‘Don’t you miss London?’ Emily asked curiously. ‘Home?’
At the word ‘home’, Lottie cast a surprised glance at her sister. ‘Cornwall is home now,’ she said.
A shadow passed over Emily’s face. ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s not my home.’
‘Not yet,’ Sara said quickly, as Emily chewed her lip, her eyes bright. ‘Come as soon as you can. You must be able to get time off work and Dad won’t mind.’
‘What’s Dad got to do with it?’
‘Nothing, I just thought that you might not . . . might not want to hurt his feelings.’
‘Don’t be bloody silly, Mum, why would he mind me?’
‘He wouldn’t, of course he wouldn’t. I’m just being silly.’
‘He doesn’t care anyway,’ Emily said suddenly. ‘All he cares about is her.’ She slammed her fork down. ‘No one thinks about me.’ She sobbed, pushing back her chair. ‘I’m going to the loo.’
Lottie sat back in her chair, watching her sister’s rapidly disappearing back. She waited until she was out of earshot before she spoke. ‘What on earth is the matter with her? She’s gone completely bonkers. She told me she never wanted to come to Cornwall,’ she said.
‘You shouldn’t tell me things you’ve been told in confidence, Lottie. Be a little more sensitive. This must be really hard for Emily, she feels we . . .’
‘Well, she’s making it sound as if we abandoned her! She chose to stay in London – I know she had to for work but she didn’t have to carry on living with Dad, not to mention letting him pay for everything. He’s bought her loads of new clothes. My theory,’ Lottie said, tapping the table with her finger, ‘is that Karina’s fed up with having her hanging around Dad’s new flat and is forcing her out. That’s why she’s being so nice to us.’
‘That’s really unfair, Lottie. I think she feels very alone.’
‘Hmm,’ Lottie said darkly. ‘You don’t know what she’s been saying about you . . .’
‘And nor do I want to. Be quiet, she’s coming back.’
‘Were you talking about me?’ Emily asked, staring between the two of them. She rubbed a hand over her forehead with trembling fingers. Her eyes were pink.
Lottie looked up, her face a picture of innocence. ‘The world does not revolve entirely around you, Emily.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘This is yum. Can we have some more?’ She looked pleadingly at Sara. ‘Please, Mummy.’
‘Sit down, darling. Everything is fine. We were talking about you, but I just said I was worried you seemed so thin. But it suits you,’ she added hastily. ‘I don’t want another whole bottle,’ she continued. ‘Lottie, darling, could you go to the bar and get us three more glasses of white wine? Tell the barman to put it on the bill.’
‘You want me out of the way, don’t you?’ Lottie said crossly. ‘What do you need to say that I can’t hear? It isn’t fair.’
‘Just go,’ Sara said. Lottie trailed away reluctantly, making a face at her mother over her shoulder.
‘So,’ Emily said trying to sound bright, once Lottie was out of earshot. ‘Tell me about the cottage. Have you brought any photos with you?’
‘No,’ Sara said. ‘I haven’t. Darling . . .’ She reached forward and put her hand over Emily’s, noticing that below the smooth varnished nails, her cuticles were bitten. ‘Please tell me. What is the matter? I know you inside out. Please, please do not think that I had any intention of leaving you behind in London. I wish, more than ever, that I had insisted you come with me but you had your new job … I wasn’t thinking clearly. I have been at fault, and I have not been a good mother over the past six months. I haven’t put you first, but oh, darling, don’t ever think that I haven’t thought about you every day. I would love you to come to Cornwall. It’s so quiet and beautiful – the house is a bit of a tip at the moment but it’s going to be wonderful and you’ll be able to really relax there. I want you to have your own bedroom, put your own things in it and you can come whenever you want, even if you just want a day out of London. It’s your home too, darling, as much as mine and Lottie’s.’
‘It isn’t really that, Mum. I know you love me, stupid.’
‘So what is it? Is it something to do with Dad?’
‘No.’ Emily dropped her head and Sara had to lean forwards to hear her. ‘Yes,’ she said, almost inaudibly. Sara gently put her hand under her daughter’s chin, tilting her head. She saw that she was crying.
