Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 50

She took the lift to the executive offices, and then hesitated for a moment outside the door leading into her own private suite. She could not help asking herself what Paula and Agnes would say. She turned the k.n.o.b and stepped inside.

Paula and Agnes were standing next to the latter's desk deep in conversation. Both women automatically glanced at the door as it swung open. They were speechless at the sight of Emma, obviously completely taken by surprise.

"Well," Emma said, "I'm back. And I'm here to stay." She began to laugh at their stunned expressions, and reverting to the vernacular of the North, she added, "Don't stand there gaping at me like a couple of sucking ducks. Say something."

Paula grinned with pleasure. "Welcome, Grandy," she said, moving forward, catching hold of Emma's arm. "Come on, your office is waiting for you-it's been ready for weeks."

It seemed to Emma that the next few months sped by before she hardly had a chance to catch her breath. Every day she arrived at the Leeds store at eleven and stayed until four o'clock. She was soon in the swing of things, and taking a renewed interest in her colossal business empire, although she left the daily running of it to her grandchildren. She strenuously refused to take back the reins, pointing out, yet again, that she had retired the previous year and had no intentions of resuming her role as head of her various enterprises. She did agree to be a sounding board whenever they needed one, and she was always available to them, offering astute advice. And she was as smart and alert and agile as she had ever been.

And so, whilst she kept a canny eye on the business, she devoted most of her time to planning the two weddings due to take place in June and July. Emily was vastly relieved to have her grandmother's help, as was Maggie Reynolds, Alexander's fiancee. Maggie's mother had been dead for a number of years, and her father, a retired army colonel, had not been in the best of health lately. Nor was he the type of man to embroil himself in such a feminine matter as his daughter's wedding, being gruff and taciturn by nature.

With her inimitable brand of efficiency, and her extraordinary ability to concentrate totally on the matter at hand, Emma plowed ahead, making elaborate arrangements. She dealt with the invitations, the guest lists, the caterers, the florists, the dress designers, and the musicians'who^were to .play at'the two receptions. Several times she visited the Dean of Ripon, the Very Reverend Edwin LeGrice, to discuss each marriage ceremony, which he was personally to perform in Ripon Cathedral. Emma spoke to the organist and to the choirmaster at great length, and she helped the two future brides and their grooms select the appropriate music for their nuptials.

Not even the slightest detail was left to chance. Emma Harte wanted perfection and she aimed to have it, whatever it cost in time, energy, and money. Winston said to her one evening, "Well, Aunt Emma, it's good to have you back in command, playirig the general again, and cracking your whip like you used to at Heron's Nest. Whatever would we do without you?"

"Manage, I'm sure," Emma said in her pithy way, but she laughed, pleased by Winston's' remark. She wanted to be wanted, enjoyed feeling useful. And they help to keep me young and alive and cheerful, she thought later that same evening, as she was getting ready for bed. She also acknowledged that planning the weddings had helped to take her mind off Blackie's death, had eased her sorrow and her sense of loneliness. Positive action, she muttered under her breath as she slipped on her nightdress. And happy occasions. That's what every old person needs to give them a reason to go on living.

It was with a heart bursting with love and pride and joyousness that Emma watched Emily walk down the great aisle of Ripon Cathedral on the arm of her father, Tony Barkstone, at noon on June fifteenth.

To Emma, her young granddaughter looked her most beautiful that day. She resembled a delicate Dresden figurine in her wedding gown made of white taffeta. It was styled like an old-fashioned crinoline, the overskirt lifted at the hem, draped and caught with tiny sprigs of forget-me-nots and lilies of the valley. .A mixture of these same flowers, also made of silk; had been woven into a small coronet which held her flowing veil in place. Her only pieces of jewelry, other than her engagement ring, were the teardrop diamond earrings Emma had given her in 1968, and Great-Aunt Charlotte's string of pearls which had been her engagement present from Emma's brother, Winston, immediately after the First World War. Emily's half sisters, Amanda and Franceses, were her bridesmaids and were charming in blue taffeta gowns, wearing wreaths of honeysuckle in their hair.

The reception was held in the gardens of Pennistone Royal, and as Emma moved amongst her family, friends, and the many guests she kept telling" herself how fortunate she was to be here on this most special day in Emily's life and her own. The weather was glorious. The sky was a bright China blue, and the sun brilliant. Emma decided, as she glanced about, that her gardens had never been so stunning in their beauty, the many flowers a vivid blaze of riotous color against the fresh greenness of the lawns and the trees. That afternoon she had an acute awareness of everything, and she saw nature's loveliness and the people present through eyes that were more penetrating than ever in their perception. The smallest things suddenly took on a new importance and significance, and at one moment Emma knew that she was filled with a contentment she had not hitherto felt.

