‘In fact, I was sorry to hear you didn’t care for travelling, Julian,’ James continued. ‘Because, unofficially, of course, I have a feeling that’s where your future lies. We’ll be needing more young computer literate people in the office. Well, of course that rules you out. But we do need your experience in the field. Selling to other countries while things are so difficult at home. And if it came to a choice of redundancy or travel, you might have to take on board a rather unpalatable decision.’
Elaine did not need to see Julian’s reaction. Instead, she was focusing on James. His eyes, which she had always thought of as baby blue, were actually quite steely. No wonder he did so well in business. He must have been constantly under-estimated, to other people’s cost.
‘I’ve been watching the situation for some time now,’ he added. ‘And I think that’s the way it must be.’
‘Whereabouts were you thinking of?’ Julian’s voice sounded weak and subdued.
‘Probably the Middle East. Saudi is on the cards. You’ll have to be careful about the alcohol, of course. And don’t put your hands on anything that doesn’t belong to you. You know they have these rather fundamentalist ideas about morals. Stealing and adultery and so on.’
Elaine wondered what poetic justice he would now mete out to Ginnie. Would he threaten her with the loss of the dishwasher or the daily? Would he punish her by selling one of the horses? Or would he humiliate her, banish her, as he had Julian? But Ginnie, far from looking apprehensive, had recovered her glow and was looking at her husband with new respect.
‘You know if there are problems, I’ll do anything,’ she said, with a soft girlish laugh, ‘I’ll be your willing slave.’
‘I don’t think we need consider anything too drastic,’ he said and, looking directly at Ginnie, he allowed a slight smile to relax his face, whilst his eyes showed a flicker of amusement at her changed attitude.
The soufflé was served without a hitch.
Julian, looking nervous, managed to convey to his wife that she should abandon the plate of mints served with coffee and retire from the party. James, his hand resting on Ginnie’s shoulder in a proprietary way, walked out into the hall to bid his guests goodbye, with the utmost courtesy.
Ginnie, still excited, like someone high on drugs or alcohol, talked too loudly outside the door, ‘What’s this ghastly red wine?’ came her voice. ‘I’ll tell Stephen to take it to Sally’s tomorrow night. He’s brought a whole case of Le Montrachet, and we certainly don’t need this cheap plonk.’
Elaine, not offended, giggled on hearing the fate of her mother’s donation.
Ginnie came back to the table, as Stephen was pouring more coffee for Elaine and himself.
‘Look, why don’t you two take those out on the terrace? I think I’ll call it a day. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’ She bent to kiss her brother. ‘James has already taken your case to your room, Elaine. Help yourself to brandies, won’t you? I’ll see you at breakfast.’
James put his head round the door to say goodnight to the two remaining guests, and then, with the door still ajar, they heard him say to his wife, ‘I thought I heard a mention of that well known euphemism “the headache”. I hope I got that wrong.’
Then, in a low voice, came Ginnie’s reply. ‘I told you - I’ll be your willing slave.’
Elaine took a chocolate mint and tried not to look embarrassed. Stephen laughed and said, ‘All she wanted was attention. She’s always been like that. She’d behave as badly as she could, and usually rope someone else in too. Then she’d turn the charm on for Mum and Dad and get off scot-free.’
‘Leaving someone else carrying the can?’ queried Elaine.
‘Yes. Right first time. Usually me. That’s why I left home.’
‘I thought that was because you got a place at university.’
‘Yes, but once I was there, I made up my mind I wouldn’t go back to living at home again. College life gave me more self-assurance, whereas sometimes your nearest and dearest sap your confidence – even when they don’t mean to.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Elaine smiled, thinking of her own mother. ‘But I thought you were quite confident. You and your pals and your bikes –you didn’t seem to need anyone else; you seemed to enjoy yourselves.’
Her mind went back to her teenage years, when she had admired Ginnie’s older brother as much as any rock star.
‘Everyone has their own way of putting on an extra skin, haven’t they?’ he replied. ‘For us it was overalls and an oil can. We didn’t go clubbing and drinking - we were all a bit shy with girls.’
‘I thought a motor cycle was the ultimate in phallic symbols.’
Stephen laughed. ‘I didn’t know that then. I don’t think I could even spell it.’
‘Lots of girls were interested in you.’
‘I wish I’d known. I might have tried to date one of them. There was one girl I fancied. The very thought of asking her out made me shake with terror.’
‘Girls can be unkind sometimes.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t have been unkind. It wasn’t in her nature. I wish now I’d plucked up my courage.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘She got married. And now she’s divorced.’
Elaine looked at him; his eyes smiled into hers, and she felt colour creeping into her cheeks. She got up and poured herself some brandy.
‘My goodness. Aren’t we getting sentimental, talking about our youth like this? When are you going back to France, Stephen?’
‘Oh, didn’t Ginnie tell you? I’m not going back. I’m bringing my so-called expertise here. It would be nice to get together, Elaine.’
Elaine looked doubtful and hesitated.
‘I’m no carbon copy of Ginny,’ he said, smiling but serious. ‘I won’t toy with your emotions. I’ll even find some oily jeans if it will make you feel better.’
