Primrose Lawn
(A tragic day)
One of the series of “Day” books
By
Elizabeth James
Copyright©Elizabeth James 2011
Published at Smashwords
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents described in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Primrose Lawn
(A tragic day)
One of the series of “Day” books
By
Elizabeth James
Chapter 1
Rhys Bothwait stood at the upper floor window of Bothwait & Branch, the large sashes giving him the opportunity to see up and down the bustling streets of the small market town. Neat rows of shops lined the broad high street on the left hand side of the road, whilst on the right sat two large churches strangely and uncomfortably nestled side by side. At the top of the road he could see the small farmers market, as he stood watching he found himself curiously wondering about the small people below; his vantage point offering him the opportunity to follow their progress as they manoeuvred their way up and down the town. He sighed to himself, the long days this rotten town had bought made him long for home, for a busy Thursday in London, the traffic and noise, the strange obscurity that so many people brought. Here already, after only one month, everyone knew his name. “Good morning Mr. Bothwait, how are you today?” bland people would ask every time he went into a shop or the pub, God it was tedious, he always found himself standing searching his own memory for their names, their broad stupid grins trying to draw him into conversation.
He glanced forlornly at the large clock set high on the wall, twelve-thirty, lunchtime he thought with a degree of resignation fully aware that any second Matt Branch would breeze into his office, a large idiotic grin on his already comical face making promises to whisk him off for a nice lunch somewhere. Rhys knew that a nice lunch in Dodham would consist of going into The Goat, at that thought he couldn’t help but glance to his right to bring the offending public house into full view. Its dull moss green exterior and multitude of dark wooden windows already hinting at the dark, dinginess the inside would bring. He could almost see inside now, Jack Adams sitting in his favourite wooden chair at the corner of the bar next to the large open fire, supping his fifth pint of the day, his rugged red cheeks and oversize flat nose giving away his alcoholic tendencies before he ever slurred a word. Jenny, flitting effortlessly behind the bar, tiding and humming, she seemed to hum all the time like an electrical device you couldn’t switch off, the irritating filter of a fish tank always sprang to mind, a persistent buzz that weedled into Rhys’s head making him want to tell her rudely to shut up. He knew it would be dark inside, blocking out the summer sun, his eyes would have to readjust to the dimly lit wall lights that lined this long low room and bar.
“Lunch” the word almost entering his office before the man who spoke it, Matt Branch bounded (and one could only call it bounding) like a young deer into the office, a large perpetual grin fastened to his large moon shaped face. He was younger than Rhys by nearly ten years, but this country air seemed to Rhys to leather the skin unkindly, he’d noticed that these Norfolk men seemed less inclined to groom than their counterparts in London. “Looking dapper today” Matt continued, admiring quite openly the handsome figure in front of him dressed in his Saville Row suit and strikingly white shirt and tie, a small neatly folded hankie chief just showing itself on his breast pocket. Matt wondered how his own shirt always looks so off-white, almost gray in comparison and found himself trying to tuck it in properly and adjust his tie, but he still looked like a farmer in his Sunday best, a poor uncomfortable wretch next to his dashing cosmopolitan friend. Rhys was still staring out of the window towards The Goat when he spotted a woman walking in the most peculiar manner down the street. It was the way she walked that initially caught his attention, he wasn’t quite sure why, but she drew his gaze and he couldn’t stop looking at her, everyone else around her appeared to be moving more quickly perhaps it was this.
“Who’s that?” he suddenly asked his friend who was by now standing shoulder to shoulder with him at the tall window, keen to see what fixated his friend who would normally have come back with a quick sharp sarcastic reply to his earlier tease.
“Oh, that’s Primrose Lawn” a tiny curl in his lips barely visible if you weren’t looking directly at him was lost on Rhys Bothwait who had become absorbed in watching the slim tall figure stutter down the uneven street. “Um, interesting” maybe Dodham wasn’t as uncultured as he’d once thought.
“Come on then Lunch, Goat?” he mimicked his friend fondly, knowing with quite certainty that this was what Matt was about to say “We can go somewhere else if you want” clearly he’d upset his friend “No, the Goat is fine”
Chapter Two
Rhys found himself looking at the large clock on the office wall again, at exactly twelve-thirty, he’d done it everyday for a week, the woman he’d seen at a glance hadn't walked passed his office window again, well at least not while he was looking. It had been a quick glance no more than a minute, but the name, the strange peculiar way she held herself had been the first stirring he’d had since his move to this obscure branch of his fathers firm. The work was dull, repetitive, a Will, a House Conveyance, the odd divorce. No thrill of a Court Case or Murder here and looking out of this large oversize window high above the street offered him an escape out even if only for a few brief minutes.
