Chapter 9
Stella was very careful about when she came to the churchyard.
Usually it was after she had taken Ted to school, stepping through the graves in the morning mist, the grass crisp with frost if it was winter, skirting daffodils and serenaded by the twitter of excitable birds in the spring.
There was rarely anyone afoot at that time of the morning.
Occasionally there was a posse of gravediggers, and once a gaggle of women armed with flowers and sheaves of greenery had thundered up the path and disappeared inside the church, but none of them showed any interest in her, and she made sure she had a decoy grave to scuttle over to if ever she was taken unawares.
The last thing she wanted was to be caught lingering by a member of the Arbutus family, for what would she say to them? How would she explain herself?
Her daydream of Edwin yesterday evening had been so vivid that she had dreamt of him all night and had felt compelled to come and visit his memorial today.
Even though she knew there was nothing of Edwin here, that the tree was merely a symbol, it made her feel close to him.
The closest she could ever get. And although she had no idea what she believed, and certainly wasn’t going to ask the vicar of here or anywhere else for guidance, she nevertheless offered up her own kind of prayer that wherever he was, whoever he was with, he was at peace and being looked after.
Somehow, she had found the courage to go to his memorial service when it was announced in the paper.
She’d had the perfect excuse, after all.
Monsieur Corbières had asked her to chaperone him, so she had aroused no suspicion.
They had come down on the train and everyone assumed she was Mr C’s chaperone, as she held his arm and led him into a pew at the back of the church.
No one noticed that it was Mr C gripping her hand to give comfort during the service, rather than the other way around.
So this afternoon she was startled to see two figures by Edwin’s tree, backlit by the setting sun.
A young man and woman. She backed away hastily, taking cover behind a large tombstone that would completely obscure her if they turned around.
She knew straight away who the man was, for he was facing her, and there were enough similarities for her to realise it must be Edwin’s younger brother, Alfie.
He was slighter than Edwin, and his hair was darker, but his bone structure, the set of his shoulders, his profile, that sweep of hair, were all strikingly familiar.
It made her want to reach out and touch him, feel the warmth of him in her fingertips, someone made from the same two people as the man she had loved with all her heart.
She remembered Edwin talking about his brother with such affection, such fondness.
She couldn’t see the woman clearly, for she had her back to Stella, and, besides, she was wearing a straw hat that covered her hair and her face.
Their conversation was intense, but she was nodding agreement to something.
Stella watched, spellbound, as Alfie dropped to his knee, took the woman’s hand and slid a ring onto her finger.
She felt a jolt as she looked into the future.
A wedding. Perhaps even here, in this church, though more likely at the bride’s home.
And would she then be brought to Foxwood, to step into a life of comfort and grandeur, of English country ways, of tea on the lawn and house parties, sherry at six and dressing for dinner and cut flowers from the garden?
Stella had never been to Foxwood, but Edwin had described it often enough, and drawn it for her too, that house of golden stone with more windows than there were in the street where Stella had been brought up.
When Edwin spoke of Foxwood, when he’d talked about them living there one day, she’d protested that a girl like her did not belong in a house like that.
‘Unless I was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’ He’d nudged her with his elbow fondly. ‘You would love it, and it would love you. I can see you there, holding court by the fireplace. Or at the dining table – just think of the feasts we would have!’
She had almost come to believe his dream. And it had almost come true. It had been so close. He’d had a plan. He’d started to put it into action. And even though they both knew it would take time for everyone to come to terms with the change, he assured her that it would be worth it in the end.
‘You’ll be one of the family,’ he assured her. ‘They will love you as much as I do.’
But fate had intervened. The timing had been all wrong.
There hadn’t been time to put the final pieces of the puzzle into place.
And as a result, she was still an outsider, with no chance of stepping into the picture.
Stella pressed her back against the rough stone and shut her eyes to stop the tears escaping.
Then she turned and hurried away through the churchyard before the couple looked up and noticed her.