by Kate Field
We were lingering over the dregs of our tea, probably both reluctant to exchange this rarefied place for real life, when Cheryl hurried over to our table. I started to thank her for arranging the tea, but she shook her head and interrupted.
‘Have you finished?’ she asked. ‘There’s something in reception that would be perfect for the sponsored walk.’
I stifled a groan, because Gran had been cross-examining me for the last twenty minutes about our progress, and I’d had more than enough for one day. But Cheryl was twinkling with enthusiasm about something, so I pushed my chair back reluctantly.
‘Hang on,’ Gran said. ‘These aren’t going to waste, not when we’ve paid for them.’ She pulled out the silver foil from her handbag, that she’d so carefully salvaged from the ham and egg sandwiches, and wrapped up the leftover cakes. ‘The Chestnuts gang will be glad of these. It’s pork goulash tonight and that never goes down well.’
It was hard to imagine egg-scented éclairs going down well either, but I helped Gran pack away her goodies and we linked arms as we followed Cheryl from the dining room and back to reception. I was idly speculating on what could have made Cheryl so excited – something in a magazine? Branded water bottles? – when a familiar laugh assaulted my ears and my eyes gravitated to the sight of Paddy Friel sprawled on a sofa.
Chapter 10
I blinked several times, but it was no use. He was still there, still real, and still in the way of our direct route to the front door. And I thought Jo Blair had been an unwelcome sight! I would happily turn round and join her at her table if it meant avoiding Paddy. After our last meeting – after the humiliating realisation that he had rejected me, not Caitlyn, all those years ago – he was the last person I wanted to see.
My steps faltered and my grip on Gran’s arm tightened.
‘Ooh!’ she said. ‘Is that …’
‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ I tried to draw her back, but the quietness of the hotel that I had admired on our arrival now proved an enemy as our voices carried over to Paddy and caused him to look up from his magazine. His smile was instant and appeared genuine.
‘Eve!’ He jumped up and made short work of the gap between us. ‘This is great!’
‘Is it?’ That wasn’t the word I would have chosen. How annoying was this? Seventeen years without him, and now he was turning up all over the place. ‘You’re like the bad penny, aren’t you? What are you doing here?’
‘The White Hart was full for Easter.’ That didn’t really answer my question, but he had already turned his attention to Gran.
‘And would you look at you, Phyllis, not changed at all from when I last saw you.’
‘Get on with you and your blarney. I bet you’re surprised I’m still here, aren’t you?’ Gran said. ‘You always were a smooth talker, Paddy Friel. It’s no wonder you ended up on the telly.’
‘You’ve watched the show?’
‘I tried it once. It wasn’t for me. I’ll be under the earth soon enough without wanting a sneak preview of what’s down there.’
Paddy laughed and leant forward to kiss Gran’s cheek.
‘You’re invincible,’ he said, and taking Gran’s other arm, he gently pulled her away from me and towards a chair. ‘Come and sit down and tell me what you’ve been up to. You’re looking ravishing in that fascinator.’
‘See?’ Gran called, turning back to me. ‘Even he knows it’s not a hat.’
Paddy grinned at me, and I had to look away, because it appeared that my heart still retained the memory of loving that grin, whatever lessons my head had learnt since then.
‘Do you all know each other?’ Cheryl asked. I’d forgotten she was there. She smiled. ‘Mr Friel is our guest for the weekend. I was going to see what you thought about asking him to open the sponsored walk, but if you’re already friends that’s even better!’
‘I wouldn’t say friends,’ I muttered, but that grin flashed up and silenced me again.
‘What’s that about a sponsored walk?’ Paddy asked. ‘Don’t tell me, Phyllis – you’re trekking across the Sahara for Age Concern. I wouldn’t put anything past you.’
‘Perhaps next year.’ Gran laughed, and settled down on a sofa. Paddy perched beside her on the sofa arm. I hoped Gran didn’t think we were staying, now Paddy had turned up. ‘Talk to our Eve. I think you’re exactly what she needs.’
