A Friend of the Family

by Marcia Willett

  ‘No. Oh, no. Only I might have . . . How awful if I’d married Polly!’

  ‘Disastrous, I should think,’ said Jon cheerfully. ‘Not that I’d have let you, of course. I was hoping that you might come to it yourself but I was beginning to despair. I decided I’d have to tell you how I felt and risk getting thrown out.’

  Freddie looked shy, pleased and rather overwhelmed. ‘When did you know?’ he asked bravely.

  ‘When you got out of your Fourtrak and introduced yourself,’ said Jon. ‘I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if we got snowed up together.’

  ‘Well,’ said Freddie, blushing furiously again, ‘you had a start on me there. I’ve got some catching up to do.’ Joy and excitement were crashing over him like golden waves.

  ‘No hurry,’ said Jon, drinking his coffee. ‘It takes a while to adjust. And we’ve got the rest of our lives.’

  The thought of that made Freddie feel so happy that he feared he might weep. He swallowed, nodded, picked up his mug and put it down again.

  ‘I don’t know what to do or say,’ he admitted. ‘It’s such a shock and such an enormous relief. And frightening.’

  ‘I know.’ Jon pushed Charlie Custard off and stood up. ‘I think a drink might not be a bad idea after all. In the cupboard? OK if I get them?’

  As he passed behind his chair he touched Freddie’s head lightly.

  Freddie nodded, not trusting himself to speak as all the sensations that had been missing in past relations began to make themselves deliciously manifest. Jon poured two stiff drinks and passed a glass to Freddie.

  ‘To us,’ he said.

  WHEN MIRANDA TOLD TIM that David was coming for the weekend he gave a great sigh of relief. As he’d driven home from the Old Station House his euphoria had gradually waned and at the sight of Miranda his resolve had weakened. He seemed to have been visited with a fit of madness and suddenly saw clearly all the difficulties which would result if he should take the step he had outlined to Polly. Miranda was quiet and edgy and he wondered if she had guessed that something was afoot. Her behaviour was quite different from the way she usually was if she suspected him of philandering. There was something vulnerable about her that made him see just how difficult it would be to hurt her.

  She said that she was going out on Friday afternoon and Tim hung about watching for David. He was actually on the telephone when David arrived and when he finally came out of his office it was to find David putting down his bag in the hall. At the sight of the comforting figure of his father-in-law, he ran across and flung his arms round him.

  ‘Gracious!’ beamed David. ‘Now that’s what 1 call a welcome. Will you think me a cynic if I ask whatever can be the matter?’

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ laughed Tim. ‘It really is. But I’m in a frightful muddle, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Guessed as much,’ said David cheerfully. ‘Is my dear daughter to blame? Where is she?’

  ‘She’s had to go out. Don’t know where. Said she wouldn’t be long. Come into the library and have a drink.’

  ‘Sounds a splendid idea.’ David followed readily. ‘So what have you been up to? A woman, is it?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ said Tim, busy with the decanters.

  ‘Always is, my dear fellow,’ said David gloomily. ‘That or money. If Miranda’s like her mother it’s probably the former.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Tim gave David a glass and they sat down.

  ‘Both very jealous people, d’you see? Insecure. They see even the most innocent approach to the opposite sex as something to be feared.’ David sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s very sad. I tried to understand it but sometimes the fact that I was being treated like some hardened libertine made me want to behave badly. Being constantly watched and questioned is very tiring and the company of an easygoing woman sometimes went to my head, I’m afraid.’ He looked at Tim and raised his eyebrows. ‘Ring a bell?’

  ‘Oh, David. Yes. What a comfort you are. The trouble is, I’ve let it get out of hand.’

  ‘Aaah,’ said David thoughtfully and drank deeply.

  ‘No, no,’ said Tim quickly. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking. I haven’t slept with her. Nothing like that.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’ David looked puzzled.

  ‘I’ve proposed marriage to her,’ said Tim wretchedly.

  ‘My dear boy!’ David nearly spilled his drink.

