The Fountain

by Mary Nichols

  ‘How long would it take?’

  ‘Two or three weeks, after that you have your house back and a nice fat cheque in the bank.’

  ‘Then I’ll give it some thought.’ She turned to Barbara. ‘Does your husband know about this?’

  ‘Not a thing.’ It was said with a chuckle. ‘It’s nothing to do with him.’

  They spent a little time going into more detail and then Penny and Barbara left. Hal Erikson would have to come down and have a look, but Penny’s recommendation that the house was ideal for their purpose meant his agreement was almost a foregone conclusion.

  Chapter Eleven

  Melsham was invaded by strange people in strange garb, talking earnestly in little groups and calling each other ‘darling’. That is when they weren’t in the caravans parked in the grounds of Melsham Manor, where the actors were dressed and made-up and where they rehearsed their lines. There were cameras and miles of cable and a great deal of shouting, followed by minutes of intense silence while everyone waited for the girl with the clapperboard to announce the next take.

  The manor had received an external facelift: the gardens and gravel drive had been weeded and raked, the lawns cut, the windows cleaned so that they sparkled with new life. To Penny and Hal’s delight, they had even found the old Quarenton carriage under a pile of dust sheets in the coach house. It had been dragged out, cleaned up and repaired and was now being used behind two beautiful bay horses to bring the heroine to her new home. It astonished Barbara, who had gone at Penny’s invitation, that her friend was able to act with all the hubbub, and she was impressed by how much patience she had, doing the same scene over and over again until both she and the director were satisfied.

  ‘It’s one way to have the gardening done,’ Isobel said, coming to stand beside Barbara, while cameras, lighting and sound were adjusted for the next shot. ‘The trouble is that it’s a reprieve, not a final solution.’

  ‘Then we shall have to think of something else.’

  ‘We?’ Isobel took a sideways glance at Barbara who wore a pleated skirt and a matching jacket over a plain blouse. She didn’t know how old Barbara was, but judging by the ages of the children she must be about thirty-three or -four, some twenty years younger than she was. But a good friend. She found herself smiling. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘Why not a hydro? I saw an advert for one in the hairdresser’s the other day. That was a converted stately home.’

  ‘What on earth’s a hydro?’

  ‘A kind of clinic where wealthy women come to lose weight and be cosseted. There’s an awful lot of money in it.’

  ‘But that would mean expensive alterations and equipment, wouldn’t it? And trained staff. Where would I go for that kind of money, bearing in mind all the collateral I’ve got is this crumbling ruin?’

  ‘It isn’t crumbling, that’s just George talking. You could ask Penny. I bet she’d know how to go about it.’

  ‘You mean it, don’t you?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Pie in the sky,’ Isobel said, laughing. ‘But fun to think about. Now, I must go and find James. He’s probably sulking somewhere.’

  Barbara watched her go, a tall upright figure in purple silk. She couldn’t be all that old, but she dressed and behaved like a grand dame. Until you got to know her and realised she had a wonderful sense of humour and great compassion.

  ‘Barbara.’ The voice behind her was low, pleasant and vividly remembered.

  She turned towards him and tried desperately not to let her confusion show. He was as youthful and good-looking as ever and she wanted to fling herself at him and be hugged and kissed, to feel his arms about her, his lips on hers, to know he still cared, still wanted her. But she couldn’t even reach out and touch him, not with everyone watching. ‘Simon!’

  ‘How are you?’

  She pulled herself together and smiled. ‘I’m well. What about you? Are you fully recovered?’

  ‘Yes, fit and well and back to the grind, but every now and again, I peep out to see how the world is faring, which is why I decided to come and see what Penny’s up to today.’

  ‘She’s good isn’t she?’

  ‘Stupendous.’ He put a hand on her arm. The effect was electric, she almost jumped from her skin. ‘And how is life treating you?’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Truly?’ He was looking closely at her, making her squirm.

  ‘Yes. George is going to be mayor next year.’

  ‘And you’ll be lady mayoress. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ve done nothing.’