‘Not what I need,’ I corrected, not liking Paddy’s speculative look. ‘But a group of local pensioners might. We’re holding a sponsored walk to raise money to buy a new minibus for Gran’s nursing home. All donations are welcome. I have my sponsorship form here.’
I plucked it out of my handbag and passed it over to him. It wasn’t an impressive total so far: I hadn’t even reached £50 and Tina had donated £20 of that. I hadn’t intended to involve Paddy at all, but if he could afford to stay at the Fairlie, I decided he could afford a decent sponsorship. He studied the form for longer than seemed necessary, tapping the pen against his leg, before scrawling something down and handing it back. He had matched Tina’s donation.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Very generous.’
I hadn’t actually meant to be sarcastic – although it was disappointing that a TV star could only contribute as much as a teacher – but perhaps Paddy took my response that way, because the look he gave me appeared, even to my biased mind, genuinely apologetic.
‘I’m sorry, funds are tight this month …’
‘Yes, of course.’ Hardly surprising that funds were tight if he had splashed out on a weekend at the Fairlie. What had Gran said? People stayed here who had more money than sense. Lucky Paddy to be in that position.
‘Is there another way I can help? You said something about opening the walk?’
‘We can’t afford to pay. We’re trying to raise money, not spend it.’
‘I don’t need to be paid. I’ll do it gladly if it helps Phyllis.’ There was reproach in Paddy’s voice as he reached out to take Gran’s hand. She smiled at him with obvious pleasure. They always had got on well, and Paddy’s affection for Gran was the one thing I had never doubted, even looking back through my bitter-tinted glasses. I softened – or perhaps I hardened, as the practical advantages of having Paddy on board took precedence over everything else. He would be a draw, I couldn’t deny it, and raising money was the priority, by whatever means. I could put my own feelings aside, couldn’t I?
‘Are you free on the third Sunday of May?’ I asked. I even managed what I hoped was a friendly smile. Cheryl gave me an encouraging thumbs-up from behind Paddy. I mentally gritted my teeth. ‘The weekend before the Bank Holiday? If you are, you’d be welcome to come along and officially start the walk.’
‘Would I be expected to finish this walk as well? How far are you going? You crack a mean pace …’ Paddy was tapping at his phone as he spoke but looked up at these words, smiling as if we had a shared joke. I didn’t respond. Our days of shared jokes were in the past. I didn’t want to start creating new ones. ‘I can do that day. I’d be happy to help. We’ll get you that minibus, Phyllis. What are you going to do with it? An epic road trip? I might be tempted to tag along.’
‘I’m not sure you could keep up with our pace …’ Gran cackled with laughter and nudged Paddy’s arm, although he needed no encouragement to join in. It was a joy to see her having fun. ‘What are you doing up here, anyhow? And staying in this fancy place! Have all those parties in London got too much for you?’ She shot a mischievous look my way and I braced myself. ‘You’re not after our Eve again, are you? Only, you’ll have your work cut out to win her back after …’
‘Shall we get going?’ I said, not letting Gran finish the statement, or letting Paddy give the inevitable denial. I hardly needed more humiliation from him. ‘You won’t want to be late for the pork goulash.’
Paddy jumped up and held out a hand to help Gran off the sofa.
‘You are one of the reasons I’m here,’ he said, glancing at me. ‘I’ve come to have another look at that fiel
d near the river, where there was the possible bowl barrow. If we get the go-ahead for a new series of the TV show, it might make an interesting location.’
‘Have you found anything?’ The question slipped out before I could think better of it.
‘We had a look through the local archives today. There don’t seem to be any aerial photos of that field, or anything else that could help. We’ll go on site tomorrow and have a proper look, see if it’s worth doing more detailed investigations. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.’
I had missed this; not Paddy, although his enthusiasm was infectious, and was one of the things – beside the obvious – that had made him so attractive to me. No, it was the subject I had missed: the glory of the unknown that lay all around us; the excitement of the discoveries that were waiting to be made; the life of uncertainty, not routine. And as I stood idle, listening to Paddy’s words, the regret flew in, soaring over the mental barricades I had tried to construct. This could have been my life. And remembering Gran’s words from earlier on, I wondered: could this still be my life?
