, she could contemplate her unknown mother-in-law with the beginnings of some sympathy.
It was all speculation, though, she reminded herself, and as such ultimately pointless. She straightened herself and returned to her point: “Still, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t ever really know if that’s true or not, and you can’t ever know exactly what happened with your mother, either.”
“At the moment,” he said, tensing again, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Julia shook her head, and tightened her hold on his hand. “The thing is, while it’s not that it doesn’t matter, I know, what’s important is here and now, what we have - you and me and Emily. We can’t fix the past, or bring it back, or change it, either of us, so it’s now that we have to focus on, not then.”
“Yes,” he said, but he hadn’t relaxed again.
Julia turned her head. “Anyway, you said you wanted to burn the letters. Would you like me to do it for you? Or put them away somewhere you don’t have to look at them, in case you change your mind?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. The latter, perhaps. I don’t suppose I’m being entirely rational about it just now.”
“I won’t read them,” Julia said, and then instantly broke her promise in the process of gathering them up, as the words leapt out at her from the topmost letter. She glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You know, Edward, I find it hard to believe your school was actually invaded by a pack of hungry wolves.”
Edward stared. “What?”
“Well, I was trying not to look, but it’s right here at the top of this one.” She passed it over, careful this time to semi-fold the others in her hands, so no other words from the past escaped. “According to you, they ate the mathematics master.”
He shook his head, not taking the paper, and then putting a hand up towards his mouth, as if amused or embarrassed. “Ah,” he said. “Well, I never did like him much. And, of course not, Julia. It was only made up.” He shrugged. “There were reasons - I was twelve. Please, will you put them away somewhere?”
“Consider it done,” said Julia. “And, Edward, I am sorry about the business with Aunt Daisy, but, honestly, I didn’t see how I could refuse.”
Edward shrugged. “Oh, well, Aunt Daisy is always right; what can one do?”
Julia wasn’t sure whether that meant she was forgiven or not, but she decided to assume that she was, more or less. “It wasn’t fair, though,” she said. “I should at least have told you. And neither is this. You’re right; it isn’t something that should have actually happened.”
“Well, nobody died,” he said. “Not then, at least. Not like your family.”
She put the letters down on the bedside cabinet, and sat back down on the bed beside him. “If that made everything all right, then you wouldn’t have minded going back to that house, and you wouldn’t be troubled by these old letters.”
“If you want to read them,” said Edward, suddenly sounding weary, “you may. There’s nothing in them, not really. And as you say, it doesn’t matter. Now is what matters.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t matter. I would never say that. I said that now is what’s important.”
He kissed her, and nice as that was, she felt as if it was almost a dismissal. She wouldn’t let it be, digging her fingers into his jacket, not releasing him, though he drew back slightly, before he relented, and leant in against her.
“And,” she said, keeping hold of him, “to go back to my other point, don’t pretend that you would want Cr - Miss Armitage walking in now any more than I would. Probably to tell me that Emily has been sleeping for two minutes longer than she should and that I don’t look after her properly.”
“Julia! I’ve already said - as long as you and Mrs Crosbie are happy with the current arrangements, I’m certainly not going to interfere.”
She kissed him again. “Admit it, Ned, you didn’t like her any more than I did.”
“I don’t believe that I saw enough of her to offer an opinion.”
“Oh, no,” said Julia, “don’t you bring your evasive politician’s answers home to me.”
Edward said, “If you must, then, I suppose I didn’t. And I know you’re only trying to distract me. Julia, I assure you, there’s no need.”
“All this time,” said Julia, “and you don’t think I’m capable of being exactly this unreasonable?”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Papaya #4 (have it your way), Sangria #14 (Into each life some rain must fall)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Gummy Bunnies hc_bingo square “lost childhood”.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5182
Notes: 1954; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves (& some family history).
Summary: Julia doesn’t like strangers in the house (or mushroom soup), and Edward doesn’t want to talk about his mother. It all comes down to much the same thing, in the end.