As she sat drinking her tea, watching the young people dancing, she thought of her hard life, her struggles, the sorrow and pain she had endured, the defeats and losses she had suffered. Quite suddenly they were all quite meaningless. I've been so lucky, she commented to herself. Luckier than most, in fact. I've experienced a great love, had dear and loving friends, achieved enormous success, ama.s.sed colossal wealth, and enjoyed good health all of my life. And, most important of all, I have grandchildren who love me, care about me now in my old age. Oh yes, I've been lucky to have all that I've had.

Five weeks later, at the end of July, Emma experienced similar emotions when her grandson was married to Marguerite Reynolds. Maggie made another lovely bride, was elegant and svelte in a simply styled gown of heavy cream satin. It had a high neck, long tight sleeves, and a slender skirt that extended out into a long train. With it Maggie wore a satin pillbox hat encrusted with seed pearls and a veil of Brussels ice. The glorious weather of June held for the July ceremony at Ripon Cathedral and for the reception, which was again held in the grounds of Emma's great old house.

One Sunday, about a week after the second wedding, Emma and Paula went for a walk through the gardens of Pennistone Royal. Emma said suddenly, "Thank you for chivying me out of my despondency after Blackie died. If you hadn't, I might not have been around to witness those two wonderful occasions, to see Emily settled with Winston and Sandy with Maggie." She winked mischievously at Paula, and added, "Now, with a little bit of luck, I might still be here to welcome a couple of new great-grandchildren into my family in the not too distant future.

' "You'll be here. Grandma!" Paula exlaimed, returning Emma's smile. "I'm going to make d.a.m.ned sure of that."

Emma linked her arm through Paula's as they continued to meander up the Rhododendron Walk. After a short while, Emma said quietly, "I'm pleased Jim came out of the nursing home in time to attend Alexander's wedding, at least."

"So am I, Grandy." Paula turned to Emma, remarked evenly, "And he's much better. Poor Jim-he's been down at the bottom of the pit. He can only go up from now on."

"Yes, darling, let's hope so."There was a slight hesitation on Emma's part before she murmured, "I've trie.d to speak to him about the nervous breakdown because I wanted to understand what brought it on. But I'm afraid he's not very forthcoming, is he?"

"No. He doesn't seem able to talk about it, not even with me. I decided it was better not to press him. I'm sure he'll open up later." Paula sighed. "In some ways Jim's very introverted. Gran. Doctor Hedley told me that the psychiatrist at the nursing home has been somewhat baffled too. Apparently he hasn't really been able to get to the root of Jim's despondency."

Emma made no comment and the two of them walked on in silence and finally sat down on the bench at the top of the hill. Emma stared ahead, still thinking of Jim. Her expression changed, became sad as she wondered why he was so bottled up inside and seemingly incapable of unburdening himself to the psychiatrist, a doctor who might well be able to help him.

Paula, watching her grandmother, said, "What are you thinking about, darling? You look so pensive all of a sudden."

"Nothing of any great importance," Emma murmured. "I'm glad Jim went to my house in the South of France with Daisy and David. I think the holiday will do him a lot of good. The sun, the fresh air, outdoor activities, plenty of good food and rest ahvays seem to work wonders. When he comes back at the end of August h.e.l.l be able to go back to the newspaper." When Paula was silent, Emma glanced at her curiously. "He will, won't he? You're not hiding something from me, are you, dear?"

"No, no, of course I'm not," Paula exclaimed, dragging herself out of her own worrying thoughts. "And like you I'm happy he agreed to take the holiday with my parents."

"I'm surprised he didn't insist you went with them," Emma ventured, eyeing her with greater interest.

"I promised Jim I'd join them for a week in the middle of August, if that's all right with you. In fact, I was hoping you'd come too."

"Oh no, I don't want to start gadding off again. I shall stay here, and keep my eye on those great-grandchildren of mine.' Emma paused, reflected, then remarked as casually as she could manage, "It'll be nice for me if you'd stay on at Penhistone Royal, Paula. If Jim's agreeable and would like to live here, of course. The house is so big, and it's going to seem rather desolate without little Emily." Emma burst out laughing. "I'd better not call her .that anymore, had I? After all, she's a married woman now."