As he looked out of the corner of his eye, he saw her again. Her presence seemed to be taking up the whole street or was that his imagination, no definitely not, he let his gaze pass from her to the others in the street and they were all looking at her as she passed them slowly, smiling to each other. He noticed that more than one wife or girlfriend felt the need to nudge her man to stop them staring, two young girls had stopped their mouths almost open as she walked past them. As he watched it was like watching a film goddess from an old black and white movie and he found him self intrigued, she looked so out of place here.
He could only see her from the back, she was slowly walking away from him, she stood maybe six feet tall in her high stiletto heels, pin straight. She walked along an invisible line putting one foot carefully directly in front of the other, just the single foot span apart, which made her walk look uncomfortably staid, but she glided serenely as if the path were water and she a graceful swan. The invisible line matched completely at right angles an invisible cord that must be pulling at the top of her head because her back was so straight, she walked as if the teaching dictionary was still propped on her head to keep it still. She must be a model he surmised as he continued to stare at her unashamedly from the window. Her clothes were moulded to her slim figure exquisitely a tight short navy jacket, reached just below her tiny waist tailored tightly but still encompassed in a shinny leather belt in red, its sleeves finishing just below her elbows, revealing the skin of her thin pale arms, adorned with bracelets of pearls, before reaching tiny navy gloves elegantly covering her fingers. From beneath her jacket he could make out a red pencil skirt, hugging tightly her hips but then tightening dramatically around her knees, a small slit in the back only just long enough to enable her to walk at all. He followed the rounded line of her hips down her slim legs, he could almost hear her stockings swish as she was walking, he knew that she would be wearing suspenders with petite lacy French knickers, her long legs drew him down to her navy strappy stiletto sandals that were elevating her height, her tiny feet slim and elegant. She teetered as she walked, stepping gingerly and precisely, she was supremely elegant but the slowness of her walk made her appear to be the only person in the street walking in slow motion, the curiosity of it struck him again. He forced his eyes upwards from her sinewy ankles back up through her body, the quiet swish of her stockings still playing in his mind with every step she took; her long blond hair flowed down to the small of her back, it too was pin straight and polished, shining in the sun and was topped with a large brimmed straw hat. He could just catch a glimpse of her sunglasses as she continued down passed the Butchers and turned into the Post Office at the far end of the street. “Blast” he let out just as Matt came into the office, the large door banging loudly breaking his fantasy uncomfortably.
“What you up to……………..spying again?” his friend enquired lightly watching his friends back as he continued to look out of the window.
“Oh nothing much, saw that woman again”
“What woman?” by now Matt had completely forgotten about the incident of the previous week.
“You know, Primrose Lawn”
“Ahhh, her again” Matthew was about to say something further when his friend stopped him in his tracks, taking him completely by surprise.
“I’ve got to meet her”
“Why?” the exclamation in his voiced suddenly made Rhys take his eyes from the window, swing round quickly to look towards his friend
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Well…….” he was about to explain further but his friend was still thinking about her long legs, and curved hips and the delicious swishing of her stockings.
“She looks gorgeous” at this point, had Rhys continued to look at him he would have seen Matt’s eyes nearly popping out of his head “Sorry?” he questioned completely bemused, wanting some elaboration on the statement, he could’nt quite believe what he was hearing but his friend seemed to be deadly serious.
“Gorgeous, I want to meet her”
“You sure mate” Matt was asking, his face looking quizzically at his friend
“Oh yeh”
“Fair enough” Matt was at a loss to understand what was going on, why would his friend want to meet Primrose Lawn, everyone knew her, he must be mad he told himself, or out of his mind now with boredom.
“Come, lets go to The Goat and you can tell me all about her”
“Can’t today, got a meeting with old Sykes up at the farm, didn’t know if you wanted to come, get you out here for a bit, sounds like you need it” his jovial friend offered thinking to himself that maybe the fresh air would bring his friend to his senses.
Chapter 3
She sat in her large airy room, the two large windows either side of her dressing table slightly open, causing the beautiful lace side curtains to move gently in the warm summer breeze, the smell of the garden blowing into the large room. The pale primrose coloured walls and elegant regency furniture took you back in time to a bygone age of elegance. The well proportioned room was light and airy; its high ornate ceilings throwing a lovely summer light bouncing from the walls, the large fireplace and white mantle dominated the space and was laid carefully ready to be lit if the evening bought its normal chill. On the mantle piece were several pictures showing a beautiful elegant young woman, draped casually over the arms of several well known and famous people, her natural beauty however seemed to shadow everyone she was with. Primrose often found herself staring at them remembering a different time in her life, but her contentment here was complete, she had her fame and notoriety and as long as men continued to look at her, what more could she ask, just a few more years.