***
“Oh, Julia,” said Edward, poking his head round the door, having just returned from some meeting or other - Julia realised rather guiltily that she had barely the haziest idea of what it might have been. “Have you seen my reading glasses anywhere?”
She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor with Emily on her lap and frowned in thought for a moment. “On the bedside cabinet, perhaps? Edward -”
“You may be right,” he said, emerging fully into the room. “And I’m sorry - good afternoon, Julia, I should say.”
Julia smiled. “Oh, I’ll forgive you this once.” She didn’t tease him; holding back as she had something to ask him, something she wasn’t at all sure he would take well.
He hovered by the sofa, not quite staying, not quite going; watching her with Emily. “We really should see about finding another nanny.”
“No, we shouldn’t!” said Julia, instantly forgetting her question. She tightened her hold on Emily, causing her small daughter to protest. “Mrs Crosbie and I can manage perfectly, thank you.”
Edward perched on the arm of the sofa. “Julia, be sensible. You may think so, but what about Mrs Crosbie? It’s not as if she’s getting any younger, you know.”
Julia lifted her head, looking over at him with a sudden gleam of amusement in her face. She raised an eyebrow at him and then released Emily, their daughter wanting her freedom now. “Oh, darling, you should say that to her. Exactly like that, especially the last part. Then we’ll never be able to employ any other help without mortally offending her.”
“It’s hardly an unreasonable question,” said Edward. “I know you have this odd dislike of having other people in the house, but I do think -”
Julia shook her head, cutting him short. “No, honestly, Ned, I mean it. Mrs Crosbie does most of the work, and I keep an eye on Emily, and it’s all fine. She was pleased, anyway - one of her ladies had died, and she’d just lost another who’d gone to live with her sister, so she wanted the extra hours. And that suits us all,” she finished, picking up Emily who’d fallen over. She kissed her daughter’s head, as Emily pulled at her hair. “Nice Nanny was one thing, but nobody wants another Cross Nanny.”
“Really, Julia!”
Julia glanced up, unsure what it was she’d said this time. “The point is that everything is fine as it as. And it’s not an odd dislike, it’s only -” She stopped and waved a hand vaguely, as Emily set off toddling again. Then she shrugged, and merely said, cryptically, “Cream of mushroom soup.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
She shook her head. “I’d be very surprised if you did. Perhaps, one day I shall explain. In the meantime, don’t tell me that it isn’t much nicer sitting here like this, with no threat of Cross Nanny coming in and telling us all off.”
“Julia, you can’t keep referring to Miss Armitage in that ridiculous way!”
“I shall call her what I like,” said Julia. “Honestly, Ned, she just waltzed in and positively snatched Emily from Aunt Daisy that day! Don’t you try to tell me you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing. And isn’t it so much nicer now? I know you worry, but it’s been nearly two years and there’s not the least need.”
Edward didn’t answer, having been distracted by Emily, who’d made it over to the sofa and wanted his attention. Julia brushed down her skirt, now crumpled and with some sticky fingerprints on it, and then watched them with a smile, before she remembered what she was supposed to be saying. She hesitated a little while longer, not wanting to spoil the moment, but it couldn’t wait forever.
“Edward, I have to tell you something,” she said, as soon as Emily had moved away to play with her coloured bricks. “Oh, Emily, don’t throw them! That’s better.”
Edward came over to join them. “Tell me what?”
“The thing is,” said Julia, hurried and breathless, “I went to Mr Taylor’s funeral this morning. Your - your stepfather, I mean.” She watched him and saw his face turn carefully blank. “While I was there, I spoke to his housekeeper, and the thing is -”
“Why?” Edward said, and he was very still suddenly, looking at her hard. “Julia?”
