‘We want you to be happy,’ Mike said quietly. ‘Honestly, Amy, that’s all we want. And I want you to be as happy as I am with Monique. Married life has a lot going for it and she’s just great. I know you two don’t get on that well and I wish you would but believe me she’s …’ it was his turn to struggle and look embarrassed. ‘Well, what can I say, sis? We intend to stay together for ever.’
‘I know you do.’ She made up her mind there and then to try harder. Monique was Monique and for better or worse, as sisters-in-law, they would be forever linked. Of course Monique had irritating little ways but then so did she.
Nobody was perfect although, just now, madly in love as she was with Daniel, he pretty much seemed so.
On her first visit, Christine ordered a book from the woman in the bookshop saying that she would pick it up when it came in.
She needed an excuse to see him again and she also wanted to see what his reaction would be when he realized just who she was, namely his lover’s mother-in-law. She was now convinced that something was going on, had been going on for a while, and she was mortified that she had not seen through Monique. She might have voiced her suspicions to Frank if he had been alive although he would not have been the least surprised for he had always harboured doubts where his daughter-in-law was concerned.
How could she cheat on Mike? That man absolutely worshipped the ground she walked on and she had no business doing something that might hurt him. Resentment bubbled up on her son’s behalf and she had no idea what she was going to do about it. She did not wish to confront Monique directly and although she had talked it over in a quiet moment with Oscar, the dog listening patiently, it had not helped. She did not feel she could talk about it with Amy because Amy would demand facts and there were no facts. It was all based on that most irrational of things; female intuition.
‘She’s sweeter than a can of syrup,’ Frank had said after their first meeting with Monique and then, seeing Christine’s annoyed face. ‘Well, she is. I’ve met people like that before and they can’t be trusted. I just can’t believe she’s as nice as she’s making herself out to be. There has to be a bloody catch somewhere. I’ll tell you one thing. She’s going to run rings round him.’
‘Frank Fletcher! They love each other. Can’t you see that?’ Her exasperation reached boiling point. Mike had brought this young woman to see them, a woman he plainly adored and this was what his father – in private – thought of her. It was, she saw, up to her to take Monique’s corner.
And she had been doing it ever since.
A message left on her answerphone by the woman in the shop confirmed that the book she had ordered had arrived and was available for pick-up at her convenience. That morning before she left home she reached a decision. Following another discussion with Oscar, she determined what to do and that was to do absolutely nothing.
Female intuition was all very well but she was allowing her imagination to run riot here and all because of a foolish wrong number. She was still in that peculiar half-aware state that bereavement brings with it and had put two and two together to make a ridiculous number when she had nothing to go on except the alarmingly powerful sexual field given off by this other man, coupled with Monique’s admitted worries about the pregnancy. She had assumed something, invented something, that was simply not correct and thank God she had not actually said what she had been thinking when consoling Monique. For a moment there she had nearly asked if the baby was definitely Mike’s. The truth was that Monique’s concerns were just the normal everyday worries of a woman in the early stages of her first pregnancy, that moment when you realized that there was no going back.
She would draw a line under all this nonsense. She would pick up the book from that shop, slip away and that would be that. She would leave the poor man alone and put a stop to the personal fantasizing about him. If she was ever to have a relationship again – and it was a very big if – then it would be with a man nearer her own age.
That was the plan and having made her mind up she made the bookshop her first port of call when she got into town.
Monique had told Mike the news and he was predictably delighted and already making plans for the future now that there were to be three of them. With the French move off, Christine suggested that they move in with Christine for the time being, which was eminently sensible. After some thought Christine had decided that a move to the village was premature and not something she should be doing at this stage.
‘For the time being’ had a sinister ring to it, though, and it was something they needed to discuss as a family. Christine was not old enough to be shunted into a granny flat on the premises; she was not even a grandmother as yet, and there was the eventual inheritance thing to think about and how it would affect Amy if they were lodged there.
‘For heaven’s sake, it’s only until you can find something else,’ Christine said to their doubts. ‘I don’t want you under my feet for long. The sooner you find something else the better but your buyers are starting to fret, aren’t they; they’re scared you’re going to take it off the market and you don’t want to do that, do you, because it’s going to be a squeeze when the baby arrives. Make a decision, Mike.’
So he had and they were duly getting ready to vacate River Terrace and move into the Snape House.
There had been no communication recently from Sol. She needed to have one final meeting with him – out in the open with no sex this time – to inform him that it was over and they must not see each other ever again. It was going to be awkward with him living close by and she would have to tell him about the baby but she would not tell him that there was an even chance that he was the father. This baby was most definitely Mike’s and the more she told herself that the more she believed it.
Sol was not answering his home number and she hesitated to ring him at the shop so it meant two visits to Lancaster; the first to drop a brief note – signed simply M – through his letter box giving a date and time and venue for their meeting and the second to actually turn up at the appointed time later that week in Williamson Park.
She knew now how spies must feel en route to an assignment as she made her way through the park towards the Ashton Memorial. There were few people about but then it was a chilly start to the day, dark clouds gathering overhead threatening a heavy downpour.
