Is is this going to get worse?
It may well do. Thats one reason why we need to keep an eye on him, Mrs Byfieldto see if he is getting worse.
And if he is?
There are several residential homes in the area. Some private, some National Health.
Hed hate that. Hed hate the loss of privacy.
Yes, but his physical safety has to be the main concern. Could he live with you or some other relative?
Permanently?
If you dont want him to go into a residential home, that would probably be the best solution, Mrs Byfield. At least until his condition deteriorates a good deal more.
But but what exactlys wrong with him?
At this stage its hard to be categorical. He glanced quickly at us both. But I think hes in the early stages of a form of dementia.
There was a long silence. I wanted to say to Janet, Youve got enough on your plate, but for once I kept my mouth shut.
Then she sighed. I shall have to talk to my husband.
13
Janet and I went to Mr Treevors flat on Saturday. We drove over to Cambridge, another small victory for me hard on the heels of my display of Girl Guide first aid. In a sense I was beginning to shed my burdens just as Janet was shouldering more.
David had assumed that Janet would go by bus. It was after all cheaper than going by train.
Why not the car? I said on Friday evening, emboldened by my Girl Guide expertise and by a substantial slug from the gin bottle in my bedside cupboard.
Janet doesnt drive. David hardly bothered to glance at me. Id take you myself, of course, but unfortunately Ive got my classes in the morning and then theres a meeting first thing in the afternoon. The Finance Committee.
Ill take her, I said.
This time David looked properly at me. I didnt realize you drove.
Well, I do. But what about insurance?
Its insured for any driver I give permission to.
There you are. Problem solved.
But have you driven recently, Wendy? Its not an easy car to drive, either. Its
Its a second series Ford Anglia, I interrupted. We had one for a time in Durban, except ours was more modern and had the 1200 cc engine.
I see. Suddenly he smiled. Youre a woman of hidden talents.
I smiled back and asked Janet when she would like to go. I felt warm and a little breathless, which wasnt just the gin. Thats biology for you. David upset a lot of men in his time but I never knew a woman who didnt have a sneaking regard for him, who didnt enjoy his approval.
Janet and I had six hours of freedom. The charwoman agreed to come in for the day and keep an eye on Mr Treevor and Rosie. Rosie liked the charwoman, who gave her large quantities of cheap sweets which Janet disapproved of but dared not object to.
The road from Rosington to Cambridge is the sort of road made with a ruler. The Fens could never look pretty, but the day was unseasonably warm for early March and the sun was shining. It was possible to believe that spring was round the corner, that youd no longer be cold all the time, and that problems might have solutions.
Mr Treevors flat was the upper part of a little mid-Victorian terraced house in a cul-de-sac off Mill Road, near the station. I hadnt known what to expect but it wasnt this. The landlady, the widow of a college porter, kept the ground floor for herself. Mr Treevor and the widow and the widows son shared the kitchen, which was at the back of the house, and the bathroom which was beyond the kitchen, tacked on as an afterthought.
The landlady was out. Janet let herself in with her fathers key and we went upstairs. I must have shown what I was feeling on my face.
Its a bit seedy, Im afraid, she said.
It doesnt matter.
You didnt think hed live somewhere like this, I suppose? He wanted to stay in Cambridge, you see, and it was all he could afford when Mummy died.
Janet took me along the landing to the room at the front, which was furnished as a sitting room. It smelled of tobacco, stale food and unwashed bodies.
She gives him his breakfast and an evening meal, Janet said, meaning the landlady, and shes meant to clean for him as well and send his washing to the laundry. She threw up one of the sash windows and cold, fresh air flooded into the room. I dont think she does very much. Thats one reason why I didnt warn her we were coming.
Im sorry. I I suppose there was nowhere better available.
Beggars couldnt be choosers. She turned round to face me. There was enough money when I was growing up. My mother was always working and she was good at her job. They were queuing up for her. And Daddy had a little money of his own. Not much, about a hundred a year, I think. They didnt have pensions or anything like that. I think they more or less lived up to their income.
