by Susan Lewis
Knowing a conversation with her mother would do nothing to improve her frame of mind,
she put off dialling the Gloucestershire number and stood gazing out of the window into the garden. It was a dreary morning, with leaves scudding about the lawn and old rain dropping from the leaves onto the sodden patio. She pictured Josh and the children in the old Peugeot crawling through the morning traffic, arguing about which radio station to have on, or chatting about iPods, cricket, EastEnders or where to go skiing next year. Or maybe they were quiet, worrying about her and what would happen next. She knew Josh had told Shannon and Dan about her father, because they'd given her big hugs this morning and said how sorry they were, but had he told them anything about Sylvia? Of course not. It was absurd even to think it. She wondered if he'd been in touch with Sylvia, to let her know that their secret was out - and the very idea of them having any contact at all, never mind that it was in the form of a warning about her, filled her with such outrage and loathing that she pressed her hands to her head as though to stop it exploding.
Deciding that even speaking to her mother was preferable to tormenting herself like this, she picked up the phone again and dialled the number she'd known practically all her life. Inside her nerves were already starting to churn, making her wonder, not for the first time, what kind of mother could cause her to feel so intimidated. Actually, she knew very well what kind of mother she had, and she was too old now to be this nervous, particularly when she wasn't intending to raise the forbidden subject of her
father just yet. She'd save that little treat for when they were face to face; right now all she needed was to make an appointment. An appointment - with her own mother!
'Mum? It's me, Julia.'
'Oh hello,' came the thin reply. 'How are you?'
'Fine. How are you?'
'Fine. What can I do for you?'
No, how are the children, or how's Josh? Just the implied: I'm in a hurry, so please come to the point. 'I was thinking of coming to see you,' Julia said.
There was a pause. 'Really? How nice. I think I should be free next Wednesday or Thursday. I'll check my diary ...'
'Sooner than that,' Julia interrupted. 'Today, in fact.'
'I'm afraid that's out of the question. My schedule's quite full.'
'I need to talk to you, Mum. Something's happened you need to know about.'
Hostility crackled in Alice's voice as she said, 'Please don't tell me Josh has left you. Well, I can hardly say I blame him, you never were easy to live with .. .'
'He hasn't left me,' Julia cut in, almost shouting. Just imagine turning to such an icicle of a woman for comfort during this difficult time, she was thinking. The very idea was so preposterous it would be laughable if it weren't so bloody depressing.
'Then what is it?' Alice demanded. 'Really, Julia, why do you always have to be so mysterious?'
'I'm not. I just think what I have to tell you would be better said in person.'
'Then it'll have to wait. As I said, I'm busy today.'
'Find a slot, Mother I'll leave here at lunchtime, so try to be there by the time I arrive. If you're not, I'll wait outside in the car.'
Before Alice could object again Julia abruptly rang off, and bit down hard on her anger. Many years had passed since she'd allowed her mother to push and boss her around, but she still ended up feeling shaky and anxious whenever she stood up to her. It made her wonder what on earth she'd done in a previous life to deserve such a monster of a parent. Try to remember, Josh had once said, back in the early days, something must have happened to her to make her that way. On the odd occasion that thought had actually managed to soften her towards her mother, though usually at a distance, for more often than not she detested her for being so cold and unyielding, and so bloody secretive about everything to do with her past.
Anyway, whatever had happened to her, it was clear her younger daughter was never going to make it any better, so Julia had long since stopped trying. And for Josh's voice to step in as mediator now was just plain outrageous, considering the situation they were in thanks to his 'marriage-saving' affair with Sylvia. That he could seriously have thought she'd even begin to find such deranged reasoning acceptable was so shocking it defied belief. Worse still, he actually seemed to believe this ludicrous suggestion himself.
Hearing the front door close and his footsteps on the stairs, she left the phone and went to refill
her cup. 'Would you like some coffee?' she asked as he came into the kitchen.
