by Anna Jacobs
Ashley was standing in the rear showroom, not touching anything, just looking round with intense concentration, much as Emily herself had been doing.
She deliberately made more noise than she needed to as she approached.
The new tenant turned round. ‘Is it all right if I look at the …’ She frowned. ‘What do you call these?’
‘Displays.’
‘Yes.’ Ashley repeated it two or three times under her breath.
‘Of course it’s all right to look, but please don’t touch anything.’
‘No. I won’t. Mummy taught me not to touch. I like dusting things, though. Can I help with the dusting?’
‘Not today, but next week you and I will go through everything and we’ll see how good you are at dusting.’
Ashley nodded.
‘Do you know anything about antiques?’
‘Mummy had some antiques. They belonged to her family. I’ve got them in my flat. I like to dust them. They’re very old so you have to be extra careful.’
‘Toby has some old things too. He finds beautiful pieces at the markets sometimes and buys them. You should go into town with him. He knows his way round.’
That won her a frown and silence, then: ‘Mummy didn’t like me to go out alone, except to the shops for food after she got sick.’
‘You wouldn’t be alone if you went with Toby.’
‘Mmm. He thinks very slowly, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, he does. But once he learns something he doesn’t forget. He’s kind and good-natured and will help you any time you ask, if he can.’
‘Mmm. I’ll sort out my flat first.’
A short pause. Ashley paused quite often, as if to bring to mind some rule. Her mother had certainly prepared her as well as she could, in many ways before her time when it came to treating autism. They were dealing with the condition in new and more effective ways now, but it involved giving the affected children a lot of attention. This young woman had obviously had that from her mother.
Ashley prefaced her next statement with a soft ‘Hmm’ as she often did. ‘I’ll go into town with Toby later. That’s the best order to do things. You have to work out the right order before you start something.’
That sounded like another of Mummy’s excellent rules. ‘Good thinking. I’d better get my breakfast now. Chad and I have to give everything a final dusting before the opening starts.’
‘Can I watch you?’
The young woman was tenacious, to say the least. But why not? ‘Yes, of course.’
Ashley nodded and walked away, just as Chad ran lightly down the stairs, moving so differently from how he’d been after his accident, when he could hardly walk and had to use a wheelchair.
He stood with her to watch Ashley disappear by the rear way into her flat, which was through the Old Barn. ‘Does she wander about a lot? Is that going to be a problem?’
‘She was only looking at the displays, not touching anything. She says she likes to dust. We might even offer her a job. Nicky did the dusting really well. The new woman from the town isn’t as thorough and doesn’t seem at all interested in the antiques.’
‘As long as I don’t have to do the dusting. It makes me sneeze. I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was too excited. So I’ve got a pot of tea brewing up in the flat. Interested in a cup?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She reached out for his hand automatically and they went upstairs together. How wonderful to have found a soul mate when she was nearly sixty and had resigned herself to living alone.
How wonderful to have all this.
The younger generation talked about ‘paying things forward’. A strange phrase. Emily preferred the image that if you wanted a garden full of flowers, you had to plant a lot of seeds.
By midday the caterers had finished setting up and the stall holders had all arrived to take the covers off their goods and make final adjustments.
As far as Emily could tell, everything was ready for the opening party to begin by one o’clock. It would start at two. She felt nervous, but Chad seemed quite relaxed about it all.
A journalist arrived from the local newspaper, and took photos of her and Chad with a group of fine china exhibits, then asked them a few questions about what he referred to as ‘your little event’, a phrase which set Emily’s teeth on edge.
The journo had only just finished with them when guests started arriving. She smoothed her new dress, took a deep breath and went forward to greet them.
She missed her sister’s arrival in the crush, which was just as well, because Liz was accompanied by her son, George. If Emily had seen her nephew, she’d have told the security guy at the door to keep him out. Boiling with fury she began to make her way across the room.
Someone grabbed her arm and she found herself facing Leon.
‘Not a good time to make a scene. I’ll keep an eye on your nephew for you.’
‘Of all the cheek!’
‘Yes. I wonder why he can’t keep away from you.’
‘Because he’s controlling and arrogant, not to mention a nosey-parker, and hasn’t given up hope of getting his hands on my money. Well, I’ve changed my will, so he’ll get nothing from me when I die. I do wish my sister wasn’t such a soft touch.’
Leon grinned and patted her arm. ‘Calm down. I won’t let him cause any trouble.’ As she turned to move away, he added in that soft, innocent tone which always meant he was up to something, ‘After the guests leave, I’d like to have a little chat, if you don’t mind?’ He raised one eyebrow.
She wasn’t going to play word games. ‘You want something from me.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes.’
‘I knew you would.’
‘Just because you no longer work for me, it doesn’t mean that we can’t still help one another out from time to time. We agreed on that.’
‘Leon, in the nicest possible way, you use everyone you know. And this is a busy time for me.’
‘I admit that I use people – “in the nicest possible way”, as you say. But it’s in our country’s service. And I do pay rather well.’
