Page 34 of Last Letter Home
Sitting next to the young Robyn was a slight, middle-aged woman with a pinched expression, simply dressed in a close-fitting dark dress. Who was she? Briony asked, since the old lady didn’t mention her.
‘She was a relative of my mother’s who came over from Germany in the late thirties, after her husband died. I can’t say I often saw her because we were away in London so much. Cousin Barbara, that’s it. Her family name was, goodness, it was something German-sounding.’
Briony looked up in amazement. ‘Was it Hartmann?’
‘That’s right. How did you know that?’
‘I saw her grave in the churchyard. And did she have a son, Paul?’
‘Yes! He had a kind smile, I remember that. Did you say you were staying in the Lodge? That’s where they both lived—’
‘May I see? Is she this one?’ Aruna interrupted and leaned in to gaze at Barbara Hartmann’s face.
Briony stared, too, and was struck by how sad the woman appeared to be. ‘Which one is Paul, then?’ She began to examine the faces of the men again.
‘I don’t think he’s there, is he? No. I wonder in fact if it wasn’t he who took the picture.’
‘Oh.’ Briony felt a rush of disappointment.
‘It was a sudden whim of my father’s to have the photograph taken, one morning shortly before war was declared. I think he had some presentiment that things would change, and he desperately wanted them to stay the same. It was a horrible summer, I do remember that. The waiting, the certainty that something awful was about to befall us. After the war they said horrid things about my father, that he’d been a Hitler lover, but he wasn’t, he simply desperately wanted English life to continue as he thought it always had been. He hated the idea of the old order with its old values being lost. He knew it might mean the end of Westbury Hall.’
‘But the Hall is still here,’ Luke said gently. ‘What would he have thought of it now?’
‘He’d have hated it,’ Mrs Clare said.
A silence fell over the room.
The old lady turned to gaze out of the window, gripping the sill with one frail hand. Outside it was raining and the scent of wet foliage reached them.
Briony wondered at how strange it must be to see your childhood home bought by developers and so utterly transformed. How could Robyn Clare bear to live here still?
Again, as though she was in tune with Briony’s thoughts, the old lady spoke. ‘I never wanted to live anywhere else. If I’d married anyone but Unwin I’d have had to leave Westbury Hall, so I’ve always been very thankful at the way things turned out. This apartment used to be our drawing room and when I saw how nicely they’d converted it I had to have it. My son thinks I’m ridiculous, he wanted me to go and live with them, but I could never have borne a Barbican flat. All that concrete. No, I belong here. I plan to end my days quietly with Lulu. If I go first, then Lewis promises to adopt Lulu, so I’m not worried on that score.’
‘I can understand your feelings,’ Luke said gently. ‘I felt dismal when my parents sold my childhood house in South London and moved to Norfolk. Sometimes I have to drive past the old place and I hate the things the new people have done to it. Shutters instead of curtains, ugly dormer windows, that sort of thing. It doesn’t look as though it wants me any more.’
‘You should never go back, I keep telling you, Luke,’ Aruna said waspishly. ‘Oops, Mrs Clare, that sounds rude, but I’m quite different from you and Luke. I couldn’t wait to leave the house where I was brought up.’
‘Why was that, may I ask?’
‘I felt trapped there, and my town was a place you’d want to get away from if you had any ambition. I go back to see Mum and Dad of course, but everyone’s exactly the same. My sister even married her boyfriend who lived down the road. Her two kids will go to the same school as we all did, I expect.’
‘I understand your point of view. What about you, dear?’ Mrs Clare asked Briony. ‘Do you revisit your childhood home?’
‘My father still lives there with my stepmother,’ Briony said hesitantly. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t lost my mum when I was fourteen I’d want to go back more often.’ She felt a lump in her throat, could never get used to the way grief could strike you afresh even after years and years. She added hastily, ‘We probably ought to leave you in peace, Mrs Clare.’
‘Yes, thank you for showing us the picture.’ Luke gave Mrs Clare one of his best smiles.
‘Not at all. We like to see young people, don’t we, Lulu?’ The dog licked its chops and began to pant, gazing adoringly at its mistress. It wasn’t a very lovable-looking animal, but still, Briony hoped that dog and mistress would not ever have to live long without one another.
‘Do come and see me again if you have a spare moment while you’re here,’ the old lady said to Briony. ‘Though I’m afraid I talk about the past a great deal.’
‘That’s exactly what interests me,’ Briony replied. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Penny for ’em,’ Luke observed as they made their way back to the cottage.
‘What?’
‘I saw your face when Mrs Clare mentioned the name Hartmann.’
