‘Ahhh, you,’ she said, and she took Lilly’s wooden wheelbarrow and put her hands firmly around each handle with its peeled red paint and pulled the barrow outside, then she realised she would need padding so she left the barrow alone in the middle of the lawn, snuck back into the house — it was harder because she was wearing her boots and she tried to time her steps with the beating of Lilly’s spoon against the china bowl — she snuck back past the kitchen as Lilly added fruit to her batter and beat it within an inch of its life — she got the quilt from her bed and some bath towels from the linen press and snuck back outside again and put them in the barrow. Saying ‘Shhh,’ over and over to the barrow as it creaked and groaned, complaining at being woken so early, she pushed the barrow down the side path and out the front gate and didn’t see Lilly watching her from the window. She pushed that heavy wooden barrow all the way to the Cottinghams. The barrow made a ridiculous amount of noise as it was pushed over the rough roads and it caught purposefully on stones and ruts to spite her and she had to use all her strength to heave it over them.
The north breeze, which would work its way up into a suffocating north wind by lunchtime, annoyed her by blowing her hair in her face, and with both hands pushing the barrow she couldn’t brush her hair away. Just over Doveton Street Beth tucked her hair behind her ears, took off her jacket and put it in the barrow with the blanket and towels. It was still only eight in the morning when she got to the Cottinghams and wheeled the barrow around the back to the laundry, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. She reached inside the door and flicked on the light.
The preserving jars were exactly where she had left them, each standing in its place with its sisters. Beth stood and looked at them. It was like seeing an old friend you could take up with right where you had left off. She took the first jar carefully in her hands and ran her fingers over the glass, then laid the jar on the blanket in the barrow and turned to the next preserving jar and, making sure she had a layer of blanket between it and the other jar, she placed it in the barrow. She handled the jars cautiously, meticulously, like placing a baby in a cot. Each jar had to have a blanket layered around it to protect it from crashing against the others and breaking.
As she reached for another jar she felt Edie behind her. Edie stood in the doorway watching her and for a moment Beth felt like a thief. They had belonged to Edie, these roses, he had given them to her, but it was Beth who had cared for them and she needed them now. She hoped Edie would see how much she needed them.
‘We heard the noise coming down the side of the house,’ Edie said.
‘Must you take them, Beth?’ asked Gracie, coming to stand beside Edie.
Beth turned, still holding a preserved rose safe in its glass coffin. Through tears she looked at Edie, then Gracie, and then at the jars. No, Gracie would never disappear and Edie would never disappear. They were solid people; their feet were firmly on the earth, whereas Beth didn’t know who she was. Everything she had ever had belonged to other people. She had nothing of her own.
‘Would you like me to help you?’ asked Gracie.
‘No thanks, I have to do this myself.’
‘I’ll at least get you more blankets,’ said Gracie, and she went to get some.
Beth looked at Edie, haloed by the morning light as she stood in the doorway in her nightdress. She looked older and worn. Beth could see pain and loss in Edie’s soul, she had always seen it but had ignored it. Beth felt guilt rush through her and her cheeks burnt crimson.
‘I loved him. I truly did. I loved him from the moment he stood on the doorstep with that first rose behind his back. But now he is dead and perhaps you are right, Edie, when you say people’s paths are laid out for them. Perhaps Theo’s path was to love you from afar and perhaps my path was to marry Colin and I didn’t do that, so instead I’ve sent them both off to their deaths.’
Tears fell from their eyes; they were in the same river now, united in their shared grief.
‘No, Beth, don’t say that. War is a horrible thing,’ said Edie. ‘It takes men without any consideration, it doesn’t look into their souls and leave the good ones, it just flails about downing whoever gets in its way. And Colin took risks he shouldn’t have. You can’t blame yourself — that is too much guilt for a person to bear.’
Beth knew Edie was right about the war but that didn’t stop it being her fault that Theo and Colin were both now dead. She would never love another man. Her love sent men to their deaths one way or another.
Gracie came back with the blanket from her bed and the one from Edie’s bed. Beth saw Edie nod to Gracie that she had done the right thing. Edie went and got their wheelbarrow and they filled it with preserving jars as well. Finally Beth placed the last preserving jar in her barrow and tucked them safely in their new bed with more blankets.
‘Just hang on,’
