by Lucy Coleman
Her next book is due out in September, I note, and is already up for pre-order. I click the button and then get back to reading. I’m hoping this story does have a happy ending, because the way Cressida writes it makes you feel that the characters are friends, not simply a figment of her imagination. I’m gripped and grateful for the sheer escapism. Tomorrow I’ll be sitting next to Cary around the table with Cressida and her family. That could be a novel in the making there, if only she knew the truth.
*
‘How are you feeling?’
Cary has led me into what Cressida refers to as the winter sitting room. It’s the room where Cary and I lingered over our nightcap, before everything started to snowball. It’s snug in here with the big, open fireplace, which is no doubt in use regularly throughout the cold months of the year. That lingering smell of wood smoke spirits me back to that night. I had no idea, then, how involved I’d end up becoming in Cary’s life.
He walks over to the window, staring out at the gardens and avoiding eye contact.
‘Good. Do you think Grandma looks tired, or am I being a little paranoid these days?’
I wish he’d turn to look at me. I know at some point we’ll part ways, hopefully both in a much better place by then as our respective issues work themselves out; but I’m beginning to feel a real sense of… what? Involvement in his life, or the trappings of responsibility that come with a growing friendship? A friendship that for me, has turned into something more, something it can never be.
Or is it merely that fleeting, physical attraction that would fade over time, anyway? Am I fooling myself that it feels more real somehow because we’ve shared such painful truths with each other? Things that neither of us thought we’d ever voice out loud to anyone. But then I’ve seen and felt his passion in a very real way, too. That was real.
‘No, it’s not paranoia. I don’t think she looks ill, though, I really don’t. Maybe she isn’t sleeping well at the moment.’
Finally, he turns around. ‘If the opportunity presents itself and you don’t feel too awkward, could you engineer some alone time with her? She’s still talking about making changes and now Laurence and Sally are growing concerned, too. She’s pressing me to take over the house and live here at weekends. It’s all a part of this “putting her life in order” obsession. Laurence told me she’s in the process of selling a significant part of her portfolio of shares. She told him the funds will be his, because it’s his “inheritance.” Obviously, he’s rather uncomfortable with that, in the same way that I don’t want her transferring this house into my name. It’s unnecessarily morbid, if you ask me, because there’s a lot of life left in her yet.’
I don’t see how I can refuse his request, especially given the way she’s acting at the moment.
‘This isn’t a purely financial decision on her part, is it? I mean, maybe her accountant has advised her to do this sooner, rather than later. I don’t know anything at all about the tax implications when someone dies, but maybe this is simply forward planning. Hopefully well in advance of anything happening.’
He frowns. ‘It’s depressing, is what it is. Anyway, when someone dies all gifts made in the last seven years of their life have to be declared and will count as part of their estate for tax purposes. She will have sought advice because there’s Granddad to consider as they are estranged, not divorced.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best to create an opportunity, but I doubt she’ll mention any of this as it wouldn’t be appropriate, surely? After all, it’s none of my business.’
‘Hmm, she might not see it that way. Granddad has been in touch with me recently and we finally had a good chat. I voiced my concerns about Grandma and he admitted it was the worst thing he ever did walking away from her.’
‘That’s so sad, Cary.’
‘How close do any of us come to making a bad decision and something unexpected happens to save us from ourselves? It’s hard not to believe that fate has a hand, but when it goes badly wrong, isn’t that fate, too?’
He pauses, no doubt replaying the conversation with Matthew in his head.
‘He said that he thinks of her all the time. Of what she gave up and the sacrifices she made for us all. He said that his moment of madness brought him back to his senses. But I sort of understood him when he said something had been missing.
‘Grandma had put Laurence and me first, because of the situation. On top of that her work was necessary and demanding, so there must have been times he felt maybe a little unseen. Unheard. Unappreciated, even, for what he’d given up and considering all that he gave of himself, too.’
I think that’s the singular, most sensitive thing I’ve heard Cary say and it tugs at my core.
‘I think you’re right,’ I add, unable to keep the waver out of my voice as I swallow hard.
‘I wonder if I should try to convince her to give him one more chance.’
It’s such a difficult situation for him to be in. Old hurts still strong enough to create fresh wounds. Pain that keeps on giving.
‘You would be taking quite a risk getting involved, Cary. Cressida might see it as taking sides against her because she was the innocent party; have you considered that?’
Cary shrugs his shoulders. ‘Well, it’s a risk I have to take. As for talking to you, she might be glad to share whatever is worrying her at the moment. You’re a listener, Leesa, and I’ve appreciated that fact. I think she will, too.’
He saunters over to the sofa, lowering himself down into the cushions and letting out a satisfied sigh.
Then he pats the space next to him and I walk across, grinning.
‘Well, we’re both surviving, Cary, despite the problems we’re juggling, so I guess that’s a positive.’
‘How is it turning out with Zack and Tim? Is it all coming together?’
