‘With the hens?’ Lottie asked. ‘The house with all those hens?’
‘I am beginning to think that I am being unfairly labelled. There are other things in my life apart from being the owner of escapee hens.’ Helen smiled, stepping towards Lottie. Lottie held out her hand to shake Helen’s, but Helen ignored it, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. A look of disbelief crossed Lottie’s face. Sara knew exactly what she was thinking. Mother’s found another eccentric to be friendly with. ‘Hi,’ she said, shyly. ‘What on earth are you carrying, Mum?’
‘Look at this.’ Sara set the dusty toy box down on the kitchen table, carefully moving aside the carrier bag and the bottle of white wine. She opened the lid. Nothing happened. She pressed down the little catch. Still nothing. Holding the lid shut, she lifted the box up, with difficulty, and found a stiff little key underneath, which she wound. Then she slowly opened the lid and the haunting music began.
‘Ew!’ exclaimed Lottie. ‘Spooky. Where on earth did you find it?’
‘In the attic.’
‘We have an attic?’
‘We certainly do. It’s full of rubbish, but then we found this box. Oh – and we have bats.’
‘Which you shouldn’t really do anything about,’ Helen said. ‘They’re protected, so we’re not sure if we’re going to be able to extend into the attic. I’m an architect – I said I’d help your mum.’
‘Bats,’ said Lottie, eyeing her mother thoughtfully. ‘Not only have you bought a cottage which is barely in Britain, you have also bought a cottage which is top-heavy with bats. Anything else? No snakes in the grass? No scorpions lurking within the beams?’
‘There are snakes,’ Helen said. ‘On the cliffs.’
‘Actually, I like snakes,’ Lottie said. ‘Snakes are cool. What kind?’
‘Mostly grass snakes, but we see the odd adder. They’re really harmless – they just slither away when they see you.’
‘Hector will never go for a walk again,’ Sara said, looking at him.
‘Wimp dog,’ Lottie said, sinking to her knees and burying her face in his golden fur. He lifted up a paw and put it gently over her arm.
‘I see what you mean about the timid,’ Helen said. ‘I can’t see him and Nigel hitting it off.’
Lottie looked at them uncomprehendingly, and then put her hands over Hector’s ears.
‘Don’t you listen,’ she said, forgetting she’d called him a wimp. ‘You’re not bashful! You’re the bravest, manliest dog I’ve ever seen.’ Hector thumped his tail against the slate floor, puffing out his chest.
‘Do you have a dog?’ Lottie asked Helen, looking up at her.
‘Kind of,’ she said. ‘He’s in the car. Bit more like a curly mountain, though, than an actual dog.’
‘Oh yes, I thought I could hear something barking. Can’t you let him in? They could play together. It would be sweet. A little friend for Hector.’
Sara looked at Helen. ‘I don’t think “play” would be the operative word,’ she said.
‘He’s kind of boisterous,’ Helen said, screwing up her face. ‘And he gets a bit confused between girl and boy dogs. He isn’t terribly discerning, if you know what I mean.’
‘How embarrassing.’ Lottie was looking at Sara as if to say, ‘Who is this person?’
‘Helen said she’d take the cottage on as a project,’ Sara said.
‘Oh, cool. You’ve been looking round?’ Helen nodded. ‘Is it quite hopeless? Should we just get the bulldozers in?’
Helen laughed. ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘It’s got great possibilities. The only thing I would change is this room – I said demolition, but actually if you put a proper roof on it, it could be a boot room, or a laundry.’
‘Hear, hear to that. Mum, there’s a letter for you on the hall table.’
‘I know.’
‘I think it’s something to do with Dad. Looks official,’ she said casually, lifting a squashy bag out of the white carrier, grey fish skin visible through the thin plastic. ‘I bought halibut, as a treat. I was kind of overwhelmed by finding the Cloudy Bay and thought we deserved a good dinner. Parsley, too,’ she added, waving the herb, before putting it carefully alongside the fish in the fridge. ‘I am a genius. I thought of everything.’
‘What an angel,’ Sara said. She realized Helen was looking at her questioningly.
