The Letter

"Alice, I don't think I can do this." Ralph stared gloomily around
the room.
"I know," said Alice gently. "You go on. I'll sort it all out."
"You sure?" Ralph looked helpless and lost, just like he used to do as
a little boy when things overwhelmed him.
"Of course, darling." Alice turned to him and hugged him. "You get
back. I'd like to do it."
Ralph hesitated. "But you're doing everything. I should help."
"You can help by getting back to Gwen and the twins." Alice tucked her
arm through his and led him out. "They need you now. The business can't
run itself."
"You're too good." Ralph kissed her on the forehead.
"Now come on." Alice tried to be bright. "We'll get through this.
Mother brought us up to be strong, didn't she?"
Ralph managed a smile as he climbed into his battered old estate
car.
"Remember to call me if you need anything."
He revved up the tired engine and leaned out of the window.
"I mean anything," he repeated sternly.
"I promise," smiled Alice. "Drive safely."
"I'll call you when I get home. Bye Alice."
Ralph's tyres crunched on the gravel before reaching the road and then
he was gone with a wave and a swirl of smoke from the exhaust.

Alice turned wearily back to the house and closed the door. She leaned
against the wall and looked down the narrow hall to the kitchen. It was
painfully familiar. She would rather do this by herself. If she was
honest, she was relieved that Ralph had gone. She was too tired to look
after anybody but herself. She climbed the stairs, leaning heavily on
the rail. Her mother had found the stairs difficult towards the end but
she had refused to sleep downstairs.
"I like my bedroom, Alice. I can look out at the garden," she had
said.
"Well how about a stair lift?" Alice had persisted.
Her mother had patted her hand. "Oh no, dear. All that mess and noise.
Now let's have a nice cup of tea. You can try my shortbread. I have a
new recipe."
And that was that. Her mother never made a fuss but she was a
determined woman.
Alice walked tentatively into the room at the head of the stairs.
Nothing had been touched. She crossed over to her mother's dressing
table in the window bay overlooking the garden. Who would tend the
roses now? The familiar smell of her mother's scent wafted up around
her and Alice gave a little shiver despite the warmth of the day.
"Well then, I'd better make a start," she said briskly and opened the
doors of her mother's wardrobe.

Years ago, as a young child, she had spent rainy afternoons in here,
trying on her mother's hats and high heels. One day, she had found a
small case hidden at the back of the wardrobe. She had peeped inside
and found a bundle of cards, flowery and perfumed, all signed by her
father.
"To my Darling Elizabeth," he had written, "With all my love
forever."
Alice had giggled with embarrassment and hidden them away again but she
had looked at her parents differently after that. It was as if she had
found out their secret.
She reached into the wardrobe now and took down the case. Sitting on
the edge of the bed, she took out the cards and spread them across the
quilt. There were a lot more than she remembered and bundles of letters
as well. The letters had foreign stamps and Alice remembered waiting
eagerly for the postman to bring these letters when her father was
away. Sometimes there was one for her. Once he had been to a banquet in
Arabia and had to eat sheep's eyes. He had described the ordeal in gory
detail and Alice had thought him a hero. Another time, he wrote of
seeing a cobra in Africa and his words had meandered down the notepaper
like a snake. When Ralph was born, he came home for good. Alice had
missed the letters. Mother was ill and preoccupied with Ralph and
father had been busy working up in town. Life had changed dramatically
then. Alice had never admitted this before but she had enjoyed herself
far more before Ralph was born. They had all seemed so much happier.
She was at once ashamed for thinking like this. She loved her brother.
He was hopeless and impossible but she was extremely fond of him,
though she felt more like his aunt than his sister.

Alice was shaken out of her memories by the shrill ring of the phone.
Thinking it would be Ralph, and amazed that he had remembered to call
when he arrived home, she picked up the old-fashioned receiver by her
mother's bed.
"Hello Alice." The voice was frail yet commanding.
"Aunt Margaret." Alice was surprised and pleased. "How did you know I'd
be here?"
"But of course you're there, darling. Where else would you be?"
Aunt Margaret had always had an uncanny way of knowing things. Alice's
mother used to say that she was clairvoyant, like their grandmother.
Margaret would laugh and peer over her spectacles knowingly.
"Perceptive, not psychic. That's all."
Alice smiled. "Are you all right?"
She was concerned that her mother's funeral might have been too much
for her aunt.
"Oh, I'm all right, Alice." There was a pause. "Are you all
right?"
"Yes, fine. Just sorting through things."
"That can be very trying, dear. You must take care of yourself. Is
Ralph helping you?"
"No, I sent him home. He has enough to do there."
"I see." Alice caught a touch of reproof in her voice. "So you're doing
everything yourself, as usual, Alice."
"No," Alice replied quickly. "I prefer it this way. I can get on more
quickly by myself."
She felt that she had to protect Ralph, as always.
"Just like your mother." The old lady's voice might be frail but it
still had an edge. "A word of advice, Alice. Don't be afraid to ask for
help?" It was an order more than a request. "And come over to see me
when you can."
"Of course I will. I'd love to. How about this weekend? I should have
finished by then."
"Perfect. We'll have a nice long talk. Just like old times."
"All right. See you Saturday then, around noon. And thank you for
calling, Aunt Margaret."
"Noon Saturday. Bye darling. Now I'll let you get back to your
letters."
Alice put down the receiver and wondered how on earth her aunt knew
that she had a bundle of her father's letters in her hand.

'I'm trying my hardest to get out of here and back home but the
situation is hairy and we're on full alert. I know that you don't want
to make a fuss and I shall respect your wishes and stay firm, even
though I find it dreadfully hard to do nothing. I am so relieved, my
darling, that you are coping bravely and that Margaret is there with
you and Alice. A year is far too long to be away. I shall be back with
you all for good asap. In the meantime, God bless you and keep you.
Yours always - Robert.'
Alice looked down at the letter, written in beautiful copperplate by
her father. He must have missed her mother very much. She folded it
carefully and put it back in its envelope. The stamp was oriental but
had faded and she could not read the postmark. That was probably one of
the last letters her father had sent because he came home soon
afterwards and then Ralph was born. Aunt Margaret had come to stay and
taken her out a lot so that mother could rest. They had lovely days on
the beach and Aunt Margaret bought her forbidden drinks like Tizer and
Dandelion and Burdock. Mother said they were bad for her teeth but they
were delicious.
Alice laughed to herself. How thoughtless children are. Mother was ill,
Father was facing untold dangers in foreign lands, and all she cared
about was a fizzy drink. Alice returned the letters and cards to their
case. There was still a lot to do, clothes to sort and take to the
charity shop in the High Street, and the estate agent to see about
selling the house. She propped the case against the door to take home
and started the harrowing task of sorting through her mother's
wardrobe.

