Has she spoken in English rather than Spanish? Sometimes she mixes the words, loses track of who she is with. At home, or with her father among the sheep, she speaks English. Her teacher has tried to untangle the language and the land for her. Ireland was her parents’ home, yet they speak their neighbours’ language: English. Now they live in a new country and there is a different language. In the yard with the other children, words are thrown around like a ball, back and forward, up, up high and then swooping down. Spanish, her teacher says. The only way to join in the game is to learn to play with the words.
In the end, she explains pillow post both in Spanish and in English, just to make sure, and Merry Eyes smiles and nods.
Then the doctor turns back from studying the garden, and both are looking at her again.
‘You like it here among the flowers?’ he asks. She notices his eyes stray to the nurse.
‘Of course she does. She is as lovely as any flower,’ Merry Eyes replies– only her eyes aren’t merry anymore: they are suddenly full of tears.
When the pain is bad, she wishes she could trace the edge of the envelope under her pillow with her finger, but that is too far for her heavy hand to travel, like the cart and train ride that brought her to the hospital.
Sometimes she wakes and finds the envelope gone, and all that is left is the smell of cotton mixing with the faint scent of freesias.
Chapter 13
Emma
Woodbine
Today Betty’s sweatshirt is greeny-blue with frolicking otters on it. She pushes her glasses up into her hair and hums as she pots up a tray of woodbine. Emma likes that Betty and Les use the old-fashioned names for plants: love-in-the-mist rather than nigella; woodbine rather than common honeysuckle. Still, she thinks honeysuckle is a good name, too. She searches for the name in Spanish–madreselva– and smiles.
She glances again at Betty. Her air of absorbed contentment gives Emma confidence. Following Mei Lien’s advice, she has spent the last couple of evenings searching online for theTitanic’s flower supplier and after a while, with a huge feeling of satisfaction (and silent thanks to her sister-in-law) she found them: F.G. Bealing & Son, who in 1912 had a nursery in Southampton. She was able to find some information about them via a museum in Southampton and then all trace of them disappeared.
Emma knows that she needs help.
‘Betty, have you ever heard of a flower wholesaler or a nursery called F.G. Bealing & Son?’
Betty looks up in surprise.
‘Not that I can remember. Bealing’s, you say? We could ask Tamas when he comes in later. Why do you want to know?’
Emma busies herself re-potting a white campanula, pushing her hands deep into the compost. ‘I’ve been reading up on theTitanic, and they were the company that provided the flowers, but I don’t know if they still exist. I can’t seem to find them anywhere.’ She risks glancing up and sees Betty looking at her oddly. She is sure that if Les were here they would be exchanging puzzled glances behind her back.
‘Well, that’s a new one on me, love.’ After a pause Betty ventures, ‘TheTitanic, you say?’
Emma detects the unspoken question hanging there:If you’re interested in theTitanic, why on earth didn’t you come to Les’s talk?
‘It’s just some research I’ve been doing, I don’t really know what I’m hoping to find out,’ she lies. This makes her feel guilty all over again, so she adds, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come the other night. Maybe Les might know something about Bealing’s?’
Betty purses her lips and her glasses slip down and settle on her nose. She studies Emma before saying, ‘Well that’s not really his area, but we could ask him later. He’s out seeing a new garden furniture supplier this morning.’
From her tone Emma can tell that something is bothering her. She wonders if Betty is still wary of her after her failure to attend the talk– or perhaps it’s nothing to do with her at all. She has overheard Betty and Les discussing the downturn in business on more than one occasion.
‘That was a lovely film, though,’ Betty says, suddenly looking brighter. ‘You know,Titanic.Les said it was three hours too long but when it finished I could have sat through it all over again. I’d say I’ve watched it six or seven times over the years. A good one for a rainy afternoon.’
Talk turns to Betty’s favourite films, and soon she is revisiting her love of everything that Sandra Bullock is in. Tom Hanks comes in for some praise, as does Denzel Washington. Emma feels herself relax slightly.
As Betty talks, Emma wonders if Betty and Les have children. She thinks Betty would be a nice mum. She must be just a little younger than her own mother– early sixties, maybe? The contrast could not be greater. She tries to imagine her mother in an otter sweatshirt. She looks down to hide her smile– she doesn’t want Betty to think she is laughing at her. She catches sight of her feet and her smile fades. Tamas is right: she doesn’t have ankles. Her mother’s ankles look like they have been sculpted from alabaster.
She is about to ask Betty about her family when she is interrupted by the creak of the door slowly opening. It inches forward, then, with a flourish, is pushed back on its hinges with a bang.
‘I was trying to surprise you ladies! I see you from the window and I think, they will not expect Tamas to come in quietly like a mouse.’ He stamps his feet on the wooden floorboards, boxes of flowers still balanced on his shoulder. ‘But, me, I am an elephant. My wife, Berta, she says one day she will take me to the circus and leave me there. And on other days she is saying it is she who will run away with the circus, just so she does not have to hear me stomping about anymore. Ha ha ha!’ With this, he swings the boxes off his shoulder and lands them in the corner of the shed.
Emma looks at Betty with a bemused smile, but Betty is not smiling; she is looking at Tamas as if she is worried for him. Or maybe she is worried for the unknown Berta.
‘Estonia!’ Emma shouts. She once knew a Berta from Estonia.
Betty jumps and so does Tamas, turning as he does so. He stands feet apart, slightly crouched and points both hands at Emma as if he were a cowboy holding guns.