Julia didn’t answer the question, determined to get to the end of her sentence first. “I was saying I spoke to the housekeeper - Mrs Welland. Well, actually, she was the one who cornered me as soon as she realised who I was -”
Edward had been holding a couple of envelopes in his hand, bills he must have picked up in the hallway on his way in. Now he was gripping them so tightly, he was crumpling them. He paused to glance down, as if surprised to find them there, and threw them onto the coffee table out of the way. “Julia,” he said again. “Why were you there? You know that I never wanted anything to do with that man again. You had no business being there.”
“Please let me tell you what she said,” Julia continued, clenching her hands into fists, because she disliked him being quite so accusatory towards her. “She wanted me to talk to you, to ask you to come over. She says there are still a lot of your mother’s things in the house and his family don’t want them - certainly not odd things like photographs, that sort of thing. She says there are some pieces of jewellery, too, that were definitely hers.”
“Oh, is that what you were after?” he snapped. “Well, I doubt it would be worth your while! How could you, Julia?”
She flinched, growing angry despite her resolution to keep her temper, though she didn’t dignify that particular insult with an answer. “There’s very little left on my side of the family - all I have are a handful of photographs that I had with me at school, and that old necklace of Mother’s she let me have for luck before she left. I thought perhaps it might be nice to have some things for Emily one of these days when she’s old enough to ask. Besides, even if you’re not interested, you ought to remember that the rest of the family might be - Aunt Daisy, your cousins, even Uncle Ted. I think, from the things they’ve said, that they would be very happy to have something to remember her by.”
“How did you know?” said Edward, barely taking any note of her careful reasoning. “How did you even know he’d died? Don’t tell me you saw it in the paper, not with a common name like Taylor! Somebody told you, didn’t they? Come on, Julia!”
Julia coloured, since she’d been hoping to avoid explaining that part. She didn’t answer him directly; she ploughed on, trying to finish her tale. “So, I think you ought to speak to her - Mrs Welland, I mean. She was very anxious that you should.”
“I’d like to know who told you!”
Julia had to take hold of Emily, who was on the point of crying now, upset by his obvious anger. “Shh,” she said, letting it double up for both of them. “Keep your voice down, Edward. And if you really must know, it was Aunt Daisy. She telephoned and asked me to go.”
“Well, she’s got no right to interfere,” said Edward. He walked sharply away. “I have no intention of setting foot in that house again, even if he is dead! My God, she should know when to leave something alone.”
Julia quietened Emily and wished herself that Aunt Daisy hadn’t brought her into this. “She asked me, Edward. It was her sister, after all. She said to find out what had happened to her belongings, because -”
“As if Aunt Daisy cares about things!”
“I don’t see why she should lie to me,” said Julia, nettled. “If she has some ulterior motive, well, that’s between the two of you - but, Edward, don’t say anything to her now, when you know she isn’t that well.”
“I won’t,” he said. He sounded a little calmer, but she wasn’t sure he could be, not yet. “I still don’t see any reason to go back to that house. If Aunt Daisy wants something, then ask her what it was, and you can go. It’s nothing to do with me.”
Julia had to bite back an instinct to tell him not to be so silly - of course it was to do with him, whether he liked it or not - but she managed to stop herself. “Mrs Welland really did want to speak to you. If you don’t go, she may telephone you anyway. Edward, please at least think about it.”
“Do excuse me,” was all he said, however, and left the room, wrapped in an impenetrable politeness.
Julia sighed to herself and kissed Emily’s head again, as her small daughter started to cry. “Yes, darling, I know,” she said under her breath, and wished again that Edward and Aunt Daisy could have worked this out between them without dragging her into it. Aunt Daisy’s phone call hadn’t been a great deal more rational than Edward’s reaction, either. (“You’ll go, won’t you?” Aunt Daisy had said. “I’m sorry I can’t, but on the other hand, you’ve a good deal more tact and I can trust you to make enquiries without offending anyone. I’m not sure I would.”
“I’ll do my best,” Julia had promised. “Although I can hardly see you making a scene at a funeral.”
“At that funeral I might. You know, one of my few regrets in life is that I didn’t kill that man when I had the chance.”