Something was troubling Alice as she took dresses and skirts off
hangers and folded them into neat piles on the bed, but she could not
think what it was. She supposed that she was just tired and emotional
after the last few days. The end for her mother had come gradually and
peacefully but nothing could prepare you for the loss of somebody you
loved. She kept on thinking about the letters from her father. What
does one do with such personal things? Should she have read the letters
at all? Had her father really been away for a whole year and she hadn't
even missed him? Children have a strange idea of time. Alice folded the
last dress and closed the wardrobe door. She felt exhausted. She would
leave the chest of drawers until tomorrow. Perhaps she could take some
of her mother's beautiful silk scarves to Aunt Margaret at the weekend.
She would appreciate that. Alice sighed and turned to leave the room.
She picked up the case by the door and was about to carry on downstairs
when she suddenly froze. She returned to the bed and opened the
case.
Taking out the top letter, she read again 'I'm trying my hardest to get
out of here and back home?'
She searched for the date - late March. So her father must have been
successful in getting his leave quite quickly because he had come home
before Ralph's birth in May. Alice scanned the page.
'A year is far too long to be away?'
She felt a swift tightening in her stomach. If her father had been away
for a year, and he had written that letter in March, and Ralph had been
born in May? No. There must be a mistake. What was she thinking? Her
mother? Her parents had been devoted to each other. There had to be a
simple explanation. Alice wished that she had never read the letter. It
was private and none of her business. But she had read it and now she
couldn't forget it. Her head was spinning with bewilderment and sick
curiosity. She put the letter away quickly, closed the case and shut it
away in the empty wardrobe. As she left the house, she tried to shake
off her anxieties but they nagged at her all the way home. She knew
that she would have to find out the truth, no matter how awful. But
worst than the truth was the fact that she was doubting her mother and
that was unforgivable.

The old lady was sitting on the veranda, a plaid rug tucked around her
knees despite a blazing sun. Alice had made a special effort and
changed into a silk dress especially for the visit. Aunt Margaret liked
to take her around to meet the ladies in the nursing home and they
always commented on her clothes. Today was no exception.
"What a beautiful colour. Just right with your lovely complexion dear.
That shade used to suit me too."
"What a pretty frock. I used to have one just like that. Of course, I
had a very slim waist then."
"You remind them of their youth, dear. It makes them very happy," Aunt
Margaret said, but added somewhat cynically, "Mind you, I don't think
Mavis ever had a waist, but there you are. Memories deceive us
all."
Alice smiled and sat down beside her.
"You look well, Aunt Margaret. This is a lovely place, isn't it?" She
gazed out across the lawns to the small grove of spruce and the still
lake edged with purple irises.
The old lady nodded. "Yes. I enjoy this view. It reminds me of holidays
we used to spend at our grandmother's house in Scotland. Your mother
and I had the most wonderful times."
She took Alice's hand in hers. Still looking out over the garden, she
asked calmly, "What's troubling you, dear? Do you want to say?"
Alice suddenly choked up. "I don't know really. I think I'm just tired.
That's all."
She knew that she would cry if she looked at her aunt so she fixed her
eyes on the distant trees and swallowed hard. Aunt Margaret squeezed
her hand gently.
"Let's have some tea," she said, "and then I shall tell you everything
you need to know."
Alice started slightly and the colour drained from her face.
"I found some letters, you see, and?" The words stuck in her
throat.
"I thought you might," said Aunt Margaret gently. "Don't fret, darling.
It's all right."
She turned around and waved to one of the assistants.
"Could you bring us one of your special teas, Bertha?"
Aunt Margaret turned back to Alice, took her hand again, and followed
her gaze out over the garden.
"Your mother and father were exceptional people, Alice."
She patted her hand and they waited in silence for Bertha to bring the
tea.

"Do have a slice of sultana bread, dear. It's quite delicious."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret. I seem to have lost my appetite."
"Never mind. Let me pour you more tea."
Aunt Margaret seemed to take an age and Alice could wait no
longer.
"What can you tell me, Aunt Margaret?" Her voice had a pleading
edge.
Aunt Margaret stared hard at Alice and then she relaxed and looked into
the distance.
"My memory sometimes plays tricks on me these days," she said, "but I
shall try to keep to the facts."
She took a sip of tea and placed the cup and saucer with great
deliberation on the table. Her face grew dark.
"Your father was away a lot when you were a child, Alice. Diplomatic
work. After you were born, they decided that it would be safer for you
and your mother to stay in England. Your father managed to get back as
often as he could and I used to come down and stay at the weekends.
Your parents were looking forward to the time when your father would be
posted back home and you could all be together again. Then ?"
The old lady hesitated for a moment. The line of her jaw
hardened.
"Then your mother was attacked."
A spasm of pain crossed Alice's face as she pulled herself upright in
her chair.
"Was she hurt?" she whispered.
"No, darling. Not like that."
"Like what?"
"Your mother was taken to hospital but she was only bruised and they
discharged her straightaway. I came at once."
"But?"
"But later she found that she was expecting a baby and that was a
terrible shock."
"Are you saying that mother was attacked and raped?" Alice was as pale
as a ghost.
Aunt Margaret nodded. "Yes, dear, but we couldn't talk about it in
those days."
Alice flared up. "But mother was attacked. It wasn't her fault. Why
could nobody talk about it?"
Her eyes brimmed over with tears. "Poor Mummy," she moaned and buried
her face in her hands.
"It was better that nobody knew," Aunt Margaret went on. "Better for
your mother and father. And better for you."
"Why me?" Alice was aghast. "Mother had been attacked horribly. Why did
she have to worry about me?"
Aunt Margaret gave Alice a sad smile.
"Your parents were protecting you, dear. People are not always
decent."
Alice was trembling now.
"The baby was Ralph," she said blankly.
"Yes."
"He doesn't know."
"No." Aunt Margaret looked directly at Alice. "He doesn't need to
know."
Alice stared down at her hands.
"Who did it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Only your mother and your father knew that. Nobody else."
"I don't understand," Alice blurted out. "Why didn't somebody do
something?"
"It was a different time, Alice. Reputations were important. Your
mother could do nothing. The deed had been done and she had to live
with it. She was lucky to have such a loving and strong husband. Your
parents saw it through together."
"And poor Ralph?" Alice's face crumpled.
"Ralph was fine. He was a strong healthy baby and your father loved him
as if he were his own. I can remember him saying that any child of your
mother's was his child too, and I loved him for that."
"Oh, Aunt Margaret. It must have been so awful for you all."
"For you too, darling." The old lady took Alice's hand firmly in her
own and twisted round to face her. "You were distressed too although
you didn't know why. I did my best to protect you but you were a
sensitive child, Alice, and you suffered too."
"I don't remember," Alice said faintly. "I didn't know."
Alice looked across the lawns to the lake and the purple irises but all
she saw was a blur in the distance. Later, she drove home slowly and
wished that today had never happened.

