by Imogen Clark
Shyness overcame me. If I could have grabbed the kids and got Marlon to take us straight back to the station, I would have. We didn’t belong here. I felt stupid and ignorant and very, very poor! But despite all that, here we were, and I was just going to have to find a way of dealing with it. Should I gush, I wondered, or was it better to take it all in my stride as if I was invited to stately homes for lunch most weekends?
While I was still pondering the best approach, Clio stepped in and took control. Opening the car door she virtually pulled me from the seat.
‘You’re finally here,’ she said, like she’d been waiting forever for us to arrive. ‘I’m so glad. I’ve been desperately looking forward to seeing you all.’
She threw her arms around me and gave me a squeeze. She smelled of lemons and sunshine and I felt a little grubby even though I knew I wasn’t. It did all have a whiff of ‘over the top’ about it, though. The two of us had only met the once, but Clio was treating me like her long-lost best friend. Then I remembered the photos of her on Facebook, how her smile had been painted on, her pictures just ones that other people had posted. Maybe Clio’s delight at seeing us was actually genuine? Did she have the same gut instinct that I did? Feeling slightly more at ease I returned Clio’s hug, albeit not quite as enthusiastically.
Then Noah was at my side like a little limpet. He seemed to have got an attack of the nerves, too, and the excitement of a minute ago had evaporated. He stuck to my leg and looked at his feet, kicking at the gravel with his trainer, but Clio was having none of it. She ruffled his hair and then dropped down to his level so that she could look him in the eyes.
‘And how are you, Noah? How was the train?’
That was all it took. He was off, all shyness forgotten, telling her in minute detail about their journey. I saw Poppy standing coolly to one side, watching to see how this all developed before committing herself to any particular course of action. Wise girl, I thought.
‘Lift back later?’ asked Marlon, and then before I had a chance to reply or even thank him for collecting us, he and the Volvo had gone.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Clio. ‘Let me show you around and then we’ll get some drinks organised. Mummy’s not here. She’s gone out for lunch with some friends and Hector is away shooting or something so it’s just us, I’m afraid.’
Relief washed over me. This was all hard enough to grasp without having to meet Clio’s entire family on top. Hector must be the brother, I decided, cringing inwardly at his name. He wouldn’t have lasted two minutes at my school with a name like that.
‘I don’t want to sound really dumb,’ I said as Clio threaded her arm through mine and pulled me towards the door, ‘but do you actually live here, for real?’
Clio stretched her mouth into an apologetic grimace. ‘Is it totally awful? I do, I’m afraid. The house and estate have been in Mummy’s family forever and it came to her when my grandfather died. I’ve lived here all my life and Mummy will leave it to me and Hector when she dies. The title will go to Hector, of course, being the firstborn.’
What title? I thought. Was she a dame or something on top of all this? She’d said something about it before but I’d thought she was joking. Apparently not.
‘It’s a terrible burden really,’ Clio continued. ‘It costs a fortune to run – you really can’t imagine. That’s why we’ve had to open it up for weddings and things. Not all of it, of course. The public just get to see a few of the reception rooms, the main staircase and what have you.’
I couldn’t quite take it in. The main staircase? Was there more than one? I supposed there must be, given how many rooms a place this size would have. It was like Downton Abbey.
‘I’m very lucky, really,’ Clio continued, but her tone of voice didn’t quite match her words. ‘Anyway, let’s go in.’
So we all trooped in, following Clio through the huge front door into a magnificent hallway with a black and white chequered floor. A marble table sat in the centre holding an immense flower arrangement that must have cost hundreds of pounds, I calculated, given the price of fresh flowers in the supermarket. And there it was, the ‘main staircase’, made of a richly polished wood, twisting upwards like something from a film set to the first floor. I heard Poppy gasp.
Clio led us from room to room: the drawing room, the sunroom, the family room, the library, the small dining room, the large dining room and then to a conservatory with French doors out on to a huge terrace. Beyond, I could see formal gardens all laid out with neatly trimmed hedges and a spectacular fountain.