Julia had raised her eyebrows on the other end of the line, and also reflected on the fact that when Edward and Aunt Daisy spoke of his stepfather, they both used the same phrase, with implied capitals: That Man. She supposed she couldn’t blame them. She’d started to laugh, but Aunt Daisy had cut her off.
“You don’t think I’m serious, do you? Well, maybe not, but there was a time when I certainly felt like it. It’s probably only due to the fact that there were no weapons to hand that I walked out of there without committing violence. And ever since I’ve wondered if it might have been better if I had.”
Julia had raised her eyebrows still higher, and managed, “It would have been rather a scandal, you know - to say the least!” Aunt Daisy hadn’t sounded entirely convinced, leaving Julia more curious than she could admit to over what on earth must have happened.)
Julia’s own thoughts on the matter were that it all sounded very sad, but she couldn’t help feeling sceptical about Edward’s mother as well as Mr Taylor. It wasn’t as if she’d been locked up, she thought, and nobody had forced her to marry Mr Taylor, even though she had, as far as Julia could glean from what the rest of the family would tell her, known already that he didn’t want Edward around. Julia couldn’t imagine ever agreeing to marry someone under those conditions; nor, she thought, would anything short of being locked up keep her away from Emily. And she was biased, of course. She had never met Edward’s mother, and while she said nothing, deferring to the people had had known her, she could hardly feel anything for her other than anger at the way she’d hurt Edward, whatever her reasons had been.
Once Edward had calmed down, he condescended to ring Mrs Welland and arrange to go round to see her, as Julia had hoped he would. He did it with such a bad grace, however, that she refrained from making any further comments. She knew he was still angry with her, though he tried to mask it. She knew his moods too well by now to miss the way he strategically hid himself behind the newspaper at breakfast to avoid talking to her, and suddenly found the need to work anywhere other than his study.
Julia merely pretended for the moment that she didn’t notice, and hoped that he’d manage to get over her interference after he’d been to the house. He had occasionally mentioned his mother or his stepfather, but never in any detail, and she had felt instinctively even early on that it was something he must tell her one day if he would, not something she could ask from him. She could understand it, at least to some extent. Her family history was nothing like as complicated, but there were things she avoided telling him, too.
She was out when he returned, having taken Emily out for a walk, and hadn’t even realised he was back until after she’d put Emily down for her nap. She saw his hat and coat hanging in the hallway when she came back downstairs, and stopped, listening for him in the house, but it still felt too quiet.
“Edward?” she called out in the hallway, having failed to find him in the study or the living room, but he gave no answer. Julia frowned and paused to tap her fingers along the banister, beginning to feel worried as she made her way upstairs again, and found him in the bedroom, scowling over a pile of old letters lying on the bedcovers.
“Ned,” said Julia. “What are you doing?”
He gestured at the letters, but she couldn’t read his expression or understand what it was she was supposed to be seeing. She crossed over, and sat down on the other side of the bed, and leaned over to look.
“Oh,” she said, touching the nearest. They were letters from Edward to his mother, and no doubt that must be an eerie thing to read again, but it didn’t seem to account for the strangeness of his mood. “Your mother kept your letters all this time? I suppose she might, but I don’t see -”
Edward shook his head, interrupting her. “No, no, she didn’t,” he said. “Or, at least, yes, some of them - those are over there in the box with the other things.”
“I don’t understand,” Julia said. She checked the nearest letter again, not reading it, but the signature, to make sure that she hadn’t misread his name.
“Neither do I,” said Edward. “You know, I wondered about this before - I finally went to see her during the war, and she said something odd about never having received the wedding invitation. It crossed my mind then, but I told myself not to be so suspicious - after all, things do go missing in the post every day, and anything else would be too much like some Victorian melodrama.”
Julia finally comprehended what she was looking at, and with it, the strangeness of his mood. She found it as hard to swallow as he evidently had, though. “Mr Taylor kept these from your mother?”
“It seems so,” he said. “I don’t understand it myself. Not that I would ever take your letters, but I would assume that if one did, one would burn them, but it seems he kept them in the back of the wardrobe.”
