‘Let’s go back inside,’ Sara said. ‘I’m sure we can leave them out here, there’s never any traffic down the lane even if they get out.’
Carefully, Helen spread the papers out on the circular kitchen table. ‘I thought we might knock through the front rooms as you suggested – although we will need some kind of support in the middle, like a pillar or possibly a central fireplace – and extend the kitchen out to the side about so far. What do you think? Ignore all the technical figures, that’s just the scale.’
‘It looks brilliant,’ said Sara, studying the plans with a rising sense of excitement. ‘But won’t it be hideously expensive? Knocking down the walls and all the building costs?’
‘Not if we use my favourite builder and his team. He’s not the cheapest, but if he gives you a quote he sticks to it, so you know where you are. His name’s Jim – he’s getting on a bit now, although he’s very fit, and he only takes on the jobs that really interest him. Besides, he’s in love with me.’ Helen said this in a very matter-of-fact way.
Sara laughed. ‘Is he really? That’s one way of getting things done.’
‘You’ve got to make use of every weapon, haven’t you?’ Helen replied, smiling. ‘He keeps asking me out, though, and I’m running out of excuses.’
‘Have you been out with anyone since your husband died?’ Sara asked, and then hesitated, thinking it was a very personal question to put to someone she’d only met twice. God, she was turning into Catherine.
‘A couple,’ Helen said. ‘But really, I’m not so bothered. I had such a good marriage everyone else seems so boring in comparison with Jack. He made me laugh like nobody else, he was great company. I was very lucky, I know, you don’t often get to be friends as well, do you? Besides the thought of even contemplating going to bed with someone who isn’t Jack . . .’ She pulled a face at Sara, who burst out laughing. ‘Well, it would be quite a thing at my age to get naked in front of someone who is effectively a stranger. Sorry, that makes me sound as if I go out with men just for sex, which I assure you I don’t – it is nice to be taken out, to have male company. But they do want sex, don’t they? Even the older ones. They see a woman living on her own, and they think you must be desperate. I just can’t be bothered any more. I’d far rather keep tham as friends, and I know this sounds rather mad but I feel that Jack is with me, all the time. I talk to him a lot, when I’m alone, at home. It’s one of the reasons why I kept Nigel too, he’s like a constant connection to Jack because they were always together. I’m a firm believer that death isn’t the end, are you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Sara said cautiously. ‘The only person who was really close to me who has died is my father, and yes, I suppose, thinking about it, I do feel that he’s with me. I ask him a lot of questions in my mind, and he generally gives me a sensible answer. He was a lovely man, my Dad. My Mum has coped brilliantly without him, but she misses him so much.’
‘What did he say about your marriage?’
‘Before, or after his death?’ Sara smiled.
‘After.’
Sara glanced at Helen. ‘That is a very interesting question. You know, he told me to leave. Matt had an affair, you see. With a very young girl, just twenty-five, who works for him. He’s still with her now, apparently. My father told me to get out while I had my dignity intact. My friends – one in particular – thought I should boot Matt out of our home and then take him for every penny. Another said I ought to hear his side of the story, and that really, a lot of married men had affairs on the quiet and it wasn’t worth disturbing my lifestyle. Matt was quite well off, you see. But I couldn’t do that. If I’d stayed, and fought him for money, he’d still be a big part of my life. And there would be all that anger and bitterness – at least, being here, I’m away from all the repercussions. Now, looking back, I don’t feel I am the same person any more, and it’s only been a matter of months.’
‘Do you miss him?’
Sara smiled. ‘Oh, yes. All the time. Like you, we were – at least, I thought we were – great friends. We talked all the time, discussed everything, and I loved his company. Everything was an occasion, with Matt. He loved to entertain, he couldn’t bear to be bored. But now – well, the awful thing is that I don’t know if I bored him. Or if he’d stayed with me for years because of the children, or he was worried that I’d take his money – oh, I don’t know. So many awful thoughts run through your mind. It’s the not knowing, you see – thinking that you knew someone inside out and then discovering that they had this whole other side to them. Apparently his – affair – had only been going on for a year but he must have been receptive, mustn’t he – and how do I know this was the first?’