‘Stephen, I’m not the same person you knew twelve years ago. As you said yourself, I’m divorced. I have a young child too.’
He took her hand in his, and his grip was firm.
‘We’re both grown-up people, now, Elaine. But you seem very much the same person to me. Honest, straightforward. Someone I’d very much like to know again.’
Elaine relaxed. She allowed her hand to remain in his. She couldn’t deny that she felt very comfortable in his presence.
‘Let’s go out somewhere, tomorrow,’ he said.
‘I’m riding with Ginnie in the afternoon.’
‘Well, after that, or before. What does it matter?’
She looked at the well-dressed young man. To all intents and purposes, there was very little left of the skinny youth of twelve years before, who, to her chagrin at that time, had seemed to have very little interest in her or any other girl. And yet beneath the exterior, she guessed that his old personality had remained intact. And somewhere, deep down, perhaps so too had hers. She felt a sudden awareness of the burden that she had become accustomed to carrying. Bringing up a young child, the responsibility of her job with its rigid deadlines - she was struck by a desire to shake off the years.
‘You know what I’d like to do?’ she said. ‘I’d like to do something silly - like go to a fun fair, eat candy floss and drink coke from a can.’
He caught her mood in an instant. ‘Then we could go on to Sally’s party - we’d be just the right age for it - she’s twenty-six, going on eighteen. We could take the awful wine and share their soggy crisps.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘We could go by bike.’
‘You haven’t still got that,’ Elaine said incredulously.
She took a sip of James’s best brandy and wondered if these things would really happen, or if they were inventing a dream.
‘We’ll tell Ginnie we’ll be out for dinner,’ Stephen continued.
‘We could get fish and chips or a Chinese takeaway.’
‘And we’d still have Sunday.’
It was going to be fun, she thought, two old friends revisiting their yout
h.
But from the touch of his hand and the tremor of her glass, she knew that they each shared the hope that it was going to be something more.
Chapter 12: Mother’s Day
(Saturday evening)
Julie Stanton arrived back at her old home at six-thirty. It was a large Victorian house, which Sally Fairdene’s parents had bought as an investment, and with the expectation that Sally would let out rooms to fellow students. The arrangement had worked well. Julie and the other lodgers who had rented at different times had been very comfortable, and there was no resentment about Sally’s financially superior position.
Julie rang the doorbell and glanced at her watch. Fortunately, she was ahead of the party guests, for she was not really in the mood for socialising. Sally came to the door in a housecoat, wiping damp hair with a towel. Julie thought she saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but in a flash it was replaced by a bright smile.
‘Where have you been, Julie?’ she said, dropping the towel and throwing her arms round her friend. ‘Richard’s been going out of his mind.’
‘You know where I always end up when things go pear-shaped,’ replied Julie, putting her small suitcase down in the hall. ‘It didn’t work out with Richard and me, as you obviously know, and I’ve been staying with Frank and Janet over the half term. But I’ve got school on Monday. So I wondered - have you let my room yet?’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m not that efficient. But why didn’t you let Richard know? He’s been trying to find you all week.’
‘He couldn’t have. I left messages with his mother.’
They exchanged glances.
‘The old bat,’ murmured Julie. ‘Even so, perhaps it’s all for the best. Do I really want to share my life with mother’s blue-eyed boy? Surely there’s some other sort of man apart from chauvinists or wimps.’
‘Richard’s not a wimp - you’ve misjudged him, Julie.’ Sally looked down for a moment, before saying in a half laughing, half serious way, ‘If you don’t want him, I’ll have him any day.’
Julie glanced at her in surprise, lost for words for the moment, before Sally added, ‘Look, there’s something else. Richard’s sister’s here.’
‘What? She lives in Exeter.’
‘Well, she’s sitting in your room, crying her eyes out. You’d better go and talk to her. The regular crowd will be arriving in a couple of hours. And, what’s more, I hear that my big brother is coming - maybe he’s the man you’re looking for. He deals in French wines and wears Saville Row suits - what more could a woman ask?’
Julie smiled, ‘I think I need a bit of a respite.’
‘The only problem is,’ continued Sally, ‘he’s dragging along some old flame, would you believe? She’s divorced now, with a kid. I think he’s out of his mind. He’s as eligible as can be - why does he want to put himself in that situation?’
‘I don’t want to get involved with your private grievances,’ said Julie. ‘I’d be as bad as Richard’s mother, interfering old witch, wouldn’t I?’
She picked up her bag and walked upstairs, preparing herself to confront a younger version of her adversary.
Pushing open the unlocked door, her eyes met those of a tall fair-haired girl, her face blotched with tears.
‘You must be Elizabeth...’
‘Yes, I’m Liz, Richard Webb’s sister,’ agreed the girl. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Julie. I thought you wanted to see me.’
‘Oh, your friend, Sally, said she didn’t know when you’d be back.’ Liz blew her nose hard, but fresh tears ran down her cheeks.
‘You look terrible,’ Julie said, concerned. ‘Let me make you some tea or coffee. Things can’t be that bad.’
