AFTER THE GALA .
Time frame. During the Christmas celebrations. Juliette and Lee are killed in a fatal car crash on their way to join Alex and Peter at the Fund Raising Gala.
They had fled London in the early hours of the morning with their children; all of them bundled up and in five child seats in Alex’s roomy MPV. Mercifully they had escaped the voracious pursuit of the Paparazzi, who, unlucky for them; were keeping their restless vigil outside of Peters home, miles away across London from Alex’s Belgravia home.
Now it was evening. The old house had drawn in around them, silent, solid. Through the valleys and hills beyond its mullioned windows; a sighing wind drifted. Whispered through the small pastures and meadows that surrounded this Cornish sanctuary. A steady December rain had begun to fall, pattering on the flagged courtyard at the rear and some drops were already finding their way down the chimney, causing the glowing embers to sizzle in the grate.
Peter drew the heavy mulberry colour drapes across the latticed bay window of the tiny sitting room, turned; and crossed the room to the fireplace. Picked up the heavy brass poker from the hearth and coaxed the lazy flames into life, and for good measure threw a generous handful of pinecones into the blaze, careful to lay a few at the front of it, in time as they caught, a faint whisper of pine would permeate the room. He lingered there, resting comfortably on his muscular haunches, idly rolling two small cones across and across his slender fingers, enjoying the heat of the fire on his face.
The door opened behind him, the draught stirring the drapes at their hems. He rose in one easy motion, and walked toward Alex as she headed for the couch. He could smell the sweet fragrances of their children’s bath time still about her.
“You know, it was great out today, collecting these.” He glanced down at the cones still in his right hand before tossing them back into the huge, dark wicker basket beside the fireplace. “Of course I had to keep picking up Hannah. She is so unsteady on her feet for a two year old”
“Yes.” She sank on to the sumptuous couch; her voice echoed her fatigue, “when she’s on uneven ground bless her. Maggie was well away I expect?”
“Oh yes,” He joined her, dusting his hands off against his muscular thighs, his dark pants stretched across them as he sat down. “ Mind you, she stuck close to Andy after a while. He stays pretty close. How was Fiona?”
“A dream as ever Pete.” Alex unfolded a soft green chenille blanket that rested on the arm of the couch, and threw it across their knees. “She’s so placid and serene. I had her propped up in that old wicker cradle you used to like to play with. On the parlour table. She was Supervisory Cook. And there were Etta’s luminous brown eyes, watching, watching, not missing a thing for all of her two months in this world.” Peter took one of the plump scatter cushions, and balanced it on top of the back of the couch, resting his head against its edge. He reached for her hand. He received the familiar squeeze; he returned the pressure. Always the hands, since a child. Hers safeguarding and guiding, both the rescued and the rescuer, the gesture this time helping to assuage the agony of their loss. Three days behind them. No distance at all.
“Our first Christmas without” the sentence died .He rubbed his left hand absentmindedly across the two day stubble growing on his chin and sighing deeply settled more comfortably against the edge of the cushion. Alex had taken up the same position on the other side of it.
“Number one mission accomplished” Her voice trailed away.
“At least the girls will sleep.” He murmured.
“ Yes, your girls will sleep. He felt the small impatient movement of her head against the pillow that they shared. “I can guarantee that Andy won’t make it through the night. He never does.”
“What do you do about that?” He turned his head towards her and looked straight into those familiar green eyes. Pale shadows of grief and weariness beneath them now.
“We take him.” she stopped herself quickly, and lowered her gaze, and with the slender fingers of her left hand tucked a stray black curl back behind her ear before he had her eyes back, troubled with sadness. “I.” She pumped his hand still held in hers gently, “I mean, I will take him to bed with me for awhile until he falls asleep.” Their eyes held. An unwanted glimmer of humour stole into Peter’s, and he grinned weakly.
“ You mean you don’t give your son any of those butterfly wing kiss things you used to give me. They used to settle me down really well.” She grinned reluctantly back.
“Yea, I did didn’t I. when you were a little boy.” A frown creased between the winged eyebrows.” When you were little” Her voice dropped to a whisper. The eyes held again. Deep Ocean blue to green shore…”So long ago.” Now the shore searched the deep, searching, searching for an escape from the grief they shared. There was none.
Peter got up and walked the short distance back to the fire. He lent against the mantle. Arm outstretched supporting himself; his dark lashes cast shadows on his pale cheeks as he looked down into the flames.