Noah was tugging at my hand and pulling me towards the open French windows.
‘Do you want to go outside and run around, Noah?’ asked Clio.
Noah, eyes wide and shining, nodded at her frantically.
‘Shall I go with him?’ asked Poppy. ‘Make sure he doesn’t get into a fight with a peacock or anything.’
I pulled a face at her, but Clio seemed to think it was all hilarious. I couldn’t tell whether she hadn’t picked up on Poppy’s rudeness or was just politely ignoring it.
‘Okay, as long as Clio doesn’t mind,’ I said, raising my eyebrows at Poppy to let her know that I was on to her. ‘But don’t break anything. If in doubt, don’t even touch it,’ I added, but Clio was shaking her head.
‘Oh, really don’t worry. They can’t do worse than Hector and I have done and no doubt countless children before us, and nothing’s really valuable.’ She leant on the word ‘really’ and I couldn’t help thinking that it was all relative and that I couldn’t afford to replace anything that might get broken, no matter how trivial Clio thought it.
Clio opened the doors wider and the children spilled out on to the terrace and raced off to examine the fountain which, I was relieved to see, didn’t appear to be spurting water. Lord only knows how wet Noah could get with a fountain in easy reach.
‘They are such lovely kids,’ said Clio as she watched them chase each other over the manicured lawn. ‘You are such a great mum.’
I wasn’t sure there had been any evidence to suggest this, but I smiled and nodded.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
Clio was quiet for a moment and then said, ‘Come on. I’ll show you where I hang out.’ I looked across the grass towards the kids, worrying that if we moved from this exact spot they would never find me again, but Clio understood at once.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘My kitchen looks out on to this lawn, too. We’ll be able to see them.’
She led me down various corridors until we reached a door with a hand-painted wooden sign hanging from it. In wobbly letters it read ‘Clio’s Corner’ and there were little white daisies painted in a chain all the way round the letters. It was sweet.
‘I made it when I was little,’ explained Clio. ‘It used to hang on my bedroom door in the main house. This place always felt massive to me when I was small and I liked the idea that my bit was just a tiny little sanctuary. Nothing’s changed really. I got a bit bigger, but the house can still feel overwhelming. Do you understand what I mean?’
I thought that I might. I never felt safer than when I’d locked the front door of my tiny house, shutting the world and all its troubles outside. Maybe this was just Clio’s equivalent?
Clio opened the door and led the way into her part of the house. This felt different to the Hall proper. Although the rooms were still considerably larger than in my house, they were far less grand than the ones I’d seen so far. The narrow hallway led on to a sitting room that was painted in a deep raspberry pink. Two large sofas festooned with throws and cushions in bright Indian fabrics dominated the space and the floor was covered with a rag rug that reminded me of the one that Mum’s Auntie Kathleen had had in her kitchen.
‘I made that,’ said Clio, nodding proudly at the rug. ‘I went on a course in Morpeth and learned how.’
‘It’s lovely,’ I said, but it struck me as odd that Clio, who could no doubt have afforded the best rug that money could buy, chose instea
d to adopt a style used by working women to recycle worn-out clothing.
‘So,’ said Clio, pointing to the sofas, ‘please make yourself at home. Tea? Coffee? Gin?!’ I must have looked a bit confused because she quickly corrected herself. ‘I know. Way too early for gin. Coffee?’
‘Coffee would be great,’ I said.
Actually, it might have been nice to get merrily drunk here with Clio, but then I had the children to consider. Another time, maybe. There would be another time. I could feel it.
Clio disappeared into another room and so I followed her, not really knowing quite what to do with myself otherwise. We ended up in an airy kitchen with a huge pine table in the centre. There were plenty of cupboards and work surfaces but there was nothing out on any of them, and when Clio opened a cupboard to get out mugs for the coffee I could see that it just contained four lonely cups and a glass-and-chrome cafetière. I thought of my own kitchen cupboards, which would only close if you got the angle of the mug handles just so.
