‘That’ll be lovely, Mary. We’re sure to see lots of old friends there.’
‘Well, that’s what I thought,’ nodded Mary. ‘The tennis club’s changed a lot – I suppose people grow out of tennis. And of course, I don’t play any more.’
‘Oh? Why?’ Felicity looked up from the local paper.
Mary’s eyes grew brighter and behind her, Paul grew even pinker.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she announced with a breathless giggle.
Catherine felt somehow excluded from the excitement of this moment. Probably, she told herself, because she didn’t know these young people very well and because she had been out of circulation for so long, but deep down she suddenly felt a hard core of envy for their uncomplicated happiness. They had each other, for better, for worse and now, they had the baby. What more could you possibly want, thought Catherine, feeling the now familiar ache in her throat that presaged tears. Quickly, she got up and excused herself, making for the bathroom.
If Felicity had noticed her sister’s abrupt departure, she gave no sign of it, merely telling Catherine to buck up, as they were about to depart for the golf club.
It was a ten-minute stroll and, when they arrived, Mary and Felicity were still deep in girlish chatter, the car park was already quite full, and the bar even fuller. Within a quarter of an hour, Catherine had seen more people than she had in the last two years, all of whom professing themselves delighted to see her and adding that she should come back more often, like her sister.
‘Flicka,’ said Catherine quietly, when they were seated at a table and Paul was fetching more drinks while Mary powdered her nose.
‘Mm?’ Felicity turned from waving at a group of young men Catherine vaguely remembered.
‘You really like it here, don’t you?’
‘It’s home, as I said. I still feel I belong here.’ Felicity looked at her sister enquiringly.
‘Then why don’t we sell the flat, and you can buy something here?’
‘What?’ Felicity looked totally taken aback.
‘Well, we’ve only got a tiny mortgage, it should fetch quite a reasonable price – if you can sell it, that is – and property here is still cheaper, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, Cat. Do you mean it, honestly?’ Felicity’s eyes were shining.
‘Of course. I don’t know why you didn’t suggest it to me if you wanted to come back so much.’ Catherine smiled at her sister’s euphoric expression. ‘I know what it means not to be able to go home.’
‘Oh, Cat.’ Felicity’s face fell ludicrously.
‘Don’t be silly. I shall be all right.’ Catherine laughed, she hoped convincingly.
‘Well, we can split the equity, I can easily get a mortgage’ – Felicity was a legal secretary and thinking of taking her legal executive’s exams, so felt herself well up in these matters – ‘and you might be able to find a rural retreat with your half. Mightn’t you?’ Felicity looked anxious.
Catherine grinned. ‘Maybe.’ Personally, she felt it was unlikely, but she didn’t want to dampen her sister’s enthusiasm.
Felicity turned to Mary as she reseated herself at the table. ‘Guess what?’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘I’m moving back.’
The pleasure and affection that was evident among the friends that Felicity informed of her imminent return made Catherine feel very guilty that she had not realised how much her sister had missed and been missed. It was incredibly selfish of her to have run like that, she realised now. James had been right. She judged at face value and didn’t even try to look for what was below the surface in anyone. Except that she had, with James. And thought she’d seen it. But he said she judged with commonplace values, which was why Henrietta hadn’t confided in her. She sighed. What a failure she was.
Suddenly, out the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tall brunette with a discontented expression who had just entered the bar with a tall, distinguished-looking man with slightly greying hair.
‘Hey.’ Felicity’s stage whisper reached her. ‘Who’s that with Diana Grant? He’s pretty gorgeous, isn’t he? Even if he is a bit old.’
The group of friends that had gathered round their table laughed and Mary leant over towards Felicity.
‘That’s Colin Eddington of Eddington Electronics–’
‘Concept’s big rival?’ Felicity’s eyes were wide. ‘Oh-ho. Going for a take-over, is he?’
‘Well, not of the company.’ Paul explained. ‘He’s rumoured to be husband number two.’