“God Alex’ his voice at first deceptively calm, rose to an almost childlike incredulity.
“When will we ever get over this? Will we ever get over it?” He began to pace back and forth, as much as the small dimensions of the room would allow.
Alex had moved to the edge of the couch, elbows on her knees clenching and unclenching her small hands.
“We’ll cope. We have to cope.” He had stopped pacing momentarily thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and turned back to the fire. The burden he felt sitting squarely on his broad shoulders.
‘Etta” He was fighting for control. “My everything. All of my life, everything to me. We waited so many years to be old enough to get married to have a family. It was all over so quickly. Our adult life vanished. Over. Now a New Year ahead. But for who?” As he turned back to face Alex, already the tears were spilling from his eyes, and hung in droplets trapped in his lashes. He made no sound as the tears fell. “And the public. My public. What do they expect of me? I have no comfort to give them.”
“They will expect none Peter.” Alex looked up at him, seeing devastation written all over the generous open face, and as he wiped away the tears with the heels of his hands her memory traveled back across the years. What a miracle he was. She had been witness to it. The boy. The Lover. The bridegroom. The Father, and now a widower, so young. Alex was glad that his new baby daughter Fiona resembled his beloved Etta; and that she also had a likeness to the other baby who had died in his arms when he was fourteen. His adored cousin, Olwyn.
She stood up, the distance between them soon covered. He reached out his hands towards her, She held them firmly in her own, and caressed the prominent knuckles.
“I made a promise to you once .Do you remember?
“ There were many. All of them kept. I’m still a bit jumpy during thunder storms.”
“But you keep the talisman?”
“Always. It saved my life You saved my life.”
“And you mine.” She lowered her head again, intent. “It will ease.” The memories came back unbidden. She had held these hands so long. As a child’s’ plump and comforting. As a teenager, watched as the fingers had lengthened, the wrists turning to sticks.” It will ease for us. This loneliness. This separation from our first loves. This part of us that is lost.” Her voice was soft, yet clear.” Your public will understand, and respect Etta’s wishes for a private funeral, as well as Lee’s. All of us, all of them will grief with us and for us.” He looked down too, and watched her small, usually capable fingers still stroking his knuckles. The childhood game she used to play came back to him winging out of memory. ‘Let’s measure hands.’ He had remembered when he had begun to win that game.
They moved apart. Alex back to the couch, and she began to refold the blanket, her dark shiny hair swinging forward hiding her face as she replaced it on the arm.
“What is the very next thing you want to do?” She looked over her shoulder at him “Say. In the next five minutes? No thinking about it, just the old knee jerk answer.
“Make hot chocolate” She was already heading out into the parlor. Her dark hair swung as she turned again, asking the oldest question ever.
“With marshmallows.”
“ As long as they’re mini’s” He followed.
In the parlour, the almost unnoticeable tangy smell of drying apples still permeated this part of the house. It was comforting and familiar. Now the simple tasks at hand drew their minds away from their distress. Preparing to make the warm drinks, bringing food from the old pantry almost hidden, in a dark cool corner. Setting up a tray to carry back into the cozy sitting room when everything was ready. And above all, the measured urgency to get it all done before Fiona woke for her ten or eleven o clock feed. Caught up in these mundane tasks, that became precious but unnoticed, moved them along into the next half-hour.
Peter took up his usual task of building up the fire in the basket of the old cast iron range, standing solidly on its natural red brick hearth, tucked under the huge fireplace and chimneybreast. Still it could have warm water ready for them throughout the day. And they still used the oven and it’s top to cook with.
“ I remember Aunt Eva, down on her knees applying blacking to this old thing Alex.” He called to her as he coaxed the dying embers to life. “I should have been a fireman.” He murmured to himself. “Well one always needs a second career.” The logs were now crackling noisily. “The top of the range is plenty hot enough to heat up the milk’ He continued his conversation. “I’ll use one of these copper pans.” He reached up to the shelf above his head,
“Sure.” Alex’s voice was muffled as she searched in the bottom storage box in the pantry.
“Pete… Do you know where the minis are? Did I put them in a different spot and have forgotten where? You know one of those, safe, I’ll know where they are places?” She came out into the room again. Both of them said it in unison.
“Andy!” and with a nod and a wink at each other, added,
“Window seat.” Grinning they set to. Moving the heavy deal table away to access the hiding place.