  He smiled at her with his head on one side. ‘Stood by him, I expect.’ He watched the colour suffuse her face and decided not to pursue that line. ‘How are the children?’

  ‘Growing up fast. Alison is at Melsham Grammar School and determined to be a doctor. George wants Nick to go into the business when he leaves school, but I don’t know if he will. It’s early days yet.’

  ‘And Jay-Jay? You see, I remember his name.’

  ‘He’s seven now and very artistic.’

  ‘Seven, was it as long ago as that?’

  What did he mean by that? Had he worked it out? Penny hadn’t told him, she would never break a promise, but if he knew…

  The tension between them was like a tightly coiled spring which was held in check by nothing more than willpower. His blue eyes were searching, probing, winkling out her inner thoughts. Until now she had not realised her feelings for him had not died but were simply lying dormant, until he reawakened them. She wanted to cry, grab hold of him, tell him how much she loved him and missed him, that he had a son, but she couldn’t. Daren’t.

  ‘It’s all right, you know,’ he said softly. ‘You did the right thing.’

  ‘Right thing?’

  ‘Not coming back to the hospital to see me. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was just feeling sorry for myself.’

  ‘Please, Simon, don’t say that. You were my saviour.’

  ‘Does that mean everything is all right now?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was a monumental lie and she thought he guessed it.

  The scene was finished and the film-makers broke off for lunch. Penny, her face clean of make-up but still looking incredibly beautiful in a pair of tailored trousers with a print blouse worn over them, was walking towards them with Hal, tall, blonde and very Scandinavian.

  ‘We’re off to lunch,’ she told Barbara. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  ‘Sorry. I must be going, I’m on duty in the clothing store this afternoon.’

  She made her escape, her senses reeling. It was as if fate, or whoever was judge of these things, was reminding her that her punishment was not something to endure for a short time, it was for ever. Why had she introduced Penny to Isobel? Why tempt fate? If Simon should come face to face with Jay-Jay… But what if he did? Simon had his own life and it was nothing to do with her.

  Jay-Jay and two friends climbed over the back fence and through what remained of the woods, coming out onto the manor drive, just as a coach and horses came rattling round the bend.

  ‘Cut!’ someone yelled. ‘Get those kids out of there.’

  Several angry men advanced towards them, the carriage came to a stop and Penny’s head emerged from it. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Blasted kids, got in the shot,’ one of the advancing men said. ‘Don’t know how they got past the cordon.’

  Penny laughed. ‘I do. Hallo, Jay-Jay.’

  Jay-Jay’s face went bright pink, though he was aware that his friends were standing with their mouths open. They hadn’t believed him when he said he knew Penny Barcliffe and could get them an introduction. ‘Hallo, Aunt Penny. We only wanted to see you…’

  ‘I know, but you got in the shot, you see, and shorts and jumpers are not at all Victorian, are they? Now, I shall have to turn round and do it all again. Go and stand over there, behind the cameras, and keep very still and very quiet.’ She saw her brother among the crew and
beckoned him over. ‘Simon, take care of them. This one’s Barbara’s youngest.’ She pointed at Jay-Jay.

  The boys allowed themselves to be ushered to one side until the scene was finished. ‘I’m Jay-Jay,’ he told Simon, unable to resist bragging. ‘Short for Jeremy John. Penny Barcliffe is my mother’s friend.’

  ‘And Penny is my sister.’

  Jay-Jay looked up at him and decided he liked his blue eyes, which had a decided twinkle. ‘Why haven’t I seen you before? Aunt Penny comes down all the time. Mum and her have been friends for ever.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t live with Penny, you know. We don’t see much of each other. I just thought I’d like to visit Melsham again.’

  ‘You’ve been here before?’

  ‘Yes, for your mother’s wedding and your grandfather’s funeral.’

  ‘I don’t remember that,’ he said seriously. ‘Why haven’t you been lately? Did you and Mum quarrel?’

  ‘No, we didn’t quarrel.’ He looked down at the boy and felt an unaccountable urge to ruffle his hair, to tell him it hadn’t been his wish, that some partings were even worse to bear when there were no quarrels, that if he had had his way, he would have been a father to him. ‘We had nothing to quarrel about.’

