Guff would have rather enjoyed trotting along the lane to St Luke’s, and helping with charity events, although Theo was surprised to hear the nuns had met his mother. But before he could think how to respond, Catherine said, ‘Actually, Mr Kendal, I have another reason for coming to see you. We wondered if you might have time to come along to St Luke’s one of these days. Perhaps to give a talk to the patients. Do you do that kind of thing?’
‘Well…’
‘No pressure,’ said Catherine and Theo had the impression she used the modernism carefully as if not sure she had got it right. ‘We’re more of a nursing home than an actual hospital. We specialize in bone injuries: severe compound fractures that need manipulation and physiotherapy or osteopathy. Most of the patients are in wheelchairs or beds a lot of the time, but they’re not actually ill so they appreciate as many diversions as possible. I’m sure they’d love to meet such a distinguished writer.’
‘Distinguished is stretching it a bit.’
‘I don’t think so. We borrowed your last book from the local library – we all read it in turn and it’s very good indeed.’
It was nice that the nuns had been sufficiently interested to go to this trouble, but it was also slightly worrying, because Theo had allotted the central character of that book a rather robust appetite with the ladies and had described some of the various bedroom exploits fairly graphically. As if picking this up and almost as if she was finding his discomfiture amusing, Catherine said, ‘We’re really very worldly, you know.’
This time the smile narrowed her eyes, and Theo, who normally ran a mile from giving talks and lectures, smiled back, and said, ‘Of course I’ll come to talk to your patients. For about an hour?’
‘That would be exactly right.’
‘D’you want anything in particular touched on? Anything you think they’d like to hear about?’
‘Well, just about writing books in general, I suppose,’ said Sister Catherine. ‘How you go about it, how you deal with research.’
‘The whole process,’ said Theo. ‘Yes, I can do that.’
‘Could you? Would one day next week be all right? You can phone us to arrange it – we’re in the directory. Afternoons are a particularly good time, but I expect you’re very busy so we’ll fit in with whatever you can manage.’
‘How about next Wednesday afternoon?’ He had not been intending to make such a definite arrangement, but again the words were out before he realized.
‘That would be lovely. Come about two o’clock if you can. They’ll be so pleased.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t know the etiquette for this, but we’d be happy to pay a fee if that’s customary.’
‘No fee’s needed,’ said Theo at once.
‘Well, thank you very much. Oh – is there anything special we should provide for you on the day?’
Theo thought for a moment, then said, ‘A blackboard or whiteboard would be quite good if you have one. Or just an ordinary flipchart.’
‘There’s a flipchart in the library,’ said Catherine. ‘You can use that. There are twenty or so patients at the moment and most of them are reasonably mobile so you’ll probably get a full house. Dr Innes will probably come along, as well.’ There was a pause as if she expected a reaction to the name.
Theo said, ‘Innes? The man who found my cousin’s body?’ Damn, he thought, why can’t I say Charmery’s name aloud?
‘Yes. It was a dreadful shock for him – he admired her very much.’ This was said quite ordinarily and openly, but Theo thought she glanced at him a bit warily. Had there been something between Charmery and the local GP?
Sister Catherine took her leave smoothly and easily. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Mr Kendal.’
‘I’ve enjoyed meeting you,’ said Theo, accompanying her to the door.
‘So have I. God bless.’ It came out naturally and unselfconsciously. Since Theo could not think of a suitable rejoinder he merely nodded and waited until she had walked back down the overgrown drive and into the lane beyond.
Rinsing the cups in the kitchen, he considered that remark about some of the nuns having known his mother. It was vaguely surprising, because Petra had never spent much time at Fenn House. She had certainly shared one or two of the Christmases there, but they had been brief holidays and no one had ventured much out of the house because Norfolk in winter was about the bleakest place imaginable. And during Theo’s school years she had usually driven him to Melbray in July, stayed a night or two, then left him to it.
‘Too many Kendals,’ she always said, with the smile that Theo sometimes found painful although he had never quite known why. ‘When I married your father I didn’t realize I was marrying an entire clan, and I’m not very good at family gatherings. But you stay and riot with your cousins, darling, and I’ll collect you well before term starts so we can have a bit of time together in London.’
She had always arrived at Melbray punctually to pick him up, usually with gifts for everyone. Guff, who was a regular visitor to Fenn, said happily that she lit up the house the minute she came in, but Nancy said sourly it was Petra currying approval as usual. ‘Playing fairy godmother,’ Nancy said. Nancy never seemed to come to Fenn because she enjoyed the house or the company of the family; she apparently came because the drains had packed up at her house, or because she wanted peace and quiet to work out next term’s assignments for her sixth-formers, or she was recovering from flu.
They had all enjoyed the presents from Petra’s travels, though. There were generally clothes for Charmery who said delightedly that no one had such exquisite taste as Aunt Petra, books for Lesley, who would seize them eagerly and vanish for hours on end, and unusual toys for Lesley’s small twin brothers, whose birth had taken everyone by surprise, including Lesley’s father. Charmery’s mother and Lesley’s would be presented with frivolous designer silk scarves or perfume, and there was vintage port or brandy for the men. Once Petra brought a pair of embroidered Turkish slippers with curved toes for Guff who trotted delightedly round the house in them, refusing to listen to Charmery’s father, Desmond, saying he looked like an escapee from a harem.
Theo, Charmery and Lesley always stayed up later than usual when Petra was there. ‘She turns it into an occasion,’ said Lesley’s father, rather wistfully. Lesley’s father was Desmond’s younger brother, and Theo often thought he seemed a bit over-shadowed by the genially successful Desmond, just as Lesley so often seemed over-shadowed by Charmery.
Charmery had loved those evenings; even from the age of nine or ten she flirted with Guff and any other uncles who were there, laughing and making a fuss of them, coaxing her father to let her have a sip of wine in water like French children and usually getting her way. Lesley, three years younger than Charmery, always sat quietly, listening to the conversation. ‘Only speaking when she’s spoken to,’ had been Nancy’s approving observation, and Petra had told Theo she sometimes wondered which century Nancy lived in because her outlook was positively Victorian at times. ‘But then Helen and Desmond are Edwardian anyway,’ she added. ‘Nursery tea and children being allowed to eat with their parents, my God, it’s archaic. D’you suppose they’re really time travellers from about 1900?’
‘I don’t know, but there’s a peculiar machine in the shrubbery, labelled, “Property of H. G. Wells”,’ said Theo, and was pleased when she smiled appreciatively and made a joke of her own about the Tardis parking in the cabbage patch.
Time machines or not, there had been something remarkably restful about Fenn House in those days. As Theo put the coffee cups away after Sister Catherine’s visit, he was deep in the memories of those summer evenings round the big cherry-wood table in the dining room. There would be huge bowls of roses everywhere – Sister Catherine had been right about the rose garden. Helen had planted a rose called Charmian to mark Charmery’s tenth birthday. ‘Because it’s clear no one’s ever going to use the correct version of her name,’ she said, ‘so this is a reminder of it.’