Felicity shot an astonished look at Catherine, who appeared to have been frozen solid.
‘Husband? What happened to James?’
‘You didn’t know? They separated nearly two years ago. The decree absolute came through three months ago.’ Paul was articled to a local firm of solicitors. ‘We handled it.’
‘Who for?’ Catherine spoke with difficulty.
‘Oh, her. James used somebody that the firm deals with. She didn’t do badly out of it. Kept the house.’
Felicity cast another quick look at Catherine. ‘What was it – mutual consent?’
‘Yes. Nobody needs anything else, these days.’ Paul turned to speak to someone else and Felicity sat back in her chair, looking thoughtfully at Catherine, with an I-told-you-so expression on her face.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t know, Flick.’ Mary looked across at Catherine. ‘Didn’t you know, Cat? You knew them quite well, didn’t you?’
‘Fairly.’ Catherine cleared her throat. ‘We didn’t keep in touch though. We were never that close.’
‘Still, I thought James–’ Mary began with a frown, but Felicity interrupted quickly.
‘Oh, look. Is that Jennifer Thomas? Mary – she’s fat. Whatever happened?’
Catherine sent her sister a grateful look and sat back to digest the stupendous information that had just come her way.
However, she was given very little chance to think things over, as more and more people came up to chat and enthuse over Felicity’s proposed move. After an hour or so, Mary said that her lunch would be spoiling if they didn’t go back, and once they were back at the cottage, Felicity became immersed in the property pages of the local paper and deep in discussion with Paul, who was naturally going to act for her.
‘Can’t you do it yourself?’ asked Catherine, during a lull in conversation.
‘What?’ Felicity looked startled, first at Catherine, then at Paul.
‘Well – I suppose I could.’
‘Of course you could.’ Paul was enthusiastic. ‘I’ll help. And I tell you what – how about me keeping my ears to the ground in case a job comes up?’
‘Oh, Paul, do you think it might?’ Felicity was ecstatic.
‘You never know,’ said Paul, making Catherine sure that there was something in the offing, although Paul wouldn’t commit himself yet.
‘Well, it looks as though everything’s turning out wonderfully, Flicka.’ Catherine gave her sister a pat on the shoulder as she got up to help Mary.
‘Oh, Cat –’ began Felicity, looking stricken.
‘Shut up. I’m really pleased; I just wish I’d thought of it before.’ Catherine went quickly into the kitchen.
It wasn’t until they were on their way home that the sisters were able to discuss the momentous events of the day in quite the way they wanted.
‘Well, sister dear?’ Felicity swung the car onto the main road with verve.
‘What do you mean, “well”?’
‘You know. James and Diana. I–’
‘Don’t you dare say I told you so,’ interrupted Catherine explosively.
‘Oh, all right. But you see, he might have been sincere, mightn’t he?’
‘When? Four years ago? Paul said they separated two years ago. They were still very much married when we left.’
‘But Diana was playing around. And he did like you. Did you notice, even Mary ...’
‘Yes, I noticed. Even Mary thought James and I knew one another well.’ Catherine turned to her s
ister. ‘Just how well do people think I knew him? Have you discussed it?’
‘Well, only with Mary and a couple of others.’ Felicity kept her eyes on the road, colouring slightly. ‘Actually, nobody thought there was anything going on – they just thought you liked each other. Diana was the one people talked about.’
‘That’s a comfort.’ Catherine’s voice took on a sarcastic edge.
‘Yes, well, there’s no need to get uptight about it now, is there? Now you’ve got to go and eat humble pie and apologise for doubting him.’
‘Doubting him? Doubting him? What on Earth do you mean?’
‘Well, doubting that he was sincere when he ... well, when he ...’ Felicity slid a quick look at her sister. ‘Well, when he did whatever he did.’
‘For your information, my dear sister, he never did anything at all,’ snapped Catherine.
‘What? He’s never even kissed you? Well, what’s all the fuss about then?’ Felicity was plainly astonished.