  ‘I know. I know. It’s just we’ve had this sort of flirtation going. She’s great fun, quite scatty, and it was a sort of relief. Like you said just now. And she had this problem, divorcing her husband and so on, and I got carried away and asked her to marry me. Miranda’s been so odd these last few weeks. To tell the truth, I wonder whether she’s regretting marrying me. I’m not sure I make her happy. Oh, hell!’

  ‘The thing is . . . ’ began David and paused to listen as a door slammed.

  Miranda’s voice could be heard calling them and the next second the door was flung open and she stood confronting them. Both men rose to their feet as though hauled up by strings and stared at her. Her face was flushed, her usually neat hair was rumpled and she looked young and happy.

  Oh, Daddy! How lovely to see you,’ she cried. Oh, I’m glad you’re here. Oh, Tim! It’s so wonderful. You’ll never guess.’ She shook her head, her hair flying about her face, and stretched out her arms to them. ‘You’ll never believe it. Oh, Tim, I’m pregnant. It’s been confirmed. Isn’t it amazing? Oh, I’m so happy.’

  And she collapsed on to the nearest chair and burst into tears.

  Thirty-four

  WHEN MARCUS ARRIVED AT the Old Station House, instead of knocking at the front door or going round to the side door to the kitchen, he walked directly out on to the platform. Polly was standing in the sunshine staring up at the swallows. Her hair had grown again and was tied back casually and she wore jeans and a baggy jersey. When Jessie hauled herself up and went wagging up to Marcus she glanced round and then smiled.

  ‘I’ve become so aware of the passing of the seasons since I lived here,’ she said. ‘I noticed it a bit in the town, of course, but nothing like I do now.’

  They sat by unspoken mutual consent on one of the seats and Marcus looked about him as he lit a cigarette.

  ‘It’s lovely here,’ he agreed. ‘But I couldn’t cope with it on a fulltime basis. I need the bustle and movement of the city. Going to concerts and the theatre and the cinema. I get withdrawal symptoms if I stay away too long.’

  ‘I can understand that.’ Polly leaned forward to stroke Jessie, who came to sit between her knees. ‘I dash up to Exeter when I can and walk about the streets enjoying the noise and watching the people. Then I feel that I’m a member of the human race again. I like to sit in a wine bar and watch life go by and go into shops and smell the heavenly smell of new clothes hanging on their hangers.’

  ‘So you won’t really mind leaving this when Thea comes back?’

  ‘I shall miss it. Percy and Jessie and Maggie and the house. But they’re not mine, you see. I want something of my own.’

  ‘Yes. Well, I think I can help you there.’ Marcus leaned forward, resting his forearms along his thighs. ‘As you know, Percy the Parrot is becoming quite big business and I’ve managed to get a television producer interested in a children’s series. Seriously interested. The format’s being discussed. We might do stories using the drawings with a narrator—as in Jackanorj—or perhaps puppets, but still with a narrator like it was in The Magic Roundabout. Whichever, I want that voice to be yours. Ever since I heard you reciting “Rebecca” with Percy I’ve had the idea. However Percy is presented—and I think he’s going to have quite a television career—I want you to be the person doing it. We’ve even discussed a birthdays and requests slot during children’s television and on Saturday mornings. That would have to be a puppet, of course, like Basil Brush or Roland Rat. So we’ve got lots to think about. I shall act as your agent, of course, and we’re in a very s
trong position with the television rights. Quite strong enough to make my own suggestions. What do you think?’

  Birdsong mingled with the sound of a strimmer droning like an irritable outsize bee and a dog could be heard, barking with the falsetto shriek of the farm collie.

  ‘You mean not marry Tim or Freddie?’ asked Polly at last.

  Marcus threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘My dear girl, certainly not! Marry Tim or Freddie! Tim’s married already and is probably even now wondering how on earth he’s going to wriggle out of his proposal and as for Freddie . . . ’ Marcus shook his head and inhaled on his cigarette. ‘If he needs to get himself drunk to suggest marriage having known you for how long?—three years?—take it from me, he’s got problems. Forget them. You don’t need them. Think about this new career that I’m offering you. Come on. No prevaricating. What d’you think?’