The phone was ringing as Alice let herself into her flat. She dropped
her bag on the sofa and reached across for the receiver.
"Hello Alice. How are you?"
"Oh, hello Ralph. I've just walked in this minute. I went to see Aunt
Margaret this afternoon."
"You really are an angel. I should try to get over and see her but I
just never seem to have a moment. How was she?"
"Oh, very well. You know Aunt Margaret. Indefatigable."
Alice felt disingenuous. She didn't like secrets and she'd never hidden
anything from Ralph before.
"Are Gwen and the twins all right?" Alice was trying to get onto safer
ground.
"Well, that's just it. Gwen has been giving me a very hard time for not
doing more."
"Oh, I'm sorry Ralph. Can I be any help?"
"Not doing more for you, Alice. She says that we've not been helping
you with the house and Mother's things and that we must."
"Don't be silly, Ralph. It's very sweet of Gwen but I have the time and
it's no bother at all."
"Well, she insists that we come over tomorrow evening and give you a
hand."
"But you can't." Alice sounded shrill and tried to compose herself. "I
mean, you have the babies to look after and the business to run. No,
no, Ralph, you mustn't give it another thought."
"You know Gwen, Alice. When she decides something, there's no stopping
her. She's arranged for her parents to stay for the week so that we'll
be free every evening to help you."
Alice felt a knot tightening in her stomach.
"So we'll see you at the house around seven. Is that all right?"
"There's no need." Alice could hear one of the babies crying in the
background.
"Have to call off Alice. Give Gwen a hand. See you tomorrow around
seven."
"Yes, bye Ralph."
Alice put down the phone and picked up her bag. The silk scarves that
she had meant to give to her aunt had tumbled out and were strewn
across the cushions.
"Damn," cursed Alice as she gathered them together absently. "What a
mess."

Alice had had a long day and she should have been tired, yet, somehow,
she had found a reserve of energy and felt quite determined. Usually
she liked to think things through and come to considered decisions, but
sometimes, one just had to rely on one's intuition and act on the
moment. This was one of those times and Alice had no doubts. It was
dusk as she turned in at her mother's driveway and the dark house
looked cold and uninviting. She turned on the lights and went straight
up to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and stood for a moment
looking down at the little case that she had hidden away in the corner.
Her heart was thudding now but she leaned in and took hold of the
handle. The case looked so ordinary. It made her heart ache just to
hold it. Alice went downstairs to the sitting room and knelt down by
the fireplace. She opened the case and placed some of the cards in the
grate. Then she struck a match and set them alight. As the flames died
down, she placed more cards and letters on the fire and watched them
turn to ash until the case was empty. The air was heady with the smell
of the perfumed cards. It reminded Alice of her mother's roses,
especially after a shower, when raindrops would glisten on the delicate
petals. When the last ember had died away, Alice got to her feet,
picked up the empty case and left the house.

Alice was home before ten. Before turning on the news, as she usually
did at this time, she hovered by the phone. Almost immediately, it
started to ring.
"What a coincidence Aunt Margaret. I was just about to ring you but I
thought it might be a little late."
"Oh, no, dear. The ladies have been talking non-stop about your outfit
and Mavis wants to know who your dressmaker is? I told her that girls
nowadays buy straight from the boutiques but she wouldn't believe me."
The old lady chuckled. "Poor old Mavis."
Alice wanted to tell her aunt about the letters but she could not bring
herself to talk about it.
"I just want to thank you, dear, for your visit today. It was very kind
of you to take the time to visit an old lady. I enjoyed it very
much."
"I enjoyed it too, Aunt Margaret. It was good to talk to you."
"You know, after you left, I kept on smelling roses, yet none of the
ladies had received roses today. Were you wearing a new scent, my dear?
Mavis was sure that it was one she used to wear."
"No. I wasn't wearing scent today. I forgot to put it on. I've been
forgetful lately."
"Of course you have, dear. So much to do."
Alice felt dizzy. She sat down on the edge of the sofa.
"Aunt Margaret," she began. "I?"
"Very wise, my dear. Your mother would have wanted you to know but for
it to go no further. You are so like her. She would have done the same
thing."
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret. You've been a great help."
"I've done nothing, Alice. You've done it all. Some things are better
left unsaid even though we can never forget. We keep them in our hearts
and are better for them. That's what your parents used to say."
Alice felt a tide of relief surge through her.
"Can I come to see you again, next weekend? I brought some of mother's
silk scarves today but I forgot to give them to you, what with one
thing and another."
"Oh, how lovely. Yes, do come and bring that brother of yours and his
sweet wife too. And the babies. I'd love to see them. I believe they
look just like you."
Alice laughed. "I'll bring the scarves too," she said.
"Good night, darling."
"Good night, Aunt Margaret. Sleep well."
Alice put down the phone and picked up the scarves that still lay in
disarray across the sofa. She folded them carefully and placed them one
by one in the little case. The gentle fragrance of the cards rose from
the case and made Alice feel very warm and safe. Tomorrow, Ralph and
Gwen would be there to help her and that felt comforting. The letter
was now a memory and one she chose to carry by herself. And she found
that no burden at all. It was a blessing.

The Letter

"Alice, I don't think I can do this." Ralph stared gloomily around the
room.
"I know," said Alice gently. "You go on. I'll sort it all out."
"You sure?" Ralph looked helpless and lost, just like he used to do as
a little boy when things overwhelmed him.
"Of course, darling." Alice turned to him and hugged him. "You get
back. I'd like to do it."
Ralph hesitated. "But you're doing everything. I should help."
"You can help by getting back to Gwen and the twins." Alice tucked her
arm through his and led him out. "They need you now. The business can't
run itself."
"You're too good." Ralph kissed her on the forehead.
"Now come on." Alice tried to be bright. "We'll get through this.
Mother brought us up to be strong, didn't she?"
Ralph managed a smile as he climbed into his battered old estate
car.
"Remember to call me if you need anything."
He revved up the tired engine and leaned out of the window.
"I mean anything," he repeated sternly.
"I promise," smiled Alice. "Drive safely."
"I'll call you when I get home. Bye Alice."
Ralph's tyres crunched on the gravel before reaching the road and then
he was gone with a wave and a swirl of smoke from the exhaust.

Alice turned wearily back to the house and closed the door. She leaned
against the wall and looked down the narrow hall to the kitchen. It was
painfully familiar. She would rather do this by herself. If she was
honest, she was relieved that Ralph had gone. She was too tired to look
after anybody but herself. She climbed the stairs, leaning heavily on
the rail. Her mother had found the stairs difficult towards the end but
she had refused to sleep downstairs.
"I like my bedroom, Alice. I can look out at the garden," she had
said.
"Well how about a stair lift?" Alice had persisted.
Her mother had patted her hand. "Oh no, dear. All that mess and noise.
Now let's have a nice cup of tea. You can try my shortbread. I have a
new recipe."
And that was that. Her mother never made a fuss but she was a
determined woman.
Alice walked tentatively into the room at the head of the stairs.
Nothing had been touched. She crossed over to her mother's dressing
table in the window bay overlooking the garden. Who would tend the
roses now? The familiar smell of her mother's scent wafted up around
her and Alice gave a little shiver despite the warmth of the day.
"Well then, I'd better make a start," she said briskly and opened the
doors of her mother's wardrobe.

