by Lisa Hill
‘If you mean more like my old self, then yes, you’re right. I went around to the Old Rectory and got some of my clothes out of the wardrobe.’
‘Some more of your clothes. We can barely move in our cottage for outfits encased in suit covers.’
‘I’ve realised that since I’ve been with Jack, I’ve let my standards slip. Too many pairs of jeans with blouses and flowing cardigans, and not enough fitted outfits.’
‘To lure Jack back,’ Audrey said, with her tongue in her cheek.
‘Oooh!’ Pamela gathered up her flyers.
Louise allowed her mind to wander for a moment. She was relieved to find she hadn’t been making a special effort with her appearance since she’d identified her feelings for Duncan. She wasn’t purposely going out of her way to lure him in. That was a relief. Could she ever be like Pamela though, and do what was right for her, without putting her feelings for the girls and Johnnie first?
‘It suits you,’ Louise said, picking up her indent tool again.
‘And it suits you, doing what you want to, too, Louise.’
Louise looked up, puzzled. ‘Pardon?’
‘Word gets around this village in no time, you should know that.’
‘Pammie.’ Audrey dug her fingers in Pamela’s ribs.
Louise flushed. Had someone seen her embrace with Duncan the other week, after all?
‘Your argument in the garden with Johnnie.’ Pamela gave Louise a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m glad to see you are doing what you want to do and not stuck behind that till or clearing up plates in the tearooms.’
‘Some of us like clearing up plates in the tearooms,’ Audrey muttered.
‘Yes, and some of us would do well to remember they were committed to a retirement home only last year.’
They all burst out laughing. ‘Honestly,’ Louise said, feeling cheered by Pamela and Audrey’s bickering, ‘you wouldn’t know you two had spent so much of your lives apart.’
‘We’ve got a lot of ground still to cover,’ said Audrey, looking knowingly at Pamela. ‘We’re still on the moody teenage years, which is why she’s so truculent towards me.’
‘And why she’s so remonstrative of me.’
‘See?’ Audrey said to Louise.
‘I see,’ Louise said smiling, feeling like it was the opposite way around with her girls; her behaving like the sullen teen and them behaving like the parent.
Pamela tapped her finger on the metal, kitchen surface. ‘You just keep this up, Louise; focus on yourself.’
‘Yes; and try not to get entangled with one man while you’re still married to another.’
‘Oooh!’ Pamela said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘Edward left me!’
‘Not before you’d struck up your friendship with Jack and…’
Louise let them carry on bickering while her gaze dropped to her handmade sugar flowers. It was funny how things happened, sometimes. Tucked away in this kitchen, minding her own business, somehow Pamela had sought her out and proffered the same advice she just couldn’t seem to take from Rebecca. She needed to do this on her own. If she left Johnnie, it needed to be for her.
Not for the girls.
Not for Duncan.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
‘Okay,’ said Tom, fluffing a cushion back up in Pamela’s ostentatiously decorated living room, ‘you are going to have to at least give me some clue of what we’re looking for.’
‘I don’t know!’ Lottie said, shoving a pile of Sunday supplements back in the magazine file. ‘Evidence!’ She shrugged. ‘Letters, I guess, some sort of correspondence that confirms he has actually got cancer and preferably how long he’s got to live.’
‘Don’t say that quite so gleefully.’ Tom winked at Lottie.
She threw a cushion at him. ‘Haha.’ She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. She’d already tried Edward’s study at the front of the house but hadn’t found anything. ‘It’s strange,’ she said, narrowing her eyes to focus her mind’s eye, ‘it’s like he doesn’t live here. There’s very little evidence of him about the place.’
‘Lottie, has it ever occurred to you,’ Tom said, straightening a pile of magazines, ‘that he is actually telling the truth? It would explain a lack of possessions.’
Lottie shook her head. ‘When has anything that has come out of Edward’s mouth been the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?’
Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘I suppose you have a point. Such a serious matter to lie about though; would even Edward stoop that low?’
