by Maeve Haran
She made herself a cup of mint tea and stared at it. Whatever was in it, she guessed it would not be good. She knew Simon. He would only resort to expensive lawyers if it were something he didn’t dare say to Laura face to face.
She was right.
The letter stated pompously that since the marriage between herself and Mr Simon Minchin had suffered irretrievable breakdown, Mrs Minchin might like to prepare a draft divorce petition citing Mr Minchin and appoint legal advisors of her own.
Laura found that she was shaking. Simon wanted a divorce and the easiest way to get it was if she accused him of adultery.
She knew that in these days of so-called No Fault divorce the law didn’t care who was to blame when a marriage collapsed. But what if she didn’t want to go and see a lawyer, what if she didn’t want a divorce at all?
Laura found herself turning, as she often did, to Ella.
She tried the landline first, then Ella’s mobile, but there was no answer. She was about to put down the phone when Ella finally came on the line.
‘You’ll never guess where I am. In A and E.’
‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’
‘It’s all right. Crisis over, I hope. I went mushroom picking with Wenceslaus, and Julia my know-it-all daughter managed to feed him something called a Beechwood Sickener.’
‘Is it poisonous? Some of these mushrooms are absolutely lethal.’
‘Fortunately, this one just makes you very, very sick. I don’t think mushrooms will be on his menu for a very long time. What did you want, by the way?’
‘I’ve just had a letter from Simon’s lawyers. He wants me to start divorce proceedings.’
‘Bloody barefaced cheek! We need to get together and discuss this.’ Ella saw Julia getting out of a taxi and running towards them.
‘Got to go. Here comes my penitent daughter. I’d better make the most of her being in the wrong for once.’
Laura put the phone down and turned round. Sam was standing two feet away, his face as blank as a polished slate. ‘I told you Dad would want a divorce,’ he muttered bleakly. ‘Now we’ll have to move, you’ll see!’
‘Have you talked to Dad since it all happened?’ Laura asked gently.
‘He’s left messages. Obviously, in this age of limited communication, he’s found it hard to connect.’ The bitter irony in Sam’s voice made her long to hug away the hurt. In recent years he had been much closer to his father. While most boys grew away from their fathers in their teenage years, Sam had been the opposite. Until now. How could Simon simply tell himself Sam was an adult now and could deal with a break-up? She suspected the truth was that seeing Sam face to face would make him feel too guilty. He might tell himself that marriages come and go, but he knew he’d let Sam and Bella down badly and just didn’t want to face them.
How cowardly was that?
‘I’m going out. To Joe’s. At least they still have some kind of family life!’
Laura bit back the tears as she looked around the house she had nurtured and loved over the twenty-five years of their marriage. It had always felt like a real home. Laura knew she had the knack of making places warm and welcoming. It was something about the atmosphere, the comfort of the place. Sofas to sink into. A real fire. A mantelpiece with objects collected carefully and all imbued with meaning. The smell of polish from the oak boards. Flowers in vases. Framed photos. The warmth of the kitchen. It had always been a house that enveloped you and held you safe. But that, as it turned out, had all been an illusion.
Julia rushed up to her mother in A & E, looking pale and distraught with no sign of her usual calm self-righteousness. ‘Oh, my God, Mum, is he OK?’
‘They think so. They’re keeping him under observation for a while just to be on the safe side.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘As long as you don’t feed him any mushrooms.’ Julia gave her a sour look. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’
Wenceslaus was in the end bed in what seemed to be a ward full of people with smoker’s coughs.
Julia rushed up to him and, without any warning, kneeled down by the side of his bed and took his hands in hers. ‘Wenceslaus, I am so sorry. This was all my fault. The poisonous mushroom must have got mixed in with the others. I only brought it back to look it up. Are you really all right?’
There was a desperate edge to her voice that startled Ella. This was more than just friendly concern or even worry that it might be her doing. Julia’s eyes were fixed on Wenceslaus as if he were Michelangelo’s David.
Wenceslaus, for his part, was behaving entirely normally. Either he was so used to female worship that he took it for granted or he was so genuinely modest he hadn’t even noticed.
Ella almost wished that she hadn’t caught sight of that desperate worshipping glance. She suspected her daughter’s marriage wasn’t particularly happy but Julia had never said anything to her about it. She’d assumed, like countless other women, Julia loved her children and had decided to put up with a rather mediocre relationship rather than rock the boat.
Ella wondered if it was her maternal duty tactfully to warn her daughter about falling for Wenceslaus, even if Julia didn’t intend to act on her feelings. Ella decided she wasn’t up to it. Julia was so difficult anyway. Besides, she might be exaggerating the problem. A little crush on Wenceslaus would probably light up a dull life. Ella was also aware of something else – surely it couldn’t be possessiveness on her part?
