‘Well, no one could ever say that about me.’
‘No, they certainly couldn’t,’ Emma interjects with a laugh.
The car falls silent, and Emma knows without having to look that Betty will be startled and blinking. She meant it as a friendly joke– but words that were gentle and funny in her head spewed out as bitchy. Why hadn’t she paused and thought in Spanish? She glances at Betty but cannot see her face; she is turned away looking out of the passenger window.
And then, as if Emma hadn’t spoken, Betty starts up again, chatting about this and that– non-stop. She thinks of apologising, but the chatter runs up and down between them like a wall. Instead, she puts Adele on softly in the background and hopes Betty knows she is sorry.
As Emma turns into the car park in Stamford, Betty falls silent, but as she opens her door she remarks quietly, ‘Don’t mind me, love.’
They have arranged to meet Jane in an Italian café off the High Street. Emma lingers near the door for a while, speaking a few words in Italian to the owner, and feels the enormous pleasure of stretching a much underused muscle. On the walls are photographs of the rooftops of Florence and in the entrance to a conservatory sits a large terracotta pot containing a huge, cerise bougainvillea. Emma thinks Les would be impressed.
When Emma joins Betty at a small table in the conservatory, she is deep in conversation with a tiny woman who looks about Betty’s age. Everything about her is small and neat. She has the tiniest feet Emma has ever seen. She reminds Emma of an illustration from a children’s book she once read:Mrs Pepperpot.
Betty briefly introduces her to Jane and the two women return to discussing their families. Despite just meeting her, it seems Betty already knows all about Jane’s son, who grows daffodils but is now thinking of expanding into peonies, and also his wife (teacher, but would like a change) and children (Daniel, who loves Manchester United; and Ruby, who is a minx and too knowing by half). In turn, Emma learns that Betty’s mother died six months ago and that she is finding it hard without her and that Les has been tested for prostate cancer and got the all-clear, ‘thanks be to God’– just getting old, the specialist said. Although he is still ‘piddling like a leaky tap every few hours at night’.
Emma is appalled to find she knows so little about Betty. She had no idea Les was worried about his health– all this on top of money worries. She feels her skin growing hot and clammy as she thinks of the past two hours. She didn’t ask Betty a single question about herself and smiled inwardly when she saw her hummingbird T-shirt.
‘I’m sorry to hear about your mum,’ Emma says, cutting across the women’s conversation. ‘How old was she?’
Betty looks round in surprise. ‘Eighty-six, but you would never have guessed it. She was always dressed just so. Even at the end she wore nice, tailored skirts and jackets.’ Betty laughs. ‘I think she despaired of me,’ she says, with a smile down at her hummingbird. She blinks out through her glasses at Emma. For the first time, Emma notices she has on a new pair, a special pair for their day out.
‘I always think you look nice. I like your wildlife T-shirts,’ Emma says, and means it.
‘Well, you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and that’s a fact.’
One of Les’s sayings.
‘I’m sure Les doesn’t think that. I always get the impression he’s very proud to have you by his side.’ It is only as she says it that Emma recalls the sideways glances Les sometimes gives his wife.
‘Now you’ll make me blush,’ Betty replies. ‘Do you know, one New Year’s Eve we played this game, and he was asked to describe me in three words. Do you know what he said? “Small, ship-shape and sexy.” He’d been drinking of course.’ But Betty is clearly delighted by the memory. Mrs Pepperpot laughs along with her.
Emma feels the room tilt.
‘Emma, what is it, love?’ Betty stretches her hand out impulsively towards her.
Oh God, how could Will have got it so wrong? Brave, Bossy and Beautiful. How couldshehave got it so wrong?
‘I, I … don’t know, nothing. Nothing.’
Both women are now staring at her.
‘What is it, love?’ Betty repeats, softly.
Emma tries to blink her tears away and concentrate on Betty. ‘No, sorry, nothing. Just a sudden memory. I know that game.’
The owner approaches the table, and Betty launches into an animated discussion with him about their order, drawing Mrs Pepperpot’s attention away from Emma. By the time Betty has decided on her choice– having changed her mind three times– Emma is able to meet her eye across the table. She knows Betty has been buying her time and wonders how she could possibly have been rude to this wonderful, kind woman.
Betty pauses as if she is going to say something to her, but appears to think better of it. Instead she turns to Mrs Pepperpot, saying briskly, ‘Now down to business, Jane, what can you tell Emma here about Bealing’s?’
Mrs Pepperpot pulls a large brown envelope from her bag and places it on the table, her beautifully manicured nails just touching the flap.
‘As I said on the phone, I’ve made it a bit of a hobby finding out about the families who worked at Covent Garden, like my Tony’s.’ Mrs Pepperpot fixes remarkably blue eyes on Emma. There is something in her look that gives her the impression Mrs Pepperpot doesn’t quite approve of her.
‘Since Tony died, I’ve had a bit more time for my scrapbooks, and the ancestry websites have been a boon. They make investigation so much easier.’
Emma nods her agreement. She has spent the last couple of evenings signing up to similar websites in an attempt to find out more about her family. It seems her research has now divided into two parts: finding The Florist; and trying to understand the connection she feels with The Nurse. Her mother’s family have been easy to trace, having lived in Kent for many years and France before that. But, so far, she can find no conceivable link with the ship or The Nurse. She has yet to start on her father’s family.
Mrs Pepperpot continues, ‘Sometimes I start with a photograph I come across and just go from there.’