  ‘It sounds so unbelievable that I can’t take it in.’ Polly shook her head. ‘Why me? There must be millions of experienced people that could do it better than I could.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Marcus threw the butt of his cigarette away. ‘I’ve got a very strong hunch about you, Polly.’

  Polly stared at him and he smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I’m not kidding you. And you’re not a raw beginner. You got a degree in Drama and English and you told me about all your experiences with amateur dramatics before vou were married. Trust me. After all, what have you got to lose? Tim and Freddie?’

  He burst out laughing again and this time Polly laughed with him.

  ‘But I don’t know anything about . . . well, anything,’ she protested at last. ‘I’d be terrified.’

  ‘Not with me behind you,’ said Marcus comfortably. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘But where would I live? I’d have to come to London, I suppose?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘You wouldn’t have to but it would be sensible. Convenient. And I’ve got an idea about that, too. I’ve got a little flat at the top of my house'—Polly’s heart began to thump nervously— ‘which has been used by a student friend of my son. He’s leaving at the end of this summer and you could move in there.’ He caught sight of her face and chuckled. ‘Fear not. This is not a devious attempt on your honour'—Polly blushed furiously-’or some con trick to get you into my clutches. You can live there cheaply till your career takes off. Don’t worry. I’ll block up the internal door. You can use the other entrance which opens on to the fire escape.’

  ‘I wasn’t . . . I didn’t mean . . . ’ Polly floundered to a halt.

  ‘Forget it. This is a business deal. I’m going to make lots of money out of you. It’s going to take time to get it all set up, of course, which is just as well since you’ve got to be here for a while. But I want you to do some recordings for me and then I’ll need you to come up to town and meet a few people. Well?’ He looked at her. ‘What d’you say? I want a definite answer. No dithering.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful. Terrifying but wonderful. I can’t really take it in, but yes. Yes please. I’d love to have a try.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  Marcus gave her a brief hug but Polly still had another worry. ‘ What about Paul?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I’ve got to meet him. Tim says . . . ’

  ‘Oh, balls!’ said Marcus impatiently. ‘Of course you don’t have to meet him. What rubbish! He had the affair, he was unfaithful. He admitted it. And he’s been living with his mistress in your home. Isn’t that what you said?’

  ‘Apparently.’ Polly nodded. ‘Suzy tells me that Fiona moved in as soon as I came here.’

  ‘Well then. You deal with it through a solicitor. You can use my chap if you haven’t got one. He’ll write to Paul telling him that you’re divorcing him for adultery and we’ll go from there. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I haven’t got to see him?’

  ‘Certainly not. Unless you want to. No point.’

  Polly looked at him in awe. ‘D’you always organise people’s lives like this?’

  ‘Not always.’ Marcus gave her a tiny wink. Only if I think that they’re going to make me lots of money. Now. I think we should celebrate and having tasted your cooking I think we ‘11 go out to do it.’

  ‘But I’ll have to tell Tim and Freddie, won’t I?’ Polly looked worried again. ‘They ought to know that I’m not going to marry them.’

  Marcus got to his feet, pulling her up with him, and looked at her for a moment. ‘I usually shake hands with new clients,’ he said, ‘but in your case I’m going to make an exception.’ And he bent his head and kissed her. ‘Now go and telephone Freddie and tell him that you’ve had an offer you can’t resist and that you must refuse his generous proposal. Start with him and see how it goes.’

  He watched her go into the house and sat down again on the seat, stretching out his long legs and wondering whether he should have kissed her. He was delighted that she’d accepted his offer. He knew he was taking a tremendous chance in promoting someone with no experience but he felt absolutely confident that Polly had an enormous potential in the areas he’d outlined to her. She simply needed to be motivated and pushed in the right direction. When he had discussed it with Thea on the telephone she had been in complete agreement with him and he felt excited at the prospect before him. Smiling to himself, he lit another cigarette and fondled Jessie’s ears. A few minutes later Polly reappeared. She looked radiant with relief and Marcus felt his heart move a little in his breast.

  ‘He didn’t mind a bit,’ she cried. ‘He was wonderful about it.’ She sank down beside him on the seat. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Now it’s just Tim.’

  ‘Shall you do him next?’

