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The Monkey Puzzle
Tree Part III |
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“Thank you for agreeing
to see me, Mrs Fairmile.” “You are more than
welcome Mr Bartram. Rarely do I have the treat of being visited by
someone other than my granddaughter. She’s a lovely girl, pretty and
kind, but she runs out of new things to talk to me about. It doesn’t
stop her visiting everyday though, the sweet thing.” As she spoke,
Betty accepted the flowers with an approving smile, and set about
arranging them in a vase. Betty Fairmile’s voice
was captivating. For such an old lady it conveyed a sense of serenity,
wisdom and vigour. This was no frail old maid. She hadn’t been
expecting anyone and yet she had dressed with impeccable taste. Her
room, too, was beautifully laid out and Harry could not help noticing a
picture hanging one of the walls – a scene of two little girls dancing
around the base of a monkey puzzle tree. “I understand that you
wish to learn about my sister, Sally?” she enquired. Betty’s eyes
followed the direction of Harry’s stare. “Yes, that’s one of hers.
She was an extremely accomplished artist, my sister.” “Indeed she was Mrs
Fairmile.” “Please, call me Betty.
Everyone does.” He smiled at her, and she
noticed how his eyes danced in the afternoon sun that was streaming
through the window. “Betty it is, then.” Betty Fairmile lifted
herself with surprising grace from the comfortable looking armchair and
moved towards the picture on the wall. “I imagine you know why my
sister was so obsessed with this beautiful tree, Mr Bartram. It is the
symbol of her love for a man who captured her heart when she was just a
girl.” “And that is what I have
come here to ask you Mrs …, Betty.” He paused, noticing that for a
few precious seconds, the picture had come to life in the old lady’s
mind. He could see the years falling from her wise old face as she
re-lived some magical moment from times long passed, when she and Sally
were young and their lives full of hope and wonder. Finally, she turned to
face him again, and Harry could have sworn that she looked twenty years
younger. Perhaps it was just the way the afternoon light shone onto her
face, highlighting her smile. “… As soon as I saw
the article in Home and Country, I knew that I had to learn more about
the whole relationship between Ms Gann and her… What did you call them
in those days? Boyfriend? Beau?” “Suitor, Mr Bartram. I
would have described John as Sally’s suitor. Now, shall we take some
tea?” He smiled warmly at the
lady stood before him. He knew already that he was going to like her
immensely. She had presence, grace, elegance, and intelligence. She must
have been quite a woman when she was younger. “If I am to call you
Betty, then you most definitely must call me Harry” She smiled wickedly at
him. “Right now, Harry, the only calling I am thinking of doing, is to
call my granddaughter, so that I can brag about the fact that I have a
handsome young man in my company.” He sat back and laughed
loudly. Yes, he really did like Betty Fairmile. Once he had regained his
composure, Harry remembered her question, the one that guaranteed him at
least another 45 minutes of this enchanting woman’s company. “Yes,
tea would be very nice. Thank you.” Betty was pleased with his
answer. Accepting her offer meant that she would have plenty of time to
tell him some of her stories about Sally. And besides, she had already
asked Julie to bring in some tea if Harry had still been there after 10
minutes. At that precise moment, there was a gentle knock on the
door and, at Betty’s invitation, Julie walked in carrying a small
tray. Harry could not help noticing the fact that the two women had
obviously conspired to keep him there for a little while and he was both
astonished and extremely pleased. As she placed the tray on
a small coffee table, Julie flushed. She was now aware of the fact that
she had exaggerated her walk as entered, swaying her hips provocatively,
and that she was obviously flirting with Harry; a small detail that had
not escaped Betty’s clever old eyes. With a nervous smile at Mrs
Fairmile, she left the room quickly. Harry watched Betty pour
the tea. Only one with breeding and experience could make such a
ceremony of this simple act, and he used the time to think about how he
should ask his questions, but Betty had already decided that. “I shall tell you about
one of the fondest memories of my youth, Harry. I hope you like
stories.” “Very much” He leaned
forward to accept the delicate bone china cup and saucer. “I was ten years old,
back in the summer of 1912. John had invited Sally and I to a picnic in
the New Forest, near the village of Beaulieu. Do you know it?” “Very well. It is one of
my favourite places in the Forest. I was born and raised in Lymington,
you see” “You were?” Her eyes
widened. This was going to make the story all the more enjoyable to
tell. He would appreciate the breathtaking beauty of the area in which
her memories were set. “Well then, you will know that the journey is
approximately five miles and back then of course, the best way to arrive
in style at a forest village was on horseback. I was sat behind John,
holding onto him with all the strength that my little hands could
muster, and Sally rode side-saddle on her magnificent grey stallion,
Ragger” “Oh
John ! Slow down PLEASE!” Betty squealed in mock terror. What she
really meant was ‘lets gallop as fast as we can, so that we can feel
the wind in our hair and we can arrive at the edge of the river even
quicker’. “Slow
down? You’re are requesting that I, Brave John Courtney, should force
my noble steed to slow to a mere walk? I’ll do no such thing Miss
Gann!” He
kicked his heels expertly into Parry’s side, and the large black horse
eased effortlessly into a canter. “Oh
John, wait for me!” protested Sally, and in a second, she had urged
Ragger into a canter too, easily catching up with her sister and the man
she had such an enormous crush on. The morning sun shone brightly on her
face, contrasting with the coolness of the air which rushed over her
skin as they sped across the final few hundred yards to Beaulieu. Betty
squealed again. This was such fun! She buried her cheek into John’s
back and clung to him with everything she had. She knew that her big
sister was the subject of John’s interest, but this was her moment to
be close to him and she was having the time of her young life. Parry
started to slow down as John eased back on the reigns and Betty poked
her head around him so that she could take her first ever glimpse of
Beaulieu River. It was a glorious sight. The early sunshine had caused a
mist to rise gently from the water and it hung there, a few feet above
the surface, shrouding the area in a pretty white veil. “It’s
beautiful!” she gasped as John helped her from Parry’s back. “Isn’t
it Bett?” But he was already striding over towards Ragger to help
Sally to dismount. She
looked over to him with a tinge of disappointment, and then hastily
reminded herself that she was only along for the ride because father had
insisted upon it, and that she should simply enjoy the day. Of course
John was going to spend his time being as close to Sally as he could.