Its all right, I said awkwardly, because I was English and in those days the English hated talking about money, especially with friends. I quite understand.
Janet was braver than me, always was. When Mummy was ill, the translation work dried up and they had to live on Daddys capital. So what with one thing and another there wasnt much left when Mummy died. She waved her arm. But he had this. He could be independent and he loves Cambridge.
I said, suddenly understanding, You and David are helping to pay for this, arent you?
She nodded. Only a little.
Thats something, I said. You wont have to any more.
But I knew as well as she did that they would have to pay for other things now, and in other ways.
John Treevor was still alive and less than twenty miles away in Rosington. Yet as we moved around his flat, sorting his possessions, it was as if he were already dead. His absence had an air of permanence about it.
His possessions dwindled in significance because of this. People lend importance to their possessions and when theyre dead or even absent the importance evaporates. I remember there was a thin layer of grime on the windowsills, dust on the books, holes in most of the socks.
It would be much simpler if we could just throw it all away, Janet said as she closed the third of the three suitcases wed brought with us. And what are we going to do about his post? Hes not going to want to write letters.
While I took the suitcases down to the car, Janet went through the drawers of the desk. When I came back there was a pile of papers on top and she was looking at a photograph, tilting it this way and that in front of the window.
Look.
I took it from her. The photograph was of her when she was not much older than Rosie, a little snapshot taken on the beach. She was in a bathing costume, hugging her knees and staring up at the camera. I handed it back to her.
It was before the war. Somewhere like Bexhill or Hastings. We used to go down to Sussex to stay with my grandparents. I thought it was heaven. Daddy taught me to swim one summer, and he used to read me to sleep. Her voice was trembling. There was a collection of fairy stories by Andrew Lang, The Yellow Fairy Book. Id forgotten all about it.
She foraged for her handkerchief in her handbag and blew her nose.
She foraged for her handkerchief in her handbag and blew her nose.
Why did it have to happen to him? she said angrily, as though it were my fault. Why couldnt he just have grown old normally, or even died? This is nothing. Its neither one thing nor the other.
I said nothing because there was nothing to say.
Janet left a note for the landlady. I took her out to lunch and afterwards we walked in the pale sunshine through St Johns College and on to the Backs. It wasnt much of an attempt at consolation but it was the only one I could think of.
Now the decision had been made, David felt there was no point in delay. Over the next few weeks we sold or gave away or threw away two-thirds of the contents of the flat.
Mr Gotobed, the assistant verger, helped David bring the rest of Mr Treevors belongings back to the Dark Hostelry. Puffing and grunting, the two men carried some of the furniture the desk, the chair, the glass-fronted bookcase up to Mr Treevors bedroom to make it seem homely. Janet arranged photographs on the desk, herself and her mother, both in newly cleaned silver frames. She brought her fathers pipe rack and tobacco jar, not that he smoked any more, and put them where they used to stand on his desk.
Im not sure this was a good idea. One morning, shortly after wed finished the move, Mr Treevor emerged from the bathroom as I was coming down the stairs from my room. He laid his hand on my arm and looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers.
Theres funny things happening in this house, he confided. Theyve got the builders in. Theyve been changing my room. It must be at night because Ive never actually seen them at work. Ive seen one of them in the hall, though. Furitve-looking chap. He padded across the landing towards his room. At the door he glanced back at me.
Better keep your eyes skinned, Rosie, he hissed. Or theres no knowing what theyll get up to. Cant be too careful. Especially with a pretty girl like you.
Rosie?
14
I have to admit the Cathedral came in handy when it was raining. You could walk almost the length of the High Street under cover. Or you could cut across from the north transept to the south door and avoid going right the way round the Cathedral outside. And sometimes if the choir was practising or the organ was playing Id sit down for a while and listen.
Thats where Peter Hudson found me.
It was raining heavily that morning, silver sheets of icy water sweeping across the Fens from the east. I had been to the Labour Exchange in Market Street. The woman I talked to disapproved of me. Was it my-lipstick? The tightness of my skirt? The fact Id forgotten to bring my gloves? I suspect she labelled me as louche, dangerously sophisticated and a potential husband-snatcher. Which tells you as much about the competition as it does about me.
