‘Darling, he’s fast asleep in a dormitory, miles away. He won’t come!’
Flora bunched her fists and brought them down like hammers on her knees. ‘He will! He said! If I wait, if I stay awake, he’ll come back, I know he will. He has to…’ she added, choking on a sob.
1987
Rory stood on the threshold, his hair and clothes unkempt, his face drawn, his features blurred by a two-day growth of beard.
‘Hello, Ror…’
‘Hello.’
‘You look as if you’ve been sleeping in ditches.’
‘No… In the car. I didn’t want to stop.’
‘You’ve driven straight here? From Suffolk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Jesus! Have you eaten?’
‘I had something…’ He cast his eyes upwards as if trying to remember. ‘Yesterday.’
‘Well, there’s not much here. Only tins.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Did you bring booze by any chance?’
‘No.’
‘Pity… There’s no kindling left either. It’s bloody cold. How did we use to bear it here?’
He shrugged, his shoulders tense. ‘We were kids.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Flora…’
‘Yes?’
Rory’s gaze was level but his chest rose and fell as he tried to control his breathing. ‘You know I will never forgive you for this.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Flora said mildly. ‘But you see, Ror, I’m past caring if anyone forgives me. Even you. The only thing that matters to me now is that you’re here. Come in and shut the door. Mind that hole in the floorboards - the dry rot’s got a lot worse.’
Chapter 24
1987
Grace parked her car outside Orchard Farm, switched off the ignition and sat staring through the dirty windscreen. Fighting an impulse to cry, followed by an impulse to turn the ignition back on and drive home again, she took her powder compact out of her handbag and studied the damage. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen and an attempt to disguise this with eye-shadow had made her look bruised. Which was exactly how she felt. She also felt like a cliché: a forty-four year-old-woman with greying hair, who needed to lose a bit of weight, whose husband had walked out after a mid-life crisis.
That wasn’t really fair on Rory. His mid-life crisis had started when he was thirty-two and would probably persist until he died. Tears began to well as Grace wondered yet again whether Rory was already dead. She told herself it was far more likely he was screwing some skinny blonde in a hotel room - a thought which, oddly enough, she found comforting. Men tended to come back. That’s what the magazines said. That’s what her women friends would say, if only she could summon the courage and energy to tell anyone that Rory had gone.
But the family had to be told. She couldn’t put it off any longer. He’d been gone a week. Charlotte already knew and it was only a matter of time before she told Theo and Colin. It would be better if Dora heard the news from the horse’s mouth. Or perhaps from Hugh.
And then there was Charlotte’s own news. Clouds with silver linings… ‘Bloody hell,’ thought Grace. ‘I am a cliché and now I’m thinking in clichés.’ Furious with herself, she got out of the car, slammed the door and started to stride up the path towards the house. Her nerve failed and she veered across the lawn, heading for the nursery area where she was certain she’d find Hugh - she hoped alone. She was simply playing for time and she knew it, but she’d decided to be kind to herself. Well, somebody had to.
Hugh was bent over strawberry plants, wrestling with netting and straw, picking berries and placing them carefully, almost lovingly, in small punnets. He looked up as Grace approached.
‘Can I interest you in some freshly picked strawberries, madam?’
‘You certainly can. But I insist on paying for them. I’ll have none of your charity hand-outs.’
‘In that case, try before you buy.’ He selected a strawberry and handed it to her. ‘You can eat them straight from the garden. We don’t use any chemicals - as the depredations of our slugs testify.’
Grace smiled and bit into the strawberry. ‘There’s nothing quite like English strawberries, is there?’
‘ “Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did.” William Butler in the seventeenth century, when I expect they tasted even better.’
‘Why are the seeds on the outside?’
‘Couldn’t tell you. Ask Theo. What that boy doesn’t know about plants isn’t worth knowing.’
‘Are you ever going to retire and let him run this place?’
‘I suppose I should, shouldn’t I? The trouble is, I’m having too much fun. And Theo’s still quite young to run a business. I think I’ll soldier on for a few more years yet. But he’s taking on more and more responsibility. He’s the business brain. I’m just the old family retainer. Kept on purely for sentiment’s sake. And decoration.’
‘Rubbish. I’ve seen you flirting outrageously with old ladies, foisting plants on them they’d never have dreamed of buying.’
Hugh pursed his lips. ‘People need guidance. They’re overwhelmed by too much choice. I just try to share my enthusiasms.’
‘Well, you don’t fool me, you old rogue. You’re a ruthless charmer, but I can see it makes for very good business. I’ve got a lot of orders for you, by the way. Bedding plants mainly. I put your notice up in the staff-room and they liked your prices. Which probably means you should have charged more.’
‘I’d rather have satisfied customers spreading the word.’
‘Where’s your killer instinct?’
‘Sadly under-developed, I’m afraid. But don’t be deceived - you should see me jostling for position at Chelsea. There are times when I’m prepared to use my height and bulk to my advantage, as well as my supposed charm. Have another strawberry. How’s the family? Rory seemed rather low the other day when I spoke to him.’