This tearful girl was obviously not a clone of her mother. On the contrary, though she was several inches taller than Julie, the only way to deal with her, in the absence of information, was to treat her like a member of Julie’s infant class with a hurt knee. Julie fussed around, made a drink, took Liz’s coat and hung it up; then turned the heating on to take the chill off the unused bed-sit. Eventually, Liz looked more settled.
‘What made you come here? I thought you lived in Exeter.’
‘I came to London to sort things out with Mother, but she wouldn’t speak to me; she didn’t even say where Richard was. But Sally told me he would probably come tonight. She said she’d try and get in touch with him.’
Julie, initially surprised, considered this for a moment. The story still seemed complicated, but some things were beginning to add up and, on balance, she was not so surprised.
‘So Richard wasn’t at his flat, then?’ she said.
‘No, I rang the flat from the station, and Mother wouldn’t speak to me. I wanted to persuade her to come back home, but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said. She said she had two ungrateful children and there was no point in talking to either of us.’ She blew her nose hard. ‘When she put the phone down on me, I remembered I had your number in my diary. Richard gave it to me some time back. I rang up and Sally told me how to get here.’
‘What do you want to do now?’ asked Julie.
‘Well, if I could contact Richard, at least he could sort me out somewhere to stay - I can’t go back to the flat. And I can’t face going back to Exeter tonight.’
‘Well, you can stay here, if that’s the only problem,’ said Julie. ‘I’ll make up the bed. Both beds. I didn’t expect to be here myself.’
Liz, still sniffing, looked curious. ‘Don’t you live here any more?
‘Actually, I was about to move into Richard’s flat, when your mother came for her visit from Exeter. And that put paid to that. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to happen.’
‘So you didn’t really want Mother around,’ said Liz.
‘I think you could say that your mother arriving when she did certainly did not enhance our situation. I walked out in a huff. But I thought it was only a postponement of our plans. I thought Richard would ring me the next day. Now I wonder if it’s too late to repair what’s already happened - he doesn’t seem very anxious to get me back into his life. Although...’ The suspicions that formulated in her mind remained unsaid, but Richard’s mother had predictably failed to pass on messages, and Sally hadn’t exactly assisted Richard to find her. ‘Well, let’s not worry about that for the moment,’ she said. ‘How about you? You said you had a row with your mum. What made you decide to eat humble pie?’
‘I miss Mother. She’s such a rock to have around, especially now.’
‘Why now?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh, that’s why you’re so weepy. And your mother left you. Doesn’t she like children?’
‘She didn’t know. I wanted to be sure, because I’ve had a miscarriage before. But I was awfully jumpy. Then we had a trivial row about something. I just shouted at her once, and she got on her high horse and walked out.’
‘She’s very dignified, your mother. I can imagine she wouldn’t like being shouted at.’
‘How right you are. She absolutely hates “displays of temperament”, as she puts it. But sometimes it’s very difficult keeping your temper with Mother. She’s enough to try the patience of a saint. And she’s got a very low opinion of Gary.’
Julie couldn’t help looking a bit puzzled. ‘Well, if you see all those faults in her, why on earth do you want her back?’
Liz smiled a tearful smile. ‘I know she must seem absolutely awful to you, Julie. She gives a very bad first impression and always comes over as a rather cold person. But you see, I know what she’s been through. She lost Dad when we were very young - and she really adored him. She was very proud and we had a lot of financial difficulties. Her mother was dead and her father didn’t help her, because he’d never approved of Dad. You’d think, after that, she wouldn’t want to make the same mistake with Gary. Anyway, she just struggled on, making ends meet, until her father died and left her a lot of money. She was very possessive, because Richard and I were all she’d got
. And then of course, it followed that no-one was good enough for her two wonderful children.’
‘Did she ever make it up with her father?’
‘No. She didn’t know he’d forgiven her until the reading of his will.’
‘Oh, how awful to be so proud. Have you and Richard inherited that gene?’
‘I hope I’m always prepared to back down rather than lose the people I love,’ said Liz. ‘I just wish Mother would give me the chance.’
Julie thought for a moment. ‘Liz, I’m sure your mother would want to be back in Exeter when you have your baby. But isn’t there a danger that she’ll want to take that over too? Are you sure you will always want her to be quite so closely involved in bringing up your baby?’
‘I shall have to be very strong-minded. But I can’t think of anything more dreadful than her being isolated from both of us. She can’t manage things properly in Richard’s flat. She’s got arthritis and she needs to be in her own home. Of course I want her around when I have the baby. But she needs me too. She’s just too proud to admit it to herself.’
‘Perhaps it would help if I spoke to her,’ said Julie. ‘If you don’t mind me making you sound more helpless than you are, she might feel that she could go back home without losing her dignity.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ Liz replied.
Picking up the phone, Julie dialled the flat. Violet Webb, it appeared, was prepared to answer the telephone.
‘Mrs Webb. It’s Julie Stanton here again. Please don’t put the phone down. I’m not going to ask you to pass on any more of my messages to Richard. I’m aware of your disapproval of me and you can congratulate yourself on successfully putting the kybosh on our relationship.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ came the distant tones of Violet Webb.
‘This is not about Richard. It’s about your daughter.’
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