  For him it was a bittersweet memory, made the more poignant because of this boy who stood so sturdily beside him. If he had had the sense to grab Barbara when she was single, if she had left George… If… So many ifs. ‘Grown-ups get pretty busy, you know,’ he said. ‘Things happen, you get on with your lives and before you know it, years have gone by.’

  Jay-Jay studied him for some minutes. ‘You know, I think you’re in Mum’s painting of Melsham. It’s got hundreds of people in it. Alison and Nick and Gran and Aunt Penny. I think it’s you standing beside her. You ought to see it. Why don’t you come? Say hallo to Mum?’

  Simon was intrigued, but not enough to invade Barbara’s home, nor make small talk with the man she had married. ‘I’ve already seen her,’ he said. ‘Earlier today. And I have to get back to London tonight. Another time perhaps.’

  Jay-Jay couldn’t wait to get home and tell everyone about it over the dinner table. ‘Aunt Penny was super,’ he said. ‘She gave everyone an autograph and showed us how the cameras and lights worked, and the clapperboard and the rushes. I saw her brother. He was nice. I liked him.’

  Barbara’s hand, on its way to her mouth with a forkful of chicken, stopped halfway. She lowered it and put the fork back on her plate, being careful not to let it clatter. Then she took a deep breath. ‘What did he have to say?’ Her voice was high and brittle and she became aware that George had also stopped eating and was looking at her. Why, today of all days, did he have to come home for dinner?

  ‘He said he’d been to your wedding and Grandad’s funeral. He came to see if Melsham had changed.’

  ‘Which it hasn’t,’ George said sharply. He was still seething over Barbara introducing Penny Barcliffe to Lady Quarenton: it had ruined his plans to buy the manor, though he could not complain to her about it without having to explain why he wanted it. Simon Barcliffe could not have timed his reappearance any better if he had deliberately set out to provoke him. Which he probably had.

  ‘I told him about Mum’s picture of the market,’ Jay-Jay went on, and to Barbara, ultra sensitive, it seemed that Simon’s blue eyes shone from his face. ‘I told him he ought to come and see it.’

  ‘Why should he want to see that? Why did you even mention it?’ George demanded.

  ‘Because he’s in it, like everyone else.’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Barbara put in quickly.

  Jay-Jay got up from the table and went to the picture, which Alison had persuaded her to hang in the dining room. ‘It will be a topic for conversation,’ she had said. Until now Barbara had not minded and George, who had never had any time to look at it properly, had made no comment except to say he thought it was good.

  ‘There,’ Jay-Jay said, pointing. ‘Next to Aunt Penny.’

  Barbara picked up her fork and made a pretence of eating, but she couldn’t swallow because her heart seemed to be in her throat, blocking it. Why must a little indiscretion live with you and haunt you for the rest of your life? Guilt and love, so inextricably entwined, they could not be separated.

  Frustrated by Lady Isobel’s refusal to sell, George turned his attention to other ways of making money, and the proposed refurbishment of Melsham market was just the thing. It was still the thriving centre of the town, but the buildings were grimy, the tarmac worn so that the old cobbles were showing through in places, the fascia boards on the shops a higgledy-piggledy mess of hieroglyphics and ill-matched colours. There were no seats, the fountain was often turned off and the water in the pool was full of debris. A place needed to look bright and prosperous to attract investment. And that would be his argument for spending money on it and, if he was canny, a good proportion of the work would come his way.

  The idea had come to him when he saw what the film-makers had done, putting up temporary Victorian facades over the shops and buildings round the market, which had changed the whole character of the place. Everyone had said how quaint and charming it looked. Unfortunately most of it was only boarding and had been removed when the film was finished and the town had gone back to its mishmash of old and new. George wanted to restore the Victorian ambience on a permanent basis.