When Sara caught her eye, Helen looked away. ‘I must be off,’ she said. She leant forward and kissed Sara on the cheek. She smelled of fresh air and wool. ‘Great to meet you. What shall we do? Why don’t I sketch out some ideas, roughly, and then we could get together later in the week? I know a couple of people in the planning department in St Austell, and some good, reliable builders too. I’ll give you their numbers.’
‘That would be the most fantastic help.’
Helen smiled at Lottie. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘And you.’ Lottie waved a hand, casually. ‘See you.’
Lottie waited until the front door had closed before she said, firmly, ‘Lesbian.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake, darling. Her husband died three years ago. She’s not a lesbian.’
‘She looks like one.’
‘That may be true, I grant you. But she isn’t. I’d know. Anyway, why should it matter?’
‘How many lesbians do you know, Mother?’
‘None.’
‘Well, I know lots, and she’s one.’
‘I don’t think you’re right. Anyway, I am not a lesbian, so it’s irrelevant, isn’t it? It’s just nice to meet someone local I think I am going to be able to get on with. Who might become a friend.’
‘Be careful,’ said Lottie darkly. ‘You’ll end up one of the “girls” and stop shaving your legs. Dad will come down to see you and find you entirely covered in fur.’
‘Lottie, that’s ridiculous.’
‘I don’t want my mother turning gay,’ Lottie said, mock-dramatically. ‘Isn’t it enough that you have made me the victim of a broken home?’
‘I am starting to get cross,’ Sara said, laughing despite herself. ‘Just because I have left Dad does not mean I am going to become a lesbian. Convenient as it might be for him to think so,’ she added.
‘Middle-Class Mother Dumped by Husband Turns Gay,’ said Lottie, in newspaper headlines. ‘Shock,’ she added, as an afterthought.
‘Enough. You’re being extremely silly. Right, this afternoon . . .’ Sara looked at her watch. ‘God, it’s nearly one already. I propose we walk over the cliffs to Polperro. Hector hasn’t had a decent walk today.’ At two mentions of the word ‘walk’, Hector disappeared under the table. Not another walk, he seemed to say. I’m exhausted. I’m going to end up with legs like a dachshund.
‘What about the letter?’ Lottie said.
‘Oh, yes.’ Sara began to tidy away the coffee cups. ‘Later.’
‘Go and open it,’ Lottie ordered. ‘Stop prevaricating.’ She took hold of Sara’s shoulder, and firmly pushed her into the corridor.
Sara found she was actually closing her eyes as she ripped it open, Lottie standing behind her. This was silly. How could he hurt her? What could he change, or take away? Her eyes scanned swiftly down the printed page, until she came to a sentence which made her draw a sharp breath.
It said, ‘My client requests that you visit our offices to discuss your financial requirements and to discuss placing the current separation on a more permanent legal footing.’ She let the page fall on to the hall table. That sounded as if Matt did want to divorce. She closed her eyes, and put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Why couldn’t they just drift on like this? Why did they have to make a decision, so soon? But inside she knew the answer. Because Matt hated unfinished business. He hated not being in control. He was trying to frighten her into making some kind of decision, and forcing her to meet him, or, at least, his solicitor. He hadn’t tried to make contact with her for over two months now – not since the call which had ended so abruptly. Emily had said, durin
g one of their rare phone chats, that he had decided there was no point because ‘she would not see sense’.
‘What does it say?’ Lottie picked up the letter.
Sara opened her eyes. ‘Dad’s solicitor says we have to meet to talk about money.’
‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ Lottie said. ‘He’s going to have to look after you, isn’t he? Dad wouldn’t leave you in the lurch.’
‘Why does Dad have to look after me? I’m not a child. I can look after myself.’
Lottie looked at her pityingly. ‘Since when did you earn money, Mum? Of course Dad’s going to have to cough up. You’re his wife,’ she added, as if to a dim child.
‘He also says, through his solicitor, that he wants to put our relationship on a “legal footing”, whatever that means.’
‘Divorce?’ Lottie said, lifting her eyes to Sara, her smile disappearing.
‘I’m afraid it sounds very like it.’