Grace’s face fell. She realised she’d forgotten the purpose of her visit. ‘I don’t actually know how Rory is. He—’
There was a fluttering noise behind Hugh. He turned and bent down to the netted strawberries where a blackbird was ensnared. Donning gardening gloves, he grasped the bird and netting, then with painstaking care, tried to disentangle it. After several moments of fruitless struggle he withdrew a penknife from his pocket, cut the bird free, then cast it up into the air where it flew off squawking into the treetops. As he watched it go he laughed and said, ‘Blackbirds like strawberries just as much as slugs and humans.’ He turned back to Grace and, noting her expression said, ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I could do with a sit-down.’
She looked up at him quickly. ‘I don’t actually want to see Dora at the moment. There is a reason…’
Unperturbed, Hugh nodded and said, ‘Let’s go and sit in the orchard. There’s a pleasantly secluded bench.’
‘What about your customers?’
‘There’s a bell by the shed. An old-fashioned school bell. Theo’s idea. People love to ring it. Especially the old ladies. Follow me.’
‘Something’s up with Rory.’
Grace nodded.
‘Is he depressed again?’
‘I don’t know. I sometimes wonder if I know anything at all about my husband. Do you think that’s possible? To live with someone, be married to them for years, yet not really know them?’
‘Yes, I think it perfectly possible. Quite common, in fact.’
‘Did you feel you knew Flora?’
‘Yes.’ He spread his big hands in a helpless gesture. ‘But I didn’t.’
‘Do you think you need to know someone well in order to love them?’
‘I know that you don’t. I suspect it might even be easier to love someone you know very little. Love is not only blind, it comes more easily to the partially sighted,’ he said gently.
‘You loved Flora.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you still?’
; ‘In a way, yes, I do. I miss her still, after all these years. I worry about her. I wish she’d stayed in touch. Not just for Theo’s sake, for mine. But that’s a rather selfish wish.’
‘Oh, Hugh! You’re so hard on yourself! What you describe as selfish is just being human.’
His face clouded. ‘I told Rory I thought he was selfish.’
‘He bloody well is.’
‘Yes, but I wish I hadn’t said it. At the time it seemed like the lesser of two evils.’
‘It’s hard knowing what to say to Rory. God knows, he was never an easy person even before the accident, but what he went through - still goes through… I don’t think we have any idea.’
‘No. We don’t.’
‘And I know he misses Flora. He never mentions her, but I know he does.’
‘I think we all do,’ Hugh said quickly.
‘She was too young to marry, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I know I wasn’t much older, but Rory and I had been living together. I knew what I was taking on.’
Hugh avoided her eye. ‘You were certainly more mature than Flora.’
‘Living with Rory would put years on anybody.’
Hugh’s smile was wry. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘If two people thought they loved each other, but were too young to really know each other, how would you rate their chances? In marriage, I mean? Is there a magic formula? Why do some marriages last and others don’t?’
Hugh thought for a moment. ‘I think the only reason any marriage lasts is because one or both partners refuse to give up on it. A marriage isn’t only sustained by love. And it isn’t always destroyed,’ Hugh said carefully, ‘by infidelity.’
‘No, it isn’t destroyed. But it takes some pretty hard knocks.’
‘That’s what I meant about not giving up. Forgiveness is as important as love. It’s essential, in fact. And a lot harder to do than love.’
Grace turned to face him on the bench. ‘Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Did Flora tell you why she was leaving you? I presume it was you she was leaving? Not Theo. Or the Church.’
‘No, it was me. But I think the Church played its part in driving her away. Having to be a clergy wife. She hated all that. But it was mainly me. I was the problem.’
‘I’m not asking why she left, I’m just asking if you understood, if you were able to see why she went.’
‘Oh, yes, I understood. Perfectly. That’s why I did nothing to persuade her to stay. I thought she was doing the right thing.’
Grace was thrown by his frank reply. Without thinking she asked, ‘Was there someone else?’ Hugh hesitated. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—’
‘No, it’s quite all right. It was all a long time ago. But I’m not sure there’s a simple answer to your question. There was someone else. But she didn’t leave me for him. I think it was probably all over by the time she left me, but she realised we had no future together. And she was right. But why are you asking these questions now, so long after the event? Flora left ten - no, eleven years ago.’
‘Oh, I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage. Relationships. For better, for worse. You know the script.’
‘Is something wrong? Between you and Rory? Something you want to talk about?’
‘I suppose I am going to have to tell people, so I might as well start with you. Perhaps you could break the news to Dora? I don’t think I can face it.’
‘Grace, my dear, what is it?’
She opened her handbag and took out a tissue which she proceeded to screw in to a ball. ‘Well, as Rory would say, there’s good news and there’s bad news. Which do you want first?’
‘The bad.’
Grace looked away from Hugh’s kind but searching eyes and stared into the distance. ‘Rory’s left me. And I don’t have the foggiest idea why, or where he’s gone. I don’t even know if there’s another woman. I suppose there must be! There usually is, isn’t there?’
‘Grace, I’m so sorry.’
‘Now for the good news. Shame Rory’s not here to help us celebrate! I wonder if he’d have been pleased… The good news is that our daughter has announced she’s engaged to be married.’
