"Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on . . . ."
Chapter 3 – Gunwalloe, Cornwall, July 2009
On the short drive to St. Winwalloe Church, Ruth wondered if her prodigal brother Christopher would have the temerity to appear at Joan's funeral. She couldn't imagine Martin ringing him, but perhaps he did so with some misplaced sense of filial duty. Ruth rarely heard from Christopher since he last begged for money a year ago. Something about a tax dodge in the Algarve which had turned into a fraudulent mess. Christopher had no financial nous, and Ruth told him so.
Agnes Makepeace rang Ruth a few days later to report that Christopher and Margaret had stormed into their office and met with Mr. Spilsbury's successor, young Mr. Davidow, to insist that Henry Ellingham's will be re-opened and challenged legally. Some funds were certainly reachable, particularly through the trust Ruth administered for Martin. Mr. Davidow advised the Ellinghams that no funds were available as the trust had been terminated years earlier. The records showed only a few thousand pounds remained, and they were distributed to Action for Children by the trust beneficiary.
Ruth smiled recalling her surprise when Martin rang asking to dissolve the trust. He had carefully researched charities in aid of children and found that AFC was the most sound. With his aunt's permission, Martin would donate the balance to this charity. He planned to attend the group's Battlefield Run in Naseby where Oliver Cromwell defeated Charles I in 1645. Martin had always wanted to visit the site where the Roundheads routed the Royalists.
"Will you take part in the run, Martin?" Ruth dared ask.
"Of course not. Don't be foolish. I'll only deliver the cheque to Mrs. Langdale who has been quite helpful. She's allowed me to designate it for lads afflicted by bed wetting. In most cases, a simple procedure will solve the problem. I've added a sum to the trust proceeds as well."
"Oh my dear boy, that's very kind of you. Will they offer psychological counseling as well. That's critical, you see."
The long pause Ruth had anticipated followed. She could almost sense Martin's anger charging the line - his usual reaction to any mention of therapy - particularly for him. Finally, he gasped: "I'm not sure. Mrs. Langdale would know better. I must ring off now."
Trying to end their conversation on a better note, Ruth hurriedly asked if Edwina would accompany him.
This time the pause was shorter as Martin had become more adept at deflecting questions about women from his two aunts. "She may. It depends on her rota that weekend. Must hurry. Terribly busy, Auntie."
Ruth's "Good bye, my dear" was not completed before Martin rang off.
It was Agnes Makepeace who sent Ruth the programme from the Battlefield Run accompanied by a photo of Martin thrusting an envelope into the hands of a woman she presumed was Mrs. Langdale. Edwina stood at his side, her hand resting lightly on his sleeve, tall but not nearly his height. Ruth studied Martin's companion for a minute to see if there was a hint of joy about her.
She was attractive enough, with her cinnamon tinged hair, cut in the classic London bob, stirred slightly by the wind. Ruth could never determine if her eyes were blue or green, as she wore spectacles at a time when most women had adopted contact lenses. Skin was her best feature, and it looked as if Titian had brushed Edwina's body to a creamy hue. Ruth had never seen Edwina in summer but imagined the sun would coax forth a few freckles to mar her flawless complexion.
Ruth had first met the girl at Christmas lunch a few months earlier. Edwina had little family, and her parents were traveling once again. Not particularly voluble, she finally let slip that she always celebrated Christmas with her grandmother but was now alone following granny's death. That day she had made an effort and wore a white shawl, embroidered with green holly and small red birds. It was lovely and softened her severe black jacket and trousers. Socially inept, she had brought Ruth three bottles of French wine, still in the merchant's plastic carrier, their price stickers affixed.
Martin showed a measure of civility with prices removed from the books he presented to Ruth. Of course, they were not wrapped in fancy paper, but the bookseller had placed them in a red bag emblazoned with gold stars. When he handed it to Ruth she asked if the stars were a reward for his effort in visiting her. Martin dropped a kiss on her cheek to acknowledge this witticism.
Ruth had prepared a similar supper for Russell and a group of their friends a few days earlier. It had been a merry event, and Ruth tried to repeat it for Edwina and Martin. Her efforts seemed doomed until Edwina became a bit more talkative as a second bottle of wine was opened. Her face took on a rosy lustre as she leaned confidentially toward Ruth and asked: "What was Martin like as a child? I can't imagine, but it's important that I know."
"Delightful. He was a sweet, chubby baby who never cried, never gave his nanny a turn. He was easily entertained when he visited my parents. Mother was quite ill by then, but Father would read to the both of them for hours. Martin had an early exposure to the culinary world as Mum enjoyed cooking and Father read from cookery books. Mind you this was a time when most houses had cooks, but Mum prepared the meals and had more of a girl who helped with the cutting, chopping and washing up. I believe Martin's grandmother took some private cookery classes with Elizabeth David as well. Today's chestnut and apple terrine is from Mrs. David's Christmas book."
"So that explains why Martin's a fantastic cook. It's from his grandmother; I didn't expect it would be his mother. He said she never cooked a meal in her life. Not even a melted cheese when he was ill."
"Really, Edwina, that's enough. No need to dredge up the past, Aunt Ruth."
