A Week in Winter: A Novel

by Willett, Marcia

  ‘Hell and damnation,’ muttered Maudie as she turned the car in through the gateway. ‘This is going to be dreadful.’

  ‘No it won’t.’ Posy seemed quite composed. ‘It’s going to be OK. Not about the girl, of course—that’s simply awful—but it’ll be all right.’

  Rob was opening her door, smiling at her, and she stepped out, smiling back at him.

  ‘I’m Posy,’ she said. ‘Hello. I’m just so sorry about all this.’

  He nodded gratefully. ‘It’s been … rather fraught. I just don’t want Mike more upset than is necessary.’ He raised his voice. ‘It’s good to see you again, Lady Todhunter.’

  ‘You, too, Rob, even in these unhappy circumstances. I wanted Posy to see the miracles you’d performed on dear old Moorgate.’

  ‘It’s brilliant.’ Posy looked about her, at the charming little stable with its half-door and the restored barns. ‘I love the colour you’ve painted the walls. It’s so warm and mellow. Almost Mediterranean.’

  ‘I know.’ They stood together, studying the house. ‘Oddly, it works. Perhaps it should have been left as bare granite, more in keeping, but this seemed right.’

  ‘It is right,’ she said confidently. ‘I know it can be cold here but it’s a place of contrasts, isn’t it? The bleak open moor on one side and fuchsia and escallonia flowering on the other.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s Cornwall for you. I’m glad you approve. Come and see what I’ve done inside.’ He opened the front door and stood back to let them enter. ‘Come and meet Mike,’ he said.

  Hearing their voices in the hall, Mike sat Luke in the playpen with his toys and put his hands in his pockets. Feeling unusually nervous he waited, leaning against the sink, ankles crossed, feigning indifference. Lady Todhunter came in first and he looked at her critically. She was a tall woman with a feathery cap of grey hair and large grey eyes. A blue chambray shirt hung loosely over her comfortably fitting jeans, her feet were thrust into tan leather deck shoes and a navy blue pashmina was draped casually about her shoulders. She looked stylish, interesting—and formidable. She paused for a moment in the doorway, still turned away from him, talking to Rob, and Mike was able to see the younger woman behind them. She was gazing eagerly about her, her small pointed face alive with curiosity. Shining dark hair was gathered loosely up into a knot from which long wisps had escaped and warm, honey-brown eyes darted hither and thither until they finally rested on Luke. Her face lit, then, with delight and she gave a small cry which moved the whole party forward into the kitchen.

  ‘How do you do?’ He straightened, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Mike Clayton and this is Luke.’

  ‘So what did you think of her?’ asked Rob, casually, as they stood in the lane watching the car jolt away.

  ‘I thought that they were both quite delightful,’ answered Mike carefully, jogging Luke upon his hip.

  Rob glanced at him sharply. ‘Mmm. They are, aren’t they? And Posy approved of everything? Of course Lady Todhunter has seen it all before. I hope you didn’t mind showing Posy round? I thought it might be easier than leaving you with Lady Todhunter. She and I are old friends.’

  ‘So I gather. No, I didn’t mind. In fact it was rather the other way round. Posy was very enthusiastic, and she loves the things you’ve done, but she can remember it from when she was a child.’

  ‘Lady Todhunter was worried about that. She was upset about having to sell it.’

  ‘It’s always upsetting,’ said Mike, as they wandered back into the house, ‘to lose a family home.’

  ‘They never actually lived in it.’ Rob sounded faintly defensive. ‘It was always let out. But they spent family holidays in it.’

  ‘She could remember odd things.’ Mike sounded amused. ‘Atmosphere as much as anything else. I wondered if her memories were more to do with what she’d been told about it, you know what I mean? Family stories and so on. But she was very determined that it was her own memory.’

  Rob smiled almost affectionately. ‘I think Posy is a rather determined character. A chip off the old block, I’d say. Lady Todhunter certainly knows her own mind.’

  ‘Actually, she’s her step-grandmother.’ Mike sounded thoughtful, absent. ‘But she’s extraordinarily fond of her.’

  Rob raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know that. That she was her step-grandmother, I mean. Shall we have a beer?’

  ‘Why not? Luke’s ready for a sleep after all the excitement so I’ll tuck him up for a bit. Shan’t be long.’

