‘Left foot on that one, that’s the clutch, that’s right. Now right foot on that one, yes good, that’s the brake. Now don’t take your feet off until I say,’ and he pushed her hand on the gearstick and the car grunted and groaned. ‘That’s first gear, and we will only be going into first gear today. Now take your foot off the brake and put it on the pedal on the far right, that’s the accelerator. Take your foot slowly off the clutch but at the same time put the other foot slowly down on the accelerator, like a pulley — as one goes down, the other goes up,’ and he moved his hands in the air, one hand the weight, the other the pulley. She did as he said and the car made a sickening grunt and stalled.
‘Never mind,’ he said and pushed the gearstick back into neutral. He told Edie to keep her foot on the brake and he got out and cranked the engine again.
‘Now Edie,’ he said, sitting back in the passenger seat, ‘let’s go over everything again very slowly.’
‘Do you think I’m too old to learn something new?’ she asked and wondered where the question had come from. He would think she was pathetic and she wasn’t.
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘And I’m not going to teach you if you’re going to talk rubbish. We haven’t even started. Now put your hand on the gearstick and your foot on the clutch pedal — the peddle on the left. Let’s run through the gears just so you’re familiar with the feel of them before we begin, but all I want you to learn today is first gear.’
He put his hand over hers again and moved the gearstick into first and after three tries she finally made the car lurch forward in painful noisy leaps before it stalled. By the end of the hour-long lesson she was able to bunny hop all the way to Drummond Street.
He was patient, especially when she made mistakes, like forgetting to use the clutch. Or when she stalled by trying to take off in third instead of first. She thought he probably got that patience from his time in the war. He just chuckled at her mistakes and his laugh was a quiet laugh that was sincere and deep, as if he was having some private little joke with himself. She liked that sureness about him, it was a quietness that reminded her of her father and made her feel less nervous. At the end of the lesson she made an appointment for the next one.
Thirty-Seven
The Last Straw
Wednesday, 6 July 1921, when the heavens play a trick on Lisbet in West Coker, England.
A tapestry covered nearly the entire wall of the foyer of Ashgrove House. It depicted the prophet Elijah rising up to join God. Lisbet and Alice sat opposite Elijah as he stared down at the earth he was leaving behind. ‘Good riddance,’ he was saying to Lisbet, ‘you thought I was barmy with all the voices I could hear, but there you are stuck on the earth while I, the crazy one, am being lifted to the heavens.’ Lisbet would have liked it if Reuben was a prophet and the voices in his head were God speaking to him, but she feared that even if he was still alive, he was just plain old brain-addled from the war.
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, thinking of how Reuben had disappeared. They had not seen him since his son’s birth. He had taken the Daimler and several days later the police had found it miles away with no petrol and no sign of Reuben. They were all in a panic. She had lived through Reuben going off to war and he had survived, she had lived with his wild ways, but she couldn’t live with him now dying in peace on home soil. Why he had run off like that? Had the responsibility of a child broken him? Was he deranged like other returned soldiers and she just hadn’t been willing to face it? She sat and waited, occasionally patting Alice’s hand as she sat beside her cradling the still unnamed baby. At first Doran had got daily updates from Chief Detective Inspector Glover on the police search, none of which were reassuring for Lisbet, but as time wore on the Inspector came less often. Now he came each Wednesday morning to deliver his update. So as they did every Wednesday morning now, Lisbet sat and stared at Elijah, who mocked her, and Alice sat beside her with the baby. Despite Ryan telling them he would call them the minute the Inspector arrived, they waited here in the foyer. When he arrived they would stand and follow him into Doran’s study like pupils following the teacher. There they would come upon Doran sitting behind his desk, waiting like the school principal for his underlings to report to him — or in this case, the Inspector.
The Inspector arrived at ten o’clock, his usual time, and as Ryan took his hat and coat Lisbet and Alice stood ready to follow him into the study where Doran was waiting. Lisbet was going to have her say and so she had asked Esther to put morning tea out for the Inspector and to make it quite lovely. When Ryan appeared in the study pushing the trolley of cake and tea just as they were sitting down, Doran waved them away.
‘Not necessary, the Inspector won’t be here that long.’
But Lisbet said, ‘No no, bring it in. I’m sure the Inspector would love a piece of Esther’s sponge cake and fresh clotted cream.’
The Inspector smiled. ‘You’ve made my day.’ Already he was tasting the sponge and cream and Lisbet smiled at Doran and he conceded at once. Chief Detective Inspector Glover was already on his second slice of ginger sponge. ‘Very good, very good,’ he muttered, ‘my wife can’t … very
