Contemplating the prospect of dinner with Max and the thought of an evening ‘babysitting’ Evangeline, Alison knew which of the two she’d prefer.
‘Oh, well, if it means we can help keep Evangeline on the straight and narrow, it is worth it, I suppose. She’s been so much better of late too.’
‘I wish there were a few more charitable folk like you in this world, Alison. If there were, it would be a much better place, my dear.’
Alison shrugged her shoulders. ‘Perhaps I feel more disposed to her these days because I’ve got a few secrets of my own hidden away...’
‘Not more photos of Virginia and that man?’ Bunty asked in alarm.
‘No,’ Alison said, walking to the foot of the stairs.
Refusing to be drawn any further, it was only later, in the safety and comfort of her bed, Alison allowed her thoughts to turn to the same conversation. Hearing Bunty switch off her own bedroom light, she whispered to the shadowy corners of her room. ‘No, Bunty, not photographs hidden away but pictures locked in my mind.’
*
The next morning, when Max called to collect his car, Bunty greeted him with a warm and welcoming smile. ‘Gracious! You must have had a good night’s sleep. You must tell me what you’ve been using.’
Raising a bemused eyebrow in her direction, Max waited for Bunty to enlighten him.
‘Because, whatever it is you’re using,’ she joked, ‘it’s obviously very good for getting rid of dark circles under the eyes!’
Max grinned and watched Bunty peer into the hall mirror at the large circles beneath her own eyes.
‘Church Haywood air with liposomes no doubt - isn’t that what they put in face cream these days? Plus one of my sister’s hearty breakfasts. Although,’ Max said, ‘I certainly don’t intend to make a habit of it.’
‘You don’t intend to come back to Church Haywood?’ Bunty asked warily.
‘No,’ Max teased, when he saw her crestfallen face. ‘Actually, I was referring to the breakfasts!’
‘That’s a relief… to all of us, isn’t it, Alison?’
Coming down the stairs, newly showered and with her hair still damp, Alison was surprised to see Max so early. Blushing, she pulled at her mid-thigh length cotton kimono, aware of his gaze in her direction.
‘Ah, Alison. Good morning. You’re just the person I need. I want you to tell me...’
Alison stared at him in alarm. He wasn’t going to ask her, here and now in front of Bunty, exactly what it was that had upset her all those years ago. He wasn’t that insensitive, was he?’
Recognising the panic in her eyes, Max reassured her with a comforting smile. ‘I need to pick your brains. I want to buy something for Rosie. I’m going to the hospital this afternoon and you’re probably the best person to advise me.’
Instant relief surged through Alison as she blurted out. ‘But she said she didn’t want a present. She only wanted to see you.’
‘Did she indeed,’ Max replied, feeling a lump rise in his throat. ‘That makes me think she deserves a present even more. What do you think, Bunty?’
‘I’d feel inclined to agree,’ Bunty said, pouring three cups of tea. ‘Though quite what you get her is anybody’s guess. She’s not really interested in toys, is she? And as for clothes... as long as Rosie has her jeans, wellington boots and serape, she seems perfectly content.’
‘Speaking of clothes, I’d better go and put some on,’ Alison murmured, still conscious of the fact she wasn’t dressed.’
Bunty sighed, watching her leave the kitchen ‘She’s another one who seems perfectly content to be in jeans and wellington boots. Fancy hiding a lovely trim figure like that in denim and bulky sweatshirts.’
‘I don’t know,’ Max reflected thoughtfully, ‘she doesn’t wear jeans all the time. She wore a black dress to George and Constance’s dinner party if I recall; a blue chambray skirt to the summer fete and last night she was wearing...’ Max became aware of Bunty’s questioning smile.
‘Yes,’ she grinned. ‘She was wearing what?’
‘A red, white and blue patterned, wraparound skirt.’
‘How very observant of you, Max,’ Bunty teased.
‘Yes,’ he replied, refusing to rise to the bait, ‘and with luck I’ll be able to persuade her to cast her jeans aside this evening - in favour of something more feminine - when I take her out to dinner.’
‘I’m afraid you won’t!’
‘You don’t think she’ll come out to dinner with me unless she wears her jeans?’