"And very much aware of it," Paula said, also laughing. "I'd like us to live here with you, Grandy. I'll talk to Jim when I'm at the Cap." Paula was on the verge of telling Emma that she also fully intended to talk to Jim about a divorce. She stole a look at her grandmother, and changed her mind. Why worry her. Far better to get everything settled with Jim first.

Chapter Forty-two.

It was a hot afternoon at the end of August.

Emma sat at her desk in her office at the Leeds store, checking a list of sale figures for Paula. Quite suddenly she had the feeling she was not alone. She looked up quickly and glanced at the open door leading into Paula's office, expecting to see her granddaughter standing there.

There was no sign of Paula.

"I'm beginning to imagine things," Emma said out loud, and then laughed under her breath. I'm also talking to myself, she thought. I hope I'm not getting senile. That state of affairs I couldn't bear.

She put down her pen and stared at the sheet of figures on her desk. She was filled with distaste, found she no longer had any interest in them whatsoever. She peered at her watch. It was almost five. Paula usually slipped out onto one of the floors around this time, and perhaps she had gone to meet Emily in .the Rayne-Delman shoe salon. Emily had said something about buying shoes when she had phoned from her office at Genret earlier in the day.

A smile of intense pleasure touched the corners of Emma's implacable mouth, softening its resoluteness. They were having a girls' evening at Pennistone Royal tonight, as they often did on Fridays. Just the three of them and Merry O'Neill.

Emma leaned back in her chair, ruminating on the evening ahead, looking forward to it, and then she blinked in the brilliant light which was streaming in through the windows. How bright the sun is all of a sudden, blinding, really, she muttered to herself. Rising, Emma walked over to the sofa and sat down.

She closed her eyes, wanting to shut out that harsh light which was flooding the room. But it seemed to penetrate through the thin skin of her old lids and she lifted them, stared out into that most extraordinary and unnatural radiance. Emma's eyes narrowed as she shaded them with her hand. How very dazzling it is, she thought again. I must tell Paula to get blinds for this office. It's quite unbearable in here on such a sunny day.

To avoid the intense glare Emma turned her head. Her gaze rested on the photograph frames on the table next to the sofa. The silver and the bra.s.s and the gla.s.s glittered sharply in the luminescence that now washed over her office, and there was a curious l.u.s.ter to those well-loved faces that stared back at her and so hauntingly. Yes, they had been haunting her lately . . . Laura and Blackie, her brothers Winston and Frank, and Paul. Oh yes, always her dearest Paul. In the last few days their faces had been so vividly clear in her imagination, their voices so strong and vibrant in her mind. They were as real to her as when they had been alive.

It seemed to Emma that the past had started to acquire a greater and more p.r.o.nounced reality than the present. She was constantly invaded by memories, memories of years gone by, and they rushed at her with a force and clarity that stunned. They engulfed her, led her into other regions of time, and frequentlyshe felt that time itself had been suspended at some juncture long ago when she had been a youngwoman. Yes, her dear, dead loved ones had begun to completely tenant her waking moments, encroachon her restless nights. For the past week she had dreamed so many strange dreams and they were therewith her in those dreams.

Emma reached for Paul's picture, smiling to herself. She held it tightly between her hands, looking down into his face. How often she had picked up this particular photograph in the last forty-eight hours, irresistibly drawn to it, continually magnetized by his smile, his laughing eyes.

The intensity of the coruscating light sharpened so markedly Emma blinked again. Her whole office was glowing with a shimmering iridescence. It was as if thousands of lights had been turned on and were focused on the very center of the room. She hugged Paul's picture close to her body and gazed wide-eyed into that supernatural light, no longer disturbed by its refulgence. It was glorious and it had an aura of splendor.

But after a few moments of gazing into it she leaned her head against the cushions and closed her eyes.

Emma let out a tiny sigh of pleasure. She was filled with happiness, the kind of happiness she had never known before or believed existed. A feeling of warmth began to spread through her body. How lovely it is, she thought. And she, who had suffered from the cold all of her life, was suffused with that warmth and with a peacefulness that was perfection itself. She felt drowsy, enervated, without strength. And yet somehow Emma recognized she was stronger .than she had ever been in her whole life. And gradually she became aware of something else. He was here. In this room with her. That was the presence she had felt a few minutes ago.

