by Taylor, Lulu
She turned slowly round and lay back, mopping with the tissue while she stared up into the darkness, not really sure what had just happened. He lay beside her in silence for a while, then rolled over, kissed her cheek and said, ‘Night, darling,’ before rolling back the other way and going to sleep.
The next morning Delilah woke to find John was already gone, and she lay back on the pillows, staring up at the bed hangings with a kind of black despair. The whole of yesterday afternoon had been a disaster, from Vanna’s visit to the scene over dinner. She was still astonished that all this time John had known his mother was alive. He had kept that from her. But in a way, she could see why he had. He’d wanted to convince himself that Alexandra was dead. It would no doubt have helped him if Delilah believed the same thing. But that’s it then, she thought. There’s no way he’ll want to see her now. He can’t understand why she did it, and until he does he’ll never forgive her.
She wondered what Alexandra had said in the letter that John had ripped up and now would never read. Perhaps she, Delilah, had better write to Alexandra and tell her what had happened. But she shied away from the thought of getting involved again. Things were complicated enough as it was. If she and John were going to have any chance of rebuilding the trust between them, she was going to have to be very careful what she did.
The thought of Ben came into her mind, and she reached over and picked up her phone off the night table. It was very bad luck that he had decided to be away from the fort at the same time as she was. Where had he gone? Should she warn him about John’s suspicions or would that make everything worse. She opened a text message to compose something but then, on second thought, put the phone down. Contacting him would only strengthen the impression that there was something going on between them, and she knew now that she didn’t want to give him that idea. She put the phone down and went to get dressed. On her way to breakfast, Delilah passed the huge staircase window and saw by the dark dampness of the gravel paths that it must have rained in the night, but the sun was shining again and the gardens were serenely beautiful. Downstairs the estate office door was firmly shut. John must be in there. She wondered if he was on the phone to the solicitors’ office, giving them a rocket for that misdirected letter.
In the kitchen, Janey was fretting over a shopping list.
‘I don’t mind going to the shops,’ Delilah offered. ‘I need something to do this morning.’
‘You’re only just back from your trip. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do,’ Janey said.
‘Not really. I might walk there and back. I could do with the exercise.’
‘It’ll take longer than you think,’ Janey cautioned. ‘I walk down to the lodge and it’s a good three quarters of an hour just to get there. But don’t let me stop you if you want to. I’ll just finish this list.’
‘Okay. Great.’ She felt pleased to have a purpose that would also give her plenty of thinking time. The longer the walk to the village, the better as far as she was concerned.
‘By the way,’ Janey remarked as she began to complete the list in her neat print, ‘there was confetti all over the dinner table this morning. Were you playing some sort of game in there? It was a real fiddle to clear it all away so I could throw it out.’
Delilah took Mungo with her for the walk, and he was excited both to see her back after her absence and to be going on such a long expedition. He trotted along beside her wagging his tail, heading off at odd moments to explore and sniff before returning to her side, as though wanting to check that she was all right and still in the mood for continuing their lovely long jaunt. She checked her phone as she went. There was still nothing from Ben.
As she passed the lodge near the top of the drive, she thought of Elaine again. This must be close to where it happened. She shivered, and hoped that it wouldn’t always come into her mind at this spot, but it almost felt as if the psychic force of the accident was still shimmering in the air even after all this time.
Walking on more briskly, she called Mungo to heel and put him on the lead as they approached the road. Cars came flying along the country roads, sometimes even on the wrong side of the road, heedless of what might be around a bend or behind an outcrop of hedge, and there were no pavements, only verges to walk on. It was safer to keep the dog close by as they took the hill down into the village. She was just passing the village sign and remembering that she hadn’t brought a bag with her – except one for collecting Mungo’s mess and did she dare to use that one? – when a car that she expected to pass by stopped beside her, the passenger window sliding down with an electronic whirr.
‘Well, hello,’ said a smooth American voice. ‘What a coincidence.’
She looked round to find Vanna smiling at her from behind the wheel. ‘Hello,’ she said weakly, not overly happy to see her husband’s first wife but mindful that she’d been unjustly cool the day before.
‘Very weird. I was just thinking about you,’ Vanna said. ‘I’m on my way to the airport, but you know what, I’m early. Why don’t you jump in and we’ll go for a coffee somewhere?’
‘Well . . .’ Delilah didn’t find the idea appealing. ‘I’ve got Mungo with me.’
‘Don’t worry, put him in the back. This is a hire car. I’m handing it back in a few hours.’
