The Linden Walk. Elizabeth Elgin

a lovely lady called Sparrow used to caretake it for Mother.’ Drew had been fond of Sparrow.

      ‘She looked after me and Kitty,’ Tatiana smiled, ‘when we lived there during the war. She wasn’t half bossy, but we adored her. I remember –’

      She stopped, looking down at her hands. What she remembered should not be talked about in front of Lyn – or Drew, for that matter – but she and Kitty had been very happy being bossed about by Sparrow. Until the flying bomb, that was.

      ‘Go on, Tatty – what do you remember?’ Keth unthinking urged.

      ‘Oh – we-e-ll – I – I suppose it was when the siren used to go,’ Tatiana said, disliking herself for not being more careful. ‘That house had once been a stable, belonging to one of the big houses in the Square. Then, when cars became all the rage, stables were made into garages.

      ‘Aunt Sutton’s house still had the inspection pit. No one had bothered to fill it in when the garage was made into a house. Sparrow made a shelter out of it. A bit of a squash, but we survived. There was a searchlight and an ack-ack gun in the park nearby, and when the searchlight lit up we all got into the pit. Mind, we were very near Hyde Park. The bombing wasn’t so bad, there. Not like they got it in the East End and oh, damn, damn, damn!’

      She covered her face with her hands. What had she said! They had been in Hyde Park the day the flying bomb dropped. Kitty had crossed the road to post a letter to Drew.

      ‘Look – I’m sorry. It was just that – Oh, dammit, I didn’t think. Me and my big mouth. Sorry, Drew. Sorry, Lyn.’

      ‘That’s all right,’ Lyn said so softly that her words came in a whisper. ‘It was a terrible thing to have happened. Daisy and I were lucky, in Liverpool. It could have been either of us. And I’ve just had the most marvellous idea,’ she rushed on without stopping to draw breath. ‘We can’t go abroad for our honeymoon, so why don’t we stay at Montpelier Mews? Would your mother let us, Drew? Tucked away, you said …’

      ‘Darling. What a good idea.’ Drew reached for Lyn’s hand, holding it tightly, sensing her distress. ‘Why didn’t I think of it?’

      ‘Lyn, you’ll love it! But let’s not get on the subject of honeymoons!’ Knowing what she did, Daisy was eager to talk about something else. ‘Now that we’re all together, I wouldn’t mind hearing about the Motor Show. All I could get out of Keth was that the three of you had a good time out on the loose in London!’

      ‘Well, I had a great time,’ Bill enthused. ‘Not only did an agent take me on his list, but the show was fine, an’ all. New models, all sleek and shiny. There was a little job; a Morris Minor. Jeez, I’d have killed for one of those. Trouble is, I can’t drive.’

      Which made them all laugh and the tension in the room to ease, and Tatty, desperate to make amends, said, ‘Why don’t we have a cup of tea and a piece of cake? I stood in a queue for ages in Creesby, this morning, but I got a cream cake. Cream, would you believe!’

      So everyone said cream cake would be just marvellous, because they all knew things had got a bit dicey for a while, and each of them thought, as Tatty hurried to the kitchen, that Lyn had taken it pretty well, all things considered.

      And they wondered, too, if ever the time would come when they could think about Kitty and speak about Kitty, and not feel disloyal to Drew. And to Lyn, as well, for that matter …

      Daisy and Keth had left Denniston House early, because of Mary’s ten o’clock feed, and as Drew and Lyn walked back to Foxgloves alone, Drew said, ‘You’re quiet, darling. Tired? Sure all this coming and going between here and Wales isn’t getting a bit much for you?’

      ‘N-no. Of course it isn’t. I’m fine. Just fine.’

      ‘Then is it about Montpelier Mews? Have you changed your mind about us going there, in June? Something is wrong, Lyn, I know it.’

      ‘Look, Drew – Montpelier is fine. If you must know, it’s June that isn’t. I’m sorry, but June seems to be an anniversary month, sort of. The month you and Kitty should have been married. The month she was killed. And white orchids on her grave, always, in June. I – I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can cope with it. Not then. Some other time. July, perhaps …?’

      Her voice trailed off in a trembling whisper.

      ‘Sweetheart.’ He gathered her into his arms. ‘Why didn’t you say something? How long have you been bottling it up?’

      ‘Don’t know. Since the night I tricked you into marrying me, I suppose.’

      ‘Tricked, Lyn? What are you talking about? I asked you to marry me.’

      ‘All right. So you did. But only after I made a fuss, yelled like a hoyden at those damned rooks, put the words into your mouth, practically.’

      ‘Lyndis Carmichael – what am I to do with you?’ He tilted her chin, kissing her gently. ‘Didn’t I tell you that I thought you were a career girl, had bought your own home and was happy with your life the way it was? I hadn’t the gumption to realize, I suppose, that you might still care for me like once you did. I thought, you see, that you hadn’t minded at all when Kitty and I got engaged. Not till you told me not so long ago that you’d sat on the stairs in the Wrennery, and cried your heart out. I want us to be married, Lyn. I want you and me to live in Rowangarth and bring up our kids there. Hand on heart, I do.’

      ‘And I want to marry you, Drew, but please not in June? It’s the best month for weddings I know, but the war is over now, and we can pick and choose when we marry.’

      ‘So when would you like it to be, darling? Do you want a quiet wedding, like Tatty and Bill are having? Shall it be at Christmas, too, in the Lady Chapel? I don’t care at all where or when. I just want us to be married.’

      ‘Christmas?’ She gave a shaky laugh and he felt the tenseness in her lessen a little. ‘Not Christmas, cariad. I haven’t got around to telling you, but Auntie Blod and my father would like to come to Wales for Christmas.’

      ‘Auntie Blod? When are you going to call her Mother, Lyn?’

      ‘Never, I suppose. And it doesn’t matter what I call her as long as I know she’s my real mother. But what do you think about them coming for Christmas? I think Auntie Blod is getting homesick for Wales. Wants to see the little cottage again, she says. I really think, though, that she wants to meet your folks, and see Rowangarth and talk about the wedding. I don’t think I’d like it, either, if my daughter was getting married and I was stuck miles and miles away. And I miss her, Drew. I want her to be with me, when we get married.’

      ‘Of course you do. Seems to me that neither of us has got used to the idea of being married. It did happen a bit – sort of quickly.’

      ‘I can’t argue with you on that point.’

      ‘So let’s take a deep breath, and think things out?’

      ‘Come down off our pink cloud, you mean?’

      ‘Not if you don’t want to. Pink clouds are fine by me. But let’s suggest your folks spend Christmas at Rowangarth? Mother would be in high old delight with all the wedding talk. And let’s you and me settle now – right now, here on this spot – when you’d like us to be married.’

      ‘All right. I’d like us to be married in April, like Daisy was. That suit you, Drew?’

      ‘If it can’t be soon, like Christmas in the Lady Chapel, then April sounds a good month to me. Agreed, then?’

      ‘Agreed. And we’ll fix a date when I’ve had a peek in my diary.’

      ‘The date. Of course. Very important. Now, shall we kiss on it and shall I take you back to Foxgloves? With a bit of luck Keth and Daisy might still be up and we can tell them the news.’

      ‘They’d better be up. I haven’t got a key!’