Julia gave a slight shrug. “Maybe he could justify hiding them to himself, but not destroying them. People are very odd sometimes, and he certainly sounds as if he was odder than most.”
“I brought the box up to show you,” he said, still paying more attention to the letters than to her. “I meant to burn these myself, but I couldn’t quite. I don’t know why - as if they’re evidence against him, when it’s much too late.”
She couldn’t ever remember seeing him like this before. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, but she held back, unsure what his reaction would be if she did. “Ned.”
“I’d like to kill him,” he said, pale and taut with some unidentifiable emotion.
Julia couldn’t help a slight laugh; it escaped her before she could stop it. When he shot her a startled look, she leant forward, and said gently, “I’m sorry - don’t be angry again. It’s just that Aunt Daisy said almost exactly the same thing.” And, she thought, they were both about the last people she could imagine ever trying to murder someone.
He merely looked at her, his face blank, as if he couldn’t quite take in her words.
“Not that I blame you,” Julia said, putting a hand on his arm. “I should think anyone would feel that way after finding out something like this! But you can’t, you know, not now. It’s much too late, and, anyway, I really couldn’t have you being arrested for murder.”
Edward gave an unwilling laugh, which seemed to break his odd mood, and he put his hand to her face lightly, and she took that as an encouragement, putting her arms around him, and feeling something like a small tremor pass through him as he held onto her in return. She closed her eyes, saying nothing, threading her fingers through his hair.
“I always wondered,” he said, drawing away from her, but kissing her briefly on the side of her head as he did so. Then he stopped, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, I don’t suppose I can ever be sure, not even given this. It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Julia leant against him. “No, tell me, please. Whatever it is.”
He took her hand. “I suppose - you see, logically, one has to assume - either she let me down, or I let her down.”
“But you were only a boy when she married him,” said Julia. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Edward shut his eyes momentarily. “Oh, at the start, yes. But later on -” He stopped again, and she played with his hand. “I let things go for years, never even trying to visit her, all because -” He halted once more, and shrugged this time. “I despise myself.”
“But what could you have done?” said Julia. “It wasn’t only you, was it? Aunt Daisy, Uncle Ted - nobody else could do anything, either. Sometimes you simply can’t, and especially not when you don’t really know what the situation was.”
Edward looked away. “Still. I could have done what I did do in the end, and visit. God, Julia, you’ve no idea how nearly I didn’t go at all.”
She didn’t try to argue again, only stayed where she was for a while, until eventually, she broke the silence by saying, “Well, I think you can ask me about the mushroom soup now.”
Edward shifted in surprise, turning to look at her. “What on earth -?”
“Or why I really don’t want another Cross Nanny,” said Julia. “If you like.”
He gave a slight smile, still watching her quizzically, one eyebrow raised. “Very well, then. Why?”
“Because,” she said, after a short hesitation, mostly trying to think how to explain it before she tried his patience too far, but also out of the same fear that had kept her silent until now, “when Father was alive and Mother was busy being the life and soul of Society, our family wasn’t really the way it must have looked from the outside. I don’t know what was wrong, but our fortunes were always so up and down. Perhaps I’m exaggerating how often or how much in my memory, but one day we’d have everything, and a house full of servants - well, those that stayed despite Father’s temper - and the three of us with a governess, and then the next suddenly everyone would be gone and we’d have to be careful about everything, and Rudy and I would be sent to local school for a while till things evened out again. We didn’t mind that so much, but it meant that the household changed several times over - people never stayed. And I hated it - always different people in the house, listening to us, disapproving of us, and Father and Mother keeping up a façade for them all.”
Julia paused to glance at Edward, but he still only looked a little puzzled rather than annoyed by this strange digression from his problems.
“You said something about that once before,” was all he said. “I suppose I can see it would have been disconcerting for you.”
