dead flowers came the smell of the dying ones, cold and peppery: carnations, roses, lilies, clouds of angel breath. I picked out the ones that reflected back the moon’s brightness and I discarded the ones that looked dead-they must be, by daylight, the red and orange and purple and blue. All this absorbed me for quite some time. I went through every bunch until I had picked out every pale flower and made a pile of them. The dark ones I threw away over the wall under the trees. When I got to my feet my knees buckled. I was freezing cold; I placed my fingers in my mouth to warm them and the sticky mixture of mud and stalks and crushed petals on my hands tasted bitter, though not poisonous, or at least not yet. It had the tang of something intermediate, something nearly dirty; poised between living sap and the sodden musk of last year’s leaves, it was a sharp, growing taste which was nonetheless prognostic of decay and irretrievable rot.
One by one I lifted the pale flower heads from the pile and cast them out across the road which shone and shifted under the moon and swaying trees like a dark river. Then I started to walk away. At the crest of the hill I turned back. I could make out the swirl of flowers on the road, seeming astronomically distant, pale dots of whiteness gleaming in a paradox of a galaxy: infinite yet bordered, its darkness sheltered by a stand of trees. I turned away, and behind me a constellation of water-laden stars rolled across an endless sky, drifting and dispersing over the spot where she had died.
A
THE COLD AND THE BEAUTY AND THE DARK
Chapter 4: The Wedding Day Dawns
Evelyn breathed carefully on the long mirror and wiped at it with the corner of her bath towel-she wasn’t risking her lovely velvet sleeve on a misted-up old mirror! It was kind of Mam to let her get dressed in her own bedroom on her Big Day, in front of the grand old walnut wardrobe with the full-length mirror, but it was such a heavy, old-fashioned thing and the mirror glass wasn’t as clear as it used to be. You had to go right up close to get any idea of how you looked.
She stopped rubbing, stepped forward, and peered at herself. She was positively tingling with excitement. Stan might have had a sixth sense, the way the locket matched everything! The silver was just right with the dark green velvet of her suit and the white lace jabot at the neck. She gave a little twirl. She never thought she’d be getting married in bottle green, but it was beautiful velvet, real dress quality. Daphne had seen suits in practically identical velvet on the Ladies’ Floor at Kendal Milne in Manchester and at more than three times the price. It would make the day more memorable, wearing an unusual colour. Dove grey, lavender, and cream were more common if you weren’t in white, but those light colours showed your size and shape and Mam had insisted that come the big day, she wouldn’t set a foot out the door, wedding or no wedding, if Evelyn’s condition was at all noticeable.
“You’ve given me heartbreak, young lady. You’ll not give me a red face to go with it,” she had said. Softening a little, she had gone on, “You’ll be all right, lass. Stan’s a good enough ‘un.”
Evelyn frowned a little in the mirror and fingered the cuff of her suit. The moment you felt the velvet in your fingers you could tell it was good stuff. The dark green was more pine than bottle, when you looked closely, and the jacket had a slight flare at the front and a bit of swing in the back, so nothing would show. And she had her pretty lily-of-the-valley posy, waiting downstairs in the cool of the scullery, that she would carry, and the white silk and lace jabot, her “something borrowed” from Auntie Violet, was the real thing. Auntie Violet had always had style. After today Evelyn would have to give it back, but if ever a special occasion came round again, a plain blouse would do quite well under the jacket. She could probably take a panel out of the skirt as well, that’s if she needed to, if she got her figure back after the baby. Some women didn’t. Anyway, it was hard to imagine the day when she would ever wear the suit again. Evelyn gave herself a little shake. No, how silly of her! Of course! Someday, surely, there would be Daphne’s wedding.
Just then Mam disturbed her reverie by knocking on the door. She came in carrying Evelyn’s hat. “Here we go, love,” she said. “Let’s get this on. My,what a hat! It really is the last word, isn’t it!”
Evelyn dipped forward and let Mam place the pine green velvet beret-style hat on her head. Standing with her daughter before the mirror, Mrs. Leigh fixed the hat in place with Evelyn’s “something old,” the pearl pin that had belonged to her own mother, and wiped a tear from her eye. Together they arranged Evelyn’s curls around the soft brim and primped the little bunch of white feathers that Mam had sewn onto one side under a white velvet bow.
Evelyn eased her toes into her new, dark green mockcroc shoes, and picked up her white gloves from the bed. Mam tutted and shook her head, and then smiled sadly.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mam,” Evelyn said. “But don’t fret, it don’t matter. It would have been a waste of money.”
Mam sighed and sat down for a moment on the bed. “Aye, but it were lovely, that little green bag.”
She was referring to the beautiful mock-croc clutch bag they had seen in Lewis’s that matched the shoes. It was small, elegant, and as Evelyn said, shockingly expensive.
“If your Da was still here there’d be more money,” her Mam sighed, “for a proper do. There’d be a bit spare, for the likes of that bag. If he was here, we’d be splashing out a bit,” she added, forgetting perhaps that the circumstances of Evelyn and Stan’s wedding would have provoked an altogether different reaction in Evelyn’s father.
“Now Mam,” Evelyn said sensibly,“you can’t say that. Look at all them’s that been laid off in’t last six months, there’s nothing you can take for granted these days. And anyway, we agreed. It was a beautiful handbag but there’s better ways to spend money, especially when I’ll not be working for a while and there’s more expense to come.”
Mam murmured agreement.
“And a little clutch bag’d be all very well for the Big Day, but what about afterwards?” Evelyn said, smoothing down her skirt. “It don’t hold hardly anything. Besides, it leaves you just the one free hand.”
“Aye, that’s true enough.” Mam chuckled. “Never thought I’d say it but you’re more practical-minded than me, Evelyn Alice Leigh.”
“Oh, a little clutch’d be all very well for Lady Muck. But Stan’s not exactly the gentleman, opening doors for me wherever I go, is he?” Evelyn went on.“I need both my hands, I do.”
“Aye, and your wits about you,” Mam said absently.“With a baby on t’way and a husband to look after.”
