There were summer evenings when, if it was warm enough, we had supper in the gardens. They were lovely days. When I think of them I see Aunt Patty in a hat trimmed with poppies sitting in the garden supporting a basin on her knees while she shelled peas very deftly and dropped them into it. I see Teresa, lying on the grass, her eyes half closed; I can hear the buzzing of Violet's bees. I recall evenings redolent with the scent of night stock and perfect peace.
I was delighted to receive a letter from Frieda. It was to be expected that she would be the first to reply. Frieda had always been meticulous. She wrote that she was very pleased to hear from me. She herself had one more term before she would be leaving Schaffenbrucken. They missed me, particularly as Lydia had left rather sooner than she had expected to. To read Frieda's letter took me back, and the school had not changed apparently since I was there.
I had not known that Lydia was leaving so soon. I thought she was to have another year. There must have been some reason. I daresay I should hear from her.
"There you are," said Aunt Patty. "Each of you waiting for the other to write. Somebody has to make a move. That's life for you. I reckon you'll be hearing from the others. Lydia is not so far away, is she?"
"No, she is in Essex ... and London of course."
"Quite near us. She might be popping over to see you. That would be nice. I think you were rather specially fond of her."
"Well, we had more in common. I expect it was because she is English."
"That would be it. You'll hear, you see."
A week later there was a letter from Monique.
She was leaving at the end of next term also, at the same time as Frieda. "I'm so glad at least she is staying on with me. It saves my being all done. Fancy your teaching now. I was sorry about Grantley. It sounded so grand. I think I shall be marrying Henri soon after I leave Schaffenbrucken. After all, I'll be quite old by then. It was lovely to hear from you. Please do write again, Cordelia."
"There," said Aunt Patty. "What did I say?"
Strangely enough there was no reply from Lydia, but I didn't think about this until I was back at school, when I wrote to Aunt Patty asking her to send the letter on if Lydia should write. It seemed strange that she, who was nearer and with whom I had been on more friendly terms, should have been the one not to answer.
It was not surprising that I forgot about Lydia during the rest of that holiday, for something happened which drove all thought of my old friends from my mind.
I was reading in my room one afternoon when Violet came in a flutter of excitement.
"There's a gentleman. He's called to see you. He's with Patty in the garden."
"A gentleman ...? Who ...?"
"Sir Something Something," said Violet. "I didn't quite catch his name."
"Sir Jason Verringer?"
"Yes, that sounds like it. Your Aunt Patty said to me, Violet, this is Sir Something Something. He's come to see Cordelia. Do go to her room and tell her he's here."
"He's in the garden, you say?"
I looked at my reflection in the barbola mirror which I had admired when it was in Aunt Patty's room and which had been transferred to mine. Colour had deepened in my cheeks.
"What on earth is he doing here?"
I looked askance at Violet. How foolish of me. As if she would know.
I said: "I'll come down at once."
When I appeared, Aunt Patty in the enormous sun hat she wore in the garden and which made her look like a large mushroom, sprang up from the chair in which she had been sitting.
"Ah," she cried. "Here is my niece."
"Miss Grant ... Cordelia," he said and came towards me, his hands outstretched.
"You ... you came to see us," I stammered in a bemused state.
"Yes, I have come from London and as I was passing ..."
Passing? What did he mean? He did not pass Moldenbury on his way from London to Devon.
Aunt Patty was watching us with her head on one side which indicated particular absorption.
"Would you like tea?" she asked. "I'll go and see to it. You can sit in my chair, Cordelia, you and er ..."
"Jason Verringer," he said.
"Can have a little chat," finished Aunt Patty and disappeared.
"I am surprised that you called here," I began.
"Shall we sit down as your Aunt suggested. I called to say goodbye. I am going abroad and shall not be in Colby for some months. I felt I should explain this to you."
"Oh?"
"You look surprised. I didn't want to go off without telling you."
I stared straight ahead at the lavender, considerably depleted as Violet had gathered most of it to make little sachets which scented Aunt Patty's clothes and cupboards.
"I am surprised that you should have thought it necessary to come here."
"Well, we are rather special friends I thought and, in view of everything that has happened, I wanted to let you know. I have so recently become a widower and the death of someone with whom one has lived closely for many years is shattering ... even when death is expected. I feel the need to get right away. I have several good friends on the Continent whom I shall visit. I shall do a sort of Grand Tour ... France, Italy, Spain ... so I thought I should like to say au revoir to you."
"I can only say that I am surprised you should have come so far to do that. I should have heard the news in due course when I return to the school, I daresay."
"But of course I wanted you to know I was going, and particularly how much I shall look forward to seeing you when I come back."
"I am unexpectedly flattered. They will be bringing out the tea soon. You will stay for that?"
"I shall be delighted to. It is such a great pleasure to talk to you."
"When do you leave?" I asked.
"Next week."
"I hope you will have an interesting journey. The Grand Tour used to be the high spot of a young man's life."
"I am not so young, nor am I looking for high spots."
"You just feel the need to travel after your bereavement. I understand."
"One has certain misgivings when people die."
"You mean ... conscience?"
"H'm. One has to come to terms with that, I suppose."
"I hope it is not proving too formidable an opponent."
He laughed and I couldn't help laughing with him. "It is so good to be with you," he said. "You do mock me, don't you?"
"I am sorry. I should not ... on such a subject."
"I know of the rumours which are circulated about me. But I want you to remember that rumour is a lying jade ... very often."
"Oh, I don't take notice of rumours."
"Nonsense. Everybody takes notice of rumours."
"But you are the last person surely to be concerned about them."
"Only on the effect they may have on someone whom one is trying to impress."
"You mean you are trying to impress me?"
"I am ... most fervently. I want you to consider that I might not be as black as I am painted, though the last thing I should want you to do is consider me a saint."
"Rest assured I should find that very difficult to do."
We were laughing again.
"It was a wonderful evening we had together," he said wistfully.
"It was kind of you to allow Teresa and me to stay at the Hall. Teresa is with us now."
"Yes. I heard that you brought her with you."
"They will all be coming out to tea very soon."
"I should like to go on talking to you. There is so much I want to say."
"Here is Teresa now." I went on: "Teresa, we have a visitor. You know Sir Jason Verringer."
"Of course," said Teresa. "He's Fiona's and Eugenie's uncle."
Jason laughed. "I have achieved fame in Teresa's eyes." he said. "The uncle of Fiona and Eugenie! It is only reflected glory of course."