  Rob fetched two cans from the larder and looked for some glasses. It had been a good day, in the end, but tiring. The clearly defined no-go zone had initially put a strain on conversation, nevertheless it had been fun. The two women had stopped in Camelford and bought some delicious pasties which they’d produced only when Rob had insisted that they stay for lunch. It was so warm that they’d been able to eat outside, in the sunshine on the lawn, in the shelter of the escallonia hedge. Luke had enjoyed himself immensely and, briefly, Rob had been able to put aside his own pain. Yet, oddly, he’d been keenly aware of Melissa all day. He’d felt her friendly presence presiding, as it were, over the party. He shook his head, wondering if he might be crazy, and smiled at Mike as he came into the kitchen.

  ‘Is he OK?’ He held out a glass of beer. ‘Good. Was Posy surprised at the sparseness of the furnishing?’

  Mike was taken aback at this direct reference to a subject which was generally avoided. ‘She didn’t mention it. Did Lady Todhunter remark on it?’

  ‘Much too polite.’ Rob chuckled a little. ‘She was the mistress of tact, for once.’ He swallowed some beer, becoming serious again. ‘But I want to talk to you about it. It’s no good, you know, Mike. It isn’t going to work. I can’t stay here without Melissa.’

  Mike stood his glass carefully on the table. ‘Rob—’

  ‘No.’ Rob shook his head. ‘We’ve been through it all before. I know it’s early days. I know I’ll come to terms with it. But I can’t stay here. I can’t make a new start here at Moorgate. It should be wonderful to be here, where I’m so conscious of her, where we were so happy together, but it isn’t. It’s as if I’m waiting for her all the time, like I’m in a kind of vacuum. It’s not that I want to forget her—I don’t—but I have to get on with my life. If we’d been here together for years it would be different but we weren’t. It’ll be OK. I shall cope with it but I can’t do it here.’

  ‘She thought that it was what you wanted. More than anything else in the world.’

  Rob sighed. ‘Until I met her that was true. I was obsessed with Moorgate. You know how I camped here, pretended it was mine, put off prospective buyers. But when I met Melissa I realised that I didn’t give a damn where I lived as long as we were together. Ironic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Rob, I’m so sorry …’

  ‘Don’t be.’ Rob was upset by Mike’s evident distress but he knew he must remain firm. ‘Melissa freed me from that obsession but if I stay here I shall go under. I can see what she was trying to do, bless her, but it isn’t going to work.’

  ‘But what will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I’ve thought of moving right away.’ He looked directly at Mike. ‘Of course, Melissa made a generous financial contribution to the house—’

  ‘Forget all that,’ said Mike abruptly. ‘It’s yours. She’d want that. And if it will help you get another place then that’s great. Oh, Rob. This is … sad. But I want you to do what’s right for you.’ He glanced round the kitchen. ‘It’s just all so bloody. It’s such a fantastic house. I can understand how you feel but, after all you’ve done to it and all you’ve been through here, won’t you find it hard to leave it?’

  ‘After losing Melissa this will be bad but not tragic. I know now about real loss. But the thing I wanted to say, Mike, was this. I wonder whether you might consider buying Moorgate.’

  Mike stared at him. His shock was so great that Rob smiled a little.

  ‘After all,’ he said
gently, ‘that was the original intention, wasn’t it? That’s why Melissa came in the first place.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Mike looked confused. ‘Except that I always thought it was too far from London. But… Good God, Rob! You’re not serious?’

  ‘Absolutely serious. Why not? It’s perfect for you and Luke. Peace and quiet. Glorious countryside. If you were to agree to it, I might buy a little cottage in Camelford or Boscastle and … well.’ He shrugged. ‘Will you think about it?’

  Mike stared round the kitchen again, as if he were seeing it for the first time. ‘I … simply don’t know.’

  ‘It needs thinking about,’ Rob said reassuringly. ‘Give yourself time to get used to the idea. Drink up and we’ll have another. I think we need it.’

  ‘So what do you think of him?’ asked Maudie, casually, turning out of the lanes on to the A39.

  ‘I think they’re really great,’ answered Posy carefully, taking a suddenly intent interest in the passing countryside. ‘All three of them.’

