Mara's Choice

by Anna Jacobs

  But even though he ate the whole packet of waffles, he still felt hungry for protein and something that crunched like a big juicy apple or carrot. Time to buy some food, which meant he had to find a big shopping centre.

  But first, he was tempted to go outside and stand at the edge of the garden looking down at the water and a crowd of tiny fish swimming by. And surely those were mussels on the wall? Were they safe to eat? If so, he’d be having moules marinière regularly.

  Hearing a sound, he turned to see a red-haired woman wiping the top of a huge outdoor table next door.

  She looked across at him, her head on one side, as if asking whether he wanted to speak. So he took the initiative.

  ‘Hi, there. I’m Hal Kendrell.’

  ‘Ah yes. Claudia’s son. She said you’d be coming here. I’m so sorry for your loss.’

  He nodded in acknowledgement of the condolences. He never knew what to say in response. It was a relief when the neighbour took that as a signal to carry on a conversation.

  ‘We miss having your mother as a neighbour. She and I had some pleasant chats across the garden wall. I’m Emma Buchanan, by the way. My husband’s Aaron and he’s around somewhere. We’ll look forward to getting to know you, but I promise we’re not pushy, intrusive neighbours.’

  ‘That’ll be nice. I wonder if you can direct me to a shopping centre? I need to buy some fresh food.’

  ‘That’s easy. There’s a big one where you can get just about anything.’ She gave him its name and told him which street to put in the satnav.

  ‘If there is a satnav,’ he said ruefully. ‘I haven’t even looked at the car.’

  ‘Oh, there is one. Your mother didn’t go out a lot but once I’d shown her how to use it, she found the satnav very helpful, especially when she first came here.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  She looked a little puzzled. ‘About the satnav?’

  ‘No. That she found neighbours she could chat to. She’s always been something of a loner, the sort who stands at the edge of a group at a party, watching and listening. Not antisocial, just … quiet and reserved.’

  ‘Well, she seems to have understood people. Her poems are beautiful and sometimes so simple you could be forgiven for thinking them just a few easy words – till the ideas and images sink in and make you think about the world a little differently.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant summary of how her poetry can affect people. Her words will be a memorial to her, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes. She wrote what I call real poetry, not meaningless jumbles of clever, show-off words.’

  He nodded and stepped back from the low wall separating their properties. ‘I’d better get going. I have a desperate hunger for some protein.’

  She chuckled. ‘Good luck with your shopping, then.’

  The car started easily and Hal found the satnav simple to use. It led him straight to the big shopping centre his neighbour had told him about. He did a rapid walk through to get a feel for the place, then headed back to a huge supermarket at one side of the food area, where he proceeded to fill his trolley with food: lots of cheese, fresh fruit and vegetables, a cooked chicken, some steaks, and a couple of sourdough loaves.

  Then he set about looking for pantry staples like flour, his favourite coffee and tinned food. He’d been fending for himself for long enough to know what he would need. His mother had left a few bottles of wine, but he was tempted into buying a few more bottles as well as his favourite whisky and some inexpensive Prosecco.

  Another thing he wanted was something to read – not electronic, though. He didn’t enjoy reading on his phone, or whatever device the boffins thought up next. He much preferred paper books.

  He’d looked up the history of books once out of sheer curiosity. The technology of using movable type on paper had been in operation from the fifteenth century right through until the later twentieth century. And even with electronic advances in formatting for printing in the twenty-first century, they were still producing paper books as the end product.

  Another reason he preferred paper was that they wouldn’t keep needing ‘updates’. Technology changed formats and devices too often for bookaholics like him. He wanted permanent copies of his ‘keepers’, copies that would still be perfectly usable in a few years’ time.

  He gave a wry smile at his reflection in a shop window. It looked as ephemeral as he felt. At least his mother had left her poetry behind and a son to carry on her name. What would he be leaving when his time came? Figures in a bank account for a distant relative to gloat over? There was nothing like losing someone you loved for making you contemplate your own offerings to the world and your place in it.