Years ago, as a young child, she had spent rainy afternoons in here,
trying on her mother's hats and high heels. One day, she had found a
small case hidden at the back of the wardrobe. She had peeped inside
and found a bundle of cards, flowery and perfumed, all signed by her
father.
"To my Darling Elizabeth," he had written, "With all my love
forever."
Alice had giggled with embarrassment and hidden them away again but she
had looked at her parents differently after that. It was as if she had
found out their secret.
She reached into the wardrobe now and took down the case. Sitting on
the edge of the bed, she took out the cards and spread them across the
quilt. There were a lot more than she remembered and bundles of letters
as well. The letters had foreign stamps and Alice remembered waiting
eagerly for the postman to bring these letters when her father was
away. Sometimes there was one for her. Once he had been to a banquet in
Arabia and had to eat sheep's eyes. He had described the ordeal in gory
detail and Alice had thought him a hero. Another time, he wrote of
seeing a cobra in Africa and his words had meandered down the notepaper
like a snake. When Ralph was born, he came home for good. Alice had
missed the letters. Mother was ill and preoccupied with Ralph and
father had been busy working up in town. Life had changed dramatically
then. Alice had never admitted this before but she had enjoyed herself
far more before Ralph was born. They had all seemed so much happier.
She was at once ashamed for thinking like this. She loved her brother.
He was hopeless and impossible but she was extremely fond of him,
though she felt more like his aunt than his sister.

Alice was shaken out of her memories by the shrill ring of the phone.
Thinking it would be Ralph, and amazed that he had remembered to call
when he arrived home, she picked up the old-fashioned receiver by her
mother's bed.
"Hello Alice." The voice was frail yet commanding.
"Aunt Margaret." Alice was surprised and pleased. "How did you know I'd
be here?"
"But of course you're there, darling. Where else would you be?"
Aunt Margaret had always had an uncanny way of knowing things. Alice's
mother used to say that she was clairvoyant, like their grandmother.
Margaret would laugh and peer over her spectacles knowingly.
"Perceptive, not psychic. That's all."
Alice smiled. "Are you all right?"
She was concerned that her mother's funeral might have been too much
for her aunt.
"Oh, I'm all right, Alice." There was a pause. "Are you all
right?"
"Yes, fine. Just sorting through things."
"That can be very trying, dear. You must take care of yourself. Is
Ralph helping you?"
"No, I sent him home. He has enough to do there."
"I see." Alice caught a touch of reproof in her voice. "So you're doing
everything yourself, as usual, Alice."
"No," Alice replied quickly. "I prefer it this way. I can get on more
quickly by myself."
She felt that she had to protect Ralph, as always.
"Just like your mother." The old lady's voice might be frail but it
still had an edge. "A word of advice, Alice. Don't be afraid to ask for
help?" It was an order more than a request. "And come over to see me
when you can."
"Of course I will. I'd love to. How about this weekend? I should have
finished by then."
"Perfect. We'll have a nice long talk. Just like old times."
"All right. See you Saturday then, around noon. And thank you for
calling, Aunt Margaret."
"Noon Saturday. Bye darling. Now I'll let you get back to your
letters."
Alice put down the receiver and wondered how on earth her aunt knew
that she had a bundle of her father's letters in her hand.

'I'm trying my hardest to get out of here and back home but the
situation is hairy and we're on full alert. I know that you don't want
to make a fuss and I shall respect your wishes and stay firm, even
though I find it dreadfully hard to do nothing. I am so relieved, my
darling, that you are coping bravely and that Margaret is there with
you and Alice. A year is far too long to be away. I shall be back with
you all for good asap. In the meantime, God bless you and keep you.
Yours always - Robert.'
Alice looked down at the letter, written in beautiful copperplate by
her father. He must have missed her mother very much. She folded it
carefully and put it back in its envelope. The stamp was oriental but
had faded and she could not read the postmark. That was probably one of
the last letters her father had sent because he came home soon
afterwards and then Ralph was born. Aunt Margaret had come to stay and
taken her out a lot so that mother could rest. They had lovely days on
the beach and Aunt Margaret bought her forbidden drinks like Tizer and
Dandelion and Burdock. Mother said they were bad for her teeth but they
were delicious.
Alice laughed to herself. How thoughtless children are. Mother was ill,
Father was facing untold dangers in foreign lands, and all she cared
about was a fizzy drink. Alice returned the letters and cards to their
case. There was still a lot to do, clothes to sort and take to the
charity shop in the High Street, and the estate agent to see about
selling the house. She propped the case against the door to take home
and started the harrowing task of sorting through her mother's
wardrobe.

Something was troubling Alice as she took dresses and skirts off
hangers and folded them into neat piles on the bed, but she could not
think what it was. She supposed that she was just tired and emotional
after the last few days. The end for her mother had come gradually and
peacefully but nothing could prepare you for the loss of somebody you
loved. She kept on thinking about the letters from her father. What
does one do with such personal things? Should she have read the letters
at all? Had her father really been away for a whole year and she hadn't
even missed him? Children have a strange idea of time. Alice folded the
last dress and closed the wardrobe door. She felt exhausted. She would
leave the chest of drawers until tomorrow. Perhaps she could take some
of her mother's beautiful silk scarves to Aunt Margaret at the weekend.
She would appreciate that. Alice sighed and turned to leave the room.
She picked up the case by the door and was about to carry on downstairs
when she suddenly froze. She returned to the bed and opened the
case.
Taking out the top letter, she read again 'I'm trying my hardest to get
out of here and back home?'
She searched for the date - late March. So her father must have been
successful in getting his leave quite quickly because he had come home
before Ralph's birth in May. Alice scanned the page.
'A year is far too long to be away?'
She felt a swift tightening in her stomach. If her father had been away
for a year, and he had written that letter in March, and Ralph had been
born in May? No. There must be a mistake. What was she thinking? Her
mother? Her parents had been devoted to each other. There had to be a
simple explanation. Alice wished that she had never read the letter. It
was private and none of her business. But she had read it and now she
couldn't forget it. Her head was spinning with bewilderment and sick
curiosity. She put the letter away quickly, closed the case and shut it
away in the empty wardrobe. As she left the house, she tried to shake
off her anxieties but they nagged at her all the way home. She knew
that she would have to find out the truth, no matter how awful. But
worst than the truth was the fact that she was doubting her mother and
that was unforgivable.

