Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
‘How are you bearing up?’ Carrie asked when she phoned the next morning.
‘To be honest,’ Jules whispered, ‘she’s driving me up the wall. The first thing she said when she brought me a cup of tea at some ungodly hour because she’d been communing with the early morning birdsong, was “What shall we do today?” I hadn’t even rubbed the sleep from my eyes.’
‘Nice that she brought you a cup of tea though. What are the two of you going to do today?’
‘I really don’t know, but it’s got to be something, or I’ll go mad.’
‘There are the botanical gardens at Ryde. They are amazing.’
‘Too much time to chat,’ Jules replied.
‘What about the Roman villa at Brading? There are lots of things to read about and fascinating mosaics to look at so she won’t be able to talk to you too much.’
‘Apart from in the car on the way there and back,’ Jules groaned, ‘and over coffee and lunch and… You could come with us.’
‘I could,’ Carrie replied cautiously, ‘except I don’t think I should.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, much as you’re resisting, I think you should spend a bit of time on your own with your mum.’
‘We did that yesterday until she fell asleep in front of the television.’
‘I’ll speak to you later to find out how you’ve got on. If you need me tomorrow, I’m available.’
‘Some friend you are,’ Jules said.
‘Breakfast’s ready,’ Beulah called from the kitchen.
Jules put the phone down and walked through to the kitchen.
‘Mum, I really don’t need you to get me breakfast. I’m a big girl now.’
Beulah’s face fell. She slumped down at the beautifully laid table with its jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, bowl of glistening strawberries, tub of yoghurt and jar of homemade muesli.
‘All I wanted,’ she said, her voice breaking, ‘when your father died, was to protect you. But you always fought me and eventually I told myself that you needed to grieve in your own way. I tried to respect that. I’m only going to stay for a few days, but while I’m here, Julianna, please let me look after you a little. It might be good for both of us.’
Jules sighed.
‘As long as you don’t make me eat semolina or insist on sleeping on the floor next to my bed.’
‘I only did that when you had that horrible virus, which the doctor subsequently suspected might be meningitis,’ Beulah said. ‘Thank goodness it wasn’t. I live in absolute fear of losing you and Phoebe, too.’
She twisted her wedding ring around on her finger.
‘You know Phoebe and Giles are trying for a baby?’
Jules nodded, ignoring Beulah’s surprise.
‘It’s making her very stressed. I’ve told her to try and relax. I’ve sent her some breathing exercises and yoga poses, but…’ She shrugged. ‘They say that you’re only as happy as your least-happiest child and it’s so right.’
‘And now you’ve got both of us being unhappy,’ Jules said.
‘I would do anything for you,’ Beulah said, ‘both of you. You do know that, don’t you?’
Jules nodded. She did know that, always had. She just hadn’t wanted to accept anything from her mother that she didn’t have to.
‘Perhaps we should stay here today, darling. You look very pale.’
‘No, I’m fine. A bit exhausted, that’s all. It comes in waves.’
‘You have been through such trauma. It’s bound to have taken it out of you. I wish it could have been me instead.’
And difficult as it was, Jules went over and draped her arms around Beulah’s neck.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I don’t always mean to be difficult.’
Beulah put both hands up to cover Jules’s.
‘I know how close you were to Dad, closer than you were to me. I was jealous of that, but when he died, all I wanted to do was to take away your pain with as much love as he would have given as well as my own. If I got that wrong, I’m sorry, too.’
And as she looked at her mother’s hands stroking her own she felt as if something had begun to shift.
The Roman villa had been a good choice. Beulah was fascinated by the mosaics and the artefacts and the fact that the Romans had come to the Isle of Wight at all.
‘What a wonderful location,’ Beulah said. ‘I suppose it meant they could travel to the mainland and to France fairly easily. They knew a thing or two, those Romans! Did you read that the Medusa mosaic is thought to be protective and ward off evil spirits?’
‘I did,’ Jules said as they sat in the café, each having a bowl of soup.
‘Perhaps I could make my own Medusa mosaic to take home with me,’ Beulah mused. ‘Or we could go to Lance’s pottery and make one together. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘Mmm,’ Jules replied, taking a very long time to chew her piece of bread.
‘I’m going to have dinner with Jo,’ Beulah said later as she drifted around the sitting room adjusting the ornaments by millimetres and occasionally stretching up on her tippy-toes to touch the beams before folding in half and placing her hands flat on the floor.