I lie back, glancing up at the ornate plasterwork around the small chandelier above our heads.
‘Great, actually. Although, there might be one awkward little blip on the horizon. I hope I nipped it in the bud, though.’
I tell him about the incident with the flowers and he frowns.
‘I had the impression he still has a lot to learn and that was totally out of order.’
Annoyingly, I feel my cheeks begin to get warm. ‘He does in many respects but not in others. We have a professional relationship only and I certainly haven’t encouraged this in any way. I just don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us when we get back to work after the holidays. Do you think I dented his pride?’
Cary nods his head. ‘Probably, but he’ll get over it. Just act as if it didn’t happen. But if he continues you have to be firm as it could be construed as harassment.’
‘My thoughts, entirely. Thanks. I’d hate to lose him. The work is stacking up and I’m already relying upon him quite heavily. In a year or two, at most, I hope to be able to consider further expansion. Being internet-based is so much easier than having to cope with the expenses and problems associated with working out of an office.
‘I also want to look at expanding the list of services on offer. Zack and I have talked about offering a custom-designed website package to clients. It dovetails nicely with our corporate branding and mission statement promo videos. We would contract out the work and he would manage the projects. The bonus is that he has the skills and also the contacts. Anyone he recruited would be of the right calibre to deliver a good product to a deadline.’
Cary looks impressed. ‘I like your way of thinking. Keep the overheads low and take a profit off the top. You thrive on it, don’t you? There are some really golden opportunities out there for those brave enough to grab them. But you can only do that if you are prepared to take a risk and diversify when you see an opening.’
Coming from such an astute businessman, that means a lot. ‘Thank you, Cary. I’m not rushing ahead without due regard, but I’m not afraid of straying outside my comfort zone, either. It’s merely a case of getting the timing right and this is th
e time.’
Nothing is going to stop me now.
‘Success only comes off the back of hard work. People who can’t comprehend how tough it is put it down to luck, but we each make our own luck.’
I can see that came from the heart. Cary didn’t get to where he is without a lot of sacrifice and dogged determination.
‘The irony is that being with Nathan and going through a messy divorce sucked energy that should have gone into my business. But it could also have inflated the value of it. Then I would have ended up being even worse off. If I’d had to hand over a lump sum I would most certainly have been angry, but instead I gave away my share of the equity in our former house. And yes, Sheryl did move straight in. The place I rent now is comfortable and it suits my current needs. So, I’m not unhappy as I value my newfound freedom. I simply got a little lost there for a while but now I’m back on track.’
‘What’s that saying? “Actions prove who someone is, words just prove who they want to be.” You’re determined, Leesa, and that’s half the battle.’
His eyes flick over me and I can feel the increasing heat as it radiates upwards from my neck. I’m embarrassed now, and he can see that.
‘Sorry, that didn’t sound the least bit patronising in here.’ He taps his temple. ‘What I meant to say is that I admire your entrepreneurial spirit. And the fact that you don’t complain when the unexpected happens, you simply look for solutions. That shows real grit and that’s admirable. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable; it was simply my inept attempt at a compliment.’
‘I forgive you.’ I sit upright. ‘I’d better make a move if I’m going to find time to chat with Cressida today. I need to make myself visible and available.’
We stand, eyeing each other with a little uncertainty for some reason. We’ve grown accustomed to greeting each other with a genuine hug and a kiss on the cheek. But I still get flashbacks from Valentine’s night in the hotel.
We never refer to it, of course, but the memory lingers on inside my head. Somehow it doesn’t feel real, as if it was a dream. For one night only, Cary became the man I’ve always dreamt of being with and the cruel truth is that he wouldn’t understand that. He’s turned himself into someone else in order to survive, but I glimpsed the man he could have been.
‘Rather than being cooped up in here with me. Point taken but I enjoy our chats, Leesa, I want you to know that.’
I smile at him warmly.
Cary knows how to honour a contract, that’s for sure. But I wonder whether he ever stops to think back to that evening? He never seems to feel lonely and if he does, it’s not me he reaches out to. And why would he? We are two very different people when it comes to facing up to our emotions.
25
Cressida’s Master Plan
I spend a little time in conversation with Sally – well, in between constant interruptions from Jackson, Daisy and Chloe. It’s Mum this or Mum that every couple of minutes and I feel like saying ‘Stop! You do have a dad, too – go bother him for a change!’
Of course, Laurence and Cary have disappeared, and I suspect they are in the kids’ playroom grabbing a quiet game of pool.
When Cressida suddenly appears in the doorway, she looks across and immediately heads in our direction. This is my chance to get her on her own, but I need to divert her before she sits down. I jump up, muttering an excuse to Sally and walk double-time to waylay Cressida.
‘Are you busy? I’ve nearly finished reading In the Mind’s Eye and I’m loving it. I noticed that all your covers have been updated recently. I don’t suppose you have copies of any of the originals from your very early publications you could show me? I love the new contemporary look, but I’d be fascinated to see how they compare.’