  When he went back to the car, the sun was still shining and he raised his face to the warmth, so welcome after the misty chills of late autumn in England. He’d noticed a petrol station as he came into the shopping centre, so he drove across to it and filled the little car he’d inherited, as well as checking what he thought of as its ‘life support systems’. Oil, water and so on were all present and correct.

  This vehicle would do him for a while. If he decided to stay for longer than a few weeks, he might buy himself something bigger and more comfortable that he could use for trips into the country. Or he might not. Who knew?

  He felt suspended between yesterday and tomorrow, marvelling at the freedom his inheritance plus his own earnings and careful attitude towards money had given him. He now had a large, mortgage-free home and time to seek a rewarding new path in life, possibly even time to return to his youthful passion for art.

  He was very lucky.

  When he got back he found a car parked on the paved area outside his garage. Presumably someone was waiting to see him, so he got out wondering who could know he’d arrived. It was a large, showy vehicle with a sign that meant nothing to him on the driver’s door.

  A sharp-featured woman dressed in rather tarty clothes got out of it as soon as he stopped and came across to join him. ‘Mr Kendrell?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Diana Vincenzo. Have you a few moments to talk business?’

  He didn’t know why, but he felt like a dog whose hackles had risen at the sight of an enemy. ‘What sort of business?’

  ‘Could we go inside, perhaps?’

  ‘Not till you tell me what you want to talk about. I’m busy at the moment.’

  Her lips tightened in annoyance for a moment then she forced a false smile. ‘I was sorry to hear about your mother passing, but life goes on, does it not?’

  Hal didn’t like this way of referring to a person dying. Passing, indeed! Where had that come from? Modern society’s desire to avoid facing up to death, he supposed.

  ‘I have a client who would like to buy this house. We presume you’ll be selling it when you’ve sorted your mother’s possessions out? He’d like to be given the first chance to buy, which could save you a lot of trouble.’

  Hal was a bit taken aback by this. ‘Why the urgency? I only got here yesterday.’

  ‘Well, you see, my client likes the situation of this particular house, but unfortunately your mother snapped it up before he could buy it, so he wants to make sure of it this time. I’m sure you’ll appreciate being saved the hassle of putting it up for sale.’

  She was standing too close to him, so he took a step backwards. ‘I don’t know what I’ll be doing about the house yet, Ms Vincenzo.’

  ‘My client is prepared to pay a very good price.’

  She named it, but what did he know about property values here? Or want to know at the moment? Hal held up one hand to stop her going on. ‘Selling the house is not something I wish to discuss right now.’

  ‘But surely you—’

  He turned to get back into his car, intending to drive it into the garage and was annoyed when she moved swiftly to thrust a business card at him before he could close the door.

  He came very close to letting the card drop on the ground, but couldn’t bring himself to be so rud
e.

  ‘I’m sorry for intruding on your grief. I’m sure when you’re ready to let go, you’ll find my client’s offer very generous, Mr Kendrell.’ Her voice was soft now, not matching her earlier tone or her sharp features. It seemed as false as everything else about her, an attitude worn briefly like a change of clothing.

  ‘I have your card so I’ll call you if I’m interested. But it won’t be for a while, if at all. Now please let me move my car into the garage.’

  She stepped back, frowning, and he drove into the huge empty garage, clicking the gadget to close the door on her before he even switched off his engine.

  That woman had timed her offer badly and she hadn’t been good at reading his body language. He’d not have given her a job in his company – his ex-company, he corrected mentally.

  Oh, to hell with her and her offer! He didn’t want to think about that sort of thing today. And if he did decide to sell, he doubted he’d choose such a sharp-featured female to deal with. Something about her set his teeth on edge.