He walked through the light, coining toward her, growing closer and closer. But he was so young . . . he looked exactly the way he had that night when she had first set eyes on him at the Ritz Hotel during the First World War. He was wearing his army uniform. Major Paul McGill of the Australian Corps. He was standing over her, smiling that engaging smile of his, the blue eyes so wide and clear and spilling his love for her. "I knew I'd find you here in the office, Emma," Paul said, "but it's time for you to stop. Your work on this earth is finished. You have accomplished all you had to accomplish, done everything you had to do. And now you must come with me. I've waited for you for over thirty years. Come, my Emma." He smiled at her and held out his hand. Emma siglied through her smiles. "Not yet, Paul," she said. "Don't take me yet. Let me see them again . . . Paula and Emily. They'll be here any minute. Let me say good-bye' to my girls. Then I'll come with you and willingly so. 1 want to be with you now. I too know it is time for me to leave." Paul smiled and moved away from the sofa, stepjted into the core of the glorious shining light. "Paid, wait for me, my darling," Emma cried. He answered, "Yes, I'm here. I'll never leave you again. You're safe now, Emma." She reached out her arms to him, straining tmvard him.

The photograph fell out of her arms, crashed to the floor, the gla.s.s shattering. Emma felt so weak she did not have the strength to pick it up. She did not even have the strength to open her eyes.

Paula and Emily, entering the adjoining office, heard the sudden noise. They looked at each other in panic and ran into their grandmother's office.

Emma lay quite motionless against the cushions. In repose her face was so still, so quiet, they were both unnerved. Paula put .a calming hand on Emily's arm and together they approached the sofa. They stood looking down at their grandmother in apprehension.

"She's just having one of her little snoozes," Emily whispered, instantly filling with relief. She noticed the photograph on the floor, picked it up, returned it to its given place.

But Paula was regarding the still and gentle face more closely. She saw the pinched nose, so white around the nostrils, the pale lips, the chalky pallor of the cheeks. "No, she's not dozing." Paula's mouth began to tremble uncontrollably. "She's dying, Grandy's dying."

Emily's face paled and she went rigid with fear. Her green eyes, so like Emma's, welled. "No, no, it can't be so. We must call Doctor Hedley immediately."

Paula's throat tightened and tears sprang into her eyes. She flicked them away with a trembling hand. "It's too late, Emily. I think she only has a few minutes." Paula repressed a sob and knelt at Emma's feet, took one of her frail old hands in hers. "Gran," she said softly. "It's me, Paula."

Emma's lids lifted. Instantly her face lit up. "I waited for you, darling, and for Emily. Where is she? I can't see her." Emma's voice was feeble, fading.

"I'm here, Grandma," Emily gasped, choking on her words. She too knelt down and took Emma's other hand in hers.

Emma saw her, half-inclined her head. She closed her eyes but opened them at once. She straightened up with a small burst of energy and stared directly into Paula's tear-stained face. Her voice was very weak yet clear, almost youthful, as she said, "I asked you to hold my dream . . . but you must also have your own dream, Paula, as well as mine. And you too, Emily. And you must both hold on to your dreams . . . always." She lay back against the sofa as if exhausted and her eyelids drooped.

Her two granddaughters gazed at her speechlessly, clinging to her hands, seared by their grief, their strangled sobbing the only sound in the room.

All of a sudden Emma opened her eyes for a second time. She smiled at Paula and then at Emily before looking away. She directed her gaze into the far, far distance, as if she saw a face they could not see and someone who was visible only to her.

"Yes," Emma said, "I know it is time now."

Her green eyes stretched, became very bright and shining, and they glowed with the purest of inner light. And she smiled her incomparable smile which illuminated her face with radiance, ana then her expression became one of rapture and perfect joy as she looked for the last time on her granddaughters. Her eyes closed.

"Gran, Gran, we love you so much." Emily began to weep as if her heart would break.

"She's at peace," Paula whispered, her mouth twisting in pain and sorrow. Tears were trickling down her face. After a moment she stood up. Leaning over her grandmother, she kissed her on the lips, her tears dripping onto Emma's cheeks. "You'll always be in my heart, Gran. All the days of my life. And you are the very best part of me."

Emily had been kissing Emma's small hand over and over and over again, and now she too rose. Paula moved to one side so that her cousin could also bid Emma farewell.

Reaching out, Emily stroked her grandmother's cheek, then she kissed her on the lips. "As long as I'm alive you'll be alive, Gran. I'll love you always. Arid I'll never forget you."

Paula and Emily automatically drew together, put their arms around each other. The two young women clung together for a few minutes, weeping, sharing their grief, endeavoring to comfort each other. Gradually they became a little calmer.

Emily stared at Paula. Tremulously she said, "I've always been afraid of death. But I'll never be afraid of it again. Ill never forget Grandy's face, the way it looked as she was dying. It was filled with such radiance, such luminosity, and her eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with happiness. Whatever it was our grandmother saw, it was something beautiful, Paula."

