‘No!’ he bellows.
‘Lithuania?’
‘No!’ he says again, making a motion of firing a pistol at her.
‘Latvia?’
‘No,’ he repeats firing off another ‘gun’, blowing into the top of his fingers.
Emma glances at Betty, who is watching them in amazement.
Betty slowly shakes her head and then, looking at Tamas, nods towards Emma. ‘Now, Emma here is wanting to find out about a nursery. What was the name, love?’
‘F.G. Bealing & Son.’
‘Have you ever come across them?’ Betty asks Tamas.
‘Bealing’s, you say?’ Tamas scratches his head, and Emma is reminded of a cartoon of a man thinking from one of Guy’s childhood comics.
The two women nod at him.
‘It is not a name I hear, and I know many. They are not famous, I think.’
‘Emma says they supplied the flowers for theTitanic.’
Tamas turns and beams at her. ‘You have talked to Les. You have asked him about theTitanicand his talk. This is good.’ He claps her on the shoulder, pitching her forward into a bag of compost on the bench.
‘No, not yet, but I do want…’
Tamas does not let her finish. He thumps his chest with his huge fist. ‘I will find out. As you ask me—’ he looks from one to the other ‘—I, Tamas, will find out for you.’ With that he hoists the empty boxes onto his shoulder and strides out the door.
‘Tamas, he is…’ Emma tries.
‘Yes, he is,’ Betty says.
‘He’s very…’ Again, Emma can’t finish.
‘He is indeed,’ Betty agrees. ‘Since you arrived it has made quite a change for me.’
Emma shakes her head, uncomprehending.
‘Oh, Tamas, used to have a lovely time telling me how small I was, how he’d like to put me in his pocket. He tried to pick me up once and put me on his shoulder.’ Betty starts to laugh. ‘Now, love, he just can’t seem to get enough of you. And isn’t it lovely that you look so strong and healthy. Just like his cow.’
For a split second, Emma wonders what the sound is. It reminds her of something heard long ago.
And then she realises that the sound is coming from her– a bit like a bark, a bit wheezy, but it is definitely her.
She is laughing.
Chapter 14
Violet
Honeysuckle
People come and visit her here, moving quietly over the grass towards the veranda. They stand around her, talking in hushed voices, and she would like to ask them if she is already dead. She cannot always tell who is who, like the card game when different heads are put on different bodies.
She does not see her usual doctor for some time, and she wonders if he has forgotten that he left her here, like the pencil and pebble that he used to leave in her hospital room. But when she asks the grey nurse with hair like twisted wool, she says the young doctor and Merry Eyes have both left the hospital.
