Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Jules was wandering around the gift shop in Yarmouth when she had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her.
She skirted a rail of Indian print blouses and peered out of the two large glass windows on to the street.
Across the road she could see Carrie heading into the antiques shop and a few locals standing in groups and chatting.
She bought a birthday card and headed over to the deli to look for some nice chocolates or a jar of local honey.
‘Shall we browse around some of the little galleries?’ Carrie asked, popping her head over the top of a stand full of local bread. ‘Sorry, did I make you jump?’
Jules had one hand against her breastbone. She glanced back towards the door.
‘You’ll think this is really stupid, but I’ve got the feeling that I’m being followed.’
Carrie looked around.
‘There isn’t anyone in here except us. Maybe it’s the ghosts from the cottage.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
They wandered in and out of the shops and sat on a bench with an ice cream overlooking the Solent.
‘This is good, isn’t it?’ Carrie said, licking her ice cream.
‘It would be,’ Jules said, ‘if it wasn’t for…’
Suddenly, she shoved her ice cream at Carrie and ran across the grass towards a clump of bushes. A woman in a large straw hat retreated around the far side.
‘Mum!’ Jules shouted. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
Beulah emerged sheepishly with some greenery stuck in the pink ribbon around the brim of her hat.
‘I thought I’d drop by and check you were all right.’
‘Drop by? It’s not exactly next door. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming and how long have you been following me for and…?’ She gasped for breath. ‘And where are you staying?’
‘Did you know that you’ve got ice cream down your front?’ Beulah replied. ‘Pistachio by the look of it.’
Jules stared down at her top where a splodge of green was soaking into the white broderie anglaise.
‘Don’t change the subject,’ she snapped.
‘This is a marvellous place,’ Beulah said, expanding her lungs and throwing back her head.
‘You just know that you’re heading somewhere special even before you get on the ferry.
There’s that lovely man at the port who ushers you up the ramp with a flourishing bow.
He looks as if he enjoys his job so much. ’
‘I didn’t notice.’
Beulah cast her a glance.
‘For a nurse you’re a bit short on observation sometimes, Julianna.’
Aargh, why did she insist on calling her that? Everyone else called her Jules, but Beulah insisted on that name which she hated.
‘And the journey itself is delightful.’ She sighed one of her well-practised sighs.
‘Thank goodness the Solent was as smooth as a millpond. I’ve been very worried about you, darling, and it’s played havoc with my digestion.
’ She patted her stomach tenderly. ‘But everything went perfectly. I felt the cares begin to slip from my shoulders. Of course, they never completely go away when you have children, however old they are. When I disembarked, I fancied a little drive around, just to get the feel of the place, and here I am. Is that lovely Caroline over there?’
‘You know perfectly well it’s Carrie. Your eyesight isn’t that bad. Did she know you were coming?’
Beulah shook her head vigorously. The long pink ribbon swished across Jules’s face.
‘Oh no, no, no. I’ve spoken to her once or twice and she was very reassuring, but…’ Beulah put her palms together. ‘I felt the need to come. It was so strong, I couldn’t deny it. You’re my baby, Jules. At a time like this a girl needs her mother.’
‘I’m not your baby, Mum, and actually I don’t…’ She stared at Beulah’s imploring face. ‘…want you to worry. I’m fine.’
Beulah looked at her disbelievingly.
‘I’m sure you’re not, my darling girl. You look thin. Haven’t you been eating?’
‘Yes, mainly cake and now ice cream.’
‘It must be the stress then. Heavens above, I know what that’s like.’ She pressed her fingertips against her cheekbones, lifting them upwards. ‘It plays havoc with one’s facial muscles. If I could do anything to make you feel better, darling, I would. You know that, don’t you?’
Staying away would have made me feel better, Jules thought.
Not forcing yourself on me, but she hated herself for thinking it.
Thoughts like that left a sour taste in your mouth despite the sweetness of the ice cream.
The trouble was, the harder her mother tried to make her feel better, the worse she became.
‘Are you all right for money? I haven’t got much spare. Work’s been a bit thin on the ground recently. I’m getting to that difficult age for an actress, but I can help a bit.’
She still hadn’t let the cheekbones drop to their normal resting place, so her voice sounded a bit strained.
‘Phoebe, too. She’s got some savings because she’s much more sensible than me. She says you only have to ask if you need any bills paying.’