She sat at her large dressing table its three large mirrors reflecting her face from every angle, her head swathed in a large white towel that matched the snow white of her dressing gown. She moved her head closer to the central mirror, looking intently to see if she had another wrinkle, rubbing her fingers up and over her cheeks as she applied her moisturisers’. She could still remember her Mum telling her, cleanse and moisturise everyday and you won’t go far wrong and she had everyday since she was fourteen this ritual had remained unchanged. Over the years she had developed a style of make-up that she felt suited her complexion and bone structure, so she began carefully applying layer upon layer of make-up. A pale almost white foundation, didn’t seem to go on as well as it used to, and the brushed powder clogged a little no matter how finely she brushed it, I may have to change that she said silently to herself. She steadied her hand the best she could to apply a thin dark line of eyeliner on her top lids, but her shaking hand made it wriggle out of place and it took her several attempts to perfect her line this morning, finishing each corner with a slight flourish outwards. Her uncontrollable shaking got her down and made her feel low and depressed: she could barely control it now for more than an hour a day, the mornings were always the worst, so she didn’t begin her daily preparation until at least ten-thirty. She painted a fresh new line to border her perfectly shaped lips and applied her favourite raspberry sorbet lipstick, finishing with plumping gloss, one of her latest acquisitions and one she found she liked very much, she pursed her lips at herself in the mirror pleased with the finish.
She stood up slowly, her legs a little wobbly today and walked over to her large feather bed where she had carefully laid out her best outfit, a beautiful navy jacket and red belt and skirt, she always felt sexy in this, the men always looked at her when she wore it. She carefully put on her underwear, selecting her tightest fit today, squeezing herself tightly into the elastic, she thought maybe she’d put on a pound or two and that would never do. As she put on her shoes her whole outfit came to life, just her hair to do now, which took just a minute or two. She brushed over the long straight strands quickly, putting her hands either side to smooth it down, getting every hair in place and gently sprayed it with hairspray. She pulled on her tiny gloves placing a large diamond ring on the outside of the glove on her left hand ring finger, her hat and her bag and she was done. She carefully examined herself, her minute size 8 figure still looked lean, she turned to look from every angle to ensure that every inch of her appearance was perfect. She added some carefully chosen beads and bracelets from her large wooden box, a final squirt of perfume and she was ready. Twelve o’clock on the dot.
“You going out Primrose” a stout woman wearing an ugly blue uniform spoke to her as they crossed on the large stone steps at the front of the house “Going to the post office?” she continued
“Indeed” her tiny voice perfectly pronounced the word, her face set with a smile that seemed to be forced.
“Got your book, lovely?” the small woman replied, do not call me lovely you imbecile, she thought unkindly, she hated it, they all said that round here, but Primrose refused to sink to the level of these country peasants and simply ignored the offensive remark replying
“Indeed”
“Alright then, see you later” and the stout ugly woman continued up the steps.
“Good day to you Mrs. Lang” she replied before continuing down the steps of Nightingale House to the pavement.
Each step took a supreme effort this morning, Primrose was finding it more difficult than normal to maintain the grace and poise she had been born too, to move a single hair out of place with a clumsy step would have been unforgiveable so with more trepidation than normal she began her thirty minute walk along the high street. This was the highlight of her week and she enjoyed every second of making them all look at her and she held her head high, her back straight, aware only of the tightening around her waist this morning.
Chapter 4
Thursdays came round so quickly, the weeks flew by in a flash, Rhys had watched her from afar for several weeks, never quite catching a proper look at her face. He was sure would be quite beautiful, old Jack in the pub had told him that she was a real looker, he likened her to Marilyn Munroe. Rhys reflected that his first glimpse of her had made him feel she was a movie star or a model, he could tell just by her clothes and her posture that she was someone of great note. Rhys had just arrived back from an extended stay with his sister in London, he had purposefully got back early as he had decided that today he would introduce himself to the illusive and mysterious Primrose Lawn as he simply hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first time he’s seen her.
“For God Sake Rhys, just ask her out” his sister had ribbed him relentlessly for going on and on about this so-called goddess.
“Its not like you to be shy” she said poking for a response
“There’s just something special about her”
“Wow” his sister was clearly taken aback by her normally self-assured brother believing someone else to be more special than he was.
At twelve fifteen he walked out of the offices of Bothwait & Branch to the normal “Good afternoon Mr. Bothwait” which seemed to be coming at him from every angle, did everyone know his name he thought, their hello’s seemed to irritatingly follow him everywhere he went in this town.
