Just South of Rome (12 page)

‘She was over seventy when I first met her,’ Hilda said, continuing to stare out the window, ‘but still so beautiful, so very beautiful.’

Here we go again, Kate thought, Grandmother Ellie. Kate could even vaguely remember her great-grandmother, a slim, regal woman with white, white hair. She could remember Big Jim too, just, although he hadn’t been particularly big then, a rather withered man, she recalled, who seemed terribly, terribly old. They’d died the same year, when she was five.

‘Of course I knew who she was,’ Hilda went on, ‘everyone knew who she was. I’d seen her picture in the paper – Elianne and Jim Durham were famous. But I never dreamt I’d marry into the family. I never dreamt I’d come to know her as I did.’

She’s really rambling tonight, Kate thought. It’s probably because of the family meeting and the talk of the old house’s demolition. Or perhaps it’s simply the sherry, who can tell?

‘You’re so like her, Kate.’ Hilda turned from the window. ‘You’ve grown into your beauty, my darling, just as I said you would.’

Kate was startled from the complacency of her thoughts. Her mother’s eyes were not vague, but highly perceptive.

‘Do you remember how I used to tell you that you would be beautiful?’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ Kate replied a little brusquely. She could recall only too well her mother’s constant attempts to be a guiding influence in a masculine world and to make her aware of her femininity. ‘You will be beautiful one day, Kate,’ Hilda would say, ‘do not doubt yourself, my dear.’ But Kate had not doubted herself for one minute. She’d needed no confidence booster, and she certainly didn’t need to be beautiful.

‘You still don’t believe me, do you?’ Hilda smiled her pretty smile. ‘But you will soon. One day, very soon, you’ll know that you’re beautiful.’

Hilda had recognised every nuance of the change in her daughter. Kate’s physical blossoming had been evident at first glance, but she’d also sensed the restlessness in the girl. Kate is still a virgin, Hilda had thought. She hasn’t discovered her true womanliness yet. But she wants to. She aches to.

‘You look so like the pictures of Grandmother Ellie as a girl.’ Hilda studied her daughter fondly. ‘The same green eyes and auburn hair.’ She smiled again, and reaching out her hand, she stroked her fingers along the curve of Kate’s cheek. ‘It’s a very effective mix with the Durham bones, I must say.’ Her smile faded and her fingers rested where they were as her eyes locked with her daughter’s. ‘I do hope you will find a great love, my darling, one as fulfilling as Grandmother Ellie’s.’

Kate felt uncomfortable, exposed somehow. Her mother, far from being in her customary distracted state, seemed altogether too knowing.

‘I think it’s time we headed downstairs for dinner,’ she said and she stood. ‘We don’t want to keep the others waiting.’

‘Goodness me, no.’ Hilda glanced at the antique mantel clock, which still kept perfect time. A lovely piece in cherry wood with brass-fitted face, it had belonged to Grandmother Ellie and was one of her favourite possessions. ‘We certainly don’t want to keep them waiting.’ She drained the last of her sherry, delicately patted the corners of her mouth with a lace handkerchief and rose to her feet. ‘After Christmas, when Ivan leaves,’ she said, ‘we shall do a tour of Elianne House, you and I. No one else, just the two of us, and we shall bid our farewells.’

Our farewells to what, Kate wondered, the past? Her mother wore that distant expression again.

‘Yes of course, Marmee, that’s exactly what we’ll do.’

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