'Sure.' He waited for her to pour, then took the cup as she passed it. 'So how did you get on with the solicitor?' he asked. 'Have you got hold of her yet?'
'The cremation's on Friday,' she answered. 'The ashes should be buried sometime next week, they're waiting for confirmation from the vicar.'
'Are you going down there?'
'Yes. I'll go today, after I've seen my mother.'
He sipped his coffee. 'Have you told her you're coming?'
'Yes, but she doesn't know what it's about yet.'
He nodded thoughtfully, but made no comment on the wisdom of her decision, even though she knew he'd have his doubts. 'So what about the children?' he asked. 'I take it you've thought about what's going to happen to them while you're away?'
Managing not to rise to it, she said, 'They break up for half-term tomorrow. I expect we can work something out till then.'
His eyes stayed on hers. 'I'm sure my mother will be happy to step in,' he said.
'I'm sure she will.'
Immediately his face darkened. 'You don't have to take that tone,' he snapped. 'In fact, you could try being grateful, since you're the one who's going off and leaving them.'
'For Christ's sake, my father's dead and I want to go to his funeral. Is that too much to ask?'
'No, of course not. I'm sorry.'
His contrition was so complete she couldn't bear to witness it, so turned away.
'And after tomorrow?' he said. 'Shall I drive them down to Cornwall so we can all be together? They've said they'd like to go to the funeral.'
'I don't want to be with you, Josh,' she said. 'Not right now.'
Though the hurt showed in his eyes, his voice was tight as he said, 'So what's new?'
'You've always got Sylvia,' she reminded him nastily.
'Oh, for God's sake.'
'Sorry, I'm forgetting, she won't be here, will she? Or maybe you've got plans to join her in New York.'
'I'm not even going to respond to that,' he said angrily.
'Tell me, when you left me and the children in France, back in the summer, to fly up to Edinburgh, was it to see her?'
'You know why I went.'
'But did you see her? Did she fly up too? And what about the other trips you've made lately? Paris, Amsterdam ...'
'Julia, this isn't getting us anywhere.'
'You are such a bastard,' she told him, wanting to hit him again. 'You were with her, weren't you? No, don't answer, because I can't take any more of your lies.'
Clearly struggling with his own temper, he said, 'So how long are you planning to stay in Cornwall?'
Detesting him for not saying more to refute her suspicions, since it must mean she was right, she felt the pain of it chum in her heart, and wanted to do something desperate, even deranged, to hurt
him too. 'I'm not sure,' she finally heard herself answer. There was no point in attacking him - it wasn't going to make his betrayal go away and would probably just end up somehow backfiring on her. 'Apparently my father's left his house to me, but I've no idea how big or small it is, all I know is it'll need to be cleared and probably sold. Unless I decide to keep it, of course.'
He looked at her hard, and she realised he was afraid she might not come back at all. Well, let him worry, because she sure as hell wasn't going to put his mind at rest, even though she'd never leave the children, nor would she force them to change schools, particularly not at such a critical time for Shannon.
'Why don't you take Shann
on with you?' he suggested. 'The break will probably do her good before her mocks.'
Though the idea had already occurred to her, she didn't answer right away.
'I think she needs you at the moment,' Josh told her.
'She needs to be studying.'
'She can do that in Cornwall.'
'What about Dan?' she asked.
'I'll take some time off next week. We can go down to the boat, do some sailing. Hang out together. Unless you'd rather he was with you.'
She would, but Dan would love it, just him and his dad, so she made no objection. Then quite suddenly she didn't know if she could bear to let Dan go. She wanted him with her where he'd be safe, and no-one could hurt him. Realising she was turning into an emotional minefield, where
anything could go off at any minute, she suppressed her moment of panic and drank more coffee.
'If you could delay going until tomorrow,' he said, 'you could take Shannon with you.'
She was shaking her head. 'I don't want her there when I talk to my mother. I'm not even sure I want her to be at the funeral, because frankly I don't know what I'm going to find once I get down there.'
