Lily bounced into the bedroom, carrying Floppy Ears by his ears. ‘We didn’t get a story last night,’ she said. ‘Grandma can’t read.’
‘Your grandmother can read but only her kind of books. Your books are rather different. Shorter words and lots of pictures.’
Lily digested this information. ‘OK, so when our books don’t have pictures any more, then Grandma will be able to read them?’
Jessica laughed. ‘You’ll have to see. Now what are you hiding behind your back? Is that a book, I espy? Is it a book I will have to read before I get any peace?’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’
The door was open so Daniel could also hear the story if he was awake. Jessica made sure she used her nurse’s voice that would carry. Sometimes she had to use that voice if A & E was crowded with drunks and drug-addicts, occasionally on a ward if there was unexpected turmoil.
‘This afternoon, after school, we’ll go down to Worthing and have a picnic on the beach before the cold weather sets in. Would you like that? There won’t be many more days of good weather this year. It’s your early afternoon, isn’t it?’
‘A picnic! Lovely, lovely. Without plates? Daniel will come too and we’ll find more shells and paddle in the sea.’
‘You might find it is too cold.’
‘No, no, it won’t be too cold.’ Lily was pretty sure.
Daniel sent Jessica an email which said simply: piknik.
It required mammoth organization if Lady Grace was coming too. She would need a folding chair on the beach. Mrs Harris prepared a picnic basket of goodies, all easy finger food with two thermoses of hot water so that Jessica could make tea. Lady Grace would certainly require freshly made tea. It was always Earl Grey, of course, in the afternoon.
Jessica was determined that life would go on at Upton Hall even if Lucas cut himself off from her. It would break her heart, but then her heart was already broken, so how could it hurt any more? She had a shut-down look, shielding the pain.
Mrs Harris was delighted that her photocopying theory had been proved right. She was also interested in the highwaymen being hanged at the Double Cross Inn.
‘Fancy that. There’s so much history everywhere. And we don’t know half of it,’ she said.
‘Does anyone know the history of Upton Hall?’
Mrs Harris shook her head. ‘No one has ever had time to research the history of Upton Hall. The house has been here a long time. Look at the stone room, all those huge slabs of slate on the floor and the big timber post holding up the ceiling. That could tell a story or two.’
‘Is it part of the original farmhouse, do you think?’
‘I won’t go in there at night, I tell you.’
It was the first time Mrs Harris had admitted to feeling anything unusual about Upton Hall. Yet the man she loved had been brought home here and she had laid him out. There must have been many deaths in the house and in the grounds over the centuries, but Jessica did not feel anything strange. And she had been up late many times, seeing to Lady Grace or to the children. Or waiting up for Lucas to come home in the small hours.
It was something she could do during her last few weeks at Upton Hall. She could research the history of the house on the Internet, find books in the library and records at the church. It would keep her mind occupied, so that she did not dwell on her unhappiness.
She had often told her patients the same thing, when they lost someone they loved. Keep busy, do something positive. Live each day for the day. Now she was telling herself the same, now that she had lost Lucas.
For Jessica felt sure that she had lost him. There had been no reconciliation, no words of apology from Lucas, not a single act of kindness. Last night had been a relief that she had cleared her name, but he had said nothing, done nothing to help ease the pain that she felt. Damned Coleman pride, Jessica thought. This was something over which she had no say. It was in his genes.
Everything was packed into the car when the children arrived home from school, earlier than usual. Lady Grace was sitting in the front passenger seat, while the children climbed into the back. She had decided that a picnic might be a pleasant change.
‘Please wait. I haven’t got Floppy Ears,’ announced Lily, trying to get out again but Jessica had already put on the child door locks.
‘He won’t mind about being left at home for once. You know how he hates getting wet,’ said Jessica. ‘And we haven’t really time to go back for him. The days are getting shorter and we want to have as much time as possible on the beach, don’t we?’
Lily absorbed this information. ‘If the days are getting shorter, where does the rest of the day go?’ she asked.