‘I don’t really cook here,’ said Clio, following my line of thought with spooky accuracy. ‘Usually I eat with Mummy. I’m a terrible cook. Mummy sent me on a cordon bleu course when I was a teenager, but it made no difference. Everything I make is either totally inedible or ends up tasting exactly the same as the last thing I made. So I’ve given up.’
This, it appeared, was true, because when she opened the fridge to get the coffee and milk I could see that there was nothing in it except drinks, the bottles in the door rattling loudly as Clio kicked it shut. ‘Can you cook?’
I’d never really thought about it, but I supposed I could.
‘Well, we don’t starve,’ I said with a wry smile, and Clio laughed.
‘I think I really might if I were left to my own devices. I can manage coffee, though,’ she added.
I was starting to feel slightly more confident of my surroundings now. ‘This is the most incredible place,’ I said. ‘It must have been amazing growing up here. All this space.’
Clio shrugged. ‘I suppose,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never really thought about it. It was just home. I was a bit lonely. Daddy packed Hector off to boarding school when he was eleven. My brother was and can still be a right royal pain in the arse and we fought like cats and dogs, but at least he was someone to talk to.’
‘Did you not want to go?’ I asked. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being separated from Mum and Dad, especially given how things turned out, but wasn’t that what these posh sorts were brought up to expect?
‘It wasn’t really on the cards for me,’ Clio said. ‘Hector was sent to the school where grandpa went but it only took boys. I think Mummy wanted me here with her, and I was such a home bird anyway. I suppose if I’d really wanted . . .’ Her voice drifted off and she gazed out of the window on to the lawns beyond. ‘Anyway, I stayed at home with Mummy and Daddy, when he was here.’
I sensed the start of a story and I waited to see what Clio would say next, but just then there was a clatter of footsteps and Poppy and Noah appeared at the window, cheeks pink and eyes bright. Clio opened a door and they tumbled in.
‘Mummy, we found a lake and it’s got a boat,’ said Noah. ‘Can we go on it? Please. Can we?’
He appeared to be asking Clio, but I answered for her. ‘No, I don’t think so, pet. Me and Clio are chatting and Poppy doesn’t really know anything about boats. There’s no one to take you.’
‘There’s Marlon,’ said Poppy slyly. ‘He said he’d take us.’
I wasn’t at all sure that I could trust this Marlon bloke with my most precious possessions.
‘Maybe later,’ I said, knowing that the draw of a trip in a boat on the lake was too strong for them to be fobbed off for long.
‘Why don’t you go through to the den?’ said Clio. ‘You might find something you’d like to do in there.’
She pointed towards a door at the other end of the room. Poppy looked at me for confirmation that this would be okay and I nodded reassuringly. They disappeared through the door and moments later I could hear them enthusing.
‘There’s a pool table and a juke box and stuff,’ said Clio with a wave of her hand. ‘Signs of a misspent youth. I think maybe Mummy overcompensated for my solitary existence. When I moved over here I just brought them all with me. My friends think it’s great when they come over, but I barely ever go in there. I play a mean game of pool, though,’ she added with a smirk.
‘Me, too,’ I said. ‘My dad taught me how.’
‘Daddy taught me too. It must be one of those things that fathers are supposed to pass on.’ Clio took a deep breath, but she couldn’t stifle the sob. Her eyes filled with tears so quickly that it was only a matter of seconds before they were trickling down her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching for a tissue from a box on the window shelf. ‘What must you think of me? But I still can’t think of him without . . .’ She waved her hand in front of her face and bit her lip. ‘I miss him so much. He was such a wonderful man. Such good fun to be around. Always the life and soul of wherever he was. He could fill a room on his own, you know the sort. I can’t believe he’s gone. I really can’t.’
I didn’t know what to do or say. It felt far too soon in our relationship to give Clio a hug but she clearly wanted to talk about her dad, so I decided to show interest and indulge her.
‘How old was he?’ I asked.