'Then in that case, why don't I drive her down on Saturday, before taking Dan on to Chichester?'
At that moment the phone rang and they both made to answer, but Josh was the closest. He listened to the voice at the other end, then appearing decidedly uncomfortable he passed the receiver over. 'Pauline,' he said.
Taking the phone, Julia watched him go to pour himself more coffee. Neither of them had eaten any breakfast this morning, and she didn't imagine they'd manage much lunch either. What did she care about food, though, she knew it would turn to dust in her mouth, and what he ate was his business now, not hers. 'Hello,' she said to Pauline, wishing Josh had said she wasn't in.
'Julia. Hi. Is it OK to talk? I know he's there, but I heard what happened, so I had to call. You must be feeling awful. Do you want to come over? Or I can come there if you prefer. Whatever you want. I can cancel my day .. .'
Julia's blood was turning cold. So he had been in touch with Sylvia, and Sylvia had obviously got straight on the phone to Pauline.
'I'll call you back,' Julia said, and banging the
phone down she immediately rounded on him. 'So you've already spoken to Sylvia,' she seethed.
'Well, I hope you let her know that your ludicrous attempts to save our marriage by having sex with her have spectacularly failed. But I don't suppose you care very much about that, do you? In fact you're probably dying to get round there right now so you can shag her again, so please, don't let me stop you.'
'Julia, try and pull yourself together .. .'
'Don't you dare patronise me,' she seethed. 'And let me tell you this, Joshua Thayne, if I hear she's set as much as one foot in this house while I'm away, I swear to God you'll never see me back here again.'
'Stop making this about her,' he raged. 'It's about us, you and me, and if you threaten me again like that you'll find out how it feels when we both play that game.'
Her eyes widened with astonishment. 'What exactly is that supposed to mean?' she demanded.
'It means, if you don't start facing up to a few realities while you're down there in Cornwall you won't be welcome back,' and practically throwing his cup into the sink, he stormed up the stairs and slammed out of the front door.
By the time Julia turned off the M4 to start heading north towards Cirencester, she was aware that signs were passing her by that she was barely noticing, and for minutes at a stretch she actually forgot where she was going. She hadn't spoken to Josh again before leaving, nor did she want to, though after her anger had begun to lose some of
its force a wretched insecurity had started to take root, making her wonder if she was insane to leave London now, while Sylvia was still there. She kept trying to reassure herself that he wouldn't dare to go and see her again, but she had no way of knowing that, for she still didn't have any clear idea of how serious their relationship was. All she knew was that so far he'd failed to promise to give her up.
As the tortuous image of them together threatened to close in on her again, she summoned what was left of her reserves to push it away, and decided she really must focus on something else for a while, or tiredness would continue to play cruel tricks on her mind and sap what was left of her energy. Picking up the mobile, she kept it hidden from view as she tried her sister's number, but the answering machine was still on, so she simply rang off. She'd already left a message asking Pam to be at their mother's around two, but had had no reply, so she had no idea if Pam was going to be there or not. Right now Julia wasn't even sure if she cared, and signalling to turn off the main road she began winding through familiar open countryside, until she finally arrived at the sleepy Cotswold backwater of Deakins.
To call the place a village would be overstating it, for it was more of a sprawling hamlet, with no shop, no pub or school, just a phone box, a medieval church and a monstrous water tower where a monstrous water tower should never be. Were it not for such an eyesore the place might be considered chocolate-box, particularly in summer,
when plumbago and nasturtiums tumbled over the old stone walls and all the perfectly thatched roofs glistened in the afternoon sun. Today; it loomed out of the mizzle as a dismal, creepy enclave, tight with secrets and riven with ghouls - but then, she'd never liked it, so even on brighter days it failed to appear quaint or welcoming to her.