Bunty collected the cups and saucers and took them to the kitchen sink. ‘No,’ she began, squeezing a clear green jet of liquid into the washing up bowl. ‘Much as I’m sure Alison would prefer to be spending the evening with you, she’s already promised to spend it with Evangeline.’
‘Evangeline Carstairs! Surely not! Why, I would have thought after what happened at the harvest supper, Evangeline is the last person Alison would want to spend the evening with!’
Swishing her hand in the soapy bubbles, Bunty explained warily. ‘There have been quite a few changes in Church Haywood since you were last here, Max. Quite possibly the most important one concerns our attitude towards Evangeline.’
Bunty watched Max rake his fingers through his thick dark hair as the once familiar ‘Craven Glare’ put in an appearance. ‘Oh, I see! So she’s simply been forgiven for behaving so bloody outrageously and upsetting everyone’s lives!’
Max rose abruptly from his chair and strode to the window, where he studied a solitary blackbird pecking at the remaining rose hips on Bunty’s rose arbour. ‘So everything’s sweetness and light and a bed of roses as far as Evangeline is concerned. Is that it?’
‘No, Max, it isn’t.’ Bunty said, wiping soapsuds from her hands. ‘After you left, Tom took Evangeline to London to Alcoholics Anonymous. Not every one’s supposed to know of course, but in a village like this it isn’t that easy to keep secrets.’
‘I don’t know about that!’ Max snapped. ‘It would appear everyone here knew about my wife and her lover. They certainly managed to keep that a secret!’
‘Max! Please! That’s not true. Connie and George, even me come to that, would have said something to you if we’d known. Admittedly there was always talk about Evangeline’s tennis parties, but I was never invited. Look at me, Max, can you just see me in a tennis skirt?’
Max shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Bunty. I have no right to stand here in your kitchen and insult you like…’
‘Be quiet, Max Craven and just take this tea towel! And, if you’ll dry these dishes – once they’ve been rinsed – I’ll finish explaining why Alison can’t...’
‘Why I can’t what?’ Alison enquired dubiously, coming back into the kitchen. What had Bunty and Max been saying about her?
‘Max was hoping to take you to dinner this evening and I was explaining that you’ve already said you’ll go and spend the evening with Evangeline.’
‘I see. Yes, that’s right.’
‘So… how about joining me tomorrow instead?’ Max asked, unlocking his car.
‘I’d love to,’ Alison replied, aware of Bunty’s Cheshire cat grin as she watched them drive away.
*
Walking through the department store hung with tinsel and garlands of every description, Alison was suddenly reminded of Christmas. As yet, with Bunty going to Australia for Christmas, there had been little talk of the festive season she’d be spending alone at Keeper’s Cottage. She shuddered at the thought.
‘You’re not cold, Alison?’ Max asked. ‘This place is almost as hot as the hospital. It always amazes me why these shops keep such high temperatures. Here we are, wearing thick winter clothes against the prevailing cold wind outside, and there they are,’ Max gestured to the rows of pink-faced shop assistants, ‘wearing little more than summer blouses.’
‘I hope they’re wearing more than that behind the counters!’ Alison added. ‘No, I’m not cold, just not relishing the thought of
Christmas, that’s all.’
‘Won’t you be spending it with Bunty?’
‘You obviously haven’t heard. Bunty’s going to Australia for a couple of months - to stay with her brother in Australia.’
‘Is she indeed? Then you must come and spend Christmas at Haywood Grange. I’ll have a word with Constance.’
Stepping on to the escalator Alison wondered if that meant Max was planning to stay for longer than a few days in Church Haywood.
In the busy toy department, with harassed shop assistants endeavouring to deal with equally harassed parents and their uncontrollable offspring, Alison’s eyes sought Max’s. Looking in her direction he shrugged his shoulders.
‘Any luck?’ he enquired. ‘I have to confess apart from a battered cowboy hat, I’ve found nothing remotely suitable for Rosie.’
‘Me neither. She’d hardly thank us for taking her one of these hideous dolls or those awful space monsters.’
Max looked across to the display and grimaced, just as he had all those months ago when he’d taken Constance to the wholesalers. ‘Is there nowhere else we could try?’
‘Not that I can think of. The old-fashioned family run toy shops are virtually a thing of the past.’
