Rambles on the Edge. Wendy Maitland

wanted to know, seeing other children riding past. ‘Peter will have to start on a tricycle because his legs are too short for a bike,’ Louise pointed out.

      Back at the house, boxes were being loaded into the vans, Lulu was still in bed, and I went to fill water bowls for the dogs, get drinks for the children and make a cup of tea for myself. In the kitchen I was just in time to rescue my kettle, teapot, mugs and other crockery from being packed up with Lulu’s things. She was not there supervising the packers or any other activity, and family members were drifting about in a daze. I asked about the blind brother and was told that he never came out of his room, but the helper would be there with him.

      ‘Where is Lulu moving to?’ I asked, ‘and all of you? Where are you going to live now?’

      ‘Lulu is going back to her husband, and we are going to our farm at Mazoe.’

      It was a confusing picture and the best I could do was make sure that no more household goods of ours were packed up with Lulu’s by mistake, while trying to keep things calm and controlled during the process of getting her and the others moved out. When Lulu had finished sleeping she didn’t hang about, and without a goodbye went off to her husband’s house with the van and the dogs, where she was refused entry. It appeared that he had changed his mind about having her back, but I was beginning to suspect that all her promises were a sham. The only consolation when she returned was that her husband had kept the dogs. I didn’t want Adam to be confronted with any domestic turmoil after his first day at work, so I had a drink ready for him with a welcoming kiss and his own armchair when he got back, tired but pleased to show off his new company car, and pleased with his new job.

      Lulu’s boxes came back with her, but during her absence I had unpacked our own things into empty cupboards and drawers so there was no room for any of hers if she tried to unpack. I told her that she must find somewhere else immediately, having no patience now that I suspected her of prevaricating. If there was a problem then I would ask the housing agent for an eviction order, I said. At the mention of the housing agent she became conciliatory. ‘I can’t go to the farm where the others have gone, because of my job,’ she said.

      ‘What about your brother?’

      ‘He doesn’t like the farm.’

      ‘You will have to take him with you wherever you go. He can’t stay here with us.’

      ‘My friends will help out. I can get a flat. I just need to get on the phone to fix something.’ The phone was in the hall and she padded off towards it, still wearing the silk pyjamas which seemed to be her daytime wear.

      The house had resident staff who occupied what was referred to as servants’ quarters on site and we were to take them on, but since Lulu was still giving an appearance of being in charge they quite naturally thought they were working for her rather than us. I needed to see each one to learn their names and explain the situation before it became too confusing for everyone. Once the children had been fed and were watching television, I set about identifying who was there and what job they did. It was impressive to find that all of them spoke English. I had not learnt any Shona, which was the language of this region, as Ndebele had been the language spoken by most rural people further south. I was impatient to settle all the various household demands so that I could sit quietly reading letters from Muz and Ros and write back to them. There had been sudden startling news from each of them and with no other means of communication, letters were our only lifeline.

      CHAPTER 3

      While we were still on the farm at Hartley, back at Forest Lodge in England during 1971 two weddings were held that year. The first was Ros and Gary’s wedding, which Fa did not attend, leaving Muz to preside with a reluctance and lack of enthusiasm that, Ros reported, had soured the whole proceedings. It was partly that Muz resented having to act as hostess without Fa to help and do his bit as father of the bride, but also because she strongly disapproved of a church wedding with Ros marrying in white after she and Gary had ‘shamelessly’ lived together for a number of years. ‘You have to be a virgin to wear white,’ she insisted. ‘It isn’t right to pretend.’

      ‘I’m not pretending,’ Ros told her. ‘I can wear what I like. No one takes any notice of those silly ideas any more. Hardly anyone is a virgin when they get married these days.’

      ‘Well, it’s scandalous how morals are breaking down,’ Muz said. ‘Soon people won’t bother to get married at all and will just go on living in sin.’

      Due to such strained circumstances the wedding was necessarily a modest affair, but Muz had promised that she would arrange and pay for them to spend their wedding night in luxury at Gravetye Manor, as her wedding present to them. On the day itself, while going through the motions of a subdued ceremony and reception with just a few friends but none of the family except Muz (Elaine and Les were in Ethiopia), the highlight of the whole event for Ros and Gary was the prospect of Gravetye that night. It then came as a complete shock when Muz announced that she had changed her mind and no booking had been made. A wedding night at Gravetye was improper, she explained, since they had already been sharing the same bed for years, and moreover the wedding itself could not be a proper wedding in such circumstances. Her sense of satisfaction in having made this moral stand did nothing to ease the tension caused when there was no time to look for a suitable alternative hotel room. When Ros and Gary at last drove away from Forest Lodge that evening, they stopped at the first AA recommended roadside inn, glad to find somewhere half-decent for the night.

      Muz’s behaviour may have been provoked by misgivings within herself, I realised, as the second marriage that year, to everyone’s consternation and possibly her own as well, was hers to Andy. He must have finally worn her down as there was no excitement or even pleasure in her letter telling me about the register office formality, followed by a honeymoon touring France. ‘Andy is never happier than when he’s behind a wheel, driving all day. He never stops to look at the view or learn the history of places where there are famous sights to see. He doesn’t even feel the need to stop and eat somewhere until I insist,’ she complained. ‘Worst of all, he refuses to think about where we might stay the night, with the result that we arrive after dark in a strange town to find everywhere closed. We then have to hammer on the door of any place with a light showing, pleading with them to let us have a bed for the night.’

      None of this was any surprise to me, but I was surprised when Muz said that Forest Lodge was to be sold and they were moving to Suffolk. Andy had spent his childhood there and had fond memories of life in a small village where nothing much had changed for centuries. ‘He has always wanted to go back and recapture that idyll,’ Muz said, ‘and now we’re married we can share his dream together.’

      ‘What about Spindle?’ was my first question when I replied to her letter telling me this news.

      ‘He will be transferred to a hospital near enough for us to visit and have him home,’ she wrote back. Muz had it all worked out. ‘Ros and Gary can take the train from London to visit us, or they can drive up quite easily. The best thing of all will be the sense of liberation when Forest Lodge has been left behind with all its bitter memories. I can have a proper settled home at last and put down roots with Andy. It’s still possible at our age to make a whole new life together.’

      All Andy needs for putting down roots is a deep armchair, I thought. He’ll be rooted to the spot for ever once they move, but if that makes Muz happy and, even more importantly, she takes her piano with her for comfort, it can be nothing but a relief all round.

      My own situation was more pressing as attempts to prise Lulu out of our house continued without success, and what made it worse was that she and Adam seemed to have formed an attachment. Good grief, I thought, she’s another one. It may be flattering to have a husband who is admired by other women, as long as it doesn’t go beyond admiration, but to have one like this actually living with us, is really too much. Adam would often stay up late with her watching television on nights when she wasn’t working, while I went to bed too tired to bother joining them. There was an occasion when, waking up at midnight and finding his side of the bed empty, I got up and went to investigate. ‘Storming into the sitting room making a