It was at that point, when she was beginning to despair, that, idly scanning the advertisements in a newsagent’s window, she’d seen Beth’s plea for help. The idea of being with young people – especially a baby – had appealed at once, and it would at least be a stopgap while she continued to deliberate her future. But she and Beth had immediately taken to each other, and Liza had fallen completely for the sloe-eyed baby girl in her charge. As Beth’s broken arm mended, she kept finding excuses for Liza to stay on a little longer, and without any conscious decision, it had gradually become apparent that her position in the household was to be a permanent one. In those days, she was, she supposed, a cross between children’s nurse, cook and general help – not a million miles from the post she’d sworn not to take. The mitigating factor was the charm of the young couple and their baby, not to mention their beautiful home overlooking the lake, and Liza, for the first time in her life truly happy, felt that the gods had at last smiled on her.
The bus came to a halt and, jolted from her reminiscences, she realized they’d reached her stop, directly opposite the Willow Pattern. She waited for a gap in the traffic, then crossed the road and went through the curtained door into the buzzing, familiar interior. All the tables were occupied, and Alice and Shelley, the two waitresses, were moving quickly and efficiently between them, carrying plates of food, removing empty dishes, replenishing water jugs. The Willow Pattern had a reputation for good food which it guarded jealously, and was usually filled to capacity.
Cora, with supreme confidence in her staff, took her own lunch in her flat above the café, and it was there that Liza, climbing the stairs behind the door in the corner, found her, standing at the window and gazing over the lake. Hearing her friend’s footsteps, she turned with a smile.
‘Just enjoying my wonderful view,’ she remarked.
‘And why not? I was thinking on the bus how lucky we are to have it. I now can’t imagine living anywhere else.’
Cora’s brow creased, and she turned to pour them each their customary glass of sherry. She was a small, neat woman, with frizzy brown hair which she described as looking like a bad perm, though it was, in fact, completely natural. Liza, watching her, felt a faint unease. Knowing Cora so well, she could tell there was something on her mind.
As they sat down with their drinks, she asked lightly, ‘How’s Wayne? He was a bit unsettled last time you mentioned him.’
Cora gave a short laugh. ‘Finger on the pulse, as usual.’
Liza frowned. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that you’ve hit the nail on the head. Or am I mixing metaphors?’
‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’ Liza asked anxiously. Cora’s son was her pride and joy, and, having been brought up in the ambience of the café, had gone in for a career in catering.
‘He’s fine.’ Cora sipped her sherry. ‘I wasn’t going to bring this up till after lunch.’
Liza waited, a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Actually, he’s thinking of opening a small restaurant of his own.’
Liza felt a surge of relief. ‘Well, good for him! That’s wonderful news!’
‘In France,’ Cora said flatly.
After a pause, Liza said tentatively, ‘Wouldn’t that be like taking coals to Newcastle?’
‘It seems not. As you know, he’s spent his holidays there for the last couple of years. What you didn’t know – and I didn’t either – was that he was sounding out the ground, making enquiries, speaking to the locals. Now he reckons he’s found the ideal place in Normandy, and a property has just come on the market. It’ll be a major investment, of course.’
Cora glanced at Liza, then away. ‘He’ll need help raising the capital, so he – suggests I sell up here and go in with him.’
‘Sell the Willow Pattern?’ Liza repeated stupidly, the cold feeling spreading.
Cora nodded. ‘I’ve been here for twenty years, Liza. Perhaps it’s time for a change. I think I told you several people have approached me, asking if I was interested in selling.’
‘And you’ve always said you weren’t,’ Liza reminded her from a dry throat.
‘Nor was I, then.’
‘You’re seriously considering it?’
‘I’m considering it, yes, but I haven’t reached a decision. It’s a big step to take, particularly at my age, but if Wayne needs my help . . .’ Her voice tailed away.
‘I’d miss you,’ Liza said inadequately.