The old lady was sitting on the veranda, a plaid rug tucked around her
knees despite a blazing sun. Alice had made a special effort and
changed into a silk dress especially for the visit. Aunt Margaret liked
to take her around to meet the ladies in the nursing home and they
always commented on her clothes. Today was no exception.
"What a beautiful colour. Just right with your lovely complexion dear.
That shade used to suit me too."
"What a pretty frock. I used to have one just like that. Of course, I
had a very slim waist then."
"You remind them of their youth, dear. It makes them very happy," Aunt
Margaret said, but added somewhat cynically, "Mind you, I don't think
Mavis ever had a waist, but there you are. Memories deceive us
all."
Alice smiled and sat down beside her.
"You look well, Aunt Margaret. This is a lovely place, isn't it?" She
gazed out across the lawns to the small grove of spruce and the still
lake edged with purple irises.
The old lady nodded. "Yes. I enjoy this view. It reminds me of holidays
we used to spend at our grandmother's house in Scotland. Your mother
and I had the most wonderful times."
She took Alice's hand in hers. Still looking out over the garden, she
asked calmly, "What's troubling you, dear? Do you want to say?"
Alice suddenly choked up. "I don't know really. I think I'm just tired.
That's all."
She knew that she would cry if she looked at her aunt so she fixed her
eyes on the distant trees and swallowed hard. Aunt Margaret squeezed
her hand gently.
"Let's have some tea," she said, "and then I shall tell you everything
you need to know."
Alice started slightly and the colour drained from her face.
"I found some letters, you see, and?" The words stuck in her
throat.
"I thought you might," said Aunt Margaret gently. "Don't fret, darling.
It's all right."
She turned around and waved to one of the assistants.
"Could you bring us one of your special teas, Bertha?"
Aunt Margaret turned back to Alice, took her hand again, and followed
her gaze out over the garden.
"Your mother and father were exceptional people, Alice."
She patted her hand and they waited in silence for Bertha to bring the
tea.

"Do have a slice of sultana bread, dear. It's quite delicious."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret. I seem to have lost my appetite."
"Never mind. Let me pour you more tea."
Aunt Margaret seemed to take an age and Alice could wait no
longer.
"What can you tell me, Aunt Margaret?" Her voice had a pleading
edge.
Aunt Margaret stared hard at Alice and then she relaxed and looked into
the distance.
"My memory sometimes plays tricks on me these days," she said, "but I
shall try to keep to the facts."
She took a sip of tea and placed the cup and saucer with great
deliberation on the table. Her face grew dark.
"Your father was away a lot when you were a child, Alice. Diplomatic
work. After you were born, they decided that it would be safer for you
and your mother to stay in England. Your father managed to get back as
often as he could and I used to come down and stay at the weekends.
Your parents were looking forward to the time when your father would be
posted back home and you could all be together again. Then ?"
The old lady hesitated for a moment. The line of her jaw
hardened.
"Then your mother was attacked."
A spasm of pain crossed Alice's face as she pulled herself upright in
her chair.
"Was she hurt?" she whispered.
"No, darling. Not like that."
"Like what?"
"Your mother was taken to hospital but she was only bruised and they
discharged her straightaway. I came at once."
"But?"
"But later she found that she was expecting a baby and that was a
terrible shock."
"Are you saying that mother was attacked and raped?" Alice was as pale
as a ghost.
Aunt Margaret nodded. "Yes, dear, but we couldn't talk about it in
those days."
Alice flared up. "But mother was attacked. It wasn't her fault. Why
could nobody talk about it?"
Her eyes brimmed over with tears. "Poor Mummy," she moaned and buried
her face in her hands.
"It was better that nobody knew," Aunt Margaret went on. "Better for
your mother and father. And better for you."
"Why me?" Alice was aghast. "Mother had been attacked horribly. Why did
she have to worry about me?"
Aunt Margaret gave Alice a sad smile.
"Your parents were protecting you, dear. People are not always
decent."
Alice was trembling now.
"The baby was Ralph," she said blankly.
"Yes."
"He doesn't know."
"No." Aunt Margaret looked directly at Alice. "He doesn't need to
know."
Alice stared down at her hands.
"Who did it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Only your mother and your father knew that. Nobody else."
"I don't understand," Alice blurted out. "Why didn't somebody do
something?"
"It was a different time, Alice. Reputations were important. Your
mother could do nothing. The deed had been done and she had to live
with it. She was lucky to have such a loving and strong husband. Your
parents saw it through together."
"And poor Ralph?" Alice's face crumpled.
"Ralph was fine. He was a strong healthy baby and your father loved him
as if he were his own. I can remember him saying that any child of your
mother's was his child too, and I loved him for that."
"Oh, Aunt Margaret. It must have been so awful for you all."
"For you too, darling." The old lady took Alice's hand firmly in her
own and twisted round to face her. "You were distressed too although
you didn't know why. I did my best to protect you but you were a
sensitive child, Alice, and you suffered too."
"I don't remember," Alice said faintly. "I didn't know."
Alice looked across the lawns to the lake and the purple irises but all
she saw was a blur in the distance. Later, she drove home slowly and
wished that today had never happened.

The phone was ringing as Alice let herself into her flat. She dropped
her bag on the sofa and reached across for the receiver.
"Hello Alice. How are you?"
"Oh, hello Ralph. I've just walked in this minute. I went to see Aunt
Margaret this afternoon."
"You really are an angel. I should try to get over and see her but I
just never seem to have a moment. How was she?"
"Oh, very well. You know Aunt Margaret. Indefatigable."
Alice felt disingenuous. She didn't like secrets and she'd never hidden
anything from Ralph before.
"Are Gwen and the twins all right?" Alice was trying to get onto safer
ground.
"Well, that's just it. Gwen has been giving me a very hard time for not
doing more."
"Oh, I'm sorry Ralph. Can I be any help?"
"Not doing more for you, Alice. She says that we've not been helping
you with the house and Mother's things and that we must."
"Don't be silly, Ralph. It's very sweet of Gwen but I have the time and
it's no bother at all."
"Well, she insists that we come over tomorrow evening and give you a
hand."
"But you can't." Alice sounded shrill and tried to compose herself. "I
mean, you have the babies to look after and the business to run. No,
no, Ralph, you mustn't give it another thought."
"You know Gwen, Alice. When she decides something, there's no stopping
her. She's arranged for her parents to stay for the week so that we'll
be free every evening to help you."
Alice felt a knot tightening in her stomach.
"So we'll see you at the house around seven. Is that all right?"
"There's no need." Alice could hear one of the babies crying in the
background.
"Have to call off Alice. Give Gwen a hand. See you tomorrow around
seven."
"Yes, bye Ralph."
Alice put down the phone and picked up her bag. The silk scarves that
she had meant to give to her aunt had tumbled out and were strewn
across the cushions.
"Damn," cursed Alice as she gathered them together absently. "What a
mess."

Alice had had a long day and she should have been tired, yet, somehow,
she had found a reserve of energy and felt quite determined. Usually
she liked to think things through and come to considered decisions, but
sometimes, one just had to rely on one's intuition and act on the
moment. This was one of those times and Alice had no doubts. It was
dusk as she turned in at her mother's driveway and the dark house
looked cold and uninviting. She turned on the lights and went straight
up to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and stood for a moment
looking down at the little case that she had hidden away in the corner.
Her heart was thudding now but she leaned in and took hold of the
handle. The case looked so ordinary. It made her heart ache just to
hold it. Alice went downstairs to the sitting room and knelt down by
the fireplace. She opened the case and placed some of the cards in the
grate. Then she struck a match and set them alight. As the flames died
down, she placed more cards and letters on the fire and watched them
turn to ash until the case was empty. The air was heady with the smell
of the perfumed cards. It reminded Alice of her mother's roses,
especially after a shower, when raindrops would glisten on the delicate
petals. When the last ember had died away, Alice got to her feet,
picked up the empty case and left the house.

