“I never told anyone,” said Harry. “Giles must have somehow found out.” He returned to the letter.
And now to William Warwick, who has entertained so many people, for so many years. Harry, perhaps it’s time for him to retire, so that you can finally stretch yourself to reach even greater heights. You told me once, many years ago, the rough outline of a novel you had always wanted to write, but had never got around to. You never got around to it because Harold Guinzburg, that wicked old publisher, kept tempting you with bigger and bigger advances. Perhaps the time has now come for you to write a book that will bring happiness for generations to come, whose reputation will outlive any bestseller list and make it possible for you to join that handful of authors whose names will never die.
Rant over. All that is left for me to say is thank you for making my final years so peaceful, comfortable and enjoyable. And when the time comes for any of you to write a similar letter, please don’t be like me and feel you could have done so much more with your life.
Your loving mother,
Maisie
Harry poured three glasses of the ’57 Merlot and handed one each to Emma and Seb. He raised his own glass and said, “To Maisie. Shrewd old thing.”
“To Maisie,” repeated Emma and Seb, raising their glasses.
“Ah, and I nearly forgot,” said Harry, picking the letter back up. “There’s a postscript.”
P.S. Please remember me to your dear friend Giles, who can consider himself lucky that I didn’t write about him, because had I done so, it would have been a far longer letter.
EMMA CLIFTON
1972–1975
26
“GOOD MORNING, Mrs. Clifton. My name is Eddie Lister. We met briefly at your mother-in-law’s funeral, but there’s no reason you should remember me.”
“How did you know Maisie, Mr. Lister?” Emma asked, because he was right, she couldn’t place him.
“I’m chairman of the governors of the Bristol Royal Infirmary. She was one of our volunteers and will be sadly missed by patients and staff alike.”
“I had no idea,” said Emma. “What did she do?”
“She was in charge of the lending library and organized the daily rota for the book trolley to be taken around the wards. More people read books at BRI than in almost any other hospital in the country.”
“Why am I not surprised,” said Emma. “Are you looking for someone to replace her, because if you are, I’d certainly be happy to do so.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Clifton, that isn’t the reason I’m calling.”
“But I’m confident I could organize the library and, what’s more, my family has had a close association with the hospital for many years. My grandfather, Sir Walter Barrington, was chairman of the governors, my husband was nursed back to health at BRI after being seriously wounded by a German landmine in 1945, and my mother spent the last months of her life there under the care of Dr. Raeburn. What’s more, I was born at the Royal Infirmary.”
“I’m impressed, Mrs. Clifton, but I still don’t think you’re the right person to organize the book trolley.”
“May I ask why you won’t even consider me?”
“Because I was rather hoping you’d agree to become a governor of the hospital.”
Emma was momentarily silenced. “I’m not altogether sure I know what a hospital governor does.”
“Every major NHS hospital—and ours is one of the largest in the country—has a board of governors drawn from the local community.”
“And what would my responsibilities be?”
“We hold a meeting every quarter, and I also invite each trustee to take an interest in one particular department of the hospital. I thought nursing might appeal to you. Our senior matron, Mima Puddicombe, represents the two thousand nurses who work full-or part-time at BRI. I should mention that if you agree to become a governor, there is no remuneration or expenses. I realize you are a busy woman, Mrs. Clifton, with many responsibilities, but I do hope you’ll give some thought to my proposal before you make—”
“I’ve thought about it.”
Mr. Lister sighed. “Yes, I feared you’d be too busy with all your other commitments, and of course I thoroughly understand—”
“I’d be delighted to become a governor of the hospital, Mr. Chairman. When do I start?”
*