Descending the escalator, Alison’s gaze darted from department to department seeking inspiration. Looking towards the lighting display, she frowned thoughtfully. ‘I suppose if the worst came to the worst, we could always buy her a lampshade.’
‘A lampshade? That’s an unusual sort of present, isn’t it? I don’t wish to be rude, Alison, but I don’t quite see the connection.’
‘Rosie’s mother wants to redecorate Great-grannie’s bedroom as a welcome home treat and is threatening to give Rosie her crinoline lady lamp for her bedside table.’
‘Threatening? A crinoline lady doesn’t sound very threatening.’
‘I don’t see it as threatening, either. But it is if you look at it from Rosie’s point of view. She hates anything frilly and vaguely feminine! Can you see Rosie lying in bed with a crinoline lady lamp by her side?’
Max grinned, and helped her from the escalator. ‘No, I have to confess I can’t. So what exactly had you in mind.’
Alison gestured towards a range of lamps. ‘I was thinking perhaps of a compromise, the last thing I want to do is upset Michelle - Rosie’s mum. If we bought a plain shade, I could paint a western scene of her choice round the edge. It shouldn’t be too difficult if we take a book and ask Rosie to pick out a…’
‘Alison, you’re a genius!’ beamed Max, grabbing hold of her arm and leading her towards the main entrance.
‘Why? What have I said?’
Turning to face her, Max kissed her squarely on the forehead. ‘Because quite simply you’ve solved the problem.’
‘So you do think we should go and find a lampshade?’
‘Oh, no!’ Max replied, a huge grin radiating across his face. ‘Better than that! You are going to re-design and decorate Rosie’s bedroom in Wild West style.’
‘That’s impossible!’
‘Is it? How is it impossible? Don’t tell me you you’re incapable of doing it?’
‘W-e-l-l, no. But what about her parents? Won’t they mind?’
‘I very much doubt it... not if I commission you to do it for them.’
Later, when they stopped for a coffee, Alison studied the book they’d bought.
‘At least this will help me draw up some ideas. Just look at these wonderful old trains with cow-catchers and all those amazing cacti.’
‘You see, I knew you’d be able to do it. All we need to do now is go and have a chat with Rosie’s parents and then head to the hospital.’
Chapter 20
Standing in the front porch of The Firs, Alison took a last deep breath of crisp November air. Tom Carstairs opened the front door.
‘Alison, it’s jolly good of you to come at such short notice. I really do appreciate it. Evangeline’s in the drawing room, if you’d like to go through.’
Giving Tom her jacket, Alison hesitated with her hand on the door handle
‘She says she’s got some good DVDs for you and she’s... okay,’ Tom called softly.
To Tom Carstairs, describing Evangeline as ‘OK’, meant that she still wasn’t drinking.
Alison sighed with relief, nodded knowingly in Tom’s direction and opened the door.
‘Evangeline, what a wonderful fire. Just the thing for a cold night like tonight.’
‘Alison! How lovely to see you. Sit yourself down and pour yourself a drink.’
Seeing the fleeting look of alarm on Alison’s face, Evangeline gave her familiar throaty laugh. ‘By that I mean tonic water, orange juice or elderflower cordial. Although I think Tom put some tomato juice in the fridge.’
‘No, thanks, orange juice will be just fine.’
‘Can’t say I blame you,’ Evangeline whispered, casting a furtive glance at the door. ‘I think tomato juice tastes bloody awful! Unless of course you’ve got a dash of Worcestershire sauce and a slug of vodka with it for good measure. However, I mustn’t let Tom hear me say that. I don’t want to worry him unduly, do I?’
As if on cue, Tom opened the door. ‘Right, I’m off then,’ he said. ‘Got everything you need, darling?’
‘Of course,’ Evangeline replied, kissing him warmly. ‘You’ve made sure of that, Tom. DVDs, chocolates, cigarettes, drinks of the non-alcoholic kind and plenty of logs for the fire.’
The latter was Evangeline’s idea of a joke. The blazing log fire burning in the grate was none other than an imitation gas variety.
‘We’ll be fine, won’t we Alison? So off you go and enjoy yourself, Tom, or whatever else it is you do at parish council meetings.’