‘Oh, my love. We’ve put so much pressure on you. What on earth is it?’ she asked. ‘Please, darling, tell me . . .’
‘It’s OK.’ Emily brushed away her tears. ‘Oh, it’s everything, really. Not being able to see you, you and Lots being so far away, having to cope with my new job and seeing Dad with that . . . that bitch. It’s horrible, Mum, it’s all wrong, as if life has gone completely insane. And there’s something else as well, something big . . . I shouldn’t tell you, though, I promised . . .’
‘Is it to do with Dad? Is he ill?’
Emily took a deep breath. ‘Look, Mum. I really don’t know if I should say this or not, it may even be none of my business, or yours, but . . .’
‘Here you go.’ Lottie cheerfully plonked the glasses of wine on to the table.
‘What?’ she asked, looking from her sister to her mother with bewilderment. ‘What’s up with you two? You look as if someone had just died. God, there was such a queue at the bar.’
‘Emily was just – do you mind saying whatever it is in front of Lottie?’
‘What on earth is going on?’
‘There’s no reason why Lottie shouldn’t hear this,’ Emily said quickly. ‘If I tell you, I may as well tell Lots.’ She looked up at the ceiling, screwing up her face as if trying to find the courage. ‘This is so hard. Dad . . . Dad has a . . . a problem.’
‘Well, we know that,’ Lottie said. ‘Her name is Karina.’
‘Don’t joke, Lots. It is so not funny. There’s no easy way to say this.’ She took a gulp of wine.
‘For God’s sake, Em, spit it out,’ Lottie said.
‘Dad’s taking drugs.’
‘WHAT!’ Sara’s hand jerked forward in a spasm, knocking her wine glass over. The contents spilled out over the table like a river, into Lottie’s lap, who jumped backwards squealing.
‘Ssh,’ Emily said furiously.
‘What kind of . . . drugs?’ Whatever Sara had been expecting, it was not this.
‘Coke, mostly. Karina’s an absolute cokehead, she takes it nearly every night. Most of her friends do too, and they’re the ones Dad’s been socializing with.’
For an instant, the idea seemed so ludicrous to Sara she thought she might laugh.
‘Dad? Taking cocaine? At his age?’
‘Lots of people do, Mum,’ Emily said. Sara remembered Catherine. They did, didn’t they?
‘But he’s always hated drugs. He said only losers took them . . .’ Sara shook her head, unbelievingly. ‘I’m sorry, but I find this so very hard to comprehend. How could he be so stupid?’
‘He’s been taking it for ages, you know. He told me one night, when he was quite drunk.’
‘Ages?’
‘Years.’
‘While we – while Dad and I were together?’
‘I think so, Mum. I’m sorry.’
Sara sat back in her chair. So many things began to make sense – the shaking, the nervous tic beneath his eye, the jittery behaviour, the irrational decisions he had made over the past two years, culminating in his affair with Karina. What could have sparked it off? The sale of the company, she suddenly thought. It could well date from around then. She had known he was very stressed because the pressure seemed endless, but she thought he had it under control through natural methods, by running, by the hours he spent in the gym. He had an addictive personality – all that manic energy was poured at the beginning of their marriage into keeping the business afloat, and then making it such a huge success. He was a man who never did anything by halves, and she c
ould see that if he tried something like cocaine, something which instantly took away the fears and worries flooding his hyperactive mind, making him feel super-confident and on top of the world, he would find it irresistibly attractive. And yet, she had thought she was the one who knew how to keep him calm and happy. By making his home and family as loving, safe and secure as possible, taking away as much pressure as she could from him. She had a sudden, crushing realization. Not all of this had been his fault. He was not acting rationally. Had he stopped loving her? How much of an influence had coke been on his affair with Karina?
‘He and Karina share the same dealer,’ Emily said, mirroring Sara’s thoughts. ‘I think it all started from that.’