‘And I you. But it goes without saying you’d have an open invitation to come and stay, and we’d still have our holidays together. Anyway –’ she straightened – ‘that’s enough about me. Tell me your news. How’s the dreaded Mr S?’
With an effort, Liza closed her mind to Cora’s earth-shattering news and took a gulp of sherry. ‘He was away for most of the week, thank God. The difference was unbelievable; the children behaved like angels, and all was harmony. Then he arrived back last night, appropriately enough in the middle of the thunderstorm, and all hell broke loose again.’
‘In what way?’
‘Jilly giving cheek, Abby refusing her pudding, and His Lordship putting his oar in. No wonder poor Beth had a headache. She was pale as a ghost at dinner. I’d made one of his favourite cranberry cakes, hoping to soften him up, but I could have saved myself the trouble, for all the notice he took of it.’
‘That’s too bad.’ Cora glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better ring down for lunch. I told them one-fifteen, so it should be ready.’ She glanced at her friend and, although not a demonstrative woman, leaned forward suddenly and patted her hand.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It might never happen.’
Fourteen
‘I could have got round Mum about piercing my ears,’ Jilly said resentfully, ‘if old po-face hadn’t butted in.’
They were comparing grievances in Cal’s bedroom after school.
‘Blow your ears!’ retorted her brother. ‘You know the latest? He won’t let me ride down Lake Road – says it’s not safe with all the traffic. And as the garden’s too hilly, it means I can’t cycle at all. That bike was the last thing Dad gave me.’
‘Ignore him,’ Jilly advised. ‘He’ll be at work, so how will he know?’
‘He’d know at weekends,’ Cal said gloomily, ‘and that’s the best time.’
Jilly slammed down her hand in a burst of irritation. ‘Mum must have been out of her mind! Couldn’t she see he was marrying her for Dad’s money? He was their accountant, he knew exactly how much they had.’
‘He can be quite soppy, though, when he thinks they’re alone.’
‘Ugh!’ Jilly gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Imagine him slobbering all over you! But it’s just a screen, it has to be; people his age don’t fall in love.’
‘Remember all that about me being the man of the house when Dad died?’ Cal asked resentfully. ‘Didn’t last long, did it?’ He glanced at his sister. ‘If Mum knew how we felt, d’you think she’d divorce him?’
‘Not a chance. She knew right from the start, didn’t she, but it didn’t stop her marrying him.’
‘She can’t love him, can she? Not after Dad?’
‘Of course not. She just wanted someone to lean on.’
‘I wish there was some way we could get back at him.’
‘Yes; laxative in his tea, or something. He’s got Abby’s back up, too; he’s stopped her watching that TV programme – says it’s not suitable. She was in a right strop – she’s always watched it, and it’s on at five thirty, so it can’t be that bad.’
‘I saw a bit yesterday, when I went in for my CD. Something about a schoolgirl having a baby.’
Jilly gave a snort. ‘Does he think Abby will go off and have one?’
They both laughed, then stopped abruptly, turning simultaneously as a sound reached them from outside the door. Jilly slid off the bed and flung it open.
‘Who was it?’ Cal asked urgently.
‘No one there. But someone must have
been; that board always creaks when you tread on it.’
‘Were they just walking past, do you think, or standing listening? How much could they have heard?’
Jilly shook her head. ‘The only person who’d eavesdrop is Harold, and he’s not home yet. All the same, it’s a warning; if we’re going to do anything, we can’t discuss it in the house. The bottom of the garden would be safest, well out of earshot.’
‘Down by the swings, you mean?’
‘Yep. We could hold a daily conference after school, until we come up with something.’
‘Good idea!’ Cal looked more cheerful. ‘What about Abby? Is she included?’
‘I don’t see why not. She hates him as much as we do. She’d have to be sworn to secrecy, though.’ Jilly glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got some prep to do. See what you can come up with, and we’ll have our first meeting tomorrow, and exchange ideas.’
