Hothouse Flower (47 page)

‘Bet you’re glad to be back, eh what? Hear those blasted Nips gave you boys rather a bad time in Changi. But we saw them off in the end, didn’t we?’

‘We did, Father, we did.’

Adrienne was by Harry’s side. ‘Now, Christopher, I expect that Harry would like to go to his room and rest for a while, after his very long journey.’ She turned to her staff. ‘You may go, and I am sure Harry will be round to speak to each of you later.’

As the staff dispersed, Harry heard a voice in his ear. ‘Glad to see you made it back, sir. I was beginning to wonder.’

It was Bill. They shook hands and slapped each other heartily on the back.

‘Seems a long way away from when we last saw each other, doesn’t it?’ Harry murmured quietly.

‘I should say, sir. And it takes a bit of getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.’

‘I’ll pop down and see you later on in the hothouse, Bill. There’s some business I need to discuss with you.’ Harry knew he was in hearing range of both his parents and Olivia so he was brisk about it. ‘Around five, I would say.’

‘Right you are, sir. I’ll be there, a nice cup of tea for both of us, with milk, I might add.’ Bill rolled his eyes as they shared a memory of the raw tea they had drunk for three-and-a-half long years.

Harry followed Olivia up the staircase and along the corridor to their suite of rooms. Everything was exactly as he had left it; as if time had not moved forward at Wharton Park at all.

As soon as Olivia had shut the door behind them, Harry turned to her. ‘Just how sick is my father? He seems to have aged twenty years.’

Olivia sighed and sat down on the stool at the end of the bed. ‘As I told you, he had a serious heart attack. He was lucky to live through it. Remember, Harry, he is sixty, ten years older than your mother. And working at the War Office was jolly stressful for him.’

‘He looks …’ Harry shook his head, ‘dreadful.’

‘He has been very ill. But the doctors reassure us that, as long as he takes it easy and receives no nasty shocks to his system, there is no reason why he cannot remain stable.’

‘I see.’

Harry looked terribly sad, so Olivia went to him and put her arms round his shoulders. ‘I am so awfully sorry, Harry. It must have been a shock for you. I suppose we haven’t noticed his ageing. But I’m sure that having you home will perk up his spirits no end. He can’t wait for you to take him through every second of the campaign in Malaya, and your part in it. He’s been talking about it for weeks.’

Silently, and out of sheer emotional exhaustion, Harry rested his head on Olivia’s shoulder. They stood there for a while, before Olivia said, ‘Why don’t you take a rest? Mrs Jenks is breaking the habit of a lifetime and won’t be serving lunch until half past one, so that you can do so.’

‘Yes, I think I will.’ He desperately needed to be by himself, not necessarily to sleep, but to think.

‘I know this must all seem awfully strange for you, and rather overwhelming, I should imagine,’ Olivia continued. ‘Elsie tells me Bill still finds certain things difficult, even though he’s been at home for three months.’ She kissed him gently on the forehead. ‘I’m not going to crowd you, darling, but just know I am here if you need me.’

‘Thank you.’

Olivia nodded. ‘Get some rest.’ She left the room and walked down the stairs, where Adrienne was waiting for her.

‘I have coffee for us in the library. Come,
chérie
, and tell me how you think he seems.’

Olivia followed her into the library and sat down.

‘Well?’ Adrienne enquired. ‘He certainly looks well, does he not?’

‘Yes, he does,’ Olivia agreed, ‘but, as Elsie described to me, it feels as though his body has arrived home, but his mind is still elsewhere. I think we must be patient, not expect too much of him.’

‘Either of us,’ Adrienne added pointedly.

‘Of course,’ sighed Olivia. ‘I know that. But I am only human, Adrienne, and what I actually wanted was for Harry to spot me waiting, then race down the gangplank and take me into his arms. I saw some of the other chaps do that.’

‘You know that is not Harry’s way,’ Adrienne comforted. ‘Although he was certainly shocked when he saw his father,
n’est ce pas
?’

‘Yes, he was,’ agreed Olivia.