‘Why don’t you come along tomorrow?’ Paddy said. ‘You always had a better eye for detail than I did.’
Gran gave me an encouraging nudge. Paddy smiled. Despite everything, despite Paddy’s involvement, I was tempted – tempted so far that I had started to return his smile, on the brink of accepting. But then a stylish redhead sashayed across the reception from the direction of the stairs leading to the bedrooms, making an undoubted beeline for our group. Tall, slim, young and dressed for a night filled with cocktails and glamour, there was only one of us she could belong to.
‘Hey, Paddy, sorry to keep you waiting. I felt like I had dust in places you wouldn’t believe …’
She smiled prettily at us all and my heart bled for her. She was barely older than Caitlyn; barely older than I had been when I had smiled at Paddy in the way she was doing now. I hoped he was going to be kinder to her.
‘Eve, this is Posy, my research assistant.’
‘Good to meet you.’ I managed a smile, managed to resist the urge to pull her to one side and give her a warning. Research assistant, indeed! How stupid did he think I was? I’d never enjoyed weekends away in a luxury hotel when I’d acted as a research assistant. Gran was looking Posy up and down, and I dreaded to think what gem she might be about to utter. I took her arm and steered her towards the door.
‘I hope you have a successful day tomorrow,’ I said to Paddy. There was no way I would be joining them, playing gooseberry. My feelings for him might have faded long ago, but that didn’t mean I would choose to see him with a new girlfriend, sharing the tasks we had once carried out together. ‘I’ll be in touch about the walk.’
*
The Easter holidays were over far too soon, and not only because I had to return to school and endure working with Jo Blair. It was also time for my mum’s regular visit, not something I was looking forward to, especially without Caitlyn to keep conversation flowing this year. My mum ran a bar in Spain with her partner, Juan, and visited us twice a year: once in November, to deliver Christmas presents after the half-term break, and once in spring, when the Easter rush was over and before the summer season took off. Each year she arrived with enough luggage and duty-free to last a month, never mind a week, and her skin was browner, her skirts shorter and her bangles noisier than the previous visit.
She had arrived on Sunday and by Tuesday, as I let myself in after work, I barely recognised the house as my own. Magazines, nail files, flimsy cardigans … there was clutter and paraphernalia over every surface. The kitchen bore the brunt of it, with dirty mugs and used teabags mounting up by the sink, and an army of pre-mixed cans of gin and tonic standing in line in my fridge. It felt more like living with a rebellious teenager than it ever had when Caitlyn was here.
‘You’re late,’ Mum said, wandering into the kitchen wearing what looked suspiciously like pyjamas. She leant past me to grab a can of gin from the fridge, while I took out a carton of fruit juice. ‘I thought the benefits of a school job were the short hours and the holidays.’
‘Only people who don’t work in a school believe that.’ I smiled, trying to push aside reflections on a bad day at work; Jo Blair was hell-bent on trimming the budget for each department, and had hidden away in her office while furious department heads vented their anger on me. Thank goodness it was Tuesday – a vigorous run was exactly what I needed now.
‘I thought we could have a Chinese tonight,’ Mum said, flapping a piece of paper at me. ‘I found this takeaway menu in the drawer.’
I felt a pang of loss; it was from Caitlyn’s favourite takeaway.
‘We’ll have to eat late,’ I said. ‘I’m going running tonight.’
‘But it’s raining. Can’t you give it a miss tonight? I’m only here for a week.’
‘I can’t. I lead the group.’ I had considered – for the best part of thirty seconds – whether I should drop out this week, but had soon decided that it was too good an excuse to avoid another evening in with Mum. We had run out of things to say in the first couple of hours together, and our evenings passed making banal conversation on even more banal television shows. Mum had always been closer to Faye, and I had been closer to my dad. The wrong parent and the wrong child had been left to rub along together, making a strange imbalance in our family. The tragic events that should have pushed us together had somehow emphasised our differences and pulled us further apart.
‘I’ll make it a short run tonight,’ I offered, my conscience prodding me to compromise. ‘We run from The White Hart, so it will only take me a few minutes to get home.’