Cal watched her leave the room with a glow of pride. It wasn’t often his elder sister took him into her confidence – she was usually too busy being superior. He supposed it showed how desperate she was. He must come up with something really good, to prove his mettle.
Liza said, ‘Cora’s thinking of moving to France.’
Her sister-in-law gave her a quick glance. ‘That’s a blow. You’ll miss her, won’t you?’
‘Terribly.’ Liza bit her lip, looking down at her folded hands. This was the first time she’d mentioned Cora’s news, and she was hoping that discussing it with her family would make it somehow less momentous. Free every afternoon between two and four – earlier, if Beth was out to lunch – she’d caught the bus to Crosthwaite on impulse, and landed unannounced on Ted and Freda’s doorstep. Ted wasn’t home, of course, but it was Freda she’d wanted to see.
‘What brought that on, all of a sudden?’ Freda enquired, refilling Liza’s teacup. ‘Or has she been thinking of it for a while?’
‘No, her son has set his heart on opening a restaurant there. He’s short of funds, and wants her to sell up and go into partnership with him.’ She looked up, meeting her sister-in-law’s sympathetic gaze. ‘Cora’s been my lifeline, Freda, especially this last year. Things haven’t been easy at The Lodge – I’ve mentioned that before – and being able to talk it over with her has calmed me down, helped me to keep my perspective.’
‘It’s no better, then?’
Liza shook her head. ‘That bloody man – he’s poisoning the whole atmosphere.’
Freda gave a protesting laugh. ‘That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s the truth. It was sheer bliss when he was away last week – just like old times. What worries me most is the effect he’s having on the children. They’ve become sulky and disobedient, always whispering among themselves and stopping if anyone goes near.’
‘Sounds familiar! It’s their age, Liza, that’s all.’
‘No, it’s hard to put into words, but this is something different.’
‘Well, if you’re no longer happy there, you don’t have to stay, do you?’
Liza stared at her. ‘You mean I should leave?’
‘It’s not unheard of, you know! I seem to remember you originally went as a temporary home help. Well, the children aren’t babies any more; they don’t need you to look after them, and if Beth still wants a housekeeper, she could always find another.’
‘But – where would I go?’
‘Heavens, woman, the world’s your oyster! You’ve got a nice little nest egg, haven’t you, from the sale of the house all those years ago? It’ll have been piling up interest for you, and you can’t have spent much in the meantime, getting your board and keep at The Lodge, as well as a good wage. I bet you’ve never even touched your capital. You could go on a world cruise or something.’
Liza laughed. ‘Imagine me on a world cruise!’ She shook her head. ‘No, I won’t desert Beth. It’s my belief she’s not as happy as she tries to make out.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘Pay no attention, I’m just being selfish, wondering how I’d manage without Cora.’
‘Well, we’re still here. You could come and see us more often. I only work mornings, you know, and sometimes time hangs heavy, with the boys away, and Ted not home till six at the earliest.’
Ted was a salesman for a firm making agricultural machinery.
‘That’s good of you,’ Liza said. ‘I might well do that. Sorry for crying on your shoulder.’
‘What are families for?’ Freda answered placidly.
Whether or not Harold Sheridan’s ears were burning as he drove home, he was not unaware of his unpopularity, and wondered gloomily what confrontation awaited him that evening. He'd had a difficult session at the office, with Sidney Lester ranting and raving and accusing him of God knew what after the company he invested in went bust. What he needed above all was Beth's sympathetic ear and a peaceful evening with just the two of them. Small chance of that.
This, he thought resentfully, should be the happiest time of his life, but it wasn’t turning out that way, and it was all due to the children, and in particular Beth’s leniency with them. Though he naturally didn’t expect her to be as strict as his own parents, she was spoiling them, allowing them to become more and more undisciplined, and it was therefore left to him, in loco parentis, to rein them in.