Paula's throat constricted. "Yes," she said shakily. "She did see something beautiful, Emily. She saw Paul . . . and Winston and Frank . . . and Laura and Blackie. And she happy because she was going to join them at last."

Chapter Forty-three.

In death, as in life, Emma Harte was in full command.

After summoning Doctor Hedley to the store, telephoning members of the family, and then accompanying Emma's body to the undertakers, Paula and Emily finally drove out to Pennistone Royal.

A tearful Hilda greeted them in the Stone Hall.

The housekeeper handed Paula a letter she was clutching. "Mrs. Harte gave this to me a few weeks ago. She asked me to hold it for you, Miss Paula, until her death." Hilda, who had worked for Emma for over thirty years, burst into tears again. "It doesn't seem possible that she's gone," Hilda said, wiping her eyes. "She looked so well this morning when she left for the store."

"Yes, she did," Paula murmured quietly. "And let's be glad she had her faculties until the end, and that her death was so peaceful, quite beautiful, really, Hilda." Paula and Emily spent the next few minutes comforting the sorrowful housekeeper, and gave her the full details of Emma's pa.s.sing, which seemed to soothe her.

Finally pulling herself together, Hilda said, "I know you both must have a lot to do. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Thanks, Hilda," Paula said.-Slowly she walked across the Stone Hall and mounted the great staircase, clasping the letter to her chest. Emily trailed in her wake.

They went into Emma's upstairs parlor where a fire blazed and the lamps glowed. They sat down on the sofa together and it was with shaking hands that Paula opened the sealed envelope and read the four pages covered with Emma's neat yet elegant handwriting. The letter was neither maudlin nor sad, but brisk and matter-of-fact, and it contained Emma's instructions for her funeral. She wanted a short and simple service, only one prayer and two hymns, one of them to be sung by Shane O'Neill. She forbade a eulogy, but suggested that if Paula so wished there could be one. It had to be spoken by Randolph, her nephew, and no one else.

It was the very cheerfulness that brought the tears to Paula's eyes. Swallowing, she pa.s.sed the letter to Emily. "These are Grandy's last wishes. She doesn't want the funeral service to be long or drawn out, and it mustn't be overly religious. We must do as she asks, Emily."

Emily also wept as she read the letter. After mopping her streaming eyes and blowing her nose, she asked in a quavering tone, "Whatever are we going to do without Grandy, Paula?"

Paula put her arm around Emily and "comforted her. After a while she said firmly, but with gentleness, "We are going to do what she wants .us to do, take charge, and bury her the way she requested. And from now on we are going to be strong, and very brave. She wouldn't expect less of us. After all, that's the way she raised us. She taught us to stand tall, as she did throughout her life, and so we must. We can't let her down. Not now. Not ever."

"Yes, you're right," Emily took a deep breath. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a burden to you. I know it's just as hard for you as it is for me." Emily frowned and then added, "Did you notice the date on the letter?"

"Yes. She wrote it a few days after Alexander's wedding- only a month ago."

"Do you think Grandy knew she was going to die soon?"

"Perhaps, but I can't be sure. Still, they say old people do see death approaching. Blackie going so suddenly shook her up, as you know, and it made her feel vulnerable, even more conscious of her own mortality." Paula forced a watery smile.

"On the other hand, I'd like to believe that our Gran was just being her usual efficient self, thinking of every contingency 'when she wrote the letter. You know as well as I do that Emma Harte never left one single thing to chance."

These comments seemed to cheer Emily. "That's true. And at least Gran died the way she wanted to die-at the office, with her boots on."

Both young women glanced around as the door opened suddenly.

Winston hurried into the parlor, his face grave, his eyes red-rimmed. "Sorry I'm late. I've been on the phone for ages," he said. He kissed his wife, squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, and then bent down and kissed Paula on the cheek. "You both look as done in as I feel. How about a drink?"

"Thanks, Winston. I'll have a vodka and tonic," Paula said.

'The same for me, darling," Emily said.

He brought them their drinks, took a chair next to the fire ' and lit a cigarette.

Paula pa.s.sed Emma's letter to him, explaining, "These are Emma's last instructions, her final wishes."

After reading it, he said, "Emma's been very explicit and precise. Thank G.o.d. It'll save a lot of family discussions and arguments about her funeral, especially with Robin. You know what he's like, so vociferous about everything, too b.l.o.o.d.y opinionated."

Paula looked across at him curiously. "I hardly think he would volunteer an opinion about his mother's funeral-not under the circ.u.mstances. Surely he wouldn't dare."