She was wearing a pale blue empire-line dress, perfect for early pregnancy, and a neat little cream cardigan with pearl buttons. Her flat shoes made no sound as she arrived a little early at the appointed place. On cue, the sun broke free of the clouds promising a few minutes of sunshine before it became hidden once more. She shook her hair free of its ribbon because Sol liked it that way, instantly wondering why she had done so; it hardly mattered any more what he thought.
The speech, the final goodbye, was rehearsed and she wanted to get it over with quickly without interruption. ‘Hear me out,’ she was going to say at the start and she would end by saying that she hoped he would understand and, if he loved her – if – then he would do the right thing and leave her alone from now on. There was to be no further contact.
She waited and the minutes ticked by.
After twenty long minutes she could wait no longer. The sun had long disappeared and spits of rain were starting to come down. She walked quickly back to her car and drove to his place, parking in the adjoining street as usual. She had a key to both the main door and his flat and she went up the stairs feeling guilty and hoping she didn’t meet anybody. There was music blaring from one of the rooms on the first floor and she hurried past, standing a moment outside Sol’s door and listening.
There was silence. She gave a tentative knock on the door and when there was no answer opened it.
Inside, it was empty.
The cheap furniture that came with it was still all there but she quickly saw that his personal stuff was gone.
‘Hi there. It’s up for rent again.’ A young man stood in the doorway, from the flat below, earphones slung loose
ly round his neck, dyed red hair cut in a weird shape, face mottled with the after-effects of severe acne. ‘The guy’s gone. Pretty much did a runner. Here one day, gone the next.’
‘Gone where?’
He shrugged. ‘No idea. Can I help you? Did the agents give you a key?’
Thank goodness he didn’t seem to know who she was but then in all the time she had been coming up here she had never once come across a soul.
She hesitated, needing to come up with a reason why she was here. ‘It’s too small,’ she went on, standing now and offering him a wan smile. ‘And there are too many stairs. I’ll let them know.’
‘Okay. I said I’d keep an eye on it. They’re a sloppy lot, giving out keys to anybody. You’re the fifth to visit.’ He gave her an approving look. ‘We’re a happy bunch if you want to reconsider? I’m Paul. What’s your name?’
‘Are you Australian?’ she asked avoiding answering the question.
‘How did you guess?’
‘I just did,’ she said, adding quickly that she liked it just in case he took offence.
‘We’re a real mixed bunch here,’ he said cheerfully as they returned to the hall where a bike was propped up against the wall next to a heap of coats. ‘That guy up there wasn’t a student. Older bloke. Kept himself to himself. Mind you, he did have a visitor from time to time. Good-looking blonde apparently.’ He opened the front door, let her pass.
She caught the amused look in his eyes, knew annoyingly that he knew. She had not fooled him for a minute.
Very aware of his eyes on her, she walked away.
Days earlier, Christine’s best laid plans took a tumble the minute she walked into the shop and saw Solomon Diamond behind the counter. What were the chances of that name being his real one?
‘You have a book for me,’ she told him as he stood to greet her.
There was a pile of supposedly reserved books on the shelf behind him and he went over to them asking for her name and contact number.
And then, as he retrieved her book, unable to stop herself she came right out with it.
‘I believe you know my daughter-in-law Monique,’ she said with a smile. ‘She’s told me all about you.’
‘She has?’ He returned her smile uncertainly. ‘Well, yes, we know each other from way back. We were at school together and then we went off to the same art college.’ The hesitation was brief but noticeable. ‘How is she these days?’
‘Pregnant,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Have you time for a coffee, Mr Diamond? I think we need to talk.’
‘About what?’ His smile was unrepentant. ‘But I’ll have a coffee with you if you like. We’ll go to the café up the road.’
Sometimes it was best to be honest, to address your fears, and Christine had no need to resort to stretching him on the rack for him to come up with a confession. Without much persuasion, seeing her face, he admitted to a bit of a fling, but Monique loved her husband and it had meant nothing and no, it would not happen again.
‘You bet it won’t, Mr Diamond,’ she told him as they sat at a table by the window with their lattes. It was a jolt to know that Frank had been right all along and a severe blow to know that her suspicions had been correct. All she knew was that it would kill Mike if he ever found out. ‘Are you staying around here for the foreseeable future because I think it might be a very good idea if you moved away?’
‘You don’t beat about the bush, do you, Christine?’
She felt her heart give a little leap. Goodness, there was something fascinating about him, such a promise in those eyes, even a hint of interest in her, which she was quick to pick up on and she could understand Monique falling for the charm even if she could scarcely condone it. She had been tempted once or twice during her own long marriage but she was a Catholic by birth and nurture and her marriage vows meant something to her. Now, of course, she was free again but having a fling with this man was out of the question. Looking at him calmly, meeting his gaze, she knew that she had to assert herself and quickly before she gave out any more confusing signals.
‘How attached are you to your business, Mr Diamond?’ she persisted. ‘How much would it take for you to leave town?’