Adrienne shook her head. ‘Of course, he knows so little about all that has happened here in the past four years and what is to come. Olivia, you and I have done our best to run this estate, but we need Harry to take charge as soon as possible.’ Adrienne put a hand to her greying hair. ‘
Alors!
There are decisions to be made, but only Christopher, or Harry, as his heir, can make them. And I do not like to worry Christopher as he is so frail.’

‘I know, Adrienne. At least Harry is home now, and all in one piece.’

‘
Eh, oui
,’ Adrienne raised her coffee cup to her mouth, ‘and I realise we must simply be grateful for that.’

42

Adrienne decided it was warm enough to take lunch on the terrace. Christopher insisted Sable brought up a bottle of vintage champagne from the cellar for the occasion. Mrs Jenks excelled herself, having procured a salmon from goodness knew where, serving it with Harry’s favourite Béarnaise sauce, new potatoes and fresh green beans from the kitchen garden.

‘I was warned you boys don’t like anything too stodgy when you get home,’ said Mrs Jenks, pink with pleasure, when Harry found her in the kitchen after lunch and thanked her for the feast.

Olivia sought him out there and suggested a turn around the garden.

They walked slowly, Harry reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Even he had to admit the park looked magnificent, bathed as it was in the soft mellow glow of a May afternoon.

‘So,’ Harry struggled to make conversation, ‘you say the house was a nursing home for two years?’

‘It was. We had over forty officers at any one time,’ Olivia explained as they walked round the fountain, which had not played since the introduction of a wartime law to save water. ‘The old place was full to the brim because, of course, we had the Land Girls to boot. Mrs Jenks has been a total saint: her experience catering for large numbers of guests stood her in good stead.’

‘Where did you and Mother and Father live?’ Harry asked.

‘Oh, we removed ourselves to the East Wing for the duration. Not exactly luxurious, as you know, but it was somewhere to put our heads down,’ answered Olivia. ‘Your father pretended he hated it. He used to give the officers a jolly good telling off for walking through the house in their dirty boots. But, actually, I think he secretly enjoyed it. After all, he was recovering as well, and he was never short of someone to chat to.’

‘I can imagine. You have obviously been jolly busy whilst I’ve been away.’

‘Everyone has,’ said Olivia modestly. ‘But I should warn you, darling, the house is in need of urgent repairs. Having so many people in it revealed its faults. And I rather think you picked the perfect moment to come home. The old place did look pretty grim, lined with hospital beds and medical equipment.’

‘Jolly nice place to recuperate though, for the chaps who were here.’

‘Yes, they used to sit on the terrace when the weather was good enough. Some of them didn’t make it, of course,’ Olivia sighed. ‘There was one particular chap, poor thing had a bullet lodged in his head that had blinded him. I used to read to him as often as I could. Then, one night, when I was reading to him, he died in front of me, out of the blue.’ Olivia’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘The doctors said the bullet must have been dislodged and that is what killed him.’

‘Golly, how bloody for you,’ Harry said guiltily; it had not occurred to him that either Olivia or his mother and father would have suffered particularly during the war. He’d thought of them tucked safe and snug within the secure walls of Wharton Park. But it was obvious from what they had said over lunch that they too had had a raw time of it.

‘Any bombs drop nearby?’ he asked.

‘A few on Norwich but, thank goodness, we escaped unscathed here.’

‘So, any casualties from the estate?’

‘Yes,’ Olivia replied sombrely. ‘We’ve lost nine young men altogether. I’ll give you a list of their names and perhaps you could visit their families. And Mr Combe stepped on a mine at Weybourne beach only a few weeks ago. You can imagine that Mrs Combe was devastated.’

‘Yes. Poor Mrs Combe. That’s a disaster. So we have no farm manager presently?’

‘No, we have been waiting for you to come back to choose a replacement. And –’ Olivia bit her lip – ‘do you remember Venetia?’

Harry grinned. ‘How could one forget her? She’s such a character.’

