Page 87 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
‘Yes!’ She unwound her scarf and sat back in relief. ‘They need me right away. The usual teacher’s gone off sick halfway through the term. Goodness, those cakes look delicious.’ She reached for one and Edmund ordered another pot of tea. ‘The thing is, they don’t know when she’ll be back, poor thing, so it might only be for a few weeks, but it’s a start.’
‘Well, let’s hope she recovers soon but needs a long convalescence. Did you like the school?’
‘I did. The headmistress was very warm-hearted and I could see that the girls thought so, too. The ones I encountered looked bright and cheerful. I’d be teaching the younger children to start with, but once I’ve caught up with the syllabuses – is it syllabuses or syllabi? Never mind – they’ll let me loose on the exam classes.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a short-term job to me.’
‘No, it doesn’t, does it? Oh, Edmund, I think I’m going to enjoy myself. It’ll be such a lovely change from Staunton and his blasted disciples.’
‘Forget Staunton. You deserve some happiness, Nancy.’
His hand touched hers where it lay on the table and very slowly they laced fingers. She raised her eyes to his and they sat together in quiet wonder for a while. Then she said in a low voice, ‘I never thought I’d be happy again, but a month away from Brandingfield and I feel a different person. I’ll miss research, I can’t pretend otherwise, but I couldn’t continue to work in those circumstances, Edmund. I see that now. It’s so hard for women. Our work is as good as the men’s, but they seem to resent us. They don’t see that things need to change. They won’t give up their old networks, their old habits. Not without a fight, and I’ve run out of fight.’
‘You fought well,’ Edmund said, his face full of concern, and his hand tightened on hers. ‘And you haven’t closed the door on research.’
‘I may well have done,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘At least for the time being. And I’m sure there will be other scientistsquestioning the use of DDT and organophosphates. There must be. I say, I’m still dreadfully hungry. It must be the relief. Is it too early for lunch?’
Over ham and eggs, they talked about practicalities. Nancy could stay at Frank and Eleanor’s for the time being and take a bus the few miles to the school. The money was better than her research grant had been, so the extra cost wasn’t a problem. ‘And if the job doesn’t last…’ She gave a mournful sigh.
‘Then something else will work out,’ Edmund said, wiping his mouth. ‘Take life a bit at a time.’
‘Yes, that’s the best idea.’
He checked his watch. ‘We’ve an hour before the bus. Shall we explore the town?’ He laid out some coins and they called their thanks to the waitress as they left.
They ambled in bright sunshine along the high street, looking into the bow windows of quaint old shops. Edmund stepped into a tiny florist’s and came out bearing a posy of late roses. ‘To say well done,’ he said, giving them to Nancy and brushing away her thanks.
Eventually, they came to a small park with smart wrought-iron gates. ‘Shall we?’ he said.
Inside, there was nobody about except an old gardener slowly sweeping leaves. They wandered the gravel paths beside beds of neatly pruned shrubs, sniffing smoke on the air from some distant bonfire. Edmund pointed out an unusual crop of fungus growing in an old stump. Swings and a slideoccupied a corner beside autumn trees where rooks were gathering noisily among untidy nests. Then, at the far end, they almost missed a break in a long laurel hedge where a narrow loam footpath led them out of the park into a patch of ancient woodland. In the coolness, fingers of sunlight reached between the branches and made Edmund’s fine hair shine like gold.
Here in their secret bower, they stood close together for a long moment with locked gaze, then Edmund, brushing a strand of hair from her face, bent and kissed her. And now she was in his arms, kissing him back, pressed against him, feeling the beat of his heart against hers, smelling the warm, woollen scent of him and knowing that somehow, this time, she was safe.
‘I love you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve loved you for years, Nancy. I always thought you were special, ever since we spotted dragonflies together in the New Forest back in first year.’
‘You must have thought me very young and silly then.’
‘Young, yes, but never silly. I loved your bright spirit, your enthusiasm. But I was too preoccupied by my own difficulties then. And you must have found me very grim.’
‘I was in awe of you, Edmund. I sensed that you’d suffered so much. But I appreciated your kindness. And I still love that dragonfly you gave me.’
His face lit up in a smile.
‘It’s funny how everything has turned out, isn’t it? A few months ago, the future seemed so different. And now…’ She reached up and kissed him again. ‘To save any doubt, I love you, too!’
Fifty-Two
‘We were married the following summer,’ Nancy told Stef. ‘It was a quiet town hall wedding because of Edmund being divorced, but once my parents got over being upset about that they were content enough. They saw how good Edmund was for me. The only sadness was that he wanted Marianne to be a bridesmaid but his ex-wife refused to allow it. I personally thought she couldn’t be bothered to bring Marianne down to London, but Edmund, who’s kinder than me, said that wasn’t it. That it was more to do with the look of the thing. People thought divorce very shameful then and appearances were everything. Rather than white, I wore a pretty suit in the palest of blues and the sun shone for us that day.’
‘It sounds a wonderful ending after all your troubles.’
Nancy inclined her head. ‘It wasn’t an ending, of course. Real life is not like that.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Stef waited.
‘But we were married for twenty years and were veryhappy together. Edmund left Brandingfield as soon as he could. We thought it for the best and he loved it at the museum in Cambridge. But we experienced much sadness to do with our children. He’d been right, it was very difficult for him to keep up with Marianne, and he became quite bitter about it. I sometimes wonder if that bitterness infected his relationship with our daughter, Aaron’s mother; whether she thought she was second-best in her father’s life.’
‘Where did you say Andrea is now?’