Alice was home before ten. Before turning on the news, as she usually
did at this time, she hovered by the phone. Almost immediately, it
started to ring.
"What a coincidence Aunt Margaret. I was just about to ring you but I
thought it might be a little late."
"Oh, no, dear. The ladies have been talking non-stop about your outfit
and Mavis wants to know who your dressmaker is? I told her that girls
nowadays buy straight from the boutiques but she wouldn't believe me."
The old lady chuckled. "Poor old Mavis."
Alice wanted to tell her aunt about the letters but she could not bring
herself to talk about it.
"I just want to thank you, dear, for your visit today. It was very kind
of you to take the time to visit an old lady. I enjoyed it very
much."
"I enjoyed it too, Aunt Margaret. It was good to talk to you."
"You know, after you left, I kept on smelling roses, yet none of the
ladies had received roses today. Were you wearing a new scent, my dear?
Mavis was sure that it was one she used to wear."
"No. I wasn't wearing scent today. I forgot to put it on. I've been
forgetful lately."
"Of course you have, dear. So much to do."
Alice felt dizzy. She sat down on the edge of the sofa.
"Aunt Margaret," she began. "I?"
"Very wise, my dear. Your mother would have wanted you to know but for
it to go no further. You are so like her. She would have done the same
thing."
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret. You've been a great help."
"I've done nothing, Alice. You've done it all. Some things are better
left unsaid even though we can never forget. We keep them in our hearts
and are better for them. That's what your parents used to say."
Alice felt a tide of relief surge through her.
"Can I come to see you again, next weekend? I brought some of mother's
silk scarves today but I forgot to give them to you, what with one
thing and another."
"Oh, how lovely. Yes, do come and bring that brother of yours and his
sweet wife too. And the babies. I'd love to see them. I believe they
look just like you."
Alice laughed. "I'll bring the scarves too," she said.
"Good night, darling."
"Good night, Aunt Margaret. Sleep well."
Alice put down the phone and picked up the scarves that still lay in
disarray across the sofa. She folded them carefully and placed them one
by one in the little case. The gentle fragrance of the cards rose from
the case and made Alice feel very warm and safe. Tomorrow, Ralph and
Gwen would be there to help her and that felt comforting. The letter
was now a memory and one she chose to carry by herself. And she found
that no burden at all. It was a blessing.

The Letter

"Alice, I don't think I can do this." Ralph stared gloomily around the
room.
"I know," said Alice gently. "You go on. I'll sort it all out."
"You sure?" Ralph looked helpless and lost, just like he used to do as
a little boy when things overwhelmed him.
"Of course, darling." Alice turned to him and hugged him. "You get
back. I'd like to do it."
Ralph hesitated. "But you're doing everything. I should help."
"You can help by getting back to Gwen and the twins." Alice tucked her
arm through his and led him out. "They need you now. The business can't
run itself."
"You're too good." Ralph kissed her on the forehead.
"Now come on." Alice tried to be bright. "We'll get through this.
Mother brought us up to be strong, didn't she?"
Ralph managed a smile as he climbed into his battered old estate
car.
"Remember to call me if you need anything."
He revved up the tired engine and leaned out of the window.
"I mean anything," he repeated sternly.
"I promise," smiled Alice. "Drive safely."
"I'll call you when I get home. Bye Alice."
Ralph's tyres crunched on the gravel before reaching the road and then
he was gone with a wave and a swirl of smoke from the exhaust.

Alice turned wearily back to the house and closed the door. She leaned
against the wall and looked down the narrow hall to the kitchen. It was
painfully familiar. She would rather do this by herself. If she was
honest, she was relieved that Ralph had gone. She was too tired to look
after anybody but herself. She climbed the stairs, leaning heavily on
the rail. Her mother had found the stairs difficult towards the end but
she had refused to sleep downstairs.
"I like my bedroom, Alice. I can look out at the garden," she had
said.
"Well how about a stair lift?" Alice had persisted.
Her mother had patted her hand. "Oh no, dear. All that mess and noise.
Now let's have a nice cup of tea. You can try my shortbread. I have a
new recipe."
And that was that. Her mother never made a fuss but she was a
determined woman.
Alice walked tentatively into the room at the head of the stairs.
Nothing had been touched. She crossed over to her mother's dressing
table in the window bay overlooking the garden. Who would tend the
roses now? The familiar smell of her mother's scent wafted up around
her and Alice gave a little shiver despite the warmth of the day.
"Well then, I'd better make a start," she said briskly and opened the
doors of her mother's wardrobe.

Years ago, as a young child, she had spent rainy afternoons in here,
trying on her mother's hats and high heels. One day, she had found a
small case hidden at the back of the wardrobe. She had peeped inside
and found a bundle of cards, flowery and perfumed, all signed by her
father.
"To my Darling Elizabeth," he had written, "With all my love
forever."
Alice had giggled with embarrassment and hidden them away again but she
had looked at her parents differently after that. It was as if she had
found out their secret.
She reached into the wardrobe now and took down the case. Sitting on
the edge of the bed, she took out the cards and spread them across the
quilt. There were a lot more than she remembered and bundles of letters
as well. The letters had foreign stamps and Alice remembered waiting
eagerly for the postman to bring these letters when her father was
away. Sometimes there was one for her. Once he had been to a banquet in
Arabia and had to eat sheep's eyes. He had described the ordeal in gory
detail and Alice had thought him a hero. Another time, he wrote of
seeing a cobra in Africa and his words had meandered down the notepaper
like a snake. When Ralph was born, he came home for good. Alice had
missed the letters. Mother was ill and preoccupied with Ralph and
father had been busy working up in town. Life had changed dramatically
then. Alice had never admitted this before but she had enjoyed herself
far more before Ralph was born. They had all seemed so much happier.
She was at once ashamed for thinking like this. She loved her brother.
He was hopeless and impossible but she was extremely fond of him,
though she felt more like his aunt than his sister.

Alice was shaken out of her memories by the shrill ring of the phone.
Thinking it would be Ralph, and amazed that he had remembered to call
when he arrived home, she picked up the old-fashioned receiver by her
mother's bed.
"Hello Alice." The voice was frail yet commanding.
"Aunt Margaret." Alice was surprised and pleased. "How did you know I'd
be here?"
"But of course you're there, darling. Where else would you be?"
Aunt Margaret had always had an uncanny way of knowing things. Alice's
mother used to say that she was clairvoyant, like their grandmother.
Margaret would laugh and peer over her spectacles knowingly.
"Perceptive, not psychic. That's all."
Alice smiled. "Are you all right?"
She was concerned that her mother's funeral might have been too much
for her aunt.
"Oh, I'm all right, Alice." There was a pause. "Are you all
right?"
"Yes, fine. Just sorting through things."
"That can be very trying, dear. You must take care of yourself. Is
Ralph helping you?"
"No, I sent him home. He has enough to do there."
"I see." Alice caught a touch of reproof in her voice. "So you're doing
everything yourself, as usual, Alice."
"No," Alice replied quickly. "I prefer it this way. I can get on more
quickly by myself."
She felt that she had to protect Ralph, as always.
"Just like your mother." The old lady's voice might be frail but it
still had an edge. "A word of advice, Alice. Don't be afraid to ask for
help?" It was an order more than a request. "And come over to see me
when you can."
"Of course I will. I'd love to. How about this weekend? I should have
finished by then."
"Perfect. We'll have a nice long talk. Just like old times."
"All right. See you Saturday then, around noon. And thank you for
calling, Aunt Margaret."
"Noon Saturday. Bye darling. Now I'll let you get back to your
letters."
Alice put down the receiver and wondered how on earth her aunt knew
that she had a bundle of her father's letters in her hand.

