Chapter 6
Chapter Six
At nine on Saturday morning, Stella was inside King’s Cross station, standing beneath a white steel tree whose geometric branches soared to the roof and created a giant canopy above the concourse. She’d bought the largest cup of coffee the station had to offer and was busy scrutinising the departures screen. At nine-fifteen, the train started boarding and she wandered down the platform, looking for her carriage. Her reservation was at a table of four, where she settled into her window seat and set out her book, coffee, train ticket, phone and earbuds. Although the train was filling up, her table remained empty. When the train announcement started booming overhead, she plugged in her earbuds, hoping to drown it out with music.
Three-quarters of an hour later, when the train stopped at Peterborough, there was some jostling as her table started to fill. Not in the right frame of mind to chat with strangers, she buried her nose in her book. By the time she’d pretended to read two pages, the train started to shunt out of the station, and Stella was once again on her way to make peace with her past. Her mind was racing too much to concentrate and there was no way she could pretend to read all the way to Durham when it was still almost two hours away. Instead, she’d leave her earbuds in and gaze out of the window. Providing she didn’t make eye contact with anyone at her table, she’d be fine. Her plan was ruined when she closed her book and caught sight of a little boy sitting opposite with his finger over his lips, eyes dancing with laughter. Amazed, she looked to the boy’s right. There sat his father in a similar state of disrepair.
‘Daniel? Benedict? What the… I mean, what on earth?’
‘Sorry, Stella. I hope you don’t mind us gate-crashing your trip. Only, we couldn’t resist.’
‘Far from it,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to see you. But what brought you?’
‘Two-and-a-half weeks felt like two weeks too long. I wanted to see you again and thought you might be glad of the company. If it’s a bother, we can hop off at Grantham.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. It’s no bother at all and I’m glad to see you.’ She winked at Daniel. ‘Both of you.’
And she was glad. When she’d looked up and saw them, it had taken a moment to sink in properly. To think that Benedict had given up his time, to say nothing of his money – last-minute train tickets and hotel rooms didn’t exactly come cheap – to travel all this way with her. It had to be a good sign, and Stella didn’t even need to check the planets to work that one out.
‘So,’ said Benedict, ‘have you had breakfast yet?’
‘No, I wasn’t hungry first thing and planned to grab a sarnie when the trolley comes by.’
‘We can do a bit better than a trolley sandwich. Let’s see if the dining car’s on and get ourselves something more substantial. Come on. My treat and no arguments.’
They made their way down the train to the dining car, which was laid out with white linen and silver cutlery, crockery and glasses. They sat down and soon found themselves tucking into a full English breakfast. Benedict cut Daniel’s toast into soldiers so he could dip them in the yolk of his fried egg, and Stella was surprised to see such a little boy manage to eat so much .
‘You’re a good eater, aren’t you, Daniel?’
‘Mmff,’ replied Daniel through a mouthful of eggy toast.
‘It’s his rocket-fuel.’ Benedict tickled his son’s neck. ‘You need it to fly to the moon and back each day, don’t you?’
Daniel gulped some milk, grinned happily and wiped the resulting creamy moustache on his sleeve. His father side-eyed him and produced a napkin.
‘Dragged up, I’m afraid.’
Daniel took the napkin and wiped his already clean mouth on it.
‘Say, Daniel,’ said Stella, ‘did you eat all the biscuits I sent you?’
‘Yes, they were delish. Will you make me some more?’
‘That’s a very bold request, son. Please try to remember that it’s not polite to ask for presents.’
‘Sorry, Daddy. Sorry, Stella.’
‘It’s all right, Daniel. I’m more than happy to make some more. What’s your favourite kind?’
Daniel poked a finger in his chin and stared up at the ceiling for some time.
‘Emmmmm... I like chocolate and cherry and broccoli best.’
‘Chocolate and cherry, I get, but broccoli? In a biscuit? Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes. I love broccoli. It’s my favourite.’
‘Chocolate, cherry and broccoli it is. Let me see what I can do.’
Stella typed a note into her phone, raising a brow at Benedict for confirmation.
‘Broccoli is a firm favourite in our house, although I’m not too sure I’d personally want to eat it in a biscuit.’
Benedict paid the bill and the waiter was in the process of clearing the table when Daniel asked his father (and the rest of the carriage) in a stage whisper to take him for a wee.
‘Come on then, son. Stella, shall we see you back at our table?’
On returning to their seats, Benedict gave his son a dinosaur colouring book. With a crayon firmly clenched in one hand, and his tongue firmly poked out of the corner of his mouth to aid concentration, Daniel set about colouring in a stegosaurus.
‘I still can’t believe you’ve both come along,’ said Stella. ‘Where are you going to stay?’
‘Same place as you, I hope.’
‘I didn’t tell you where I’m staying.’
‘No, but I took a guess.’
‘Did you? You’re remarkably sure of yourself for someone who had to use satnav to find his way back to the same Tube station he’d arrived at barely an hour earlier.’