And suddenly Jules felt a surge of emotion as if something had given way from the force of it, a dam bursting. She doubled over.
‘Julianna. What is it? Are you ill? Oh, my giddy aunt! I must call a doctor.’
Jules shook her head and waved her hand as her mother bent beside her.
‘I’m fine,’ she gasped. Her vocal cords felt crushed by the sadnesses of all the years, her head spinning.
She watched as ants scurried around the edge of her flip-flops and across the paving towards gaps in the big roughly hewn stones edging a border of bright red flowers, which were becoming increasingly blurred.
She was vaguely aware of her mother calling Carrie and them taking her under each arm and half dragging her back to the bench.
A swarm of grey clouds filled her head, pinpricks of black demanding omnipotence.
‘Julianna, listen, put your head between your knees.’
No, no, that didn’t work. Everyone knew that didn’t work.
She needed to lie down on the ground. She tilted forwards, aware of Beulah’s hands holding on to her as she slid to the stone, which was warm from the sun and gritty from more ants coming and going.
She did hope that she wouldn’t squash any of them, but she was leaving this world, the blackness terrifyingly intense and the cold clamminess at the back of her neck spreading until…
She opened her eyes to find Beulah kneeling beside her, one hand smoothing damp hair back from her forehead. She felt so cold even though the sun was beating down on her.
‘Oh, you’re back. Thank goodness. Don’t move. I knew you weren’t well the moment I saw you.’
Jules closed her eyes again.
That was just what she wanted to hear.
‘We should call a doctor.’
If only you had done that when Dad first complained of chest pains, she thought. But there was no point going there now.
She tried to sit up. There was a sandy sediment all up the side of one arm.
‘I just fainted, Mum, that’s all.’
‘That’s all! How can you be so blasé? There’s a reason. Your body is telling you something. We need to get you checked out. Don’t you agree, Caroline?’
‘Well, maybe it would be a good…’
‘I’ve probably got a bit too much sun. I’ve been sitting out.’
‘You never would wear a hat. When you were little, I used to put a hat on you and ten seconds later it was off.’
She felt sick and headachey. She had to admit her mother was probably right and she should have worn a hat.
Beulah studied her intently as Jules sat up and massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers.
She had no idea where that had come from.
The last time she had fainted was after too much red wine on a work night out and that had been a couple of years ago.
‘I’m okay, now. Honestly. I just need some water.’
Beulah foraged in her bag and produced a water bottle.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘drink this. I’ve put some rescue remedy in it.’
‘Thank you,’ Jules said, taking a welcome sip.
‘Thank goodness I’m here to keep an eye on you,’ Beulah said.
Jules felt a shudder ripple through her.
‘Carrie’s been keeping an eye on me.’
‘And a wonderful job I’m sure she’s been making of it,’ Beulah said.
Jules sat up straighter, trying to look better than she felt.
‘You look very pale. I wonder if you’re anaemic.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘It might be worth having a blood test.’
‘When I get back to Manchester I will.’
Beulah seemed vaguely appeased.
‘I know you’re very independent and quite capable of coping on your own, darling.
We all say those things, and we all mean them, up to a point.
But there are times when it can be’ – she paused, searching for the right word – ‘cathartic to not be quite so independent, to let someone else look after you for a while. She left a dramatic pause. ‘Which is why I’m here.’
She reached for the dripping pistachio ice cream, which Carrie was still holding.
‘You don’t mind if I finish it, do you? It’s one of my favourites and I’ve hardly had a morsel all morning and it was such an early start.’
‘How did you know where we were, Mum?’ Jules asked, brushing ants from her skirt.
‘Pure luck,’ Beulah said, sitting down on the bench next to Carrie and biting into the waffle cone.
‘I was walking through Yarmouth thinking what a beautiful little place it is and then I saw you both. What are the chances of that? I thought. My own beloved daughter in a shop all these miles from home and we just happen to bump into each other.’
‘I would say the chances of that are pretty negligible,’ Jules replied drily.
She used all her remaining energy to glare at Carrie, who shook her head vehemently.
‘Dearie me!’ Beulah chortled. ‘You think that we’re in cahoots, Caroline and I. Nothing could be further from the truth.’
Jules stared up at her mother.
‘The only other explanation is that you’ve been stalking us.’
‘I prefer to call it shadowing,’ Beulah murmured.
‘You’re not a spy, Mum.’