‘Hardly enjoy, Evangeline. But these PCM’s are necessary. We have to make sure Church Haywood remains unspoilt and a pleasant place to live in, just as it was when we first moved here.’
Listening to the sound of Tom’s car purring softly down the drive, Evangeline repeated Tom’s words in her head. Just as it was when we first moved here.
‘Mmm’, she sighed nostalgically, ‘I doubt it. Things change, you know.’
Sipping at her orange juice, Alison looked in Evangeline’s direction. Had she said something or was she just talking to herself?
‘Pardon?’
‘Oh, nothing Alison. I was just letting my thoughts drift back to when Tom and I first moved here. You were only a schoolgirl then. I remember you showing Tara how to play hop-scotch and swingball and I...’ Evangeline picked up the first of the two DVDs she’d earmarked for the evening and placed it in the machine.
Pressing the PLAY button she let her mind dwell on the word. Yes, life was full of play in the early days. To Virginia Craven’s delight, Alison had been an absolute gem looking after Tara, leaving her plenty of time to play tennis with Evangeline. Max (when he was home) played squash with Tom and even Bunty and Constance - and the older members of the community - had their bridge and whist.
Sadly, however their idyll hadn’t lasted. Evangeline and later Virginia had begun to play more dangerous games: games that had resulted in the most disastrous of consequences.
Evangeline shuddered and glanced briefly at Alison who was studying the opening credits of the film. She still had to admit she was a pretty girl, even though she appeared unduly serious for her age. Then life had never been easy for Alison Benedict, had it? The problems with her asthma in early childhood, Tara’s tragic accident, plus of course being uprooted to the States. All that, followed by the death of her mother and now…
Evangeline sat back and relaxed in her chair. Now, by all accounts, a certain Alison Benedict had been seen – if Church Haywood rumours were correct, and they usually were – with Max Craven!
Max… Evangeline gave a curious smile. To think she’d made a beeline for him when he’d returned in the summer. Made quite a fool of herself, in fact. Why, she’d even invited Max to the house and made a pass at him!
&nb
sp; Feeling a rare flush of embarrassment colour her throat and cheeks, Evangeline reached for her drink with a desperate longing for it to contain something stronger than tonic water.
Max… she thought again. He was certainly a good-looking fellow, polite and charming too. And unlike Tom and Evangeline, he hadn’t gone grey or put on weight in all the wrong places. In fact, apart from a few lines at the corners of those wonderful brooding eyes of his and the stray silver hair at his temples, he was...
Drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, Evangeline reached for her cigarettes. She must stop this! She must stop thinking about Max as anything other than a neighbour and most of all, she reflected, gazing at her empty glass, she must stop thinking about craving a proper drink.
‘Though God knows it’s not going to be easy,’ she whispered sadly.
For the second time that evening, Alison looked across with a puzzled frown on her delicate, earnest face.’
‘Just thinking about Christmas preparations,’ Evangeline lied.
‘Oh, Christmas,’ Alison repeated. ‘With Bunty away, I won’t be having those problems, Evangeline. It will only be me and Jasper at Keeper’s Cottage for Christmas.’
Evangeline pressed the PAUSE button on the DVD player. ‘Your stepbrother’s coming over for Christmas. But that’s wonderful! He’ll be just what we need. Tom and I are planning to hold a fancy dress party on New Year’s Eve. We were thinking of a Hollywood theme. You know, old movie stars and the like or characters from films...’
There was an embarrassed silence. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, Evangeline. By Jasper I meant the hairy four-legged variety – Bunty’s dog. Not, I’m afraid, my screen-idol stepbrother.’
Looking up, expecting to see Evangeline’s crestfallen face, Alison was surprised to see a broad grin breaking across the Pagan Glow lips.
‘Bunty’s dog!’ Evangeline chuckled. ‘Oh, I see. What a hoot! There was me thinking… but Evangeline couldn’t continue, she was laughing so much.
‘Never mind,’ she grinned, ‘We’ll just have to make do with this screen-idol instead.’
With the two women engrossed in the film, Evangeline soon forgot all about Max and the misunderstanding over Jasper. For Alison however, forgetting about her last encounter with Max and the prospect of Christmas was not quite so easy.
Secrets From The Past Page 21