'I'm trying my hardest to get out of here and back home but the
situation is hairy and we're on full alert. I know that you don't want
to make a fuss and I shall respect your wishes and stay firm, even
though I find it dreadfully hard to do nothing. I am so relieved, my
darling, that you are coping bravely and that Margaret is there with
you and Alice. A year is far too long to be away. I shall be back with
you all for good asap. In the meantime, God bless you and keep you.
Yours always - Robert.'
Alice looked down at the letter, written in beautiful copperplate by
her father. He must have missed her mother very much. She folded it
carefully and put it back in its envelope. The stamp was oriental but
had faded and she could not read the postmark. That was probably one of
the last letters her father had sent because he came home soon
afterwards and then Ralph was born. Aunt Margaret had come to stay and
taken her out a lot so that mother could rest. They had lovely days on
the beach and Aunt Margaret bought her forbidden drinks like Tizer and
Dandelion and Burdock. Mother said they were bad for her teeth but they
were delicious.
Alice laughed to herself. How thoughtless children are. Mother was ill,
Father was facing untold dangers in foreign lands, and all she cared
about was a fizzy drink. Alice returned the letters and cards to their
case. There was still a lot to do, clothes to sort and take to the
charity shop in the High Street, and the estate agent to see about
selling the house. She propped the case against the door to take home
and started the harrowing task of sorting through her mother's
wardrobe.

Something was troubling Alice as she took dresses and skirts off
hangers and folded them into neat piles on the bed, but she could not
think what it was. She supposed that she was just tired and emotional
after the last few days. The end for her mother had come gradually and
peacefully but nothing could prepare you for the loss of somebody you
loved. She kept on thinking about the letters from her father. What
does one do with such personal things? Should she have read the letters
at all? Had her father really been away for a whole year and she hadn't
even missed him? Children have a strange idea of time. Alice folded the
last dress and closed the wardrobe door. She felt exhausted. She would
leave the chest of drawers until tomorrow. Perhaps she could take some
of her mother's beautiful silk scarves to Aunt Margaret at the weekend.
She would appreciate that. Alice sighed and turned to leave the room.
She picked up the case by the door and was about to carry on downstairs
when she suddenly froze. She returned to the bed and opened the
case.
Taking out the top letter, she read again 'I'm trying my hardest to get
out of here and back home?'
She searched for the date - late March. So her father must have been
successful in getting his leave quite quickly because he had come home
before Ralph's birth in May. Alice scanned the page.
'A year is far too long to be away?'
She felt a swift tightening in her stomach. If her father had been away
for a year, and he had written that letter in March, and Ralph had been
born in May? No. There must be a mistake. What was she thinking? Her
mother? Her parents had been devoted to each other. There had to be a
simple explanation. Alice wished that she had never read the letter. It
was private and none of her business. But she had read it and now she
couldn't forget it. Her head was spinning with bewilderment and sick
curiosity. She put the letter away quickly, closed the case and shut it
away in the empty wardrobe. As she left the house, she tried to shake
off her anxieties but they nagged at her all the way home. She knew
that she would have to find out the truth, no matter how awful. But
worst than the truth was the fact that she was doubting her mother and
that was unforgivable.

The old lady was sitting on the veranda, a plaid rug tucked around her
knees despite a blazing sun. Alice had made a special effort and
changed into a silk dress especially for the visit. Aunt Margaret liked
to take her around to meet the ladies in the nursing home and they
always commented on her clothes. Today was no exception.
"What a beautiful colour. Just right with your lovely complexion dear.
That shade used to suit me too."
"What a pretty frock. I used to have one just like that. Of course, I
had a very slim waist then."
"You remind them of their youth, dear. It makes them very happy," Aunt
Margaret said, but added somewhat cynically, "Mind you, I don't think
Mavis ever had a waist, but there you are. Memories deceive us
all."
Alice smiled and sat down beside her.
"You look well, Aunt Margaret. This is a lovely place, isn't it?" She
gazed out across the lawns to the small grove of spruce and the still
lake edged with purple irises.
The old lady nodded. "Yes. I enjoy this view. It reminds me of holidays
we used to spend at our grandmother's house in Scotland. Your mother
and I had the most wonderful times."
She took Alice's hand in hers. Still looking out over the garden, she
asked calmly, "What's troubling you, dear? Do you want to say?"
Alice suddenly choked up. "I don't know really. I think I'm just tired.
That's all."
She knew that she would cry if she looked at her aunt so she fixed her
eyes on the distant trees and swallowed hard. Aunt Margaret squeezed
her hand gently.
"Let's have some tea," she said, "and then I shall tell you everything
you need to know."
Alice started slightly and the colour drained from her face.
"I found some letters, you see, and?" The words stuck in her
throat.
"I thought you might," said Aunt Margaret gently. "Don't fret, darling.
It's all right."
She turned around and waved to one of the assistants.
"Could you bring us one of your special teas, Bertha?"
Aunt Margaret turned back to Alice, took her hand again, and followed
her gaze out over the garden.
"Your mother and father were exceptional people, Alice."
She patted her hand and they waited in silence for Bertha to bring the
tea.

