“I will,” I promised him.
I came out of the vicarage but did not hurry home. I knew there would be a storm. I felt impatient. What could it matter who did the flowers? Why did she care so much? It was not the flowers. It was that eternal bogey. In the days of influence she would have provided the flowers. She would have decided whether they should adorn the pulpit or the altar. It all seemed so trivial. I felt both angry with and sorry for her.
So I loitered, turning over in my mind how I would break the news.
She was waiting for me.
“You’ve been a long time. Well… have you got his reply?”
“There wasn’t any need to write,” I said.
Then I told her.
“Mrs. Carter had already provided the flowers and Miss Allder is helping her arrange them because she has already asked her.”
She stared at me as though I were announcing some great disaster.
“No!” she cried.
“I am afraid that is what he said. He is very unhappy about it and really seems sorry that you are upset ” Oh, how dare he! How dare he! ”
“Well, you see, he explained that he couldn’t do anything else since Mrs. Carter provided the flowers.”
“That vulgar woman!”
“It is not the vicar’s fault.”
“Not his fault!”
Her usually pale face was suffused with a purple colour. She was shaking and her lips were quivering.
“Really, Mama,” I said.
“It is only the Easter flowers. What does it matter?”
She had closed her eyes. I could see a pulse beating rapidly in her forehead. She gasped and swayed. I ran to her and caught her just before she would have fallen. I noticed there was froth on her lips.
I wanted to shout. This is absurd. This is ridiculous. But I was suddenly frightened. This was something more than rage.
Fortunately there was a big easy chair nearby. I eased her into it and called for Meg.
Meg and I, with Amy’s help, got my mother to bed.
The doctor arrived and Meg took him in to my mother while I stood on the stairs listening.
Miss Glover, my governess, came out and saw me.
“What is it?”
“My mother has been taken ill.”
Miss Glover tried to look sympathetic, but not very successfully. She was another of those who were only staying until she found something better.
She went with me into the sitting-room to await the doctor’s departure.
I heard him come down with Meg and say: “I’ll look in this afternoon.
Then we’ll see. “
Meg thanked him and then she came into the sitting-j room where we were waiting.
She looked at me, her eyes full of anxiety. I knew that it was for me rather than for my mother.
“What has happened?” asked Miss Glover.
“He says it’s a seizure … a stroke.”
“What’s that?” I asked, j “It’s bad. But we don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.” “How dreadful,” said Miss Glover.
“Is sheer … ?”
“He doesn’t seem to be sure. He’s coming back. She’s … pretty bad.”
“Is she all right by herself?” I asked.
“He’s given her something. He said she won’t know any thing about it… yet. He’s going to come back and bring young Dr. Egham with him.”
“It sounds terrible,” I said.
“She must be really ill.”
Meg looked at me mournfully and said: “I think she must be.”
Miss Glover said: “Well, if there’s nothing I can do …”
She left us. She was not really interested. There had been a letter for her in the post that morning. I guessed it was an offer of a new post more suited to her expectations than teaching a girl in a cottage even though it called itself a house employed by someone who had the airs of a great lady without the means to substantiate her claim.
I was beginning to read people’s thoughts.
I was glad when she went. Meg really cared.
“What does it all mean?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine, love. She’s pretty ill, I reckon. My Aunt Jane had one of them strokes. Couldn’t move all down one side.
Couldn’t talk either . only mumble. She went on for a year like that. Just like a baby, she was. “
“Oh no … no.”
“Well, sometimes they don’t recover. It can happen to any one of us at any time. You might be going about your business and the Lord will see fit to strike you down.”
I kept thinking of my mother, so dignified, so proud of her breeding, so angry and bitter about the turn of her fortunes; and I was filled with pity for her. I understood then more than I ever had and I wanted to be able to tell her that I did.
A terrible fear had come to me that I should never now be able to and anger surged over me. It was all due to those stupid Easter flowers.
It was her anger which had done this to her. Oh no! It was more than the flowers. It had been growing within her-all that anger, the bitterness, the resentment. The flowers had just brought her to that climax of the years of envy and pent-up rage against fate.
When the doctor came back he had brought Dr. Egham with him. They were with my mother for a long time. Meg was in attendance and afterwards they all came down to the sitting-room and sent for me.
Dr. Canton looked at me in a kindly way which made me fear the worst.
“Your mother is very ill,” he said.
“There is a possibility that she may recover. If she does, I am afraid she will be severely handicapped. She will need attention.” He looked at me dubiously and then he turned more hopefully to Meg.
“We will wait a few days. Much could be revealed then. Is there any relative?”
“I have an aunt,” I told him.
“My mother’s sister.”
His face brightened.
“Is she far away?”
“She is in Wiltshire.”
“I think you should let her know the circumstances immediately.”
I nodded.
“Well then,” he went on.
“We’ll wait and see … say till the end of the week. The situation should have clarified by then.”
Dr. Egham smiled at me encouragingly and Dr. Canton laid a hand on my shoulder, patting me soothingly. I felt too bewildered for tears but they were near.
“We’ll hope for the best,” said Dr. Canton.
“And in the meantime, let your aunt know what has happened.”
He turned his gaze on Meg.
“There is nothing much you can do. If there should be any change, let me know. I’ll look in tomorrow.”
When they had gone, Meg and I looked at each other in silence.
We were both wondering what was going to happen to us.
At the end of the week Aunt Sophie arrived. My delight at seeing her was so great that I flung myself into her arms.
She returned my embrace; her currant eyes, creased up with emotion, were slightly moist.
“My dear child,” she said.
“What a to-do this is. Your poor mother.
We’ll have to see what can be done about all this. “
I said: “Here’s Meg.”
“Hello, Meg. This has been a great blow to you all, I know. Never mind. We’ll sort something out.”
“Would you like to go to your room first. Miss Cardingham?” asked Meg.
“Perhaps. Just dump this bag. What a journey!”
“Then I expect you will want to see Mrs. Hammond.”
“That seems a good idea. How is she now?”
“She doesn’t seem to know much about anything. She might not recognize you. Miss Cardingham.”
“Well, I’ll go and wash my hands. Dirty things, trains. Then we’ll get to work. You come with me, Frederica.”
We went to the room which had been prepared for her and Meg left us together.
“She’s a good woman, that one,” said Aunt Sophie, nodding at the door through which Meg had just departed.