His laugh rang out. ‘For Christ’s sake, woman, what film are we in? Are you trying to bribe me now?’
‘I don’t want to see my son hurt,’ she explained, glancing round to see if they were being observed and deciding that nobody was remotely interested in them. ‘I am a mother and a mother will do a lot to protect her child no matter how old that child is. Name a figure and I’ll see what I can do but you then have to remove yourself and quickly. I’ll leave you to dispose of your business.’ She stopped, appalled at her own audacity, knowing even as she said it that she was asking an awful lot of him, too much, maybe.
It was also going to cost her.
There was a long silence whilst he toyed with the spoon in his saucer. She could hardly believe she had done this, offered him a bribe, and it was so daft that she half expected him to laugh at her and walk out.
‘Okay. No problem there.’ He shrugged, a smile still playing lightly around his lips. ‘I don’t want your money, Christine Fletcher, but I will leave town if that’s what you want. As for the business, I’ll be glad to see the back of it; my assistant’s wanted to take it over for years.’
‘Well, then … there’s nothing to stop you, is there?’
‘I don’t want us to have secrets,’ Daniel told her over breakfast.
Amy was already making plans for doing up his place. Redecorating was high on the agenda and she had already bought a few bits and bobs to add a bit of interest. She had moved all her stuff in, except for the boxes of treasures that still lay up in the loft at Snape House; she was sure her mother wouldn’t mind storing them for her a while longer.
‘That sounds ominous,’ she said, glancing at the clock because even though they were still in the throes of that wonderful honeymoon period – without the getting married bit – she needed to get into work. ‘Have we time for this now?’
‘I wasn’t quite truthful when it came to Beatrice,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘We did have a thing going and I think that she would have liked it to continue but I had second thoughts. You know why?’
‘Because you suddenly realized you were head in heels in love with me?’ she said. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter because I’ve had my share of other men. Not many,’ she added hastily as she caught his smile. ‘Just a few.’
‘Janet did tell me about the last one.’
‘Honestly.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘She had no business to do that but then I suppose she was just concerned about me. I must drop her a line, find out how she is.’
‘I’ve done that already and she’s absolutely fine. So, let’s draw a line under the Beatrice thing, shall we?’
‘It’s already forgotten and if I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be last in and I don’t like that. And nor does Mike. I’m going to be an aunt, by the way, which will make you an uncle!’
‘Great. She can be a flower girl when we get married. Or if she’s a boy he can be a page. What do you think?’
‘I think,’ she grabbed a piece of toast, ‘that if that was a proposal you’ve picked a very bad moment. Got to go.’ She kissed him and he held her close a moment.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she repeated, glancing ruefully at her blouse. ‘Look at this. I’ve got butter on it and I haven’t time to change.’
‘I love you, Amy,’ he said.
‘I love you, too, and it’s a yes by the way.’ Ducking away from him, she grabbed her bag and jacket, blowing him a kiss on the way out.
Chapter Twenty One
Christine was babysitting, giving Monique a break. Come to think of it, she was always giving Monique a break. She dared not voice it, not to herself and certainly not to Mike but Monique was a bit lackadaisical when it came to the child. There was no doubt that she loved him, in her way, but she did not actually show it very often. Her
maternal instincts, if not entirely non-existent were sadly on the low side, and she was more than happy to hand him over to Christine at any opportunity.
Wasn’t this exactly what she had once wished for? Of course she was thrilled with him and delighted in looking after him but she did wish Monique would show a little more responsibility, for after all she was his mother. She was also beginning to regret the day she had offered them a home at Snape House; they showed no signs of wanting to move out and why should they when her presence made it so convenient for Monique to pursue her life unhindered by her child?
She had said in her Christmas note this year what a good mother Monique was but then she always exaggerated the positive in those notes. This year, though, she had been perfectly truthful when she said how well Mike was running the business in the absence of his father. And she had no need to exaggerate how happy Amy was these days for it was plain to see.
As for baby Alexander looking like his father, well that was absolutely true, too.
She heard Mike’s car, peeped through the window and saw him lifting out the tree. Good. She would decorate it this afternoon with Monique, who had offered to help. Despite her new-found reservations about her daughter-in-law she was determined to keep their relationship intact, although ironically, just as that had subtly changed over the past year, so had the one between the sisters-in-law. It was so much better these days although that could be something to do with the fact that Amy had finally found love and was much more relaxed. The other day, for instance, she had walked in on the pair of them and found them giggling together like schoolgirls. Amy loved little Alexander to bits and in the absence of a surfeit of mummy-cuddling she and Amy between them provided more than enough.
For a minute, she thought of Frank as she opened the box of Christmas decorations that she had got down from the loft, stuff the kids had made. It would please Frank that the tree this year would look a little more lived-in if a shade less elegant. Seeing her sitting on the floor, Oscar came bounding over to sit beside her and she stroked his soft furry head. Alexander was starting to grumble and she stood up and went over, picking him up at once, cuddling him and planting a kiss on top of his baby head with its soft brown curls.
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