‘That’s the tragedy of it,’ replied Clio. ‘He was only sixty-seven. It’s no age, is it? It was an aneurysm. One day he was here, large as life, and the next . . .’ She took a deep breath and managed to compose herself. ‘And how about your father, Leah? Is he still alive?’
I shrugged. ‘God knows. He left us when I was eighteen. He and Mum had this huge row and he just walked out. That was the last I ever saw of him. He wasn’t around that much when Mum and he were married. He did something in high-level security. I was never quite sure what. It was all a bit hush-hush. Anyway, he was only home every few weeks, so I was used to him not being there. When Mum died I missed him loads, but I had no way of getting in touch. I sometimes wonder whether he ever even found out that Mum was dead.’ I looked out across the lawns so that I didn’t start crying too. A peacock strutted by nonchalantly, its tail dragging on the grass behind it. ‘I like to think that he’d have come straight back – if he’d heard, I mean – and not just left me to cope on my own.’
Clio immediately seemed to forget her own grief and shuffled over to where I was and threw her arms around me. So much for not having reached the hugging stage.
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she said as she pulled me into her and squeezed me tight. ‘Of course he’d have come back. He would never have abandoned you. It wasn’t your fault that your parents argued and you shouldn’t have been punished for it. How did your mother take it, him just disappearing like that?’
The tears that I’d just pushed back down started pricking at my eyes again.
‘Not well,’ I said. ‘Mum was totally devastated when he left. She just fell apart. It was horrible. She never recovered from it.’
Should I tell her about the suicide, I wondered? I never usually had to. Everyone in Whitley Bay knew my story and if they didn’t then it wouldn’t be long before someone filled them in. Being with somebody who had no idea of what had happened to me was a whole new experience, but as the sentences starting forming in my mind, I decided to keep it to myself for now.
‘If I were to ever see my dad again, though,’ I said, ‘I think I’d probably kill him for what he did to her.’
Clio opened her mouth to ask another question just as Noah came bounding back into the kitchen.
‘This house is ace,’ he announced. And then, ‘When’s lunch? I’m starving.’
I was about to pull him up, but Clio got her reply in first.
‘Yes, Noah. I’m starving too. The marvellous Marguerite has arranged lunch for us in the house. Let’s go and sniff it out.’
13
MELISSA – THEN
/>
It wasn’t that Melissa was ashamed of where she lived. There were many would be grateful for a caravan that they could call their own. It wasn’t even a caravan, not really. It was a mobile home with a separate bedroom and lounge and everything, and had the best views of the sea in the whole of the town. It was a classy site too, with some holiday lets, but mainly occupied by locals who lived there more or less full-time. And her van wasn’t the scruffiest, not by a long chalk. It was just that she had the impression that Ray wasn’t the mobile home sort. She felt sure that he’d have a proper house somewhere, or a flat at the very least.
So as his car pulled into the gateway of the site, Melissa felt her stomach turn over. Worse than what he’d make of her modest home was the thought that she hadn’t left it as tidy as it might be. She didn’t often have visitors and so she rarely considered the state of the place, but now she cringed as she remembered the underwear that was soaking in the sink and her unmade bed. And was there a pizza box on the floor? God, she hoped she’d thrown it away, but she had a horrible feeling that she hadn’t bothered.
Well, he’d just have to take her as he found her, she thought as she directed him along the maze of tracks to her van. He might not even want to come in. This could be as simple as a gentleman giving her a lift home. But who was she kidding? They both knew what was going on here. The real question was, how did she want to play it? Melissa didn’t know yet. One step at a time. That was best whilst she worked out the lay of the land.
‘This is me,’ she said when they finally reached her front door. ‘Thanks for the lift.’
She paused, taking in his body language. Would he be happy to accept just driving all this way and getting nothing in return? That was a pretty big test, but something told her that he had no expectations. She might be horribly wrong, but if she just got out and let herself in without inviting him, she thought he would accept that. That wasn’t what she wanted, though, she realised.