"But Martin, I have lovely memories of my grandmother. Not as a cook, but she did the most exquisite needlework. This shawl is from her – I mentioned it earlier, and you said it was appropriate. I took that to mean you thought it pretty."
"Appropriate! Oh Martin, the shawl is exquisite, and Edwina is pretty. You should tell her so." Ruth brought hand to mouth realizing she may have gone a bit too far under the wine's influence.
"Let me do the clearing, Aunt Ruth," Martin seemed desperate to flee the two women.
"Go on then, if you must. Edwina, my dear, you stay with me. I believe there are some photographs of Martin as a child."
"No, Aunt Ruth! That's not necessary."
"Oh, Martin, I would so enjoy seeing them. You've seen my childhood photos – even the horrid ones with spots and that wretched orthodontic device."
Ruth had only a few photos of Martin, and Edwina marveled over each of them, even the somber ones from his time at Saint Benedict's.
"Oh now this one's fantastic." Edwina held a picture of Martin marked 10 years of age. "Look at that smile. He looks happy wouldn't you say."
"Yes, my father snapped that photo. He and Martin were quite the compatriots. I often wish Father had lived longer. Martin may have been spared his own father's wrath."
With Martin splashing water about in the kitchen, Ruth felt free to say a bit more about him, hopefully to explain what many saw as his rude behaviour. Edwina's eyes were tearing when she finished.
"Oh, Ruth, I had no idea. Martin's only said that his parents weren't involved; almost making excuses for them. He's like my patients. These brave children with awful cancers, but their first concern is for mum and dad. It's heart wrenching when they beg me not to tell their parents if they've had a relapse. They can endure anything, but try to protect their families.
"I would love to have a child, but worry that I would be a cold, horrid parent like the Ellinghams. I've had to inure myself to so much to do my job properly. On the other hand, Martin is a dear with the patients. When he visits my ward, they flock to him. He is so gentle and kind. If I hadn't seen that bit of him, I'm not sure I would have much to do with your nephew. He's a tyrant on the surgical ward and most of the medical staff either fears or envies him."
At that moment, Ruth looked up to see Martin standing with a tray of coffee. "Oh, how wonderful. Let me serve the terrine. It'll only be a minute." Ruth dropped the photos and hastened to the sideboard.
The evening ended in a more pleasant way than Ruth thought possible. As she and Edwina made their prolonged good byes and plans for a future lunch, Martin held her coat and remarked that the shawl was very pretty and she looked nice. Edwina responded by taking his hand which Martin did not withdraw. Ruth watched them down the corridor and, when they paused for the lift, Martin bent and kissed Edwina. Ruth closed the door with a smile.
It was time for her Christmas chat with Joanie, and now Ruth had something to tell her. Joan would be thrilled. Every bit of her conversation with Edwina was dissected by the aunts, particularly that Edwina wanted a child and that she judged Martin a natural parent. Ruth and Joan were willing to suspend belief that the latter was correct, but surely a paedetrician would know if children related well to Marty. Accompanied by wine for Ruth and sherry for Joan, they nearly had Martin and Edwina's wedding arranged by the time they wished each other a final Happy Christmas.
"Oh, Ruthie, it's been such a miserable year. This news is grand. I must come into London to meet this Edwina. I feel very good about her. I think Martin may have found a suitable wife."
Over the next few months, the two sisters tried to contain their speculation about Edwina and Martin as they had little to feed their hopes. Lunch with Ruth was twice postponed by Edwina because of work scheduling. The Naseby trip finally allowed Ruth an opportunity for another conversation with Martin about Edwina. She vowed to be less pushy this time.
Ruth waited until late the following Saturday afternoon, a time when she knew Martin would be in his office and relatively free. He answered on the first ring but soon grew irritated when Ruth asked if Edwina had enjoyed the trip to Naseby.
"I see you've been gossiping with Miss Makepeace," Martin's tone was curt. "Her service to this family is over and there's no need for you to contact her."
"Oh really Martin. Agnes was kind enough to send me a programme and photo of you presenting funds to the charity. Nothing more. Edwina was at your side. That's why I asked."
"Doctor Smallwood has a quick mind and is a dedicated oncologist. That is all you need to know."
"Do you mean that she lacks vanity and cares only for her patients, Martin?"
"That's as it should be. If doctors didn't care for their patients, where would we be?"
"Does Edwina care for you then Martin?" Ruth inhaled to gain the courage to continue: "Do you think this might be a woman you would marry?"
"Martin's retort was much faster: "That's none of your business. Why must you and Auntie Joan bang on about me marrying anyone, much less Edwina?" A short pause was followed by Martin being more conciliatory. "I'm sorry, Ruth, but that's something we must sort out on our own. Edwina wants a child, more of a family you see. I never thought that important, but she has this notion. . ."
Martin's voice trailed off, and Ruth stepped in to save him: "That's fine, Martin. I don't wish to interfere. You know that Joan and I want only the best for you. We do love you, my dear." And here Ruth knew she was treading heavily: "We hope Edwina loves you as well."
Both she and Martin were so surprised by her declaration that they eagerly ended the call with rushed "good byes."
Continued. . . .