‘We get longer, darker evenings,’ said Jessica, hoping this would satisfy the little girl’s curiosity.
‘So the day becomes an evening instead of being a day?’ Lily went on relentlessly. She was trying to take this in.
‘Why don’t we play I Spy before I get a headache,’ said Lady Grace quickly. ‘Let me see. I spy with my little eye something beginning with T.’
‘Tree,’ said Daniel.
It was a shock. Daniel had actually contributed a word of his own that was not a parrot word. It was a moment of joy. But Jessica said nothing. She knew Daniel would not like the attention.
‘It’s your turn now, Daniel. You choose something for us to guess.’
But this was beyond him so Jessica took over his turn. It was simpler.
The game lasted the drive into Worthing but Daniel did not speak again although it was obvious that he often had the answer. Jessica found a place to park along the sea front and fed some money into the meter.
The tide was higher than she had expected, thrashing against the shingle shore, shifting pebbles. No running along on the sand this afternoon. They found a sheltered spot against a groyne, not too far along as Lady Grace found it difficult to walk even with a stick. She took Jessica’s arm, hesitating. She was looking at the pounding sea as if she had never seen it before. She had not realized that it was going to be a picnic by the sea
‘Are you sure this is safe for me to walk on?’ she said.
‘It will help with your balance,’ said Jessica, offering her arm. ‘Take your time, don’t hurry. Feel each step. We’ve got all day.’ She was also carrying a folding beach chair.
‘We haven’t got all day if the day is becoming the evening,’ Lily informed them.
Lady Grace was glad to sit down when they reached the groyne. There was a blustery southerly wind and it sheltered them well. They had a good view of the long pier reaching out to sea on its spindly legs. There were several windsurfers making use of the southerly, their colourful sails like swerving butterflies. Jessica went back for the picnic tea and the folding table which was solely for making this cup of tea. Lady Grace had to have a certain amount of civilization, even for a picnic.
Lily and Daniel were soon down to the water’s edge, throwing pebbles into the waves, escaping the wavelets that washed too near their feet. The tide was coming in slowly so they got caught several times with shrieks of laughter.
‘The tide’s coming in,’ said Lady Grace. ‘That’s the blessing of a shelving beach, you can always see how far it will come in. We’re all right here. This chair sounds a bit creaky. Where did you find it?’
‘In the stables,’ said Jessica. ‘I don’t think it has been used for years. Mrs Harris gave it a clean up.’
‘I used to love the sea,’ Lady Grace went on, more to herself. ‘When you swim out past the fringe of seaweed, the water is lovely, so cool and deep. Ouch! I think I heard something. I think the canvas is splitting. It’s probably rotten.’ She got up quickly, holding onto the top of the wooden groyne.
‘Hold on, lady. I’ll soon sort you out. Got just what you need.’
A lean and sunburnt man in a fawn sunhat and khaki shorts was striding across the shingle with a folded deck chair in his hand. It was the beach deck-chair attendant, quick to spot a new customer.
‘Your chair’s had it,’ he said. ‘Look, it’s splitting along the bottom seam. Another minute and you’d have fallen right through. You’d have got a nasty bump.’
‘How convenient that I heard it going and got up when I did,’ said Lady Grace in her don’t-argue-with-me voice. She didn’t care to be sorted out, as he had promised.
‘These are really comfortable deckchairs,’ he went on. ‘Adjustable height, canvas new this season. I’ll put it up for you. You can have it half price as it’s the end of the day.’
‘I think I might go back to the car,’ said Lady Grace.
‘What and miss this lovely bit of sunshine? The last of the season. It’ll be cold and wet next week, mark my words. I’ll be packing up my chairs for the winter.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Jessica quickly. ‘If you would kindly put it up for Lady Grace. I can never sort these chairs out!’ She opened her purse for some money, hoping a pound would be enough.