Such reflections inevitably recalled his own childhood, and it struck him for the first time that there’d not been much evidence of love in that house, either between Mother and Father, or towards their children. He and Margaret had been adequately fed, clothed and educated, but there’d been none of the spontaneous hugging Beth and her children seemed to think natural. And there were punishments for real or imagined bad behaviour, something singularly lacking at The Lodge. If he was late home from school, or forgot his homework, he got the slipper – admittedly painful only to his dignity – and was sent to his room without supper. Margaret, though spared the beating, suffered similar banishment and had her privileges withdrawn. Thinking back now, he could remember neither resentment nor affection towards his parents; he’d merely accepted them, assuming this was the norm.
At school he’d been regarded as a swot, but his diligence earned him a scholarship, and university had followed. There, he’d expected to study even harder, but it was soon apparent that his companions’ ambitions centred on girls, and stories of their conquests, luridly detailed, made Harold’s face burn. For the first time, the opposite sex was brought forcibly to his notice, and he accepted that if he wasn’t to be odd one out, he must follow suit.
Not that he met with much success. Though a few girls agreed to go out with him, such relationships were short-lived, nor did they respond to his advances in the way – if the stories were to be believed – that they did with his friends. So he resigned himself to going around in a crowd, often the only one without a partner, and, his interest belatedly aroused but unsatisfied, was reduced to fantasizing about girls in the films they saw, well aware he should have outgrown such practices in his teens.
After graduating, accountancy exams entailed further studying, and there was less opportunity to socialize. It wasn’t until he was qualified and settled in a job that he realized all the young men he’d grown up with were now married with homes of their own, while he continued to live with his family. Restlessness began to build, but the fact that the firm he worked for was within walking distance of his parents’ house, made it difficult to announce suddenly that he was moving to a place of his own, which was bound to be less convenient.
Margaret’s marriage finally spurred him into action. Overtaken by panic that he’d never get away, he began searching the Situations Vacant columns, and almost at once found what he was seeking – a post in a firm of accountants based in Westmorland, as it then still was, more than two hundred miles away. He wrote after it, went up for an interview, and was immediately accepted. His parents neither questioned his decision, nor offered congratulations, simply nodding acceptance of the news, and leaving him to wonder if they�
��d been waiting for years for him to leave home.
So he had come to Scarthorpe as, a few years later, had the young Pooles. He still remembered his first sight of Beth – indeed, it was branded indelibly on his memory – when, shortly after their arrival, she and Simon had come to his office. With her windblown hair and her wide, candid eyes, she’d seemed little more than a girl; but her stomach was gently rounded with her first child, and for some reason, this had a profound effect on him. He had immediately and irrevocably fallen in love with her.
After a lapse of years, he started fantasizing again, Beth now playing the role of the screen goddesses, and, fuelled by as frequent meetings as he could engineer, this had continued on and off until a couple of years ago, when, though he’d been genuinely shocked and appalled by Simon’s untimely death, it did seem that Fate at last was playing into his hands.
So he had no intention, Harold thought grimly, turning into the gateway of The Lodge, of letting those children jeopardize the precious relationship he now enjoyed, and for which he had waited so long.
Cal said, ‘I’ve just seen that creepy kid that comes with Spencer. He was hanging round at the bottom of the garden.’
‘He’ll soon scuttle off when we arrive.’ Jilly smiled. ‘I used to think Spencer was a miserable old goat, but I have to hand it to him – he knows how to annoy Harold.’
Cal nodded. ‘He was going on to Mum about him at the weekend. Where’s Abby, by the way?’
‘Skipping on the front path. I said we’d collect her on our way down.’
Abby dropped her rope as they appeared, not sure why her presence was required, but gratified to be included in whatever it was. As the youngest, she was used to being sidelined by both her brother and sister.
‘Why are we going down the garden?’ she asked for the second time, having received no satisfactory reply.
‘Because it’s the only place we can talk without being overheard.’
Thicker Than Water Page 18