‘I don’t need the money. What I need at the moment is more time to get this started.’ She gestured round them to the centre. ‘But OK, if I can help … You’ve hit me on the patriotic nerve.’
She smiled wryly as she walked across the room to greet the tutor from the antiques course she’d attended early last year. She’d known very well Leon wouldn’t come here just to look at the gallery.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Chad asked.
‘Leon. He’s after something.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind helping him. Do you?’
‘Not at all. Though I can’t imagine what we have here that he would want.’
Emily could, but this wasn’t the time to explain because a large woman was bearing down on them. The words ‘stately as a galleon’ came to mind, which she thought came from a comic song about a large lady.
Chad stepped forward. ‘Ah, Mrs Gerringson. How nice that you could come! Have you met my partner, Emily? Emily, this is one of my oldest customers and one of my favourites. She buys the things I’d love to own myself. You should see her house. It’s a gallery in itself.’
Clearly this customer enjoyed being flattered, so Emily added her piece. ‘You must have excellent taste, then.’
Mrs Gerringson laughed. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Chad. And Emily, nice to meet you.’
But she wasn’t paying attention to Emily; she was staring round, eyes darting from one piece to another. ‘Anything I should look at?’
‘Item twenty-seven. I thought of you.’
‘Which is …?’
‘Go and find out.’ He handed her a programme. ‘And have a look round the stalls in the Old Barn, too. Not as expensive, but we’ve been a bit picky about who and what we’ve let sell there, so there are some very nice pieces.’
And so it went on: introductions, a glass of champagne that went warm and flat in Emily’s hand before she
could drink it, women wrapped in perfume and silk, expensive jewellery dazzling the beholder from wrists and necks and fingers. It amazed her that so many people had come long distances to see Chad’s new gallery. It amazed her that many of them actually looked rich.
At one point, she managed to slip through to the Old Barn to see how things were going there and found it as crowded as Chad’s front display area. To her delight, she saw several people buying from the stallholders. They called them ‘stalls’ but they were more like booths, one of them velvet-lined, literally, to show off exquisite costume jewellery.
In fact, if today was anything to go by, Chadderley Antiques was going to be a roaring success. Just as Chad had predicted. His name plus the range of goods offered for sale were a sure-fire recipe for success, she was sure.
It was well into the evening by the time all the outsiders left. People had lingered, as Chad had predicted. The food had had to be supplemented by some of Rachel’s stocks of refreshments, and the champagne had given way to bottles of wine from Chad’s personal wine stores, which were now safely racked in the cellars underneath the old inn.
Liz was among those still there, clearly waiting to speak to her sister. George was standing protectively beside her – but who was protecting whom, Emily wondered?
‘Shall I tell Pilby to get the hell out of here, or will you?’ Chad asked.
‘I will.’ Emily marched across the room. ‘Nice to see you, Liz, but I don’t remember inviting your son.’
‘We thought … you wouldn’t mind … you might be prepared to … to …’ She looked helplessly at George.
‘I can’t apologise enough, Auntie dear, for my behaviour. But I thought I was acting in your best interests and—’
‘No, you didn’t, and you’ll never convince me otherwise,’ Emily said crisply. ‘I don’t want you coming here again, George. Not ever. If you do, I might change my mind and complain to the police about your behaviour. I didn’t lay a complaint for my sister’s sake, but there’s still time to do it. And plenty of proof available about what you did to me.’
He drew himself up, glaring at her now. Had he thought she was so gullible? Emily was glad he was from her half-sister’s mother’s side, and not fully related to her.
Tears welled in Liz’s eyes, but Emily wasn’t going to be swayed by that. Some things were unforgivable and keeping her drugged and locked in a dementia facility was one of them, as far as she was concerned. If her sister’s health hadn’t been so fragile, she would have tried to get him prosecuted.
Chad came up beside her and simply stood, looking angry, his body language showing clearly that he was waiting for Pilby to leave.
‘We should go now, George,’ Liz murmured when her son still didn’t move. ‘I’m sorry, Emily. I just … don’t like the family to be at odds.’
‘You are welcome here any time, Liz. George is not, and never will be.’
‘Let me show you to the door, Pilby,’ Chad said. ‘Or do you need help getting out of here?’
The threat had George’s breath whistling into his mouth. He glared at them both and drew himself up. ‘Let’s go, Mother. At least we tried.’
Liz gave Emily a reproachful look and let him lead her out. Chad followed them and had a word with the security officer at the door, who would be working for them from now on, about not letting that man inside again.
He went back and pulled Emily into his arms for a quick hug. ‘It leaves a nasty taste to have to do that, doesn’t it?’
She blinked away tears. ‘Yes, it does. I don’t like to hurt Liz, but she’s a fool to let George into her life once more, son or not. What do you bet that he’ll manage to take over her finances again and restrict her spending, so that she leaves more to him?’
‘No bet. It’s a certainty.’
She looked across the room to where Leon was sitting on one of the elegant chairs scattered in small groups around the place. He was waiting for them, patient and implacable as ever.
Rachel came across to join them, yawning. ‘Oliver and I will be off, then. What about your two watchers?’ She gestured towards the back of the room.