‘Did he say it was?’
‘You know,’ she said, smiling sadly, ‘We haven’t even had that conversation. I’ve only talked to him once since I found out. Everything else has come via the girls or friends. I don’t trust myself, to be honest, to either see or speak to him. And the crazy thing is that I don’t have to – I know what he is thinking. When Emily, my elder daughter, relays his comments I know exactly what’s behind them, what effect he wants his words to have on me. In some ways, I do still feel manipulated by him. He’s currently trying to make my daughters, well, Emily at least, believe that I’m a menopausal hysterical woman who’s gone a bit potty, which is why I’ve rushed off to Cornwall. I don’t think he honestly believes I can stand on my own two feet, and he keeps offering me money. I suppose it assuages his conscience, and I also think he hates the thought that I can be independent from him. I presume he’d like to set me up in a nice house, pay me a monthly sum and then tell himself he’s been very generous.’
‘And you’re not going to make it that easy for him.’
‘Exactly. He can fuck off, quite frankly.’
Helen laughed.
‘Well, I’m not some kind of pet, am I? I refuse to be patted on the head and made to slip quietly away. I’m here and I’m me, and he has no idea what I’m doing and has no idea exactly where I am living. He hates that. He hates not being in control. I’m unfinished business.’
‘You have become mysterious,’ Helen nodded.
‘Mmm. Not so boring now, am I?’
‘I think you’re absolutely right. Good for you.’
‘I sound very brave, but I’m not awfully brave, really. It’s been horrible a lot of the time.’
‘How did you find out about the affair? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry . . .’
‘That’s OK. At his fiftieth birthday party. His best friend, who was extremely drunk and angry with Matt because he wouldn’t give him money to bail out his business, announced the fact during the speeches.’
‘No!’ Helen looked at her in amazement.
‘In front of all the other guests. It caused quite a stir, as you can imagine,’ Sara added, sardonically. ‘Not the best night of my life.’
‘Were the girls there, too?’
‘Yes, that was the really awful thing. I mean, finding out was pretty shocking, obviously, but I do wish it hadn’t happened in front of them.’
‘What did you do?’
‘That night Matt just, well, ran away, and then the next day, I left.’
‘Left?’
‘I know, it’s extraordinary, really. I don’t know where I found the courage. But I was so angry with him, I thought I was really not going to sit about waiting for him to choose to come back to me, so I left him. I didn’t want to hear him defend himself, or tell me any more lies . . .’
‘How did you know it was true?’
‘His face,’ Sara said, simply. ‘I just knew. He didn’t deny it. He looked absolutely stunned, then livid at being found out, so publicly. Matt was – is – a very proud man, and I think he just couldn’t bear the humiliation. That’s why he left, that night. And then I found a text message from her which seemed to confirm it. Leaving us like that was unforgivable,’ she added. ‘He left the three of us alone, to cope. Without one word of denial, or contrition
, or apology – he just ran away. It was the action of a coward. That was really why I decided I had to put some space between us. And the longer we were apart, the harder it was to bridge the distance, until the gap became impassable.’
‘Do you know her?’
‘She’s one of his account managers,’ Sara said. ‘Twenty-five, stunningly beautiful, clever. Bit screwed up though, I think – her father, who’s Russian, is phenomenally wealthy and from the few times I met her I got the impression she’d been given an awful lot of material possessions but not a lot of love. She struck me – hmm, yes she did – as being a rather needy, insecure person. They travelled together a lot, on business. I suspect she targeted him – she made it quite obvious she found him attractive, well, there he was, her boss, very good-looking and well preserved for his age, charming, witty, powerful. I guess she just set him within her sights and he could not resist. The silly thing,’ she added, ‘is that I knew other women on his staff found him attractive but I thought he wasn’t the type. That what we had was much too deep and the unspoken trust between us meant he would never be vulnerable. I was a fool,’ she shrugged. ‘You do live and learn, don’t you? And how can I compete with someone like her? I’m fifty. I look OK, but I’m no Joan Collins, I’ve never been a glamourpuss. I’m a homely, mumsy woman who looks OK in a good light but standing next to Karina I’d look like her mother. Would you like a coffee? Sorry, I am going on. I didn’t mean to tell anyone, to be honest, but it seems silly to be so mysterious and besides . . .’