‘Lottie? Engaged?’
Grace laughed, her eyes beginning to fill. ‘I know - isn’t it ridiculous? She’s only eighteen! But wait, it gets better. Who is to be the lucky man?’ Grace clutched at Hugh’s hand. ‘Your son. She’s going to marry Theo! Isn’t that wonderful? Congratulations, Hugh! I think we should get roaring drunk together. For entirely different reasons, of course.’
And with that Grace burst into noisy tears and cast herself into Hugh’s arms, affording him the luxury of several moments’ privacy during which he struggled to school his features and assimilate the information that Theo - like his father before him - was in love with his sister.
It was not in Hugh’s nature to judge, nor to panic. As Grace sobbed out her misery on to the bulwark of his broad chest, his mind was already grappling with urgent questions of who needed to be told, how much and by whom?
And where - in the name of God - was Rory?
Rory put his suitcase down in the hall and, flexing his hand, looked around him. ‘The house seems smaller than I remember.’
‘We were smaller.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
They stood awkwardly, each waiting for the other to speak.
‘Do you want something to eat?’
‘No. Just a bath. I’m aching all over.’ He looked doubtful suddenly. ‘Is there hot water?’
‘Hot-ish. But I think the thermostat is on its last legs. You’ll need to boil a kettle or two. How did Grace—’
‘I didn’t see her,’ he said quickly. ‘I left a letter.’
‘Oh. You didn’t tell her where—’
‘No. Just that I was leaving. She’ll think I’ve had a nervous breakdown or something. Maybe I have.’ Flora’s answering smile was wan, uncertain. ‘How did Colin take it?’
‘Badly. He was very angry.’
‘You didn’t tell him why?’
‘No, of course not. But he guessed I was leaving him for someone else. I was sorry to do that to him, sorry he was so hurt. But I was bad for him, wasn’t I?’
‘You’re bad for all of us, Flor.’
‘I’ve done him a big favour, getting out of his life.’
‘He won’t see it like that. But I do.’
‘Grace will be pleased.’
‘I hardly think so. Under the circumstances.’
‘She doesn’t know. No one knows. Do they?’
‘I think Hugh might guess.’
‘If he does, he won’t say anything.’
‘No, maybe not. He’s a good man, your husband.’
‘I suppose he is still my husband. I never give him a thought these days. Is he still in love with you?’
‘Don’t know. He’s getting on now. And I’m practically middle-aged. Not the gilded youth I once was.’
‘I suspect that wouldn’t make the slightest difference to Hugh. I don’t think it was ever really about… sex. He was just captivated by you. First by me, then by you. The whole package. I expect he does still love you. He’s terribly loyal. And forgiving.’
‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Not to me. Not any more. Hugh’s been a good friend. He lets me be.’
Flora thought this was an odd thing to say but she nodded, adding, ‘I’m glad you two have… settled your differences. Hugh was a good friend to me too. Before we married,’ she added. ‘We should have stayed like that. Just friends.’
Rory shook his head. ‘Men and women can’t be friends.’
‘We are.’
‘No, we aren’t. We’re brother and sister.’
‘We’re still friends.’
‘Are we?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, less certain now.
‘And will we stay friends? Afterwards, I mean?’
‘
I don’t see why not.’
‘I do. We haven’t been friends since… since that night in the hotel. When we haven’t been trying to get each other into bed, we’ve been at each other’s throats. Something died that night… I killed it, didn’t I?’
‘Maybe this will bring it back to life.’
Rory said nothing. She felt the prickle of tears and said brightly, ‘Shall I run you a bath? Get you a drink? I bought you some whisky.’
‘Yes. Whisky would be good. Flora, we—’
‘Oh, don’t let’s talk any more! I don’t want us to talk, I want us to just be, be here, be together! Just us!’ She clapped her hands like an excited child.
He gave her a long look. ‘How drunk are you?’
‘Fairly. The waiting’s been awful. But never mind, you’re here now!’ Her smile was dazzling but unfocused and her eyes glittered. He wanted to touch her but she was out of reach and he thought if he moved he would probably fall down. She prattled on, not looking at him. ‘The sheets were a bit mouldy but the blankets were OK. I’ve lit a fire in the big bedroom. It smoked like hell. Birds’ nests, I suppose. I opened the window to let the smoke out and the draught just about set the chimney on fire.’
‘You want to be careful. God knows where the nearest fire engine is.’
‘Oh, Ullapool, I should think. The house would be burned to the ground before they were halfway here.’
She watched him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers again. When eventually they did, she saw only weariness. ‘Flor, I want to sleep in my old room.’ He paused. ‘I need to sleep.’
‘Yes, of course. You must be shattered. I’m afraid I didn’t make up the bed. Your old bed, I mean.’
‘I brought a sleeping bag.’
She couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Couldn’t we just be together, Ror? I’m not expecting anything. I mean, I don’t want—’
‘I need to sleep. In my own room.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And I need a bath.’ He rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘And a shave. Then I’m going to sleep. I hope for a long time. Good night.’
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