‘You saw me! I’m dreadful with directions. Unless I’ve done the trip at least a dozen times, it doesn’t sink in, and sometimes not even then.’
‘Yet you can find your way around the universe with perfect ease.’
‘It’s both embarrassing and illogical. You’d think the same part of the brain would deal with both sets of directions, but it doesn’t compute when my feet are on the ground for some reason.’
He took out his phone and tapped it a few times before showing Stella the screen. It turned out that he was a good guesser and had booked the same hotel. After a bit of interrogation, he confessed to choosing the first hotel that came up on the booking app, which is exactly what Stella had done.
Daniel put down his colouring book and looked out of the window. ‘Are we nearly there yet, Daddy?’
‘Yes, son. This is York, so we have less than an hour, but that should be more than long enough for you to do a new picture.’
‘Great, I’m going to do a brontosaurus next.’
While he continued colouring in, Stella took the opportunity to explain to Benedict the real reason for her journey to Durham. He said nothing but took her hands between his own and looked at her with so much compassion that she was in danger of crying and had to turn away. She spent the rest of the journey staring out of the window, watching the verdant countryside scrolling past, dotted with occasional farms and divided by neat hedgerows and stone walls. When they passed Darlington, Benedict helped Daniel to tidy away his colouring things and gathered their belongings.
‘It’s best to be standing near the door before we pull in,’ said Stella, ‘then you can enjoy the best view of the castle and the cathedral instead of rushing about collecting luggage.’ That much at least she remembered from train trips with her parents.
As the train slowed down and pulled across the high viaduct into Durham station, Stella stared down on higgledy-piggledy terraces of houses, their roofs far below. Towering over everything was a green hill, crowned with two magnificent sandstone buildings.
She sighed. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful home is. Look at the castle and cathedral, Daniel. They’re almost a thousand years old.’
The boy smiled up at his father. ‘Is that nearly as old as you, Daddy?’
Benedict laughed and ruffled his son’s hair. ‘I’m a little bit younger than that, you cheeky so-and-so.’
‘Perhaps we could go up there,’ she suggested. ‘What do you think, Daniel? Would you like to climb the cathedral tower? There are over three-hundred steps – I used to count them up and down every time I went as a little girl. From the top, you can see across the whole county.’
‘Ooh! Can we, Daddy?’
After helping his son down from the train and holding the train door for Stella, Benedict promised his son that they could go up the tower as soon as they’d checked in to the hotel.
Daniel looked up and down the platform. ‘Daddy, this is just like my train set at home, isn’t it?’
Benedict examined the quaint station with its two short platforms, its slate and glass canopies and the little waiting room and was forced to agree that it bore an uncanny resemblance. Outside the station was a queue of white taxis waiting, and an even longer queue of people waiting to get into them.
‘What do you want to do, Stella? Walk or taxi?’
‘I could do with the walk after sitting down for so long. How about it, Daniel?’
The boy nodded and hopped up and down, holding onto his father’s hand, and the three of them set off down the steep hill to walk through Durham.
The walk took them just over fifteen minutes and they soon found their hotel, which was situated on the banks of the River Wear, close to the cathedral and castle. Stella unpacked and sat on the comfortable bed to survey her room. It managed to be both spacious and cosy at the same time, and she was pleased to see there was a bath as well as a shower. Other than the birdsong filtering through her open window, she could hear nothing. From the window, the cathedral was visible and she wondered how it would feel venturing up the tower without her parents. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle rap on the door.
‘Stelllaaaarrrrr, it’s uu-uu-ss.’
‘Hello us. Come on in – it’s open.’
Daniel bounded in and gave the room a thorough examination.
‘Are you sad because you’ve only got one room?’ He knelt on the ottoman and peered out of the window. ‘Me and daddy have got a bedroom each and a bathroom and another room with a funny little sofa in it and we can see the river as well. I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s about the river, but you have to guess what it is.’
‘Really? Then I’ll need to put my thinking cap on. ’
‘Your thinking cap? Where is it?’ asked the eager boy. ‘Is it in the wardrobe?’
Trying not to smile at him taking her so literally, Stella made a half-hearted search of her wardrobe before turning back with a sad expression on her face.
‘It’s not there. I must have left my thinking cap in London.’
‘Well then you’ll never guess, will she, Daddy?’
Benedict concurred that Stella was unlikely to guess what the secret was, so she’d have to remain in suspense until it was revealed.
Stella took them into a little nook that contained what must surely be the tiniest teashop in England. As they were still stuffed from breakfast, they opted to make do with a snack for the time being and have a proper meal later. They ordered a large pot of tea (it being afternoon) and a plateful of scones, with crocks of strawberry jam and clotted cream on the side. Within minutes, Daniel was smothered in a bit of everything he’d just eaten.
Benedict rubbed his son’s smudged cheek with his handkerchief. ‘Daniel, you look as if you’ve been coated in jam and rolled in breadcrumbs.’
Stella laughed. ‘Come on, claggy bairn, it’s time to tell me that secret of yours.’