Sara looked at her unbelievingly. The entire conversation felt totally surreal, everything she had regarded as their previous normal middle-class life was being blown to smithereens. Poor, poor Matt. What a tragedy, what an awful tragedy that he’d fallen into such a state, and she had been so unsuspecting. You’re right, she thought. I didn’t live in the real world. I lived in a little happy bubble while you were out there on the edge.
‘I’m really, really worried about him,’ Emily said, her voice cutting through Sara’s thoughts. ‘He’s started having panic attacks, he says he can’t breathe. I said he ought to see his doctor or even go into rehab. He passed out one night, it was awful. I was staying with him and I found him on the floor in the kitchen. But Karina’s like, he’ll be fine, just leave him. Thank God he came round, I was about to call an ambulance but he was frantic that I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Sara said.
‘I nearly did, several times, but he begged me not to – he made me promise,’ Emily grimaced at the memory. ‘He tried to reassure me, saying it wasn’t a big deal, he was just exhausted and he had it under control. And because he’s my dad and he’s always been the one in charge, I believed him. Now he’s so worried about the new people who own the company finding out – he’s got to stay in his job for another two years, hasn’t he, to get the full pay out? And Karina’s spending so much money – this holiday to Mauritius is costing a fortune, which is why he was so livid with me for pulling out. She insists on flying first class.’
‘But surely he’s far too intelligent to put himself in such a vulnerable position?’ Sara said, almost to herself.
‘He’s changed so much,’ Emily said. ‘He’s lost without you, Mum. I know he brought all this on himself, but he’s really paying now. I think he’s having a kind of breakdown. I guess it all started to fall apart the night Richard told us about Karina.’
‘But it seems as if all this – the drugs and Karina – had been going on a long time before that night,’ Sara said.
‘But Richard brought it all to a head, didn’t he? Maybe before Dad was only doing a bit here and there, because he was with you, but once you’d gone there was no one to stop him, was there? There was no one to put on the brakes.’
‘This can’t be my fault,’ Sara said.
‘I know, Mum,’ Emily said. ‘I didn’t mean that. I just mean that since you left he’s out of control, and Karina is the very worst person for him to be with. She’s never going to stop him taking it because she’s so hooked on the stuff herself.’
Lottie gave a sob, and Sara reached over to put her arms around her. ‘It’s horrible,’ she moaned into her mother’s shoulder. ‘Like a nightmare. What can we do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sara said slowly. ‘It’ll be very hard to interfere. Dad’s a grown-up, after all. It’s his life.’
‘It’s not interfering,’ Emily said. ‘Mum, face the facts. Dad could die. He could have a heart attack or something.’
Tears were running down Lottie’s face. Sara tightened her arms around her, rocking her gently. What could she do? What should she do? She took a deep breath. ‘I need to see him,’ she said decisively.
Chapter Twenty-two
There was a tiny break in the clouds, a small sliver of ocean blue amidst the pale grey masses billowing overhead. The grassy banks at the side of the lane were slick with water, rain dripping methodically off the ivy, brambles, wild geraniums and ferns. For so long it had been dry, the pastureland yellowing, arid and parched, but now the heavy thunderclouds hung low in the sky and the rain had come.
Perhaps it will clear up this afternoon, Sara thought, driving the Volvo slowly along the lane leading away from the cottage, peering up at the sky as her windscreen wipers beat a rhythmic crescent-shaped pattern through the raindrops. But even as she watched, the curtains of cloud drifted together, swallowing the sliver of blue sky, the tiny promise of sun.
It was odd, she thought, how much the weather affected one’s mood – as she had looked out of the bedroom window this morning, and watched the rain dripping off the tarpaulins the builders had left draped over the trestle table outside, soaking the pile of sand to the colour of dark red clay, she had felt her spirits fall, and she moved listlessly around the house, unable to tidy up, to focus on any one thing.
It was such a frustrating time of year, she thought – work was so slow, all the big corporations she was approaching for sponsorship didn’t want to make decisions now, with directors away on holiday and the skeleton staff unwilling to commit themselves. Nick was backpacking around New Zealand, so there was no one to report to anyway.