  Maudie glanced at her sharply. ‘They are, aren’t they? Luke’s a sweetie. And do you approve of what Rob has done to Moorgate?’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she said dreamily. ‘Exactly right. Mike thinks so too.’

  ‘I was rather impressed by Mike,’ said Maudie. ‘He coped very well with us, I thought. I admire the way he’s looking after Luke himself. It must be a full-time job, I should think.’

  ‘He works when Luke’s asleep, so he says, but he admits that it’s getting more difficult now that Luke’s growing older.’

  ‘I must read his book,’ said Maudie. ‘Rob says it’s very good. It must be a great comfort for Rob to have him there.’

  ‘It’s so cruel. You can see by the way he’s restored it that he must really love Moorgate, can’t you?’

  ‘Odd that he hasn’t furnished it yet, though,’ mused Maudie. ‘Rather as if he’s still camping in it.’

  ‘Well, it must have come as a terrible shock for him.’ Posy’s face had a brooding look. ‘It’s thrown him into a kind of limbo. Poor, poor Rob. He reminds me of Hugh. He’s attractive, isn’t he? And he’s so nice.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maudie, after a moment. ‘He’s very nice indeed. And resilient, I should imagine. He’ll soon recover, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Posy absently. Suddenly she shook off her contemplative mood and looked about her. ‘I hope Polonius is OK. I’ll take him for a long walk through the woods when we get back.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Maudie, with the strangest feeling that she’d been warned off. ‘He’ll enjoy that. I don’t know why but suddenly I feel very tired. Shall we have a tape on?’

  ‘Why not?’ Posy sorted through the selection and presently the cheerful strains of Haydn’s trumpet concerto filled the car.

  They drove for some while in silence, listening to the dazzling performance by Wynton Marsalis, and, the next time Maudie glanced at her, Posy appeared to be fast asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  There was no time for Maudie to think too much about the visit to Moor-gate. Later that week, giving thanks that the fine weather was still holding, she was driving to Exeter St David’s to meet Daphne. The train was on time and Maudie, stationed near the exit, watched the doors as they swung open, aware of a sudden nervous terror that she might not recognise her old friend. As soon as she saw her, however, she realised how foolish such a fear had been: the short fair hair, the small square jaw, those pansy-blue eyes had all been delightfully translated into old age. It was typical, too, that Daphne should be attended by a male. Not that there was anything helpless about Daphne, Maudie reminded herself, watching the scene, simply that even in her mid-seventies, Daphne was still irresistible. Clearly the young man thought so; helping her with her case, laughing at her observations, refusing to be thanked. He stood by with an almost proprietorial air whilst the two old friends exchanged greetings.

  ‘Maudie, this is Russell.’ Daphne smiled upon him charmingly. ‘Russell, this is my friend, Lady Todhunter. I’ve been telling him all about you on the journey. We’ve had such fun. Do get back on the train or it will go without you. Goodbye, Russell. Thank you for your company.’

  ‘You’re hopeless,’ chuckled Maudie, taking the case whilst Daphne slung herself about with smaller bags. ‘No man is safe from you. Not even a schoolboy.’

  ‘My dear,’ Daphne took Maudie’s free arm, her voice lowered confidentially, ‘he’s a married man with a child of two. Can you believe it? I was about to ask him if he were on his way home for half term. Such a shock!’

  They laughed together, pausing to watch the train pull away, waving to Russell who had waited by the door, and then went out to the car. The luggage loaded in, they stood and looked at one another.

  Maudie shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that you’re really here. You look terrific’

  ‘Now that’s very kind of you, Maudie. I happen to know that I look as if I’ve just been dug up and given a quick paint job. I feel as if I’ve been travelling for light years. Is it appallingly old-fashioned to say that I would kill for a cup of tea?’

  ‘Not a bit. Can you wait until we get home? It will probably be quicker than fighting our way into the city centre. Or we could have one here?’

  Daphne closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No more rail company liquid masquerading as tea or coffee, thank you. I can wait.’

  ‘It’ll only be twenty minutes,’ promised Maudie. ‘Let’s get going.’

  The journey was occupied with an exchange of news but they were both relieved to pull into Maudie’s drive, glad to be home.