Emily smiled. Toby and Ashley had spent most of the time watching everything with great interest. She’d told the caterers to serve them food and non-alcoholic drinks; Chad had provided them with a table and chairs from the café, and there they’d stayed. She went across to them now.
‘Did you enjoy our opening?’
‘There were a lot of people,’ Toby said.
‘It’s very dirty and untidy now.’ Ashley looked around disapprovingly.
‘Don’t worry. There are cleaners coming in tomorrow morning to clean everything from top to bottom. By tomorrow teatime it’ll all be perfectly clean and tidy again.’ She could see that the young woman didn’t like this delay, so said quietly, ‘This isn’t a home, so no one will be here after we close up. If it were a home, we’d tidy it tonight.’
Ashley stood frowning, taking this in, but she still didn’t look happy about the mess, even though the caterers had cleared all the food and dirty utensils away.
‘It’s time for you two to go back to your units now, so that we can close up. See you tomorrow.’
Which left Leon still sitting there, perfectly relaxed and even a little amused.
On his last day before the enforced holiday, Steven left work early. He wasn’t going to attend the usual Friday night drinks and chat session. Why should he?
It no longer felt strange to go back to an empty house, but he didn’t like it and never would. If he didn’t have plans for the next few weeks, he’d be very upset about not going into work on Monday, not having work to do over the weekend.
But he did have plans. He smiled grimly, adding mentally: as Libby would find out.
After he’d eaten, he cleared up the kitchen and switched on his computer, and began working on what he should do about his errant wife. It might be good to try a direct approach first, because if it did nothing else, it would upset her. She deserved to be upset.
She’d probably be spoiling the child and living in some seedy room. How was she managing to live anyway? She’d have rent to pay and food to buy. Had she found a job? Was she getting social benefits? Or had she gained access to that damned inheritance? How irresponsible of the old lady to leave Libby money. As if she knew how to manage it.
He’d take it off her and put it to better use … if there was any left by the time he brought her back.
The child was going to be the key to controlling her from now on. He knew that. She’d do anything to protect Edward. And he’d insist on giving the child his full name at all times from now on, as well as imposing more discipline.
He wrote down a series of points, large and small. He was just brainstorming at the moment. He’d pull together a proper plan only after he’d considered every aspect, every detail, every tactic he might employ.
The week passed quietly but happily for Libby. She saw her son relax and even make a mess when he played. She didn’t want him to go to the other extreme and make a habit of creating chaos, so made a game of them tidying up his toys together every night.
He was always ready to play, so she wondered if she dare send him to the local playgroup. It’d be so good for him. And as long as Steven didn’t appear, he should be safe there.
Allie agreed to mention Ned to Trisha when she dropped Gabbi off. She’d told Libby there was a vacancy at the playgroup, but there wouldn’t be for long. Trisha sent word back that she should come and have a chat, bringing Ned with her. Around 11.45 would be a good time.
So Libby went to the playgroup just before the children left after their morning session. Ned clung to her, wide-eyed, watching the other little ones play in the sandpit or with the piles of brightly coloured toys.
Trisha waved to them when they arrived but made no attempt to coax Ned into joining in.
When the session ended, the children started to clear away.
Ned nodded and seemed reassu
red by this. ‘They have to clear the toys away.’
‘Just like you do, darling.’
The other children ran to greet their parents and soon the big room with its conservatory and outside play area was empty of all but Trisha and the two of them.
Libby bent down. ‘The children had fun, didn’t they, Ned? Would you like to come here to play?’
He looked at her solemnly, saying nothing, almost as if he didn’t understand the question. She felt her heart would break at how unused he was to other children. Guilt flooded through her, as it kept doing. Why had she let this happen to him?
Trisha came over to join them. ‘Hi, Libby.’ She bent down. ‘You must be Ned. Would you like to come and look at the toys?’ She began walking towards a big box of toys, taking his agreement for granted, and when his mother set off after her, Ned trotted along between them.
Trisha took a brightly coloured box of shapes out. ‘This is a good game.’ She showed him how to do it.
He looked at his mother.
‘Have a go with it, Ned. It’s all right. I’ll stay near you.’
Hesitantly he reached out, taking the pieces, quickly learning how to thread them on to the correct plastic spokes.
When he’d finished, Trisha clapped. ‘Well done! Try another toy.’
This time he chose on his own, and didn’t even notice when the two women took a couple of steps backwards and began speaking in low voices.
‘He’s never been allowed to play with other children,’ Libby said. ‘I should have left my husband years ago. Do you think it’s too late for Ned to learn to be a normal little boy?’
‘Not too late at all. If you decide to send him here, we won’t push him into anything, but just let him find his own feet.’
‘I’d love him to come here.’
‘You’ll need to fill in a form. I’ll go and get you one.’
That worried Libby. Would the information she supplied be something anyone could access?
When Trisha brought back the form, she said bluntly, ‘I’ve left his father, who was abusive.’ She touched the remains of her bruise. ‘On no account must anyone except me be allowed to take Ned away from here. And no information must be given out about him.’