  He was about to throw away the business card, but on second thoughts, he decided to keep it, if only to remind him of whom to avoid and which company she worked for. R.E. Real Estate it had said on the car door, which meant nothing to a stranger to town. If she’d been hired to come after this house, presumably she dealt with the higher end of the market.

  He forgot her as he set to work to unpack his shopping and put it away. Afterwards he went into the office and stared at his mother’s computer.

  And still couldn’t bring himself to touch it.

  Chapter Eight

  When Aaron came downstairs after showing Mara to her bedroom, he looked at his wife a little anxiously. ‘I tried to set her at ease, but she still seems on edge.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t in such a situation? She not only has a newly-found father and his long-time family to face, but also a new country. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with.’ Emma hesitated then added, ‘She doesn’t look very, um, affluent, does she?’

  ‘No. Her clothes are definitely at the cheaper end of mass produced, even a mere male like myself can tell that, especially after years of living with you. You always look great without being a slave to fashion. But she’s got that beautiful, rosy English complexion. Shall we count her teeth to confirm how old she is? Don’t you do something like that with horses? I wonder if it works with humans.’

  She gave him a mock slap. ‘Don’t be silly. She looks so like your family there’s absolutely no doubt she’s yours, even without a DNA test. I’ve seen photos of your mother at that age and they could have been siblings. I’m just trying to understand Mara’s accent. I can’t work it out. What is it exactly?’

  ‘Well, she was born and bred in Wiltshire, but there’s an overlay of London in the way she speaks now, I think. She’s been working there for the past few years, George found out. She’s had a couple of promotions but hasn’t exactly rocketed up the managerial ladder.’

  ‘No man in her life?’

  ‘There was a recent relationship that fizzled out.’

  ‘Does she have a passion in life?’

  ‘If so, George hasn’t discovered it yet.’

  ‘Did she say anything to you about her mother?’

  ‘Not a word. George found out that Kath has personality problems. That doesn’t surprise me. When I knew her, she was a bit of a control freak and rigid in her views. She did it quite nicely, and could be fun when she relaxed, but once she’d decided on something she considered important, that was it. Her way or the highway.’

  ‘Don’t push Mara to talk about her mother, Aaron love. Let her settle in with us at her own pace. She can give us further information about her family if and when she wants to. We could take her out and about tomorrow, show her the town, go for a short stroll along the foreshore. We’ll have to be careful she doesn’t get sunburnt. Or should we take her for a tourist boat ride round the canals? Visitors usually love that and you’re not out in the sun on those bigger boats.’

  ‘We’ll ask her what she’d like to do. Not everyone is into boating.’ He wandered to the foot of the stairs but could hear nothing so came back. ‘I wonder how she’ll get on with your two.’

  ‘I’ve warned them to behave till she settles in. And why are they suddenly mine? They’ve been “ours” since we married.’

  ‘Yes, sorry.’ He couldn’t help wondering how they’d react to the newcomer and he was quite sure they considered themselves well past the age of being told what to do. In fact, Peggy seemed to him to have become rather stroppy lately. That was not only bad-mannered but foolish, considering she was living rent-free in this house. He was on the verge of reminding her of that.

  It was mainly Peggy’s poorly hidden pain at the break-up with Mike that stopped him saying anything, and the fact that Rufus, always more tactful than his sister, seemed to be handling her very gently and watching her anxiously. Rufus was only in Western Australia for a few months anyway, would be moving back to Sydney next but he seemed to be increasingly interested in Jenn, who was a nice lass, so he wasn’t always around.

  As Emma went to the kitchen to continue preparations for the evening meal, Aaron wandered outside to look out at the water. He hadn’t realised how awkward he’d feel with Mara, how unsure of what to say or do, how terrified he’d be of upsetting her. You’d think, given all the people he’d had to deal with successfully through his business, he’d be making a better job of getting to know her.

  After pacing up and down for a few minutes, unable to think how to act differently, he went back into the house to join Emma. ‘Champagne tonight, do you think?’