‘What’s a claggy bairn?’ asked Daniel.
‘A sticky child – or in your case, a very sticky child.’
Together, they wended their way up cobbled streets and squeezed down secret vennels – which Stella remembered as clearly as if she’d never left – and soon found themselves on the river. Benedict whispered in his son’s ear and Daniel skipped between the two adults.
‘We’re going to have the surprise now, Stella.’
‘I love surprises,’ she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Daniel clutched her hand and whispered. ‘Me too. And I love going on boats most of all.’
Stella tried hard not to laugh and was impressed that the boy had managed to keep the secret to himself for as long as he had. At the boathouse, she was given the choice of boarding a large double-decker river cruiser, or being rowed in a small wooden boat. She couldn’t make up her mind and delegated the decision to the youngest member of the party, who opted for the DIY voyage.
Benedict shepherded them into their chosen vessel and rowed them along the River Wear. The broad waterway flowed around the peninsula – where the castle and cathedral perched high above them – its wide loop acting as a natural moat. In the hands of an expert rower, Stella and Daniel lay back, lulled by the gentle motion of the boat, and gazed up at the precipitous, tree-clad riverbanks while they were rowed from bridge to bridge.
All around and above them, the trees were dark green and Stella trailed a hand in the cool, clear water. The air was soft and fresh, and not at all like the thicker vintage served up in London. So this was home. The small city where she’d been born and had left barely a dozen years later, leaving her with no more than memories. Why had she shied away from coming back for all these years when it was the only place she could truly call home? It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as feared and she relished the quiet peace washing over her. Or at least she did until Daniel tired of resting and insisted on taking an oar for a turn at rowing. Father and son spent two hilarious minutes going round in circles, much to the little boy’s consternation. Benedict eventually showed mercy and eased up on his side so they went in a straightish line back to the boathouse.
Once they’d recovered their land legs, they climbed up the winding cobbled streets to Palace Green, which separated the magnificent eleventh-century Norman cathedral and castle. They crossed the green and stood outside the cathedral door, pausing to admire the sanctuary ring. Stella explained how the knocker was made of bronze and that it most likely weighed more than the little boy. Benedict lifted Daniel up for a better look.
‘It’s a monster!’ exclaimed the child .
‘That’s right,’ said Stella, ‘but it’s a good monster designed to scare away evil.’
She told him the same story her father used to tell her on visits to the cathedral: that the monster was known as a hellmouth, which had eaten away so much of an unfortunate man that only his legs dangled from its jaws. To make matters worse, a two-headed snake gnawed on the man’s feet. Long, long ago, anyone accused of a crime could claim sanctuary at the cathedral. All they had to do was seize the knocker and the monks would take them under their protection for forty days.
The little boy’s eyes were round with wonder as he stretched out tentative fingers to seize the curved snake. Stella didn’t spoil the magic by telling him the sanctuary ring was only a replica and that the real one was tucked away in the museum nowadays. She placed her own hand next to Daniel’s. Benedict caught her eye and added his hand to the ring. They stayed like that for a moment until Stella broke the spell.
‘Time for a selfie, eh? What do you reckon?’
Obligingly, the Redmans scrunched up close and she held her phone at arm’s length, doing her best to get all three of them and the hellmouth into the picture.
Inside the vast cathedral, they walked in wonder, gazing up past the high galleries and into the ceiling vaults. Just before the entrance to the central tower, they stopped in front of an enormous golden clock and Stella pointed up at three small dials above the clock face, one of which showed the phases of the moon. The clock was so tall that Daniel couldn’t see and his father had to hoist him onto his shoulders for a better look. Beneath the clock was a painting and Stella couldn’t resist telling the boy that it was really a pair of secret doors that opened for the choir to enter during services.
After admiring the clock, they bought tickets and entered the tower, counting each of the three-hundred-and-twenty-five steps that spiralled round and round the twisting staircase. At the top of the stairs, they walked out onto the roof where they stood over two-hundred feet in the air with the wind blowing against their faces. All around them were rolling hills and vales, dark forests and silver rivers. After they’d traversed the roof and enjoyed the dizzying view from all four sides of the tower, they carefully made their way back down.
Before leaving the cathedral, they paused to make a donation and light some candles. Benedict allowed Daniel to light the spill from the votive candle, covering his hand with his own to steady him as he touched the flame to the wick of the tealight. Once all three candles were lit, they breathed in the smell of melting candlewax and stood in silent meditation, praying for their loved ones until Daniel demanded to know why Stella had two candles while he had to share one with his father.
Benedict rubbed his hair and picked him up. ‘Because, darling boy, we’ve lit one candle for your mother and Stella has lit one each for her mother and her father.’
The little boy nodded, taking this in. ‘Stella, are your mummy and daddy in heaven the same as my mummy?’
Staring at his innocent little eyes reflecting the flickering flames, it was all she could do not to cry, so she gently took his hand and nodded at him.
‘They are, Daniel. They are.’ At least, she hoped they were.