  ‘It’s a bit difficult.’ Polly frowned out over the garden. ‘Saturday morning, you see. He won’t be in his office and if I get Miranda she’ll wonder why I want to speak to Tim. She’s a very jealous person and I don’t want to upset her.’

  ‘Not now, anyway,’ murmured Marcus.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘You’d have probably upset her quite a bit if you’d married Tim.’

  ‘I know. I don’t think I ever really meant to.’ Polly looked guilty.

  ‘Let’s put Tim on hold,’ suggested Marcus. ‘Put him out of your mind. We’ll go and have some lunch and celebrate our new partnership. Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ Polly nodded and smiled at him. ‘If you’re sure you want to go out?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Marcus firmly. ‘I don’t want to remember this day as the day I got food poisoning. I’ll come and say hello to Percy while you get your things.’

  ON MONDAY MORNING, DAVID drove slowly across the moor remembering vistas and scenes that he had seen with Felicity and had never wanted to look at since. It was a still day, the thin grey uniform cloud suffused with a golden glow that promised sunshine. The hills unfolded gently before him, horizon upon horizon, and his heart was filled with melancholy. Four years ago, Felicity had been beside him and because of that she had died a terrible, lonely death, and he would never be able to forgive himself. Would they have found happiness together? It was a question he had never been able to answer. He knew that he hadn’t loved her in the way that she had loved him and he simply didn’t know whether her love would have been enough. At the moment when he’d listened to the Sibelius and imagined her walking on the moor, he had been prepared to take the chance, to have a try at it even though he feared that the magic wouldn’t last. It had been too late. David groaned with the shame and pain which even now assailed him and, following his map, headed for Mary Tavy. He had taken it upon himself to seek out Polly and talk to her. Tim had telephoned her that morning and, with one ear cocked for Miranda’s footsteps, had talked briefly about Miranda’s pregnancy and his resolution to stay with her. He told David afterwards that Polly was perfectly happy about it, even relieved. David, however, had visions of Polly lying on the floor, overcome with sleeping tablets, and decided to see for himself.

  The Old Station House was easy enough to find and Da
vid left the car in the lane and opened the five-bar gate. He approached an open door and stood for some moments, just outside on the tarmac, listening to a strange conversation.

  ‘. . . ’n’ us ain’t got time to lissen to ’ee all mornin’ . . . ’

  ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,’ advised a well-educated plummy voice, ‘old Time is still a-flying.’

  ‘Yew cudden ’ev said a tre wer word, my ‘ansome. ‘N’ us ‘even’t done the ‘ooverin’ yet.’

  ‘The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun . . . ’ Obviously the owner of the plummy voice knew his Herrick.

  ‘Jes’ shut up, ’n’ get back in ye wer cage. Shudden never’ve let ’ee out. Polly’11 kill us.’

  ‘Our Polly is a sad slut,’ grieved the plummy voice, abruptly abandoning Herrick for John Gay, ‘nor heeds what we have taught her. I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughter.’

  ‘Yew misrubble ol’ bag of fevvers. Get off thet they er chair ‘n’ get in ‘ere.’

  There was a loud squawk and, consumed with curiosity, David knocked loudly and went through a small utility room into the kitchen beyond. There was a flash of feathers and a louder squawk and a large African Grey parrot scrambled through the open door of his cage and turning round on his perch glared beadily at David.

  A large red-haired young woman slammed shut the door and wiped her brow with a muscular arm. ‘Thet were roight good timin’, mister,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘ ‘E weren’t never goin’ back. Lass time us lets ‘im out. Ol’ bugger.’

  ‘He’s a beautiful chap, isn’t he?’ David smiled at her. ‘And very well educated.’

  The young woman pushed up her sleeves and shook her head. ‘Thet were the missis’s ol’ aunt ‘n’ uncle. Gabblin’ away all day they must’ve bin. Doan’ unnerstan’ ‘alf ‘e ses. But ‘e’s a reel laff. So wot c’n us dew fer ‘ee?’

  ‘I wanted to see Polly. I’m staying with Thea’s cousin Tim Barrable. He’s married to my daughter, d’you see?’