'Yes.'
She turned from the window. He was watching her. She smiled. 'I think you should ring him now. And I think now is the time to forgive. It's all over, Archie.'
Edie, breathless after her climb up the hill, hurried on her way along the lane that led to Pennyburn.
It seemed a funny thing to be doing on a Saturday. Saturday was one of the few days of the week that Edie kept to herself, seeing to her own little house, doing a bit of gardening if it was fine, clearing out cupboards, baking. This morning, because the sun had shone, she had pegged out a long line of washing, and then walked down the street to Mrs. Ishak's, to get a few groceries and the daily newspaper. As well, she had bought a
Everything nicely organized.
But then, just as she was heating up a pot of broth for her dinner, Edmund had stopped by to see her. He had come straight to Edie's from Pennyburn, and before that, from Croy. He'd brought with him terrible tidings, and after hearing these, all thoughts of Lottie had flown from Edie's head, and she was left with her day fallen to pieces. She had picked up the bits and put them together again; only now everything was a different shape. A strange feeling. Upsetting.
From time to time she read in the papers of some family, setting out on an innocent and enjoyable outing in the car, perhaps to see friends, or simply to enjoy the countryside, only to have their lives blown apart for ever by an accident; a pile-up on the motorway, with dead drivers at the wheel, and shattered vehicles this way and that, all over the road. She felt now as though she had been, if not involved, then witness to such a disaster, and was standing there surrounded by wreckage, knowing only that there had to be something that she could do to help.
'I've told my mother,' Edmund had said, 'but she's alone. I asked her to come back to Balnaid for lunch, and to spend the day with us all, but she declined. She said that she just wanted to be on her own.'
'I'll go to her.'
'I would be grateful. If there is one person in the world she will want to be with, it's you.'
So Edie had taken the pot of soup off the hob, and put on her coat and her walking shoes. Into her capacious bag she had put her spectacles and her knitting, then locked her house and set off for Pennyburn.
Now, she was there. She went in through the kitchen door. All was neat and tidy. Mrs. Aird had washed her own breakfast dishes this morning, and put them all away. Even swept the floor.
'Mrs. Aird!' She laid her bag on the table and, still wearing her coat, went through the hall and opened the sitting-room door.
She was there. Sitting motionless in her chair, staring at the unlit fire. Not knitting, not doing her tapestry, not reading the paper-just sitting. And the room, as well, felt chill. The morning, which had started so brightly, had clouded over, and without the warmth of the sun pouring through the windows, felt strangely comfortless.
'Mrs. Aird.'
Disturbed, Violet turned her head, and Edie was shocked, because for the first time in her life she saw Vi as old, lost, confused; even infirm. For a moment her expression remained blank, as if she scarcely recognized Edie. And then, at last, her eyes brightened, and an expression of immeasurable relief filled her face.
'Oh,
Edie shut the door behind her. 'Yes, it's me.'
'But why are you here?'
'Edmund dropped by to see me. To tell me about Pandora. What a thing to do. He said you were on your own. Could maybe do with a bit of company…'
'Only you, Edie. Nobody else. He wanted me to go back to Balnaid with him. So kind. But somehow I didn't feel quite up to it. 1 didn't feel strong enough. With one's children one always has to put on a brave face, and be the person who does the comforting. And somehow, I think I've just run out of the energy to comfort anybody. Just for the moment. I shall be better tomorrow.'
Edie glanced about her. 'It's awful cold in here.'
'I suppose it is. I really hadn't noticed.' Violet looked at the fireplace. 'I was up quite early this morning. I got everything done. Cleaned out the ashes myself, and relaid the fire and everything. I've just not got around to lighting it.'
'Won't take a moment.' Edie unbuttoned her coat and laid it over a chair, then knelt on the hearthrug, lowering her bulk onto her well-padded knees, and reached for the box of matches. The paper caught. The sticks, the little pile of coals. The flames flickered.
Violet said, 'I am sitting here filled with shame, Edie. We should have been more perceptive. We should have realized that Pandora was ill, perhaps dying. She was so dreadfully thin. Just skin and bone. We should have seen for ourselves that something was wrong. But I, for one, have been so taken up with my own family that I never gave
Pandora a passing thought. Perhaps if I had been a little less self-absorbed, I would have sensed that all was not well.' She sighed, and shrugged. 'And yet, she was just the way she had always been. Beautiful, flirtatious, funny. Bewitching.'
'She was always a wee character.'
Edie reached for a couple of logs and set them on the brightly burning coals. Then, with some effort, she pulled herself up off her knees and settled down in the chair facing Violet. She was wearing her best tweed skirt and her Shetland cardigan with the bright colours around the neck, and her dear face was rosy from the effort of the long walk up the hill. With the fire burning, and Edie there, sitting on the other side of the hearthrug, Violet was warmed, and felt no longer quite so desolate.
'I hear,' said Edie, in her gossiping voice, 'it was Willy Snoddy who found her?'
'Yes. Poor Willy. I don't doubt he'll be drunk for days after such an experience.'
'Cancer's a terrible thing. But to take your own life…' Edie shook her head. 'I cannot understand a body doing such a thing.'
'I think we have to understand, Edie, otherwise we shall never forgive her…'
'… but the Balmerinos. And wee Lucilla. Did she not think of them?'
'1 am sure that she did. And yet, perhaps, she never thought very much about anybody except herself. And she was so pretty, so attractive to men. Little love affairs were always the excitement of her life. To understand, we have to try to imagine her future as she obviously saw it. Ill, maimed by surgery, fighting the disease, losing all her lovely hair, rendered unappealing.' The fire now was crackling up the chimney. Violet spread her hands to its comfort. 'No. She couldn't have coped with all of that, Edie. Not on her own, the way she was.'
'And Edmund?' Edie asked.
They had no secrets from each other. It was a good feeling.
'You saw Edmund, Edie.'
'But he didn't say very much.'
'He said a great deal to me. He is naturally devastated about
Pandora, as we all are, but, I think, no more than the rest of us. And I believe that now he will be all right, because he has Virginia and Alexa and Henry. Darling little Henry. And, who knows, perhaps even Noel Keeling as well. 1 have a feeling that, very soon, Noel is going to be a member of the family.'
'Is that right?'
'Just a feeling, Edie. We'll have to wait and see. As well, Edmund told me that he is going to take a bit of a holiday. He wants to spend some time with Virginia and Henry, and of course he must be around to support Archie Balmerino through the next few days. There will be so much to be seen to. A fatal-accident inquiry is inevitable, and then, after that hurdle has been taken, the funeral, and all the sad and heart-rending tying-up of the loose ends. Afterwards, when it is all over, he and Archie plan to go fishing together, to Sutherland, perhaps, for a little while. And you know, that fills me with satisfaction. I have always loved Edmund, Edie, but just lately I have found myself