‘It will give you some space and give the spirits time to adjust. I sense that they are not entirely happy with my presence here.’
Jules looked around the room. The only unhappiness she could sense was her own.
‘You don’t have to,’ Jules said half-heartedly, but already she was starting to make herself more comfortable, tucking her feet beneath her on the sofa, moving one of the cushions to make a soft support for her head.
Beulah shot her a piercing glance.
‘I think it would be good for both of us although I don’t want you here brooding.’
‘I won’t brood.’
Beulah picked up the tissue containing the fragments of Tasha’s jug.
‘Broken things create such a well of sadness inside me,’ she said.
‘It was a present or I’d have just put it straight in the bin. I thought I’d try to mend it, but I’m not sure how.’
‘Kintsugi!’ Beulah declared, jumping up and down on the spot. ‘The Japanese say that nothing is ever completely broken, that our imperfections are part of our perfection.’
Jules stared at her mother.
‘They mend their precious things with seams of lacquer and gold.’
‘It might work, I suppose.’
‘Of course it will work, and I know who will have just the materials you need. Come along!’
She moved around the back of the sofa and whisked the cushion away from Jules’s head.
‘I’ll drop you off at The Pottery on my way to Jo’s and pick you up later.’
Jules twisted up to a kneeling position and stole the cushion back, hugging it to her.
‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll nip into Cowes tomorrow and get what I need.’
‘I think it’s an excellent idea. Didn’t that nice man say you could drop by any time?’
‘When people say that, Mum, they don’t really mean it.’
‘Some do and some don’t,’ Beulah said, ‘and he was definitely one of the ones who do.’
She peered at Jules.
‘You’re looking a bit flushed now.’ She put a hand to her forehead. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t go to Jo’s, after all. Perhaps I should stay here with you.’
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’d be so much more reassured if I knew you were with someone,’ Beulah said, ‘someone trustworthy who can keep an eye on you. You could start some sketches for our Medusa sculpture, too, while you’re there.’
Jules placed the cushion back on the sofa. She knew when she was beaten. If she was going to get any peace at all this evening, she would have to do what Beulah wanted. She did so love to organise everyone ‘in their best interests’.
‘Now you will go in, darling, won’t you?’ Beulah said as she pulled up in The Pottery car park. ‘You won’t run away like you did when I dropped you off for that tennis tournament?’
‘I was ten, Mum, and I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t run away – I hid in the toilets.’
‘For the whole day, darling. Such apologies I had to make when I came to collect you. People thought you had the most terrible upset stomach and the accusing glances I got from the other parents for sending you were enough to force my aura into hibernation.’
‘I promise that I won’t hide in the toilets here, Mum, and even if I did there aren’t any parents to judge you.’
Beulah lifted up her sunglasses and gave her a beady stare.
‘The trouble is, Jules, I can never make out whether you’re being honest with me.’ She checked her watch. ‘But I’ll have to give you the benefit of the doubt or I’ll be late. I’ll collect you later.’
Jules got out of the car and reached over towards the back seat to collect her basket containing Tasha’s jug.
‘Please don’t, Mum. I can walk back.’ She was braced for another battle. This was one she was determined to win. ‘It’s not much more than a mile down the road and I’m not planning to be here that long. It doesn’t get dark until around ten.’
Beulah ran her hands around the steering wheel while she weighed up her response.
‘If you insist, darling,’ she said after what seemed like an age, ‘but remember to walk facing the oncoming traffic.’
She dropped her glasses back down and tightened the knot on the multi-coloured silk scarf that covered her hair before blowing Jules a kiss.
With a rev of the engine and a spray of stones, the little soft-top Fiat spun in a circle and headed for the exit, Beulah waving one arm extravagantly above her head.
Jules winced and not just from the sting of the stones.
How on earth did her mother get anywhere in one piece? It was a miracle.
She waited for a moment listening to the sound of the car’s engine disappearing into the distance, wanting to be absolutely sure that Beulah had gone before heading back towards the road herself. Now, Jules could wander back to the cottage and have it all to herself.
‘Jules? Is that you?’
She jumped at the sound of Lance’s voice.
‘And was that your mother I saw disappearing in a cloud of dust?’
She shifted from one foot to the other as if she’d been caught doing something wrong at school.
‘It is and it was.’
‘You should have let me know you were coming.’
‘I’m not stopping. I realise it’s inconvenient my turning up like this and…’