‘I told you,’ Lottie said, ‘I’m not saying he’s lying about having cancer, just about how long he’s got left to live.’ She started pacing the thick pile, cream carpet. ‘You’re a man, where would you hide important correspondence?’
Tom winced. ‘Please don’t compare me to Edward.’
‘Okay, where would you leave something you wanted to hide from Jude?’
Tom mocked incredulity. ‘I don’t have any secrets from Jude.’ He grinned, and those perfect, white, straight teeth shone at her.
‘Grr!’ Lottie raked her fingers through her hair. ‘Okay, a present you were going to give to her, and you wanted to keep it secret until it was time to give it to her.’
Tom clicked his fingers. ‘My car.’
‘Oh!’ Lottie flung herself at the nearest sofa. ‘I give up! I didn’t even think about his car.’
Tom slumped down on the opposite cream sofa. ‘Why’s it so important to find out anyway? I thought you’d given up interfering after last year.’
‘Because Dad is miserable, Pamela is miserable, Drew and I, the children, and Audrey, are all miserable from living with those two sullen faces, refusing to speak to each other, and I’m pretty sure Edward is miserable too.’
‘Christ, it sounds like an Italian opera.’
Lottie wrinkled her nose. ‘Perhaps a tad more dramatic. If I found out what Edward’s really up to, I’d be able to fix it, I think.’
Tom burst out laughing. ‘You wouldn’t; you’re just being nosey, as usual!’
Lottie folded her arms and pouted. ‘Naturally curious, thank you.’
‘You missed your calling in life; you should have been a therapist.’
‘I am; I give property therapy to those who know they want to move home but don’t really know where or what they want to move to.’
Tom cocked his head to one side. ‘Aye, I suppose you’re right. I wish I did something like that.’
Lottie leant her head back into the sofa and appraised Tom. She had so been focused on her anxieties about getting into the Old Rectory and finding some sort of evidence of what Edward was up to, that she hadn’t really taken in Tom’s slightly out-of-character behaviour. What he’d said earlier about being like old times had struck her as an odd thing to say.
‘And what about you; everything okay?’ She raised her eyebrow in a don’t-fob-me-off kind of manner.
He blew his blonde hair away from his face as he sighed.
Lottie shot forward. ‘Oh God, please don’t tell me you and Jude are unhappy.’ Crikey, she had enough problems on her plate without worrying about Jude and Tom too.
Tom sprang into an upright position. ‘No! How could you even think that? She’s the love of my life and Christ, I’ve had enough wives; I should know by now.’ He smiled, and Lottie found relief washing over her.
‘Well, that is a relief, but I’ve known you long enough, Thomas Thorpe—’ she narrowed her eyes ‘—to know when something’s up.’
He was about to speak when he stopped and rubbed his forehead instead. ‘It’s complicated,’ he eventually said.
‘Ex-wife complicated?’ His last wife, Victoria, Rory’s mum, had a habit of poking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
‘No, nothing like that,’ Tom shook his head.
‘It’s not your health is it?’ Tom had only given up smoking last year in order to impress Jude. He was hurtling towards fifty, he’d probably been a smoker for m
ore than thirty years.
‘No, that’s fine.’ He tutted. ‘Flipping heck, you’re persistent.’
She grinned. ‘You were the one telling me at the top of the driveway that this would be like old times. You’re not looking for a house this time, or help with where to get Rory into school, so you must want my help with something else?’
‘May I remind you we’ve currently committed breaking and entering into your father-in-law’s house, who could come home at any moment and cause merry hell.’
‘Hmmm, deflection, interesting. Plus, it isn’t breaking in, if you have a key.’
‘Tsk, women!’
‘Oh, don’t play that card,’ Lottie said, beginning to lose her patience as her mind wandered over where to look next for some evidence on Edward’s current state of health. ‘Is it the development? Do you feel you need to move now it’s going ahead?’
Tom folded his arm and looked up at the cornicing. ‘I’d be lying if I said that isn’t bothering me. The Hardwickes have to give me some buffer land as part of the deal but there’s still going to be a pretty decent housing estate visible through the trees.’