There didn’t seem to be an excuse not to do as Vanna suggested, so Delilah called Mungo to the car and the next moment they were gliding noiselessly towards the village.
‘Where’s good for coffee?’ Vanna asked. Her air was friendly and good-humoured, and she looked as elegant as she had the previous day in skinny jeans, a white T-shirt and an obviously expensive blue jacket. Her blonde hair was brushed back into a glossy ponytail and gold hoops set with diamonds gleamed in her ears. ‘Has this place got any more civilised since I lived here? Ten years ago, you couldn’t even get a decent cup in London, let alone out here.’
‘There’s a tea room just beyond the green,’ Delilah said, trying to conquer her awkwardness. ‘You can park nearby.’
‘Oh, I see it. That’s new. Let’s try it.’
A few minutes later, they were sitting in the window overlooking the village green with a mug of coffee each. From her seat, Delilah could see where Mungo was tethered outside, watching the pigeons come and go on the green.
‘Well, this is a definite improvement,’ Vanna said, looking at her cup. ‘Real coffee. No decaf, but never mind. We have to be grateful for small mercies, right?’ She looked over at Delilah with a smile. Vanna was so impeccable and polished, out of place in the chintzy tea room with its flowery plates and horse brasses on the wall. ‘I got the impression you were not that happy to see me yesterday and I wanted to set your mind at rest in case you had any fears about me coming back onto your territory.’
‘Oh no,’ Delilah said, blushing at the memory of her jealousy the previous day. ‘Really. It’s fine. I was tired, that’s all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.’
‘That’s okay,’ Vanna said lightly. ‘No problem. But when I left, I had a funny feeling. I could see that something wasn’t right with you and John, and I don’t want you making the mistakes I made.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a low voice, ‘I know what it’s like to live in that place. It’s not easy. And John isn’t easy.’
‘No,’ agreed Delilah with feeling. ‘He’s not.’
‘But you love him, right? I can see you do – you wouldn’t look like you’re in such a mess if you didn’t. Here’s my advice – when things are going badly, get him away from that house. He relaxes when he escapes from it all. I didn’t realise it because he resisted me so much whenever I suggested it – and besides, I was always at him to go to the States and he really wasn’t keen on that. So we were locked in a constant battle and we never did go anywhere.’
‘That’s it?’ Delilah blinked, surprised. She had half expected Vanna to offer her a complex analysis of John and explain how to solve the problem of his personality.
Vanna
nodded. ‘Yeah. Honestly . . . the way the British system means you can’t sell a house but have to stay there forever no matter how you feel about it . . . It wouldn’t happen in the States, that’s for sure. I never really appreciated how much John felt the pressure of it. In the end, it got too much for us. We stopped remembering why we’d ever loved each other. I gave up on the whole thing and . . . well, I just wanted to say . . .’ She smiled almost shyly. ‘Don’t give up on him. I think he’s worth hanging on for. Just make sure you get out from the shadow of that place from time to time. That’s all.’
Delilah smiled back. Could it really be so simple? She felt lighter suddenly, and hopeful. Vanna was right: she did love John, with all the challenges he posed and the burdens he carried. He loved her too, despite what she’d done to the trust between them. She would never forgive herself if she gave up and ran away. ‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely. ‘Really. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Vanna looked down at her almost untouched coffee. ‘You know what, I’d better get on my way to the airport. Can I give you a lift back to the house?’
Delilah shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. Mungo and I will walk to the shop first. Then go back.’
‘Sure.’ Vanna stood up.
‘There’s just one thing,’ Delilah said, getting up as well and putting on her cardigan. ‘You must have known John’s father before he got his Alzheimer’s. What was he like?’
‘Oh, he was a great guy but kind of sad, you know? A lonely man, I thought. He and John only had each other. They were really connected.’
‘Did Nicky tell you that Alexandra had killed herself?’
Vanna thought for a moment and said, ‘Well, now, that’s the funny thing. John told me she’d killed herself up at that old tower. But once when I talked to Nicky and we mentioned her in passing, he said that his wife had gone away. I guessed he meant died, but it was a funny way to say it. Gone away.’
Delilah nodded. ‘Yes. That is strange. I’m glad we had this talk, Vanna. Thank you.’
‘You’re so welcome. I mean it.’
Walking along the high street towards the village store, Mungo on the lead, Delilah felt a kind of peace descend on her. It was a relief after the high emotion of the day before. She didn’t need to fear Vanna at all; in fact, the other woman had suddenly and effectively opened her eyes to the truth.
I’ve been a fool. I’ve let myself get confused between John and the house. I loved him first, before I ever lived there. Our troubles only started when we let that place rule our lives.