  ‘It’s so peaceful,’ remarked Daphne, stretching luxuriously, looking up at the trees. ‘I’d quite forgotten how beautiful it is here. Oh, Maudie! It’s been much too long.’

  Maudie smiled at her across the top of the car. ‘Much too long,’ she agreed. ‘Aha! The kraken wakes. Here’s Polonius to meet you.’

  Polonius, who had been taking a long and refreshing nap in the woodshed, came yawning into the sunshine and was brought up short by the sight of a stranger on the other side of the fence. Daphne stared at him for a moment and then turned to Maudie.

  ‘I feel very slightly overawed,’ she admitted. ‘He’s rather impressive, isn’t he? He reminds me of Georgio Bartolucci. Remember him, Maudie? He was the Italian Ambassador when we were all in Rome. Polonius has that same cynical and disillusioned eye combined with the gravitas of an elder statesman. Does he mind strangers on his patch?’

  ‘He’s learning,’ answered Maudie grimly. ‘The hard way. He’s not barking, which is a start.’

  ‘Dear old boy,’ said Daphne caressingly, approaching the fence. ‘What is she saying about you?’

  Polonius immediately flattened his ears, assuming a rather cowed appearance. He wagged his tail, his wrinkled face bearing a sad, yet noble, expression.

  ‘Does he have a melancholic disposition?’ asked Daphne, stretching out a tentative hand and stroking his head. ‘Or is that impression inevitable when your skin’s too big for your face?’

  ‘My skin’s been too big for my face for some years now,’ said Maudie, hauling out the suitcase, ‘but nobody has accused me of being melancholy. Not yet. Don’t be taken in by him, that’s all. Come on in and we’ll have that cup of tea.’

  Daphne began to gather up her belongings. ‘There’s so much to catch up on. I’m longing to hear about Selina and Patrick,’ she said, following Maudie inside and pausing for a proper greeting with Polonius. ‘Where am I? In here? Oh, it’s so pretty, Maudie. I shall be very comfortable here.’

  ‘Are you longing for a bath?’ asked Maudie, putting down the suitcase, lingering in the doorway. ‘Or shall I make the tea?’

  ‘Tea first,’ said Daphne at once. ‘A bath would be wonderful but tea must come first.’

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to get yourself sorted out while I get the kettle on. Shout if you need anything.’

  The door closed behind her an
d Daphne sat down on the bed and stared at the vase of hawthorn blossom. Alone for the first time for several hours, her body relaxed and her expression grew thoughtful. This visit was not simply a holiday; there was another far more serious purpose behind it. How to approach it without damaging the relationship she had with Maudie? How to solve one problem without creating others? Instinctively she recoiled from the thought of it. Surely there was time for some fun, first; a few days, at the very least, to see exactly how things stood with Maudie? There was so much to remember, to share. Perhaps a right moment would come: a time for confidences and explanations which could be accepted and understood.

  ‘Tea!’

  Maudie’s cry echoed along the passage and round the bedroom. With a conscious effort at relaxation Daphne took a deep breath. She stood up and went out, closing the door behind her. Polonius was waiting for her, tail wagging, and she bent to stroke him.

  ‘You are a very handsome fellow,’ she told him. ‘How my Emily would love you.’

  Polonius sighed deeply. He was convinced that a great many people would love him if only they were given the chance. It wasn’t his fault that he was extraordinarily large and had a tendency to enthusiasm on first acquaintance. He felt that this stranger within the gates understood and appreciated his position and he padded after her, wondering if her sympathy might be matched by a generosity with cake.

  The table was set by the open French doors and Daphne exclaimed with pleasure. Whilst Maudie poured the tea, Daphne wandered out on to the veranda. Afternoon sun slanted across the lawn so that the still, dark water glinted, and secret, shadowy corners were briefly lit. Pretty ‘Nelly Moser’ flowered riotously over the small toolshed, her flowers big as tea plates, and the heady scent of lilac drifted in the warm air. Beyond the hedge, in the wood, the yaffle was laughing. Daphne stretched luxuriously.

  ‘This is perfect,’ she sighed. ‘It’s so quiet. Like the secret garden in the book. I could never really like Mary Lennox, could you? Nor the spoiled Colin. Such a tiresome child. But the garden itself was something else. No wonder you left London for this, Maudie. I really can’t blame you.’