‘Of course. What preview’s that, love?’
There is still so much she hasn’t told Betty and Les– about the V&A exhibition, about the perfumier she has been emailing in Paris. Or the photo on her phone of The Nurse– she has not mentioned her to Betty and Les, either, or her feeling that she is connected to her somehow. Or, come to that, her search online through her family tree.
She glances at Betty and can see she is waiting, expectant. ‘Oh, the V&A. Well, there’s an exhibition coming up about life on board ocean liners. I’ve been emailing one of the curators, and she’s got me an invite to the preview night. She’s putting me in touch with a historian who has a particular interest in theTitanic, and he’s agreed to meet me there.’
‘Well, that’s wonderful, love. And you say that’s on next Wednesday?’
Emma would love to ask Betty to come with her, but she only has the one invitation and feels it would be cheeky to ask for another. She starts to explain this, but Betty cuts her short.
‘Oh, no, love. You go to that– but maybe we could meet up afterwards? Les could book that nice French bistro near the station, and you could fill us in on what you find out. Maybe we could ask Tamas, as well. I think the poor man could do with something to look forward to.’
‘Should we invite Berta?’
Betty looks doubtful. ‘Who knows if she will still be around. And I can’t imagine she would want to meet a bunch of strangers– can you, love?’
‘So just the Four Amigos?’ Emma says, with the ghost of a smile.
‘Yes, which is probably more than enough to being getting on with,’ Betty agrees wryly.
As she drives home that evening, Emma finds herself dwelling on Tamas and Berta, then on Betty and Les. It seems their first instinct is always to help other people– but who is helping them? Their business seems to be struggling, and while they don’t talk about it, she can tell that they are both worried. What was it her old professor used to say about her? She was a scientist who had an instinct for getting to the root of the problem?
Perhaps she should spend more time thinking about Betty and Les’s problems and less time poring over her own troubles. She has thought a bit about the garden centre, but maybe she should be more specific: research what other garden centres are doing; look for ideas in other sectors; think how the Flower Cabin could attract more customers?
When she gets home, she takes these thoughts and a glass of wine up to the top field to watch the sun go down.
Chapter 46
Tamas
Yellow Zinnia
My Berta,
I call you this, even though I think that you may leave me. Like Greta is still our very own girl no matter what the doctors, the illness or God decided. I have no say in these things. My heart tells me how it must be.
You wonder that I laugh at the funny men on the television or can smile at the sunset at the back of our house. I see you look at me, and you do not understand, and I cannot explain. Still I cannot find the right words. I have been sitting here very late, and I have been reading your books. These are the books that I think give you comfort. Sometimes when I cannot find you in the house, I think I will find you folded within the pages, thin and delicate like the paper. You have always been dainty– I think that is the word– but now you are so thin and sad. I think if I touch you, I will tear you. Then I think you are broken already and perhaps I should hold you to try and put you back together. But my hands are large and clumsy and maybe I will only break you some more. I can lift you– I could always lift you into the big tree in your parents’ garden. Do you remember that? I would lift you now, but I do not think this is what you want.
I used to write to you, didn’t I? I found the writers you loved, and I borrowed their words, having none of my own. I have been with your books tonight and this is what I can find to try to tell you why I laugh at silly jokes and smile when I see the bright yellow zinnia in the garden.
They are words from the Romanian poet that you like so much.
Laughter has no memory.
Time flows on,
And we slip, like a pebble
Between the inhale and the exhale.
I laugh, Berta, because then I can stop time. It stops for as long as it takes for me to breathe in the air and force the laughter out. Then time restarts and all I can do is think of our beautiful girl and feel the never-ending pain of losing her.
I do not want you to leave me, Berta. I am nothing without you. My life began when I saw you sitting on the cart in the sunshine wearing your blue dress with a red scarf in your hair. I know you may have to go, and if this is what you need, I will bear it. And people will hear me laugh and stamp about the place. They will shake their heads and wonder if I miss you at all.
Your Tamas
Chapter 47
Violet