  ‘Good idea. Better open a Prosecco, though. Don’t waste your good champagne on my two.’

  ‘They probably won’t hang around. Do you think Mara will like bubbly? Most people do, don’t they? It usually relaxes them.’

  Emma dropped a stray kiss on his cheek as she passed him on her way to get out the champagne flutes. ‘Stop overthinking things, my darling. Just go with the flow and it’ll be all right. After all, there’s goodwill on both sides, isn’t there?’

  But he couldn’t help worrying. Getting on well with his only biological child seemed so important. And there was no flow to go with yet. That was one of the problems.

  Mara walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing only a towel and stood gazing out of the narrow window that gave her a view down the side of the house towards the water glinting in the late afternoon sun. She put on clean clothes, leaving her hair to dry naturally, just fluffing it up a little with her fingers.

  She could never see the point in blowing it dry and shaping it in one of the sleek styles. Her hair wouldn’t hold one for long anyway, because although it wasn’t curly, it had built-in waviness and its own view of what it wanted to do. She’d saved money lately by letting it grow longer and tying it back, as she’d done when she was a teenager.

  She studied her reflection in the mirror. She’d never cared desperately about her looks or keeping up with fashion, but for once she was worrying about what to wear and how she’d look to these strangers, worrying about the whole situation now she was here, because Aaron clearly had plenty of money. She hadn’t expected that.

  He seemed a nice, caring person, but so had Darren and look how that relationship had turned out. She didn’t trust herself to make snap judgements about people now.

  Once she was ready, joining the family couldn’t be delayed any longer, so she grabbed her shoulder bag, more for emotional comfort than because she needed the things in it, and walked steadily down the stairs.

  Following the faint sound of voices, she went into the huge kitchen-dining-living area, from where she could see through the glass door that Aaron and Emma were sitting at a table outside on the patio. She paused for a moment, struck once again by how together they looked, as if they genuinely enjoyed one another’s company. It was nice to see.

  As she set out to join them, the front door slammed open and two people burst into
the house behind her, causing her to stop moving.

  Before she could turn round a young woman’s voice carried clearly. ‘Let’s go and inspect the cuckoo that’s joining us in our cosy little nest before we do anything else.’

  ‘Keep your voice down, you fool,’ a man’s voice said.

  ‘It’s my home more than hers so I’ll say what I like when I like.’

  ‘It’s our parents’ home, actually, Peggy, and if you reckon Mum will put up with you being rude to a guest, you’ve lost the plot, my girl.’

  ‘Well, I don’t trust this woman. She’s probably here to rip Aaron off. I hope he’s going to get her DNA tested.’

  Stiffening indignantly at this assumption, Mara moved quickly out onto the patio before the newcomers came into the kitchen. Cuckoo in the nest, indeed! Had they decided to think the worst of her before they’d even met her?

  She kept her back to them, trying to act as if she hadn’t overheard the jeering words. It must be Peggy acting like a spoilt brat who resented a newcomer’s arrival on ‘her’ scene. Mara had never ripped anyone off in her entire life, thank you very much.

  Well, forewarned was forearmed. She’d be on her guard against them from now on.

  She realised her father had spoken to her and turned towards him. ‘Sorry. I was miles away looking at that beautiful water. What did you say?’

  ‘I just asked if you’d like a glass of bubbly.’

  ‘I’d love one.’

  He looked beyond her and raised his voice slightly. ‘You two must have come straight home from work today. Come and meet Mara.’

  They moved outside and she got her first look at them. The young woman was quite a bit shorter than her, with bright blue eyes and hair that was almost pink in shade. She was pretty or might have been if she hadn’t been so painfully thin. The man was far better looking, seeming fit and healthy. His hair was a rich auburn in colour rather than red like his mother’s and he was a little taller than his sister, though still not quite as tall as Mara and her father.

  Peggy gave her a mere nod on being introduced, so she did the same in return.