“Good afternoon to you” he would dutifully reply, wishing they’d go away. He wanted people to stop talking to him, he wanted to think about how he was going to get that gorgeous creature to go out with him. He had decided to wait by one of the large churches and cross the road at exactly the right time to almost (but not literally) bump into her. He had been rehearsing over and over what he was going to say, but he knew just by the clothes that she wore and the way she held her body that she maybe completely out of even his league, but he would persist. In his own right he could be considered both handsome and rich so it was worth a shot. He stood awkwardly feeling like a school boy waiting for his first kiss, praying he’d get it right, he nervously waited by the church. Twelve twenty-five, his gold rolex told him, he looked to his left and he could just see her in the distance, always exactly the same time, he watched mesmerised by the motion of her body, so slim he was sure it would nearly disappear if she turned sideways, she began her slow procession down towards the market, her head held so high it was above most peoples faces and seemed to be smiling enigmatically into space, she wasn’t close enough for him to see any detail just the fineness of her high cheekbones and her bright pink lips.
Now, he said to himself and he began to slowly walk towards the wide road, looking to his right to ensure that the road was clear. By the time he turned his head back to the left, he could’nt see her, just a crowd of people gathered, all looking down at a figure lying on the ground; he could see before he even reached the other side of the road that it was Primrose Lawn. Even on falling her elegant legs seemed to lie perfectly in place, her ankle neatly crossed, like a stage feint, so perfectly were her pretty ankles crossed. She was turned slightly on her side and he could only make out the hem of her skirt down to her shoes, a Doctor was leaning over her, brushing her long blond hair away from her face.
“Primrose, Primrose” he was calling her name, time seemed to stand still for Rhys, he felt awkward as if he shouldn’t be here, but he didn’t want to move, he was riveted to the spot. He thought he better keep at a distance, she would he was sure feel mortified at the indignity of a fall in public so he decided to stand back a while to watch proceedings, acutely aware his moment had been missed.
Sirens could be heard in the background, getting ever closer, Rhys found himself involuntarily trying to get a closer look at her, but it was no good other than her pretty ankles she was completely shielded from his view. The ambulance had stopped all the traffic and the two paramedics were now kneeling by her side as the Doctor began to talk to them.
“Did anyone see what happened?” they were asking, while quickly getting out their equipment.
“She just fell off those ridiculous shoes” a middle-aged woman answered quite unkindly, pointing to her feet “What did she expect, really!”
“Anyone know her name?”
“Primrose” the Doctor answered, she will answer to “Primrose” he said again while putting his head down slightly so that Rhys couldn’t make out his expression
“But her name is Edna Brown”
Edna, Edna – Rhys couldn’t believe this lovely creature could be called Edna until the paramedic gently took hold of her arm to pull her towards him turning her onto her back. As Rhys watched his hand, the pale skin on the forearm seemed to move like material but initially the body itself stayed still, it was as if he was pulling a loose fitting jumper, its flesh wrinkling under his grip, his large hand completely surrounding her wrist. Rhys continued to stare in fascination unable to take his eyes off her for a second. Her blonde hair had slipped and lay lopsided on her head, where her wig had moved in the fall, the hat had tumbled off and sat on the pavement next to her, small wispy gray hairs were visible on one side of her face. Her raspberry sorbet lipstick had bled into the winkles that surrounded her mouth and her saggy skin fell backwards making her look as if her face had been lifted, forcing her mouth to be open in a contorted smile, showing a neat row of dentures. Her old eyes peered confused out from under their false eyelashes, the roughly drawn eyeliner, pitching and wavering over the wrinkles of the saggy eyelids, and small pools of tears were forming in the corners. As the paramedic took off her large diamond ring to remove her glove, Rhys could see her old arthritic hands, large nodules and joints, the backs covered in age spots, the blue veins sticking unkindly upwards for the world to see.
“Primrose?” the paramedic was calling her name “Can you hear me?, What happened? Can you remember?”
“She will have been going to get her pension, she does it every Thursday” the Doctor offered
“She’s as mad as a box of frogs” the horrid woman piped up again to a chorus of agreement, a low rumble around the scene.
“Come on now lovely, lets get you into the ambulance, shall we” kindly the paramedic was trying to get her elegantly to a sitting position, pulling down her tight skirt that had risen up revealing a flesh coloured girdle that stretched down almost to her knees, holding in place thick flesh coloured tights, by now pleated around her and ripped.
The tiniest sound came out of her mouth, weak and old, “Could you take me home, please” she faltered as she tried to make herself heard above the cruel sea of whispers that were still reverberating around her.
“Where do you live, lovely? we’ll check you out and take you home” a kindness in his voice suddenly breaking the spell.
“Nightingale” she closed her eyes wishing herself back in her pretty yellow room, surrounded by her memories, knowing that this would be the last time anyone looked at her.
“Care home, at the bottom of the hill” the Doctor directed
“Come on then, lets get you home”
“Thank you – and please young man, don’t call me lovely” she whispered.