At present the Labour Exchange had only two jobs for which I was suitably qualified. They needed someone behind the confectionery counter in Woolworths. Or, if I preferred, I could earn rather more if I worked shifts at the canning factory on the outskirts of town. Neither of them had anything to be said for them except money, and there wasnt much of that on offer either.
I was beginning to think Id have to go back to London. I didnt want to do that, partly because I thought Janet needed me but more because I knew I needed her. It wasnt just the breaking up with Henry. It was as if every mistake I had ever made in my life had come back to haunt me. It was rather like when you leave a hotel and they present you with a bill thats three times larger than you thought it was going to be.
I entered the Close by the Boneyard Gate from the High Street and ducked into the north door of the Cathedral to get out of the rain. Actually, it wouldnt have taken me much longer to stay in the open and reach the Dark Hostelry. But Janet was there and I wanted a moment or two by myself to catch my breath and decide what I was going to say to her.
Walking into the Cathedral was like walking into an aquarium, as if you were moving from one medium to another. Here the air was still, cool and grey. Gotobed, the assistant verger, gave me a quick, shy smile and scurried into the vestry. The building smelled faintly of smoke, a combination of incense and the fumes from the stoves that fired the central heating. I remember these stoves far better than anything else in the Cathedral. They were dotted about the aisles like cast-iron birdcages. The stoves were circular, domed, about the height of a man but much wider. Perched on top of each one was a cast-iron crown which would have fitted a very small child.
The choir was rehearsing behind the screen dividing the space beneath the Octagon from the east end. I couldnt see them but the sound of their voices welled into the crossing and poured into transepts and nave. Gotobed came out of the vestry, but this time he didnt look at me because he was on duty, carrying his silver-tipped wand of office and conducting Mr Forbury in a procession of one back to the Deanery.
I sat down on a chair, wiped the rain from my face and tried to think. Instead I listened to the sound of the voices spiralling up into the Octagon below the spire. The nearest I came to thinking was when I found myself wondering what Henry was doing at this moment, and where, and with whom. He must have found another woman by now, someone else willing to make a fool of herself because he flattered and amused her.
Then I noticed Canon Hudson coming out of the vestry. To my annoyance he came over towards me. That was one of the problems of Rosington. I had been used to the anonymity of cities.
Hello, Mrs Appleyard. Enjoying the singing?
I dont know what it is but its very restful.
Were rather proud of our music here. If youre here over Easter, you should
I dont think I will be, I said roughly, the decision suddenly made.
Youre leaving us?
I need to find a job. Theres nothing down here. Or rather, nothing that appeals.
He sat down beside me and folded his hands on his lap. And what exactly are you looking for, Mrs Appleyard?
I dont really know. But my husbands left me so Im going to have to make my own living now. I wished I could take the words back. My private life was none of his business. Janet had told other people that my husband was away. I glanced at my watch and pantomimed surprise. Oh! Is that the time?
Difficult for you, he said, ignoring my attempt to wind up the conversation. Am I right in thinking youd prefer to stay in Rosington for the time being?
Well, its a possibility.
You say you have no qualifications.
Apart from School Certificate.
And have you ever worked?
Only in my fathers shop for a few years before I married. He was a jeweller.
What did that entail?
I nearly told him to mind his own business, but he was such a gentle little man that being unkind to him seemed as wantonly cruel as treading on a worm. It varied. Sometimes I served in the shop, sometimes I helped with the accounts. I did most of the inventory when we sold the business.
The music spiralled round and round above our heads. Just like me, it was trying to get out.
How interesting, Hudson said. Well, if you really are looking for something local, in fact I know of a temporary part-time job which might fit the bill. Its actually in the Close and to some extent you could choose the hours you work. But I dont know whether it would suit you. Or indeed whether you would suit it. He smiled at me, taking the sting from the words. I want someone to catalogue the Cathedral Library.