Julia gave a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how silly all this was going to sound. It’s just that - it isn’t silly when you’re small, is it? And then it stays with you. That’s not the point, though - bear with me.”
“No, no,” he said, shifting his position on the bed. “Carry on.”
“Well, once after we’d returned to normal, we had a new cook and a new maid, and Mother was giving a dinner - that’s where the mushroom soup comes into it - cream of mushroom soup,” Julia added, there being in her mind an irrational world of difference between that and other types of mushroom soup. “You see, my brother Christy liked to make up lurid tales, and Rudy and I always fell for them. You’d think we’d learn, but we never did. He told us that the new cook was a murderer who was going to poison us all - maybe he thought it was funny, maybe he thought we’d leave more helpings for him. And I already hated that new maid for some reason - I don’t remember why. I suppose she scolded me for something - probably deserved, but whatever it was, I was scared of her. I used to hide if I saw her coming. I had it fixed in my head she was going to do something awful to me.” She paused for breath again, feeling more foolish than ever and wishing she hadn’t started this. “Well, there I was, frightened of the maid, and even more terrified of the soup, thanks to Christy, and with all those people there, I couldn’t possibly explain. I had to eat it, of course, but I ended up running away from the table, and being sick in the garden. I was too embarrassed to come back in, and stayed out there crying till Mother came to find me. So, you see, the two things are all tangled together in my mind - strangers in the house and that awful dinner with the soup - and I don’t care to think about either of them.”
Edward was still watching her, his brow furrowed with bemusement. “Julia -”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Julia, colouring at how odd it must have sounded in this context. “I wasn’t meaning to say that it was the same thing at all, only to try and explain - and that I never did before, partly because I hate to bring back the feeling of that moment, and partly -” She halted, with an involuntary glance at the letters, which must have done a similar thing for him, taking him sharply back to a time he would prefer to forget.
He waited, and then, somewhat to her surprise, considering, said, “And partly because of -?”
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling her heart beating harder and herself unsteady at trying to say all this aloud, to him. “No, I do. I mean, because it’s all tied up with the things that I don’t know. You see, looking back, I wonder what my parents’ marriage was like. And the things is, even though I know that Father had a temper and that he could be beastly to Christy sometimes, he was never like that with me. He’d bring me little presents - ribbons and sweets and things - and take me with him to the printer’s sometimes, and they’d treat me like a mascot down there, and I’m afraid I loved all the attention.”
Edward put a hand up to her face. “Oh,” he said, evidently beginning to comprehend what she was trying to say.
“Yes,” she said, leaning against him. “Mother always had so many admirers - and I know it doesn’t really matter, not now anyway, but I didn’t want to think that maybe - maybe she’d had affairs - that maybe they hadn’t been happy. And I always avoided telling you any of that, because your family knew mine. I thought you might easily know and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.”
He shook his head. “Julia, no. My Aunt Anne certainly knew your people, and I believe my parents did, too, but it was never a very close acquaintance. If it helps, certainly I don’t recall ever hearing any such gossip.”
“But then,” said Julia, with a short, affectionate smile, “you probably wouldn’t have, would you?”
“Maybe not. But, Julia, I think you’d have known if there was someone, looking back. That you don’t suggests to me that there wasn’t.”
She took his hand. “I tell myself that, but it’s so impossible to be sure, isn’t it? There were always so many people around - and then, later, I was away at school. How would I know? I don’t think so, but maybe that’s just me being naïve - or wanting to think of her as I did then, almost like some sort of fairy queen in a story.”
“You know,” said Edward carefully, “it may be that you were more unsettled when your parents argued than they were. It doesn’t mean very much with some people - with most of us - but a child doesn’t necessarily know that.”