Lottie looked up at Pamela’s ostentatious chandelier and said nothing. It sounded like a bit of a first world problem to her. The grounds of the estate were so vast, even the village looked pretty distant from the upstairs view at Clunderton Hall. ‘So, what’s the real problem?’ she finally asked.
Tom stared up at the intricate architrave but said nothing.
‘Ugh,’ Lottie said, getting up from the sofa, ‘I haven’t got time for this, as you say Edward might be home any minute.’ Tom had beaten her. There weren’t many people who eventually wore out her abundance of curiosity.
‘I’m bored, okay?’ he said, standing up and following her.
Her hair swung angrily around her shoulders as she turned to face him. ‘Not with Jude, I hope?’
‘No, will you stop suggesting that?’ He looked uncomfortable and Lottie knew he was telling the truth.
‘What then?’ she tried to refrain from shouting and failed.
He shrugged. ‘Acting.’
That stopped her in her tracks. ‘Pardon?’ She had idolised this man for half her life for his acting abilities, he was so talented; how on earth could he be bored of it?
‘Not the acting itself but it keeps me away from home too much. Jude’s very understanding, but I miss her and the kids. And what if we want to start a family of our own? I won’t want to leave her then.’
‘Aren’t you nearer the age where you can be expecting grandchildren?’ Lottie sniggered, thinking about Tom’s older children who were in their twenties.
‘I’m forty-eight! I’m not past it yet!’
‘What about financially?’ Lottie could have bit her tongue for being so frank, but Jude had gone through so much with Phil being a total arse by having the house repossessed and making her homeless. The last thing she needed was to find herself in a similar situation.
‘Re-runs of Faulkes are beamed around the world on hundreds of television stations, in multiple languages. We could live off the royalties of that for the rest of our lives and I’d never have to act again.’
She shrugged. ‘Why don’t you just do that, then?’
‘Because I’ll be beyond bored then.’
The words just like old times were still playing over in her mind. She looked at him, studied his face, considered whether she should tell him to pull himself together, after all, there were worse problems to have, but something stopped her. He was telling her for a reason, like he expected her to have a solution and for once, she thought she did, without the need for interfering.
She cocked her head to one side. ‘You haven’t forgotten you’re a silent partner in HG1?’
He frowned. ‘No. What makes you say that?’
‘Because you’re looking for something to keep you occupied and we’re gliding along like swans with our little legs frantically paddling under the water.’
‘Hectic?’
‘More than that. I’m just not focusing enough on the relo work as I keep getting pulled off to assist with sales or managing lettings.’
Tom rubbed his hand over his stubble. ‘What do you think Drew would make of it, if I got more involved?’
‘I imagine he’d be delighted.’
‘Yes, especially when his staff go AWOL on missions to uncover whether his father is actually dying.’
‘Oooh,’ Lottie said, playfully bashing Tom on the arm. ‘You don’t change!’
‘And neither do you,’ he grinned. ‘Thanks, Lottie, I think you might have come up with something there.’
‘Well, I wish you’d come up with this correspondence for me. Come on, we’ve spent too long here, we’d better get going.’
‘Sorry, Lottie. I haven’t been much help.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lottie said, walking down the corridor to the kitchen, in search of Sky. ‘It was always going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack.’
‘Actually, I was a bit dismissive earlier. When I’ve hid flowers for Jude before, I’ve always hid them in the garages, she never ventures out there.’
Lottie stopped in the kitchen. The immaculate kitchen. She ran a finger along the surface of the island. Dusty. No-one had prepared any food in here for weeks, it was lying lonely and discarded in Pamela’s absence, but then again, the most Pamela ever did was heat up Marks and Spencer microwave meals. As Jack had pointed out, she had many talents, but culinary flair wasn’t one of them.
‘Is there somewhere around here Pamela’s unlikely to venture?’ Tom asked, arriving in the kitchen behind Lottie.