Lottie’s shoulders seemed to fold in on themselves. Wrapping her arms around herself, she leant back against the wall. ‘Oh. I don’t think I want you to be divorced. It’s so final. I might end up with a wicked stepmother. Emily and I will have to stand next to her at the wedding in gruesome Laura Ashley dresses with glued-on smiles pretending to be grown-up about it and happy that our father has a second chance of happiness, whereas actually we’d rather eat our own hair than see him re-marry. God. Dad might even have more babies. Arg! Imagine! Tiny step-siblings! He wouldn’t, would he?’
‘Darling.’ Sara tried to put her arms around her, but Lottie shrank back. ‘I don’t see why we have to make that decision just yet,’ she said, as gently as she could.
‘I think Dad’s just trying to shock me into coming back. It won’t work, though. I’m not going to be bullied into making the wrong decision.’
Lottie’s head snapped up, her face suddenly furious. Sara looked at her, surprised at the anger in her eyes. ‘Stop burying your head in the sand, Mum!’ she shouted. ‘Honestly, I take your side nearly all the time, but sometimes you go too far. You can’t just leave Dad and think that he’ll sit around, waiting for you to decide if you’re going to come home. Can’t you see Dad’s point of view? He can’t wait for ever. You’ve left the way clear for her, haven’t you? You didn’t stay to fight. God, now, Mum, can’t you see? You’ve lost him! He’s given up! That’s what this letter means. He can’t think that you love him anymore, so why shouldn’t he be with her? Why shouldn’t he divorce you?’
‘What is her name?’ Sara said cautiously, overwhelmed by curiosity. Lottie must know, as she talked to Emily nearly every night. Lottie had told her they’d decided to forget the initial rift – Emily said they needed each other too much at the moment for that. Sara hesitated. ‘You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want you to feel you are being disloyal to Dad.’
Lottie looked over Sara’s shoulder, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Her name is . . . Karina,’ she said slowly, as if the words were being dragged out of her. She reached up and angrily brushed away the tears from her cheeks. She took a deep breath, her thin shoulders rising. ‘She’s half-Russian. She’s only two years older than Emily. I’ve met her, a few times, at Dad’s office. She works for him. You must know her too . . .’ she moved towards Sara, and put her arm around her neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ she said, quietly. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but it seems so silly when it’s . . . when you’re . . . when you know, you’re talking about divorce. It’s only fair that you do know. And he is with her, Mum. Emily says she’s mad about him.’
A bell which had been ringing very distantly in Sara’s mind sounded louder, and louder, until she was so deafened she stepped away from Lottie and put her hands over her ears. Of course. Of course it was likely to be someone she knew. Why would Matt have an affair with a complete stranger? Karina – what was her surname? – Nemcova.
Catherine had told her after the party that she had heard that the woman he was having an affair with was very young, in her twenties. At the time Sara hadn’t given this information much credence, but it appeared Catherine and her mysterious source were spot on.
Sara knew Matt had poached Karina from a rival PR firm about two years before, and then she hadn’t been long out of university. She was the daughter of a Russian millionaire and English mother. Matt had said she was a real piece of work, able to charm the birds out of the trees, and very bright – she had an Oxford degree – but rather spoilt. Some of the other staff hadn’t taken to her at all, but he said she was bringing in contracts thick and fast. Last time Sara had met her, at the office Christmas drinks party, she had noticed the way her eyes followed Matt, and thought, oh dear, another of his staff with a crush. But, as usual, she’d dismissed it from her mind. If she’d worried about every woman who fancied Matt, she’d have been in a permanent spin. She thought hard. Had he talked about her much? In autumn last year he’d said he was putting Karina on to the account of one of his biggest clients, a mobile-phone company about to go global, and he’d joked she already had the chief executive eating out of her hand. There was something else, too. Last time he’d flown to Paris, the previous summer, she had been with him – he’d mentioned it, casually, and said she would be a real asset. He was taking a whole team to make the presentation, so it did not seem unusual. Why would she suspect?
‘Karina,’ she said slowly. ‘I see.’ And she could see her, clearly, in her mind’s eye – tall, very slim, with a curtain of sleek brunette shoulder-length hair and huge chocolate-brown eyes. Beautiful, tailored clothes, with none of the grunge effect of Emily and Lottie. She looked poised, arrogant and old beyond her years. Yes, she had thought at the time, she did look a piece of work.