Julia smiled. She hadn’t ever considered the matter from that angle, and it could easily be true. “Maybe you’re right.” She certainly didn’t mean much of what she said in an argument; maybe she wasn’t so very unlike her parents. She stole a sidelong glance at him, wondering if that was what he’d meant, if he was teasing her with a stealth insult, but he wasn’t looking at her. As she did, it struck her that maybe it was easier to understand this business with Edward’s mother if she thought of it that way round; that maybe the two of them were alike. What if Caroline had come back to him at the start and they’d tried to put work things through? If he’d wound up in a functional but effectively loveless marriage, what would Edward ever say on the subject to anyone else? Nothing, she thought, nothing at all. For the first time, she could contemplate her unknown mother-in-law with the beginnings of some sympathy.
It was all speculation, though, she reminded herself, and as such ultimately pointless. She straightened herself and returned to her point: “Still, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t ever really know if that’s true or not, and you can’t ever know exactly what happened with your mother, either.”
“At the moment,” he said, tensing again, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Julia shook her head, and tightened her hold on his hand. “The thing is, while it’s not that it doesn’t matter, I know, what’s important is here and now, what we have - you and me and Emily. We can’t fix the past, or bring it back, or change it, either of us, so it’s now that we have to focus on, not then.”
“Yes,” he said, but he hadn’t relaxed again.
Julia turned her head. “Anyway, you said you wanted to burn the letters. Would you like me to do it for you? Or put them away somewhere you don’t have to look at them, in case you change your mind?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. The latter, perhaps. I don’t suppose I’m being entirely rational about it just now.”
“I won’t read them,” Julia said, and then instantly broke her promise in the process of gathering them up, as the words leapt out at her from the topmost letter. She glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You know, Edward, I find it hard to believe your school was actually invaded by a pack of hungry wolves.”
Edward stared. “What?”
“Well, I was trying not to look, but it’s right here at the top of this one.” She passed it over, careful this time to semi-fold the others in her hands, so no other words from the past escaped. “According to you, they ate the mathematics master.”
He shook his head, not taking the paper, and then putting a hand up towards his mouth, as if amused or embarrassed. “Ah,” he said. “Well, I never did like him much. And, of course not, Julia. It was only made up.” He shrugged. “There were reasons - I was twelve. Please, will you put them away somewhere?”
“Consider it done,” said Julia. “And, Edward, I am sorry about the business with Aunt Daisy, but, honestly, I didn’t see how I could refuse.”
Edward shrugged. “Oh, well, Aunt Daisy is always right; what can one do?”
Julia wasn’t sure whether that meant she was forgiven or not, but she decided to assume that she was, more or less. “It wasn’t fair, though,” she said. “I should at least have told you. And neither is this. You’re right; it isn’t something that should have actually happened.”
“Well, nobody died,” he said. “Not then, at least. Not like your family.”
She put the letters down on the bedside cabinet, and sat back down on the bed beside him. “If that made everything all right, then you wouldn’t have minded going back to that house, and you wouldn’t be troubled by these old letters.”
“If you want to read them,” said Edward, suddenly sounding weary, “you may. There’s nothing in them, not really. And as you say, it doesn’t matter. Now is what matters.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t matter. I would never say that. I said that now is what’s important.”
He kissed her, and nice as that was, she felt as if it was almost a dismissal. She wouldn’t let it be, digging her fingers into his jacket, not releasing him, though he drew back slightly, before he relented, and leant in against her.
“And,” she said, keeping hold of him, “to go back to my other point, don’t pretend that you would want Cr - Miss Armitage walking in now any more than I would. Probably to tell me that Emily has been sleeping for two minutes longer than she should and that I don’t look after her properly.”
“Julia! I’ve already said - as long as you and Mrs Crosbie are happy with the current arrangements, I’m certainly not going to interfere.”
She kissed him again. “Admit it, Ned, you didn’t like her any more than I did.”
“I don’t believe that I saw enough of her to offer an opinion.”
“Oh, no,” said Julia, “don’t you bring your evasive politician’s answers home to me.”
Edward said, “If you must, then, I suppose I didn’t. And I know you’re only trying to distract me. Julia, I assure you, there’s no need.”
“All this time,” said Julia, “and you don’t think I’m capable of being exactly this unreasonable?”
***