The man stopped in the middle of sorting out the mechanics of unfolding the deck chair. ‘Grace Coleman? Is it Grace Coleman? Well, I never. You won’t remember me. I’m Mark Adams, one of the members of the junior cross channel relay team. Don’t do it now, of course, long past the age of any junior team. That was years ago.’
Mark Adams settled the chair firmly into the shingle and against the groyne. He held out his hand and Lady Grace let him help her into it. She seemed shaken by his introduction.
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t remember you,’ she said.
‘I was one of the noisy youngsters. You told me off a couple of times for not paying attention to the coach.’
‘Did I?’
‘We were used to it. You took your swimming very seriously. Quite right, too, because you were one of the champions. Of course, it’s all changed now. Different committee, different rules. But they still meet early mornings.’
‘It’s been nice meeting you again,’ said Lady Grace, recovering her composure. ‘But if you don’t mind, we are going to have our tea now.’
‘Quite understand,’ said Mark Adams. ‘Don’t worry about returning the chair to the stack. I’ll do it for you. Got a couple of lively kids, you have,’ he nodded towards Lily and Daniel and to Jessica. ‘I like to see kids enjoying themselves.’
He turned to go, then turned back. He was lean and sinewy, arms muscled and burnt brown by the sun. He looked as if he worked hard all summer, running the deck chair business along the beach. ‘Ankles got better, did they? All right now?’
Lady Grace looked even more shaken. ‘My ankles? What do you mean? What do you know about my ankles?’
‘Got torn to ribbons on that barbed wire, didn’t they? Nasty business. The council ought to have cleared the beach. I reckon you could have sued them.’
‘I – I don’t remember. It was a long time ago….’
‘I thought you were a goner,’ said Mark Adams. ‘You were going to drown in that deep water. The barbed wire was twisted round your ankles, all rusty and rotten. And your hair had got caught in the wire when you bent down to try to get your feet free.’
‘My hair …’ said Lady Grace faintly. She had not mentioned her hair to anyone. No one knew that her long dark hair had been caught in the barbed wire. She’d worn it then, as she did now, in an elaborate French pleat, pinned up with combs.
‘I had to cut your hair off,’ Mark went on. ‘It was the only thing to do and there was no time to waste. You were gasping for air. Had to get your head up somehow. Luckily I had a knife on me. I always carry a knife.’ He patted his back pocket. It was buttoned down.
‘You cut my hair off?’
He grinned. ‘Sorry, it was more of a hack off job than a nice trim and style. I was a little out of practice in the hair department. Then I got your feet free of the wire. They were torn and bleeding. Pretty nasty.’
‘So it was you who saved me,’ said Lady Grace, pausing. ‘I never knew. I never even tried to find out. I wanted to forget it all. This is the first time I’ve been to the sea since that day.’
‘Not surprised. It was enough to put anyone off. You nearly drowned.’
‘Did your feet get cut as well?’
‘Right mess, they were. And they got infected. I wanted to go into the army but they wouldn’t take me. All that marching, I expect. Still, I walk miles along the beach every day, no trouble. Well, I’ll leave you ladies to your tea. Nice meeting you again, Mrs Coleman.’
He was gone before there was a chance to say any more, probably spotted another customer. He hadn’t taken Jessica’s pound coin.
‘And I still haven’t thanked him,’ said Lady Grace. She looked desolate. ‘What shall I do, Jess? I must thank him somehow. I could hardly give him a tip, could I? It would be most inappropriate.’
‘I think he could see that you were really upset, being reminded of the accident again, remembering that awful day. It was enough for him to see that you were well and had recovered.’
‘But it’s not enough,’ said Lady Grace, firmly. ‘I must do something.’
‘Let’s think about it,’ said Jessica. ‘We may get a bright idea.’
The children came back, sensing teatime, scrambling up the shelving shingle, waving wet shoes in their hands. ‘We’re all wet,’ said Lily happily.
‘How fortunate that I brought some dry socks and trainers,’ said Jessica, delving into her beach bag.