‘Yup. Karina,’ Lottie said, carefully, watching her mother’s face. ‘Don’t look like that. You look as if you’re going to faint. Are you OK?’
Sara nodded, and then, to her own utter amazement, she started to laugh. Lottie looked at her in horror. ‘I’m sorry,’ Sara said, wiping her eyes, her whole body shaking. ‘You fool. Oh, you stupid old fool.’ Of course, being Matt, it wouldn’t just be anybody. It would be a stunningly beautiful young girl with a degree from Oxford and legs which went on for ever. Even in infidelity, he had impeccable taste. If you took two women who looked less alike, it would be her and Karina. The girl belonged to another world. Thank God she hadn’t stayed to fight. Her shoulders shook.
‘Have you gone quite insane?’ Lottie said, staring at her mother in wonder.
‘Probably. How am I supposed to react? Your father has been sleeping with a girl two years older than Emily for what could be more than a year, and all the time I’ve been pottering about thinking, hey ho, I must get the windows cleaned, and shall I book a weekend away in France because Dad looks tired and Hector needs his claws clipping, and all the time I was going about my daily life your father was falling head over heels in love with Karina. How very, very extraordinary.’
‘Don’t. I’m not sure I want to hear any of this,’ Lottie said. ‘Anyway, we don’t know that he was in love with her. It might have been just, you know . . .’ Her face wrinkled with disgust at the thought. ‘And what would she see in him? He’s so old.’ Sara gently touched her daughter’s face. ‘Your father is a very attractive man,’ she said. ‘Lots of women find him good-looking, you know. Not to mention the fact that he’s also, now, rather rich. It’s a lethal combination.’
‘Ew. Did they? Why didn’t you mind? It never occurred to me. But then I suppose I took the fact that you loved each other for granted,’ she said sadly. ‘I never thought – it never entered my head – that Dad might go off with anyone else. He seemed to love you so much. You were always talking and laughing. I mean, I had friends’ parents who never seemed to speak to each other. I thought we were so lucky . . .’ her voice tailed off.
‘I thought we were lucky too,’ Sara said. ‘I trusted him, you see.’
‘Too much,’ Lottie said sadly.
‘Yes. But that’s only wit
h the benefit of hindsight.’
‘Can we not talk about this any more? It’s making me feel weird.’
‘Yes.’ Sara straightened up. ‘This is not doing either of us any good at all. Let’s go for a great long walk, and then we’ll have the halibut and Cloudy Bay to look forward to when we come home.’
‘I bought two bottles,’ Lottie said.
‘Good,’ said Sara.
Chapter Nine
‘Bristol first choice it is, then. Do you think they’ll offer you a place?’
‘Bloody well should do, with my brilliant CV and gap-year experience, which is only ever so slightly made up.’
‘My brilliantly devised CV,’ Sara corrected, looking at her over the top of her tortoiseshell half-moon glasses. They were sitting squashed together in front of Lottie’s laptop, which was plugged into an old-fashioned dark brown socket beneath the desk. The socket had come away slightly from the wall, and Sara had had to jiggle the plug around to get the light on the laptop to come on. At any moment she expected there to be a blinding flash and a thousand volts would shoot up her arm. But then, as her mother always said, an electric shock is as good a tonic as a holiday. Quite how she’d worked that out, Sara could not fathom, but as with most of her mother’s sayings, it was best not to consider too hard for fear of your mind boggling.
Used to broadband, neither of them could believe how long it took to log onto the Internet using direct dial, to send off Lottie’s application.
‘Do you think there’s an old woman in Plymouth holding two wires together?’ Lottie asked, as they watched the dark blue block at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen edging forward, agonizingly slowly. ‘I haven’t seen this for years,’ she said. ‘Come on!’ Trying to get on to the university websites had been even more frustrating, because the screen kept hanging, and then for no particular reason a message would flash up. ‘Your time limit is about to expire’ one message read. ‘Time limit?’ Lottie cried. ‘What’s going on? Do we have to feed a meter, or something?’
Too Beautiful to Dance Page 11