Even if her sister couldn’t see it yet, Betty knew that he had as
strong feelings for her as she did for him. “Let
me help you down Sally” He extended his strong, large hand. “Thank
you John” she could feel her skin redden as her hand touched his and
she hoped that he would think that it was the effect of the canter that
had caused her face to glow. Her
touch was magical. The softness of her delicate hand in his made his
mind swim. Gently, she placed her arm on his shoulder and with all the
proper decorum, eased her hand from his, and slipped it around his waist
as he lifted her carefully from her saddle and lowered her to the grassy
floor. For
a few moments, they stood there, her arms around him, his fingers
resting lightly on her hips, and they looked into each other’s eyes.
Words would have been a vulgar intrusion at that moment, and even Betty
could sense the intensity in the atmosphere as the young couple shared a
brief moment of intimacy. She tried to distract herself by moving ahead
of Parry and stroking his nose, and when she glanced back over at her
sister and John, they were still in the same position, unable or
unwilling to move. Finally
Betty’s youth overcame her politeness. “Are we going to go and fetch
our picnic from the lady on the hill or not?” she shouted from behind
Parry’s noble head, and she ducked down, almost hiding, in case her
outburst might have upset anyone. She needn’t have worried. Sally
laughed warmly “Yes, dear Bett. As usual you are right. Lets walk up
to Mrs Flethworthy’s cottage now and see what she has made for us. She
moved reluctantly away from John, and her heart seemed to constrict
unpleasantly at the thought of leaving him for just a few moments. “I’ll
tend to Ragger and Parry and we’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes
Sally.” “Not
a moment more” she smiled. And without thinking, she pushed a lock of
his hair across his forehead. His incredible blue eyes shone even more
brightly at her touch and his wide smile made her go weak. She was so
desperately infatuated with this kind, gentle, strong man whom she had
grown up admiring since she was just five and he, seven. Betty’s
impatient sigh broke the spell and Sally turned smartly on her toes and
walked towards the cottage on the hill with her little sister’s hand
safely clasped in her own. Looking back at John she spoke in a serious
tone “Only fourteen minutes left Mr Courtney. Be tardy at your
peril.” He
laughed loudly, throwing his head back and winking secretively at Betty
as she waved. “When we came back,
Harry, we were carrying the finest picnic I had ever seen. Mrs
Fletchworthy was famous for her fine fayre and she did not disappoint
that day. We had an absolutely wonderful time at the riverside. We ate,
sang songs, fed the ducks, and
dangled our toes in the water.” Betty giggled. It was the sound of a
twelve-year-old girl, yet it came from the lips of a lady who was almost
a hundred years old. “I remember that John dried my feet with a towel
and then Sally’s. But he took rather longer to accomplish the task on
my sister!” Harry smiled and carefully
placed his empty teacup on the tray. “You were fond of John too,
Betty” “Oh yes, he was a
wonderful man, with eyes that would have melted the hearts of a thousand
girls had the terrors of war not claimed him so fatefully young. His
smile too, was just lovely. In fact, Mr Bartram, you remind me a little
of him.” Once again she was
grinning devilishly in a manner that belied her advancing years. If
Sally had possessed one half of the personality that Betty demonstrated,
she would have been quite some lady. “Ah, you flatter me
unduly Betty” he protested; a little embarrassed. “The young are so easily
made to feel uncomfortable about their good looks Harry. Take it from an
old lady; enjoy your youth and all that it offers you. While your body
is strong and active, experience all the things that you can.” “I’ll remember that,
thank you.” “So tell me, young man,
have I disappointed you?” “Whatever do you mean,
that was a captivating story.” “But you wanted to learn
about the locket, that’s why you have come here to see me, isn’t
it?” “Locket? Betty, I have
no idea what you mean. The reason that I was so eager to come here was
to learn a little more about your sister and her lost love. You see, I
believe that there is a very strong chance that the John Courtney you
speak of was my Grandmother’s brother.” She could not hide her
surprise. “You are Althea Courtney’s grandson?” “Althea Bartram, as she
became. And thanks to you, I now know that Sally’s suitor was my
relative.” Betty sat back in her
armchair, visibly astonished by the news. “Well, well, well, what a
wonderful revelation Harry. And all along I thought you were another
looking for the locket.” “That’s twice you have
mentioned a locket Betty. Are you going to tell me what you mean? I have
a feeling that there is more to this story than I am aware of.” Her composure regained,
Betty nestled back into her chair. “Ah, the locket. Perhaps
the greatest detail in the whole story of my sister’s romance with
John Courtney. Everyone, it seems knows of it’s existence and yet
no-one has any idea where it could be… … except me of course.”
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