She had a sudden image of Ben in her mind, digging in the garden. He wasn’t affected by the house – in fact, he’d been an antidote to its darkness – but he was still a part of it in a way. He belonged to the estate and the grounds as firmly as John did. She tried to imagine living a life with Ben away from Fort Stirling. It was impossible. Not only would he never leave, but no matter what scenario she tried to conjure up, there was something missing. She could picture a sizzling attraction and the lure of his physicality, but there was no more than that.
I don’t love him. He’s sweet and good-hearted, but I don’t love him. I couldn’t give him what I give John. I would only take from him.
It would be a disaster, she could see that. Now the thought of Ben made her anxious and fearful that she’d got herself mixed up in something that wasn’t the answer but had just seemed like a solution at a time when she’d been confused. Even if she and John were far apart from each other in many ways, in others she felt that they were drawing nearer and their bond was growing closer. She was beginning to understand him at last, and perhaps if they got through this, they might be able to heal everything that had hurt them so far.
And yet, there was no real reason to believe that. Nothing had changed, except that Vanna had spoken a few words to her that had given her hope.
In the shop, she bought the things on Janey’s list while Mungo waited outside, tied to the lamppost, and was just heading out again when the door opened and the vicar came breezing in.
‘Hello, Mrs Stirling!’ He smiled his crinkly-eyed smile at her. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Any more grave-spotting needed?’
‘No, thank you. That’s all sorted now.’
‘Ah. Did you find out more about the little girl?’
‘Well – yes, a little bit more.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘How interesting. I’m just going over to Rawlston now, the old people’s home there. I’ve just popped in to get some biscuits as a present for Father Ronald. Do you remember I mentioned him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Delilah said, recalling the name. ‘He conducted Elaine’s funeral.’
‘That’s right.’ A thought seemed to strike the vicar. ‘Why don’t you come with me and meet him? If you’re not too busy. You could tell me about developments on the way.’
‘Oh . . . I . . .’ She stared at him, nonplussed. She had not thought of continuing any of her so-far disastrous forays into the Stirling past. ‘I’ve got the dog,’ she said, ‘and I can’t be too long with the shopping.’
‘He can come with us,’ the vicar offered. ‘The old people love to see dogs, you’d be surprised. And we won’t be long. I’ll drive you back. I’ll even take you home.’
‘All right then. Yes, that would be very interesting. Thank you. I’ll come.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
The drive to the neighbouring village of Rawlston only took about ten minutes but it was long enough to explain the circumstances of Elaine’s death to the vicar. He sighed solemnly.
‘The loss of a child is always terrible. To feel you’re responsible is a burden that not many of us could bear lightly. It’s a life sentence. That poor woman. I think we can begin to understand what drove her to do what she did, if that was indeed what happened.’
Delilah said nothing, gazing unhappily out of the window and wondering if lying to vicars was worse than lying to other people. But, feeling that Alexandra’s existence was not her secret to share, she kept quiet.
The old people’s home was a very genteel place, a Queen Anne mansion of mellow red brick that had once been an important village house but had been sympathetically converted into a care facility. The vicar parked up behind the house and they walked back down to it, Mungo bounding on the lead beside them.
‘I come here quite often,’ the vicar said. ‘Every couple of weeks or so. I don’t want any of my parishioners feeling forgotten and some of the people here don’t get many visitors. Now – this way.’
He led her inside through a large black-painted front door and Delilah was at once struck by the extreme warmth inside. Despite the summer day, the radiators seemed to be turned up full blast. The vicar didn’t seem to notice but perhaps he spent so much time in cold churches that he liked being hot.
He introduced Delilah to the large and glowing lady behind the desk and she told them where they would find Father Ronald.
‘May we take the dog with us?’ the vicar enquired.
‘Oh yes, do, he’ll perk them all up no end.’ She gestured to a sturdy fireproof door in front of them. ‘Through there! Off you go.’
They walked along the heavily carpeted corridor, Delilah already feeling breathless and stifled from the heat. She was relieved when they came out into a lighter, airier room that overlooked the gardens at the back. Someone had opened the windows and a cool breeze wafted into the room. A large-screen television was playing at a quiet volume on a stand, and there were many armchairs around the room, most occupied by very elderly men and women, some with walking frames parked nearby. The vicar began to walk about, greeting people and shaking their hands, talking in a loud, cheerful voice designed to penetrate mild deafness without sending hearing aids squealing in protest. He took Mungo with him, offering the dog for a pat or a stroke, which was eagerly taken up by most.