  ‘The present proposal doesn’t go nearly far enough,’ he told Tony Bartram, chairman of General Purposes, when they met at The Crown and ordered a beer each. ‘The whole area needs paving, York stone, red brick, something classy. What’s there now is an insult, and the fountain is a disgrace. The traders could have uniform striped awnings.’

  ‘They’ll be against it if it means they pay more for their pitches.’ Bartram, rotund and balding, took a swig from his glass. ‘All they’re concerned with is having the surface tidied up, so there are no puddles when it rains. And the ratepayers will say there are other priorities for their money.’

  ‘We could get private funding for some of it. I have already approached Landers and they have agreed to provide a percentage, and I reckon some of the town’s other businesses could be persuaded to contribute. They stand to gain and they won’t want to be upstaged by Landers. It’s all down to good publicity.’ He smiled as a new idea struck him. ‘We could hold a competition for the design of a new fountain, something befitting. We don’t have to accept any of the designs, but it will give the public an interest, keep them off our backs…’

  ‘That’s a bit cynical, isn’t it?’

  He laughed. ‘Realistic. You and I know we’d never get anything done if we had to have universal approbation first. I have only the interests of the town and population of Melsham at heart, Tony, you know that.’

  ‘Oh, that goes without saying.’

  The man’s sarcasm was not lost on George but he decided not to comment. ‘I want Melsham put on the map, made a place to be proud of. All I want you to do is back an amendment.’

  ‘OK, I’ll sound everyone out and see if we can get it on the agenda.’

  George walked back to his office with a jaunty step, smiling to himself. He rang his solicitor and made an appointment to see him, then he summoned Donald Browning to his office.

  His attitude towards Donald was ambivalent. On the surface he treated him like a friend and trusted employee, but that trust had been severely dented over Virginia, though it had never been spoken of aloud. Since her death they had rubbed along because each needed the other. Donald was his general factotum, held the fort when he was out making deals or on council business and generally kept his suppliers off his back.

  ‘Sit down, Donald.’ George had been standing by the window with his back to the room, staring out at the leaden sky, but now he turned and, going to a cupboard behind his desk, fetched out a bottle and a couple of glasses. ‘Whisky?’

  ‘Thanks. It’s bitterly cold out.’

  George poured two generous tots
and handed one to Donald who had seated himself in the chair facing the desk and was chewing his moustache, a sure sign he was nervous. Usually he was left to get on with his work and only met George on a strictly business basis when there was a management meeting or some strategy to be worked out, involving the whole group. But drinking together became a thing of the past when he married Virginia. Her death had devastated him, as it had George, but neither was such a fool as to let that impinge on their working relationship. He sipped his drink and waited.

  ‘You know about the market refurbishment?’ George asked.

  ‘I’ve been reading about it in the Gazette, but it’s only repaving and new lighting, not anything Kennett’s would be interested in.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ George said. ‘I think it’s a good idea to have two strings to one’s bow, don’t you? Besides, I don’t think the current plans go nearly far enough. I’m lobbying for more – brick paving and the shop fronts restored, a new fountain. The contract to do all that would be worth having.’

  ‘But you’re on the council; you’d have to declare an interest, and if Kennett’s did get it there’d be a public outcry about favouritism, if not corruption.’

  ‘Exactly. Which is why I’m thinking of setting up a new company. I want you to be its managing director.’

  ‘Why me? Why now? We’re hardly out of the recession.’

  ‘It’s the optimum time. We’d get the best deals over supplies, plenty of labour, premises at rock bottom, what more do you want? Besides, we’ve done well in recessions before and this will be a wonderful opportunity.’

  ‘Just what are you getting at?’

  George refilled their glasses. ‘It’s simple. You set up the company. Let’s call it Melsham Construction. There’s a suitable site going on the Norwich Road. It’s Gosport’s old place. I don’t know why he hung onto it, obstinacy I suppose, but now he’s gone his son has put it up for sale. It’s almost derelict so it’ll be cheap, but it’s got plenty of store room, so I suggest you clean it up and start putting orders in for materials, bricks, paving, things with long delivery dates, and take on some skilled men. Take Colin Younger. Get him off my back…’