‘Yes, of course he’s kissed me,’ admitted Catherine gruffly, looking determinedly out of the window.
‘Four years ago?’ probed Felicity.
‘Yes.’
‘And this last week?’
‘Yes. All right, Flick, if you must know, he practically tried to rape me on Friday night when he heard I was definitely going.’ Catherine’s voice rose agitatedly.
‘Well, there you are then.’ Felicity sounded smug. ‘He’s still as keen as ever. And I bet it wouldn’t have been rape.’
Catherine closed her eyes and muttered imprecations about younger sisters.
‘Look,’ she said aloud. ‘James Grant fancied me when I was a convenient – he thought – bit on the side. Only I ran, because I wasn’t sophisticated enough to handle it, either to dismiss it or to enjoy it for what it was. Unfortunately, I fell for him. When we ran into each other over this damned cottage business, he presumably thought he could pick up where he left off. He didn’t tell me he and Diana were divorced. There could even be a second Mrs Grant for all we know.’
‘Paul would have known,’ Felicity assured her.
‘Well, anyway. There was absolutely nothing in his manner to suggest that there could be anything else other than a – a–’
‘Quick roll in the hay?’ supplied Felicity.
‘Oh, honestly, Flicka. A purely physical fling.’ Catherine was ruffled.
‘Impurely, don’t you mean?’ giggled Felicity.
‘Shut up. All James Grant wanted was his cottage. And now he’s got it, so that’s that.’
‘But, Cat, surely now you feel you could try and see if there was a workable relationship there, couldn’t you? You could offer Andrew your share of the equity, for one thing, for the lease of Garth Cottage. How about that?’
Catherine turned this over in her mind before answering.
‘I could,’ she said slowly, ‘but after what James said to me when he left, I don’t think there’s a chance of any sort of relationship between us, especially not the sort you’re suggesting. All that we’re capable of now is armed warfare.’
‘Well, I still think you should go back and try. At least go and see Andrew. You might find there’s a solution we haven’t thought of. Perhaps James will feel as you do and decide to manage the country club from London, or something. He doesn’t have to be there, does he?’
‘No, in fact I was quite surprised that he was thinking of living there. I assumed it would only be temporary.’ Catherine brightened. ‘Perhaps it is, anyway. Perhaps he never meant to live there all the time and I’ve been jumping to conclusions.’
‘Judging at face value again, eh, Cat.’ Felicity pulled up at some traffic lights and turned to grin at her sister. ‘Well, I think you should give it a try. You’re still legally the tenant of Garth Cottage after all. You can just go down overnight and see how the land lies.’
‘I shall feel a fool, after my precipitate departure.’ Catherine gazed morosely out of the windscreen.
‘Yes, that’s another thing you’re good at.’ Felicity put the car back in gear and moved off. ‘Running away.’
‘You and James should get together,’ said Catherine waspishly. ‘You both seem to have the same unflattering opinion of me.’
‘Ah, but I love you. Perhaps he does too?’
‘Oh, shut up, Flick,’ groaned Catherine.
‘You know,’ went on Felicity, unabashed, ‘You are very like Henrietta. She didn’t want to put anything to the test either, did she? She wouldn’t go off with Andrew, wouldn’t even marry him after his divorce was through. You’re not going to end up like that, are you?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ laughed Catherine weakly.
‘Yes, it would,’ said Felicity firmly. ‘So you at least ought to put it to the test. You’ll never know until you try, will you?’
Chapter Five
FEELING AT THE SAME time incredibly foolish and incredibly nervous, Catherine turned the car into the parking space at the back of Garth Cottage. It was only five days since she’d left, but she found herself looking for signs of change. It had taken her until now to summon up the courage to come back, but with the flat now on the market – Felicity had wasted no time – and even a prospective buyer coming this evening to view it, she knew she would have to make some kind of effort on her own behalf.