‘Yes, absolutely up for anything, which is probably why she ended up in France gathering information for some hush-hush organisation. Anyway, she disappeared three years ago and we’ve only just found out what happened to her.’ Olivia faltered before adding, ‘She was captured in Paris, tortured and then shot by the Nazis.’

‘I am so dreadfully sorry, Olivia. I know how fond you were of her,’ offered Harry quietly.

Olivia bit back her tears. ‘Thank you. I’m just awfully glad it’s finally over. Perhaps life can return to some semblance of normality soon. Now,’ she cleared her throat and slipped her arm through Harry’s elbow, ‘I’ll show you the kitchen garden. It’s about the one thing that’s blossomed and grown since you’ve been away.’

She pushed open the door in the wall and Harry spied the rows and rows of well-tended vegetables. It was triple the size it had been when he left.

‘This is impressive, Olivia.’ He could not bring himself to say ‘darling’. ‘How did you manage without Bill?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she smiled, ‘one just does manage. Jack did as much as he could and at least it meant we could provide the patients with wholesome food.’

Harry glimpsed the hothouse, the sun glinting off its glass, in the corner of the garden. He walked towards it.

‘Unfortunately, the hothouse did not fare so well. It was stripped of flowers and came into its own for growing tomatoes. Bill has been hard at work since he returned, restocking and planting, and it’s slowly returning to its former glory. I think it comforts him somehow.’

‘Shall we?’ Harry indicated the door.

‘Of course, if you would like to,’ Olivia agreed.

Harry pushed the door open and was immediately assailed by a strong fragrance that evoked only one thought: Lidia.

For a second, his head spun and he staggered slightly.

‘Harry, are you feeling all right?’ Olivia took his arm anxiously.

He brushed her away. ‘Don’t!’ he said sharply, then regretted it. ‘Sorry, I …’ His voice trailed off and he walked away along the rows of flowers. He stopped with surprise in front of a tray of orchids. ‘I don’t remember these ever being here.’

Shaken by Harry’s brusqueness, Olivia replied carefully. ‘No, Bill brought them home with him. I am amazed they survived the journey, but apparently Bill tended them every day and they have positively bloomed since they came here.’

‘Bill has always had a natural affinity with plants and I must say orchids are incredibly beautiful.’ Harry stooped to sniff the fragrant scent, allowing himself to drown in memories of Lidia for a few seconds. He stood upright. ‘They grow like billy-o everywhere in the Far East, especially in Thailand.’

‘So Bill tells me,’ said Olivia as the two of them left the hothouse and walked back towards the house. ‘Despite the awful time of it you both had, he said it was a beautiful part of the world.’

‘Oh yes,’ muttered Harry, ‘it was.’

After dinner that evening, Harry climbed into bed beside Olivia. And, despite himself, took her in his arms and made love to her. Her body was all wrong: so much more rounded and fuller than Lidia’s, her skin a startling, unfamiliar white and, worst of all, she smelt so different. Nevertheless, by closing his eyes and allowing his frustration to fuel his ardour as he slammed into his wife, he could take himself back to Thailand, and to Lidia.

Afterwards he lay next to her, guilty and apologetic.

‘I am awfully sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you. I am … rather out of practice,’ he lied.

‘No, Harry, you didn’t.’ Olivia had taken his violent approach as passion, and was amazed and gratified.

‘Good.’ He kissed her on the cheek and then, disgusted with himself, climbed out of bed. ‘I will sleep in my dressing room tonight. I’m awfully restless just now and often get nightmares. I don’t want to disturb you. Goodnight, Olivia.’

‘Goodnight.’ Olivia blew him a kiss as he walked across the room. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, as the door shut behind him.

Harry pretended he hadn’t heard and walked through to his dressing room. He sat down on his narrow single bed, put his head in his hands and wept silently.

*

In the morning, Harry walked across the park to the hothouse, having been unable to slip away and meet Bill as planned the day before. Bill was nursing his orchids at the far end, his Bakelite radio filling the air with soothing classical music.

He smiled when he saw Harry. ‘Hello, sir. How was your first night home?’