‘We’re going to be friends.’
Sara smiled at her, gratefully. ‘I hope so.’
‘I hope so too. I have got to know people round here, but there’s no one I’ve found who could be described as a soul-mate. There’s so much I love to do, you know, going to the theatre, and cinema, art galleries, concerts . . . I’m a bit of a culture vulture, really.’
‘Me too.’
‘I knew that. Isn’t it funny? I knew that immediately. I’d love a coffee, by the way. You know,’ she looked at Sara thoughtfully. ‘Divorce might be the best thing. Get it all settled and over with, then you really can begin your new life.’
‘I don’t know. You’re probably right, but I hate thinking about it. Oh – hello, darling. Did you sleep well?’
Lottie wandered into the kitchen, wearing a vest top and a baggy pair of men’s pyjama bottoms. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She looked extraordinarily beautiful. She raised a sleepy hand to Helen in greeting. ‘Like a log,’ she yawned. ‘What’s all this?’ She gestured at the plans laid out on the table. ‘Oh, cool, is this for the house?’
‘Yes,’ Helen said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I need tea before my brain will work,’ Lottie said, plonking herself down on one of the uneven kitchen chairs, looking pleadingly at her mother.
‘All right,’ Sara said. ‘I’ve put the kettle on anyway.’ Helen looked at her watch. ‘Actually, I’m going to have to skip the coffee, I had no idea that was the time. I wonder where those dratted dogs have got to?’
‘They’re digging holes in the garden,’ Lottie said. ‘I saw them from my bedroom window. Great teamwork.’
Helen groaned. ‘I am sorry. I’ll help you fill them in.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Sara said. ‘It’s not as if there are many plants to dig up.’
At that moment Hector trotted into the kitchen, his eyes full of guilt. Lottie burst out laughing. ‘If you could hold up a sign it would say, ‘It wasn’t me, it was him.’ Hector flopped down at her feet, and she stroked his head. Next there was a loud bang as the kitchen door hit the wall and Nigel crashed into the room, his face split into a great gummy grin.
‘You are a delinquent, aren’t you?’ Lottie said, lifting up her feet as Nigel dived under the table, and then swiftly reversed.
‘I’ll take him home,’ Helen said apologetically as he blundered past her, catching him expertly under the collar. ‘Ring me later – I’ll give you the name of my lovesick builder.’
‘Is everyone around here completely insane?’ Lottie asked, once Helen had closed the front door. ‘Who is the lovesick builder?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Sara said, gathering up the plans and folding them neatly, before putting them away safely in a drawer. ‘You know, I think I am going to have to get a job.’
‘Bravo. What brought on that brainwave?’
‘There’s no way I can fund all this without using Dad’s money.’
‘Dad texted me last night.’
‘Did he?’
‘He wanted me to ring him. So I did.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘The usual, how was I, that kind of stuff. He’s going to France next week, and he wants to see me before he goes. We just had a bit of a chat.’
‘Oh,’ Sara said guardedly, putting toast under the grill and rooting about in the cupboard above the sink for Marmite. ‘And?’
‘He said we needed to talk about next year. He’s going to sort something out so that I don’t have to worry about money,’ she added hesitantly. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Is he really? That’s generous.’
‘He would have paid for uni, anyway, wouldn’t he, Mum? He said he’ll try and work out a way of making it more tax effective. You know Dad. He’s always trying to save as much money from the taxman as he can.’ She bit into the toast Sara had put down in front of her. ‘What were you saying to Helen about a divorce?’