Tea was a success in every way, despite Lily’s preference for eating out of a box to eating off a plate. Lady Grace enjoyed her cup of Earl Grey and even found an appetite for a home-made scone with strawberry jam and cream. She spent a long time just gazing at the sea as the waves pounded the shore, rising slowly higher, creeping up the steep shingle. She was remembering the days when she had been a champion swimmer with a promising future.
‘I don’t know what I could get that young man, the beach attendant,’ she said, as they were on the drive home in the gathering dusk. Daniel had collected seaweed this time, and the inside of the car smelt of the stuff. For once Lady Grace did not complain.
‘You could get him a bicycle,’ said Lily. ‘I saw him walking miles along the beach. And he was limping a bit. I expect his feet hurt with all that walking.’
Lady Grace was about to say that a bicycle would be a ridiculous idea, but stopped herself. It would be a start and she had to start somewhere.
‘You might have something there,’ she said quietly.
SIXTEEN
Lady Grace retired to her bed earlier than usual. The afternoon had been mentally tiring and the surfeit of fresh sea air had made her sleepy. She did not want any supper but required her usual milk and biscuits later on.
Daniel came into the kitchen and started wandering around, poking into things and opening drawers and cupboards, getting in Jessica’s way. Mrs Harris had gone to her Bingo. He was carrying his plastic bag of seaweed.
‘Do want somewhere to keep your seaweed?’ Jessica asked.
‘Weed,’ he said.
‘How about a plate or a jug or an old plastic container?’
He shook his head and went to the sink, turning on a tap. He let the water run, tipping his bag of seaweed into the running water, watching the strands curl and swirl into a dark mass. He had collected rather a lot.
Jessica went into the walk-in pantry, to the back where Mrs Harris kept her spare jam jars. She came out with several jam jars perched on her fingers. ‘Would these be any good?’
He nodded enthusiastically, arranged the jam jars in rows on the draining board and began to fill each one with water and a few strands of seaweed. Jessica watched him from afar. He didn’t like anyone close, leaning over him.
‘You’ve got several different kinds there. Tomorrow we could look them up on the Internet so that we can give them names.’
‘Names,’ he said, without looking up.
Jessica left him absorbed in his task of tanking up the seaweed. She had Lily to put to bed, read a story, and then hope that Lucas would come
home and they could talk at last. Surely that stubborn Coleman pride would have come to its senses by now. She couldn’t endure this not-knowing for much longer. She wanted to be with him, to feel his arms around her again.
Lily had worn herself out on the beach so it was a quick bath and an even quicker story. Now that he was eight years old, Daniel stayed up a little later, needed little supervision going to bed. He preferred to wash alone.
Jessica made herself a cup of black coffee and took it into the library, turned on the television and flopped down in front of it. She did not want to watch any mindless programme, but hoped there might be a good drama or documentary. She needed something to take her mind off Lucas and the current predicament.
Perhaps she had made a mistake, searching for the truth. Perhaps he would have preferred to forgive her in a lordly way and make her pay for it in a marriage of misery. But that was surely not his way, not his nature and certainly not hers. His love had seemed so strong and so true. He had meant every word he said and his warm and passionate kisses had come straight from the heart. He had wanted her and the strength of his body close to hers told her how much.
Fire and ice, Lucas had once said to her. Had they had the fire and this was now the ice? Maybe the fire had consumed them for a while and now the ice froze over their love.
Jessica fell asleep in front of the television, her coffee untouched. The sea air had obviously brushed away the cobwebs that had prevented her from sleeping the last few nights. She dreamed she was in a boat, a small boat, but she could not see who was rowing. He had his back to her.
A shrill, strident bell projected itself through the dream. At first she thought it was a bell from a nearby lighthouse in her dream, then she roused herself and realized that it was Lady Grace’s bell.
Even the bell sounded annoyed.
She shook herself awake and tried to stop herself from racing up the stairs. This was not the time for a careless accident. She’d seen enough falls downstairs at A & E.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jessica said. ‘Your milk is late, I know. I dozed off.’
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