Passing her sister's gingerbread cottage, which was one of the smallest in a row behind the phone box, she drove the Porsche slowly along the narrow, winding road, past the twin pillars of Deakins Manor, and on to where the road split in front of the monster tower. As she gazed up at it she found herself being drawn into a memory of her father standing in her uncle's garden, not long after the offending object's arrival, and commenting, 'Mushrooms seem to be doing well, George.'
Her uncle had failed to see the funny side, while Julia and her father had laughed for weeks. Another remark about the very same tower, had caused them similar amusement whilst, as a family, they were sitting in her uncle's garden enjoying a sunny day. Her father had winked at her secretly, then innocently stated, 'You're a bit like a goblin with his own private toadstool sitting out here, George.'
Since her uncle was a veritable giant of a man, to her ten-year-old ears the comment had been hilarious, and was made even more so by George's thunderous expression as he'd glared at his brother-in-law. He'd looked so fearsome, though, that she'd been half afraid he might eat her father when he wasn't looking. Her
parents had had a dreadful row that night, since her mother had never appreciated the way her husband took such delight in goading her brother.
As the echo of laughter receded back through the years Julia felt herself engulfed by a wave of sadness that, emotional as she already was, could easily have submerged her in a welter of grief, for she was suddenly missing her father more than ever before. However, she knew the sorrow was fuelled by self-pity, and that it wouldn't do to fall victim to any kind of weakness when she was about to face her mother. So pulling herself together, she slipped the car back into gear, and edged a few feet further on to turn in left through the five-bar gate that she'd never, as far as she could remember, seen closed. Strange that, for a family who was so stand-offish, but perhaps they were only like it with her - indeed, they probably were, because she couldn't recall her sister ever complaining of feeling shut out, or barely tolerated. On the contrary, Pam was so plainly at home here that Julia often wondered whether she might persuade her limp personality of a van- driver husband to close the fifty-yard gap that currently existed and move right into the house itself. And no-one, Julia knew, would be happier than Alice to have Pam's daughter, Rachel, under the same roof, because there could be no doubt of how besotted Alice was with the child. Admittedly, Rachel was completely adorable. Julia just wished that her mother would, once in a while, put herself out to show Shannon and Dan even a fraction of as much a
ffection.
The grounds of their so-called family home were all smooth lawns, thrusting trees and immaculately tended beds, since gardening was her uncle's passion, along with hunting, shooting, model- making and God. Bridge was her mother's absorbing interest, and she didn't have the faintest idea what Aunt Rene's might be, because she'd never heard the mousy little creature express a preference for anything in her life. Julia wouldn't mind betting, however, that she'd rather not be sharing her home with her stridently bossy sister- in-law, but maybe that was just Julia projecting her own feelings onto the case again, for personally she could hardly think of anything worse than living with her mother.
The house itself was long and grey, with small, casement windows, several chimneys and a horribly forbidding front door. Once again she was allowing her prejudice to dictate, for most people would describe it as an extremely grand example of early-eighteenth-century craftsmanship. In those days the door was probably the gateway to an asylum for raving lunatics, which seemed suitable in view of its current location, she'd long ago decided.
By the time she got out of the car her mother was standing at the door, looking as primly immaculate as ever in a brown cashmere twinset and pearls, tweed skirt and brogues, though she was hardly frumpy. She was even taller than Julia, with immaculately styled salt-and-pepper hair, electric blue eyes that she'd passed on to Shannon, and a full-lipped mouth that was sexy on her younger daughter, and might once have been on
her, before it had become pleated by a lifetime's disappointments and grudges. If she smiled more it would probably still be lovely, Julia had occasionally thought, and they might even get to see the dimples her sister had inherited, but they were almost as rare a sight as her mother's private parts, which Julia had never seen. Nor, she thought, as she went to greet her, would she want to, for a more chilling prospect was hard to imagine.
'Oh dear,' Alice Hope sighed, looking straight past Julia to the Porsche, 'I don't think Uncle George will want that parked where people can see it. Maybe you should take it round the back.'