‘I do, indeed. Let’s head upstairs. Yes, it’s given my old titles a new lease of life. But with that comes new obligations. In the old days, publishers handled everything for you; the author only had to write the stories. Now I have a Twitter account and a Facebook page, aside from a website, but I have nothing at all to do with that, thankfully. But every day I wake up and I’m supposed to post something interesting.’
She screws up her face as we walk side by side up the staircase.
‘Oh dear, I can imagine that’s a bit daunting.’
‘It is.’ She nods, taking my arm and I wonder if it’s to be genial, or for support. She seems a little breathless and it isn’t the first time I’ve noticed that.
‘So, what do you find to say?’
Her soft laughter is quite girlish at times. ‘I began by looking out of the window and talking about the weather but I soon tired of that. Now I Tweet as a different character for the entire day. If someone guesses who I am by the end of the day, they win a signed copy of one of my titles. It takes seconds to get into character mode; people actually spend all day trying to figure it out. Imagine! And it’s nice because I do get to engage with my readers.’
We circumnavigate her desk and stand in front of the wall of books. It extends from the floor to the ceiling. Letting go of my arm she places her fingers lightly on one of the spines, pulling it out and handing it to me.
‘His Warm Embrace was the first book I wrote. I still remember the thrill of signing that contract. The cover was quite typical in its day. The raven-haired heroine reclining and the impossibly handsome, dark-haired Adonis staring down at her with his eyes flashing in indignation. The cover has changed a couple of times over the years. But this latest revamp is a bit of a re-launch, and the pressure is on to put out two books a year, again.’
I stare down at it, careful not to let it drop. It has that old book smell and the colours on the cover are muted, not simply from design but also from age. It’s been read a number of times, and the spine is proof of that.
‘An old story is like an old friend. I re-read them whenever I’m in need of a little comfort. That might sound vain, but it isn’t about vanity. Each time I settle down to read, old memories come flooding back. The years after Katherine died, when Cary and Laurence had finally adjusted to their loss. I’d sit and write, keeping one eye on them whenever they were home from school.’
She seeks out another novel and hands it to me, then another. Five in total and I lay them out on the desk.
‘There’s something instantly recognisable about the original covers but not really representative of the words inside, if you get my drift. I know at least three of these stories and they aren’t bodice-ripping romances full of domineering men and subservient women, as the covers might imply. But I’m also drawn to pick them up as there’s that hint of instant attraction and surrendering to one’s emotions. I was probably a young teen when I discovered them on the library shelves and maybe it is all about memories, in my case of early freedoms. What your characters taught me was that life is full of problems, not all of which can be overcome. But some can, and I guess there’s always a moral, or two, lurking in the background.’
She smiles, her eyes lowered to scan the familiar graphics, probably remembering the first time she was shown the original proof.
‘Like a fairytale, I like that thought. I suppose the message is not to give up but to find something, or someone you believe in and stick with it.’
She indicates for us to move over to the comfy chairs looking out over the rooftop terrace.
‘Your latest book is different,’ I admit. ‘I’m fearful of reaching the end because I know what I want to happen, but I’m not sure it will.’
We sit facing each other across the small coffee table.
‘Ah, well, times change and the way we live our lives has changed. Some people give up too easily in my opinion and my characters, well, they must be believable, above all else. Life’s journey is one long, bumpy road but the message is to look at life’s disappointments as simply a gateway to a new opportunity. And sometimes we look back and are grateful for that. I won’t say any more as I don’t want to spoil it for you. I do have readers who tell me they read the last chap
ter first, before page one. It puzzled me for many years. Then one lady explained it to me. She said that if she didn’t do that she would race through the story, anxious on behalf of the characters about what would happen in the end. It didn’t dull her enjoyment in any way at all but allowed her to savour the words on every page. I found it rather humbling. We all think the way we do things is the right, or the best, way. But we are all different and what works for one, doesn’t necessarily work for another.’
It’s time to nudge the conversation in another direction. However, I can’t simply change the subject. Especially as I’m finding our little chat fascinating and would love to hear more. But I am here on a mission.
‘It must be wonderful to be surrounded by so many books and so many memories. Having your collection around you must be a comfort when you’re writing.’
She rubs her hands together absentmindedly and I can see she’s deep in thought. Then she turns her head to look directly at me.
‘I’m tired, Leesa. Tired in spirit more than body. The words aren’t flowing as they always have and it’s because my head is full of worries. Things that once brought me joy now seem like encumbrances. Take this house, for instance. It requires a lot of effort just to run it, even with the sterling assistance of Nicholas. He’s been with me for such a long time that it feels like forever. The man wears so many different hats, effortlessly, that he is irreplaceable. Sadly, his time here is running out because next year he intends to retire.’
She doesn’t look upset about that, but I can imagine it will be a big upheaval.
‘It’s no wonder you’re having trouble focusing, Cressida. But you’ll get it sorted and then things will settle down again.’