"Do have a slice of sultana bread, dear. It's quite delicious."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret. I seem to have lost my appetite."
"Never mind. Let me pour you more tea."
Aunt Margaret seemed to take an age and Alice could wait no
longer.
"What can you tell me, Aunt Margaret?" Her voice had a pleading
edge.
Aunt Margaret stared hard at Alice and then she relaxed and looked into
the distance.
"My memory sometimes plays tricks on me these days," she said, "but I
shall try to keep to the facts."
She took a sip of tea and placed the cup and saucer with great
deliberation on the table. Her face grew dark.
"Your father was away a lot when you were a child, Alice. Diplomatic
work. After you were born, they decided that it would be safer for you
and your mother to stay in England. Your father managed to get back as
often as he could and I used to come down and stay at the weekends.
Your parents were looking forward to the time when your father would be
posted back home and you could all be together again. Then ?"
The old lady hesitated for a moment. The line of her jaw
hardened.
"Then your mother was attacked."
A spasm of pain crossed Alice's face as she pulled herself upright in
her chair.
"Was she hurt?" she whispered.
"No, darling. Not like that."
"Like what?"
"Your mother was taken to hospital but she was only bruised and they
discharged her straightaway. I came at once."
"But?"
"But later she found that she was expecting a baby and that was a
terrible shock."
"Are you saying that mother was attacked and raped?" Alice was as pale
as a ghost.
Aunt Margaret nodded. "Yes, dear, but we couldn't talk about it in
those days."
Alice flared up. "But mother was attacked. It wasn't her fault. Why
could nobody talk about it?"
Her eyes brimmed over with tears. "Poor Mummy," she moaned and buried
her face in her hands.
"It was better that nobody knew," Aunt Margaret went on. "Better for
your mother and father. And better for you."
"Why me?" Alice was aghast. "Mother had been attacked horribly. Why did
she have to worry about me?"
Aunt Margaret gave Alice a sad smile.
"Your parents were protecting you, dear. People are not always
decent."
Alice was trembling now.
"The baby was Ralph," she said blankly.
"Yes."
"He doesn't know."
"No." Aunt Margaret looked directly at Alice. "He doesn't need to
know."
Alice stared down at her hands.
"Who did it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Only your mother and your father knew that. Nobody else."
"I don't understand," Alice blurted out. "Why didn't somebody do
something?"
"It was a different time, Alice. Reputations were important. Your
mother could do nothing. The deed had been done and she had to live
with it. She was lucky to have such a loving and strong husband. Your
parents saw it through together."
"And poor Ralph?" Alice's face crumpled.
"Ralph was fine. He was a strong healthy baby and your father loved him
as if he were his own. I can remember him saying that any child of your
mother's was his child too, and I loved him for that."
"Oh, Aunt Margaret. It must have been so awful for you all."
"For you too, darling." The old lady took Alice's hand firmly in her
own and twisted round to face her. "You were distressed too although
you didn't know why. I did my best to protect you but you were a
sensitive child, Alice, and you suffered too."
"I don't remember," Alice said faintly. "I didn't know."
Alice looked across the lawns to the lake and the purple irises but all
she saw was a blur in the distance. Later, she drove home slowly and
wished that today had never happened.

The phone was ringing as Alice let herself into her flat. She dropped
her bag on the sofa and reached across for the receiver.
"Hello Alice. How are you?"
"Oh, hello Ralph. I've just walked in this minute. I went to see Aunt
Margaret this afternoon."
"You really are an angel. I should try to get over and see her but I
just never seem to have a moment. How was she?"
"Oh, very well. You know Aunt Margaret. Indefatigable."
Alice felt disingenuous. She didn't like secrets and she'd never hidden
anything from Ralph before.
"Are Gwen and the twins all right?" Alice was trying to get onto safer
ground.
"Well, that's just it. Gwen has been giving me a very hard time for not
doing more."
"Oh, I'm sorry Ralph. Can I be any help?"
"Not doing more for you, Alice. She says that we've not been helping
you with the house and Mother's things and that we must."
"Don't be silly, Ralph. It's very sweet of Gwen but I have the time and
it's no bother at all."
"Well, she insists that we come over tomorrow evening and give you a
hand."
"But you can't." Alice sounded shrill and tried to compose herself. "I
mean, you have the babies to look after and the business to run. No,
no, Ralph, you mustn't give it another thought."
"You know Gwen, Alice. When she decides something, there's no stopping
her. She's arranged for her parents to stay for the week so that we'll
be free every evening to help you."
Alice felt a knot tightening in her stomach.
"So we'll see you at the house around seven. Is that all right?"
"There's no need." Alice could hear one of the babies crying in the
background.
"Have to call off Alice. Give Gwen a hand. See you tomorrow around
seven."
"Yes, bye Ralph."
Alice put down the phone and picked up her bag. The silk scarves that
she had meant to give to her aunt had tumbled out and were strewn
across the cushions.
"Damn," cursed Alice as she gathered them together absently. "What a
mess."

Alice had had a long day and she should have been tired, yet, somehow,
she had found a reserve of energy and felt quite determined. Usually
she liked to think things through and come to considered decisions, but
sometimes, one just had to rely on one's intuition and act on the
moment. This was one of those times and Alice had no doubts. It was
dusk as she turned in at her mother's driveway and the dark house
looked cold and uninviting. She turned on the lights and went straight
up to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and stood for a moment
looking down at the little case that she had hidden away in the corner.
Her heart was thudding now but she leaned in and took hold of the
handle. The case looked so ordinary. It made her heart ache just to
hold it. Alice went downstairs to the sitting room and knelt down by
the fireplace. She opened the case and placed some of the cards in the
grate. Then she struck a match and set them alight. As the flames died
down, she placed more cards and letters on the fire and watched them
turn to ash until the case was empty. The air was heady with the smell
of the perfumed cards. It reminded Alice of her mother's roses,
especially after a shower, when raindrops would glisten on the delicate
petals. When the last ember had died away, Alice got to her feet,
picked up the empty case and left the house.

Alice was home before ten. Before turning on the news, as she usually
did at this time, she hovered by the phone. Almost immediately, it
started to ring.
"What a coincidence Aunt Margaret. I was just about to ring you but I
thought it might be a little late."
"Oh, no, dear. The ladies have been talking non-stop about your outfit
and Mavis wants to know who your dressmaker is? I told her that girls
nowadays buy straight from the boutiques but she wouldn't believe me."
The old lady chuckled. "Poor old Mavis."
Alice wanted to tell her aunt about the letters but she could not bring
herself to talk about it.
"I just want to thank you, dear, for your visit today. It was very kind
of you to take the time to visit an old lady. I enjoyed it very
much."
"I enjoyed it too, Aunt Margaret. It was good to talk to you."
"You know, after you left, I kept on smelling roses, yet none of the
ladies had received roses today. Were you wearing a new scent, my dear?
Mavis was sure that it was one she used to wear."
"No. I wasn't wearing scent today. I forgot to put it on. I've been
forgetful lately."
"Of course you have, dear. So much to do."
Alice felt dizzy. She sat down on the edge of the sofa.
"Aunt Margaret," she began. "I?"
"Very wise, my dear. Your mother would have wanted you to know but for
it to go no further. You are so like her. She would have done the same
thing."
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret. You've been a great help."
"I've done nothing, Alice. You've done it all. Some things are better
left unsaid even though we can never forget. We keep them in our hearts
and are better for them. That's what your parents used to say."
Alice felt a tide of relief surge through her.
"Can I come to see you again, next weekend? I brought some of mother's
silk scarves today but I forgot to give them to you, what with one
thing and another."
"Oh, how lovely. Yes, do come and bring that brother of yours and his
sweet wife too. And the babies. I'd love to see them. I believe they
look just like you."
Alice laughed. "I'll bring the scarves too," she said.
"Good night, darling."
"Good night, Aunt Margaret. Sleep well."
Alice put down the phone and picked up the scarves that still lay in
disarray across the sofa. She folded them carefully and placed them one
by one in the little case. The gentle fragrance of the cards rose from
the case and made Alice feel very warm and safe. Tomorrow, Ralph and
Gwen would be there to help her and that felt comforting. The letter
was now a memory and one she chose to carry by herself. And she found
that no burden at all. It was a blessing.