She got out of the car and lifted out the overnight bag that was all she had brought with her. Even if things turned out better than she hoped, she would still have to go back to help Felicity with clearing the flat, and if the job Paul had thought might be going – he had phoned to say it was – became Felicity’s, then she had every intention of moving back to Sussex as soon as possible, if necessary into rented accommodation, so Catherine would have to stay in the cottage or be homeless. She sighed. Life had looked so uncomplicated until she bumped into James.
This thought brought her up with a jolt, and she looked round nervously as she opened the gate, half expecting to see him once again halfway down the hill, hands in pockets, arrogantly surveying his domain. But the lane was empty. The weather had continued dull and rainy, and late holidaymakers were kept indoors. Petals had turned brown in the garden of Garth Cottage, carpeting the mossy paving stones of the front path, and stuck untidily to windowpanes. Catherine opened the front door.
The first thing she saw was a pile of mail, and the second was the glow of light from the living room. Heart in mouth, she approached, but it was empty.
The cushions were still crushed on the sofa, the small table still stood where James had kicked it and the spilt wine had dried into a stain. Catherine stood taking it all in, almost not wanting to change anything, not switch off the light, move the table, anything. But she did.
When she’d restored order, she looked at her watch, trying to decide whether she should go and see Andrew now. It was nearly half past five so with any luck James would still be involved at the Hall or away on business. She would go now.
Slowly, she walked past the shop, rehearsing what she was going to say. Was there any possibility that she could buy the lease of Garth Cottage, or did James want it for himself? She would apologise for rushing off the way she had, but she hadn’t really thought it through and James and she had always rubbed one another up the wrong way, but she would try not to argue in the future. No need for Andrew to know any more than that, no matter what he might guess at. She crossed the bridge and walked up the path of Gardener’s Cottage and knocked on the front door.
After a while, she knocked again, louder. And after a third time, realised he wasn’t there. She turned round, irresolute, wondering what she should do now. She’d worked herself up to this action and felt absurdly let down because she hadn’t been able to carry it through. She hadn’t even got his telephone number, she realised. How pathetic was that. She turned round, went down the path and across the bridge towards home.
As soon as she got there, she looked up the number of Cranmore Hall. Out of several numbers listed on the w
ebsite, she chose Estate Office and, to her relief, an unfamiliar voice answered.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ she began, ‘but I wonder if you could give me Mr Andrew Hamilton’s number at Gardener’s Cottage?’
There was a short silence. Then: ‘May I ask who is calling?’
‘Catherine Long.’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Long, I’m unable to give out confidential information. Perhaps you would like to speak to Mr Grant, Mr Hamilton’s nephew?’
So he was there. ‘No, thank you,’ said Catherine hastily. ‘Can you just tell me if Mr Hamilton’s away at present?’
Another silence. Then: ‘I’m sorry, I have no knowledge of Mr Hamilton’s movements. Are you sure you would not like to speak to Mr Grant?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Catherine. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’
She put down the phone and stood staring out of the window at the desolate garden. Now what was she going to do? She hadn’t looked beyond speaking to Andrew and now she couldn’t. She looked at her watch, realising that she’d missed the shop. Now what would she eat?
The she remembered her siege stores from last week. She could defrost the chicken in the microwave and there was wine and cheese. Feeling more cheerful, she went to the freezer.
Half an hour later, the chicken defrosted, jointed and simmering gently in a red wine sauce, she saw that a shaft of sunlight had pierced the gloom. Looking out of the window, she saw a large patch of blue sky, sunlight gilding the damp foliage and a couple of people strolling down the hill beyond her gate. Making up her mind suddenly, she grabbed her purse and left the cottage.
The Acorn Inn stood in the centre of the village on the other side of the square facing the sea. Several people had the same idea as Catherine and, when she took her orange juice outside, she found quite a crowd. Catherine went to lean on the wall overlooking the little bay with its wooden jetty and steps.
‘Well, well, if it isn’t the elusive Miss Long.’
Catherine turned sharply, spilling orange juice over the wall.
‘Nervous, Cat?’ James laughed. ‘That’s where the saying comes from is it? Nervous as a cat?’
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