Sara grimaced. How much had she heard? ‘I have to go to London too remember, to see his solicitor.’
‘We could go together.’
‘I’m not seeing Dad,’ Sara said quickly.
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Lottie said, putting down her toast crossly. ‘You’re like a pair of kids. Dad waited at least ten minutes before he asked about you, really casually, and then he tried to pump me for information.’
‘Such as?’
‘Like what the cottage was like, what you were doing all day, if anyone had been to see you . . .’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I said it was very dull,’ she said.
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘I don’t mean that. I just mean there’s no big drama. That you were getting the house together, and talking about getting a job.’
‘And what did he say about that? I bet he thought that was hilarious.’
‘He did laugh,’ Lottie admitted.
Sara felt irritation rising in her throat. ‘Why did he think it was so funny?’
‘He said the world had moved on a long way since you’d last worked, and that he doubted if you could stick it, nine to five.’
‘How rude,’ Sara said furiously.
‘But it’s kind of true, isn’t it? How long has it been since you had a proper job? I don’t just mean working for Dad, doing bits and pieces at his office?’
‘I did rather more than bits and pieces,’ she said crossly. ‘I wrote most of the sales pitches for quite a few of his early clients, and I supervised launches. The only thing that stopped me getting more involved was because I wanted to be at home when you were both little, I didn’t want you brought up by nannies, and nor did Dad. So it wasn’t as if I was trying to skive off work – and it was a joint decision.’
‘I know, I know, keep your hair on. I’m not criticizing, Mum. I’m just saying that it has been a long time since you had a real job.’
‘I know.’ The thought had been worrying her. ‘I do want to do something I’m really interested in. I would hate to work nine to five in an office, Dad’s right. Besides, who would look after Hector?’
‘Your life is beginning to revolve around that dog,’ Lottie said. ‘Why don’t you start your own company?’
‘What?’
‘You know,’ Lottie said, flicking through yesterday’s newspaper lying on the table. ‘A little business. From home. Then you wouldn’t have to go anywhere, would you?’
‘Doing what?’
For some reason Sara could not fathom, the name of the wildlife trust flicked through her mind. ‘I found this dead dolphin on the beach . . .’ she said.
‘No!’ Lottie said, looking up, horrified. ‘You didn’t tell me. When?’
‘A few days after I moved in. It was tagged, and the name of a wildlife trust was on the tag. They’re based in Fowey, I’ve seen the offices. I wonder if they would like any help fund-raising? I’m quite good at that.’
‘Sounds a good idea to me,’ Lottie said.
‘I used to work for a charity after university, before I started working for Dad, and that’s what I specialized in, raising corporate sponsorship.’
‘I can’t imagine you doing a proper job,’ Lottie said, her head on one side.
Sara laughed. ‘Thanks. I haven’t always just been your mother. It would be nice to do something that’s actually useful. Maybe because we’re living so far out in the country, I’d like to get involved with something which benefits the environment.’
‘Since when have you been green? I used to nag you and Dad all the time about recycling and buying organic food.’
‘I know. It just seemed like too much of an effort. But here, I don’t know. It seems to make more sense.’
‘You could do a lot of it from home. We can get broadband, dead easy. I need it too, anyway. I cannot sit in front of that laptop and listen to it making little grunting noises while nothing happens on-screen, for one moment longer. I nearly killed my laptop last night with my bare hands.’
‘That’s a good idea. I would need broadband.’
‘You could . . .’ Lottie stared into space, thinking hard. ‘You could set up a kind of consultancy which advises people how to get, like, sponsorship and raise money for green projects. I could help you. I can make calls, stuff like that.’
‘It’s not a bad idea,’ Sara said slowly. ‘I must get started. I must stop putting things off.’
‘Exactly. And you should come with me, to London, next week. You need to see Dad. You can’t hide from him for ever.’
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