She had gone to the office yesterday, but felt as if it was quite pointless. She was planning a big campaign about the danger of discarded fishing lines for September, and she could make some calls about that, but, oh, not today. Not while the rain beat down and the worry about Matt hung so heavy on her shoulders. He was in Mauritius now, lying on a beach with Karina. Doing God knows what. What could she do? What could she do?
It was his life but what if, as Emily had speculated, something dreadful happened and he became seriously ill? How would she feel if she hadn’t intervened? Lottie had even said she didn’t want to go off to Europe with all this worry. But Sara pointed out that Dad was away himself, and there was nothing they could do until he came back. She had gone, but kept ringing up to see if there was any news.
How impossible it is, Sara thought, watching the windscreen wipers beat backwards and forwards, to have so little influence in his life. To be unable to intervene and say, ‘You must let me help you.’ Because, she thought, it is no longer my place. But she was still tied to him because of the girls, and those ties would be broken only by death. I must do something, she decided. I have to. I owe it to them. I cannot bear the thought of losing you to something so wasteful, so pointless. After all you have done with your life, Matt, all the success you have achieved, to allow yourself to become hooked on something so destructive. Even though you make me so angry, you have caused me so much hurt, at least I know you are alive somewhere in the world. She had thought it would be easier for her to bear the separation if Matt had died. Now, that thought was rendered ridiculous.
All these thoughts ran through her mind as she drove towards the ferry at Bodinnick in the rain. She wanted to look at some material for curtains for the new living room, in Fowey. She should have driven round the headland, really, because the two pounds ten pence for the ferry added up when you were making the journey all the time, but today she could not be bothered. The worry was making her feel ill, and she was desperate for distraction. Much of the frustration lay in the fact that there was nothing she could do until Matt came home. She could ring him in Mauritius, she supposed, but how could she have this conversation over the phone?
As she rounded the sharp bend just before the village she met a big estate car, being driven too fast. She stopped dead, and with squealing tyres, he braked too, bringing his car to a halt just inches from Sara’s bumper. Groaning, she twisted in her car seat to look behind her, beginning the tortuous process of reversing as she knew she was nearest to the next passing place. Reversing around a bend was awkward at the best of times, but with the rain falling so hard, she could barely see through the rear window
. She had become quite expert at this, however, and manoeuvred the long car into the wider space, pulling as close as she could into the grassy bank at the side. Opposite her, the red earth was lined with tyre tracks, and rivulets of water ran down either side of the lane.
She sighed. The garden needed the rain, but this would mean the front of the house, with the sand and the dusty remains from plastering the walls, would become even more of a boggy mess. John was being as tidy as he could, but inevitably there was stray dust, which blended into a nasty grey slush by the front door. This week Jim and his team had begun digging out the footings for the extension, the area marked out with wooden crosses, string tied between them. The new dimensions for the study, laundry and kitchen stood at forty-five by twenty feet, but it didn’t look very spacious, marked out on the ground. Jim said that was always the case, and that once the walls started going up she would get more of a real idea of the size.
Upstairs the extension would provide an extra bedroom and bathroom – they had given up on the idea of extending into the loft, so Lottie would not get her studio, but at least Emily and Lottie would have a bedroom each. Sara was very worried about how much the whole thing was going to cost, but it would be such bliss to have three bedrooms and two bathrooms.
She loved her work – at least, she would, once everything got going again after the summer – but even she had to admit it was paying hardly anything at all. Now that Matt had sold their flat, what he deemed ‘her share’ was sitting in a high interest account. She was so determined not to touch it, but she might have to – she could not bear the thought of being overdrawn. That money, she had formerly decided, would be for Emily and Lottie, but she did not want them to know it was theirs – they had to have some kind of work ethic. Lottie still hadn’t found a job, and was unlikely to now that she was off in Europe for nearly a month.
Neither of the new bedrooms would be very big – but there was nothing they could do about that. Emily, used to Matt’s spacious flat, would think it was tiny, when she came to stay.
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