‘The White Hart?’ I should have known Mum would prick her ears up at that. ‘The hotel on the market square? Do they serve food? I could wait for you there and we could eat afterwards. I’ll put it on expenses at work. It’s research, isn’t it?’
It was a miracle that the bar in Spain was still trading if Mum spent all the profit on this type of ‘research’, but I agreed to the change of plan; Lexy would be grateful for the business, and it would make a change from another night in front of the television. It turned out even better than I’d anticipated: a few of the other runners had decided to take advantage of Lexy’s discount on food for the running group and stayed for a meal, so we pushed a few tables together and all squashed up with each other. Mum was in her element – she loved a crowd – and she had enough tales of Spanish life to keep everyone entertained for weeks, never mind one night.
‘Your mum’s a hoot,’ Lexy said, as I passed her on the way back from the ladies. ‘I hope I’m like that at her age. You must miss her when she’s in Spain.’
I smiled and nodded, because how could I explain? I missed the old mum, the one who had had a husband and two children. The woman at the table in front of me was an exaggerated version of her former self. Mum had always been loud and lively, in many ways the opposite of my quiet, studious father. Not many people would notice the difference now, but I did. I noticed the laughs that were too loud, too long; the smile that was artificially bright; the larger-than-life costume that shrouded the person she had once been. There was no universal guidebook for dealing with grief; she had chosen her way, and I had chosen mine. It was unfortunate that we had each chosen a way that sat uneasily with the other’s.
Nevertheless, as the other members of the running group gradually wandered home, and it was only the two of us left, the atmosphere was less cautious than it usually was between us; perhaps we had both been reminded of who and how we used to be.
‘They’re a nice bunch,’ Mum said, shifting from her seat across the table to sit on the bench next to me. ‘It will do you good to mix more. Caitlyn said you were getting out and about at last.’
‘Caitlyn?’ I repeated, homing in on the most important part of this speech. ‘When did you speak to her?’
‘Last week. She looked so well …’ Mum stopped and swigged the dregs of her wine, not meeting my eye.
‘Y
ou saw Caitlyn last week? Where? Did she visit you in Spain? She told me she couldn’t have time off until August.’
‘Don’t blame Caitlyn. I made a surprise visit to Paris on my way here.’ Mum shrugged. ‘I miss her.’
I couldn’t argue with that. I missed her too, but we had agreed that I wouldn’t visit her in these first few months. She wanted to settle in and not risk feeling homesick, or so she had said.
‘How was she?’ I put aside my resentment at Mum’s sneaky visit; there would be time for that later. ‘Is she eating? Are her employers kind? Is she happy?’
‘Very.’ That brought me comfort, of sorts, but not much happiness. If she was happy, there was no chance of her returning home. But how could I not prefer her to be happy in Paris rather than unhappy at home with me? It was the conundrum of parents everywhere, I supposed.
‘And Luc is gorgeous,’ Mum continued. ‘Have you seen him? And that accent …’ She fanned her face, laughing.
‘Who’s Luc?’
‘Caitlyn’s boyfriend.’ Mum stopped the fanning and pulled a comedy grimace. ‘She hasn’t mentioned him, has she? That’s children for you. Always needing their little secrets.’
And then her grimace faded, because there was so much subtext in those words, we couldn’t fail to feel it. Caitlyn wasn’t my child; and Faye had kept more than little secrets. I picked up my bag, deciding to leave further questioning about Caitlyn until I was less tired, and Mum was less drunk.
‘Hang on,’ Mum said, putting out her arm to stop me rising. ‘There are things you’ve not told me either. I went to visit your gran today.’
I couldn’t judge where this was leading from Mum’s face. She’d had years of practice at holding her alcohol, and could down vast quantities of gin and still maintain an inscrutable poker face. What could Gran have told her? I didn’t have secrets, and if I did, I would have trusted Gran not to share them with Mum; Gran had never entirely approved of her daughter-in-law, never believing that she was good enough for my dad. So what could Mum mean? Unless … my heart sank. Gran wouldn’t have mentioned Paddy, would she?