Lottie’s head turned to the end of the run of cupboards, an open one with rows of pristine recipe books on show, never been touched. Two books in, on the middle shelf, a corner of white paper was poking out. She walked over and reached for the book. Pulling the paper out, she realised it was several sheets stapled together.
‘Bingo,’ she said, unfolding it.
‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense,’ Tom asked. ‘What does it say?’
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Jack was sitting on the bench by Mary’s headstone, looking down at the church. The hot summer sun had baked the grass verges to a crisp and all the flowers, in their holders at the feet of the graves were looking dehydrated. The gardener in him was longing for rain.
Jack looked down at the leaflet in his hand, again. ‘I just don’t know what to make of it all. She’d shown no interest in VOCAB and all of a sudden she’s gone and organised a protest!’ The kissing gate to the Old Rectory garden creaked, jolting Jack from taking in every detail of the flyer, emblazoned with Save our countryside! Sky came bolting through the hedges, unleashed, and jumped onto the bench next to Jack.
‘Hello there, old buddy, I wondered where you were.’ He stroked his most loyal companion as she snuggled her way under his arm, sniffing at the brown Kraft paper the information was printed on. Pamela had even gone to the effort of ensuring the paper she’d used was environmentally friendly.
‘Talking to yourself again?’ Lottie asked, tottering on her wedge sandals, taking the small amount of room left on the bench with Sky now sprawled out over it. ‘I thought you’d gone to Scarborough for the day?’
Jack looked at his daughter through narrowed eyes. ‘It was a waste of time. Aren’t you supposed to be working?’ He eyed her sceptically. She was wearing her work clothes.
‘Yes,’ Lottie said breathlessly, smoothing down the creases in her shift dress. ‘Why?’
‘Well, you can’t be very busy if you’ve got time to take Sky out for a lunch time walk. Not to mention it’s too hot for her to be out in the middle of the day.’
Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘I had a viewing in Clunderton, Pamela had asked me to water her plants—’
‘I could have done that for her!’
‘What?’ Lottie scowled. ‘And risked seeing Edward?’
Jack grimaced and turned away to look at
Mary’s headstone. He hated it when Lottie was right.
‘You can’t go watering plants in the middle of the day when it’s this hot either, it’s pointless.’
‘Thank you, Alan Titchmarsh, but some of us have got children to ferry to swimming lessons tonight and a dinner to put on the table.’
‘Well, I can help with taking the kids to swimming or cook supper.’
‘Thank you,’ Lottie reached out and squeezed his forearm, ‘but I don’t expect you to.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Well, I’ve got precious little else to do.’
‘You sound bored, Dad.’
Jack folded his arms. ‘Fed up, more like.’
Lottie sighed. ‘Well, you could always try talking to her. For goodness sakes, she’s only next door! There’s eight of us squeezed under the cottage and annexe while Edward’s rattling about in that six-bedroom house all on his own!’
‘I can’t.’
‘Won’t, more like.’
‘I think I’ve burnt my bridges this time.’
‘What’s that in your hand?’
Jack looked down at the flyer again. ‘It’s advertising a protest. Pamela’s organised it.’
‘Can’t you see?’ Lottie sounded frustrated. ‘She’s trying to prove to you how important you are to her!’
‘She’s organising it for after Rebecca and James’ wedding,’ Jack said, sullenly. ‘Construction might have started before then.’
‘Ohhh gawd,’ Lottie groaned, placing her head in her hands. ‘So, it’s not good enough she’s organised a protest, now we’re nit-picking over when it is.’
‘Well, it doesn’t make sense, does it? And she’s not organised it with VOCAB either.’
‘Dad, why are you being so obstructive?’
‘I’m not, I’m just pointing out facts.’
‘Do you remember last year, when those photos appeared in the press of me and Tom having lunch together?’
‘I could hardly forget, the gossip that caused around the village.’
‘There was nothing in it though!’ Lottie barked.
‘I know,’ Jack said, flummoxed at what Lottie was getting at.