‘Come on, Julia, let’s give the boy some peace.’ Ella realized she’d unconsciously stressed the age difference between them. ‘Wenceslaus, call me when they say you can go home.’
‘No,’ insisted Julia fiercely, ‘call me. It’s the least I can do since I caused the problem.’
‘Two ladies fighting over me,’ Wenceslaus produced a cheeky grin that made him look about six, ‘I must eat more often the poisoned mushrooms.’
Ella did up her coat. If Wenceslaus’ joke about them competing for his attention was even a little justified, it would be highly undignified and more than a little embarrassing.
Claudia was waiting for the removal van and telling herself she wasn’t going to cry. This might be the end of a major chapter in her life, but it was also the beginning of a new one.
During the day of packing up, Don had been in his element, jotting down on the outside of each box a list of all the objects inside to make it easier at the other end, making cups of tea, telling the post office their new address to forward things to.
‘You’re so efficient you could start a business,’ Claudia told him. ‘Don Does Moving.’
‘Is that a compliment or an insult?’ Don asked, looking faintly guilty that it was he who had wanted so desperately to go.
‘A compliment, of course.’ Claudia ruffled his still-abundant grey hair.
‘Are you OK?’ he replied. ‘Do you want to go round the house and say goodbye?’
‘I think that would make it worse. Best just to go, I think.’
An ancient little Fiat pulled in the drive and Gaby jumped out, wearing an enormous baggy old coat. ‘Phew! Thought I’d missed you.’
‘Just off, as a matter of fact.’ Don put his arm round her. ‘Your mother’s feeling a bit weepy at saying goodbye.’
‘I thought that might be the case so I’ve got you a little surprise to soften the blow.’ Gaby delved inside the voluminous coat and produced what at first appeared to be a fur ruff.
Until it moved.
‘Oh my God, it’s a puppy!’
‘He’s the cutest dog on the entire planet. Everyone on the street stops and asks about him, and my flatmates really, really didn’t want me to take him away.’
Gaby handed him over. He was long-haired, with ears in a lighter-coloured fur, and vast, soulful eyes. ‘I’ve never seen anything like him. What is he?’
‘A cross between a cocker spaniel and a Bolognese.’
‘You’re making that up!’ Claudia shook her head. ‘I’ve never heard of a breed
called Bolognese!’
Don tickled the little dog’s ears. ‘Sounds very saucy.’
‘They’re Italian. From Bologna. They’re usually white but I thought that was a bit impractical so I found a black one! You have to have a dog if you live in the country. Everyone does. He’ll help you meet people.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘One of my flatmates calls him Vito – the Dogfather!’
‘Vito it is.’
Vito, who had clearly been to charm classes in a previous life, was already looking blissfully comfortable in Claudia’s arms. ‘We haven’t got a dog bed,’ she suddenly remembered, ‘or any dog food.’
‘Both in my car. I’d better say goodbye to you. The removal men look eager to go. I’ll call later. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Vito. See you all in Surrey.’
And Claudia, who had never particularly wanted a dog, now saw how clever and thoughtful Gaby had been. Vito provided a small, fluffy, big-eyed distraction.
‘God knows what they’ll make of a Bolognese in Minsley.’ Claudia leaned down to settle the little dog on the carpet next to her feet. ‘They’d probably eat you on spaghetti.’
By the time she had successfully installed Vito in the space by her feet they were at the end of the road and her home, her old home, was already out of sight. Claudia decided she wouldn’t drive past it when she next came to town. Houses belonged to the people who lived in them and hers would now be in Little Minsley.
They reached Minsley an hour and a half later after ages stuck on the M25. The van was already waiting for them. Claudia was grateful that the sun was shining and she could even detect the last faint scent of lavender as the removal men brushed past the flowerbed carrying their endless packing cases up the front path.
Don took charge with obvious relish, leaving Claudia to unpack her treasures and Vito to play in the discarded newspaper and hide in the empty cardboard boxes.
Four hours later, the sitting room, kitchen and their bedroom were unpacked and the boxes flattened into a neat pile. Claudia made everyone tea and found that Don had even put ‘Chocolate Digestives’ on the list of contents in a packing case destined for the kitchen. He was wasted as a teacher.
They didn’t need to unpack everything as the rest of the boxes wouldn’t be collected for a couple of days.
‘Let’s go and eat in the pub later,’ Don suggested. ‘Introduce ourselves to the most important place in the village.’
Claudia heard the sound of the front gate being opened and looked out. Her father Len was hopping up the garden path on crutches carrying a large bunch of dahlias.
‘Dad!’ Claudia ran up the path. ‘When did you get out of hospital?’
‘Three days ago. Not a moment too soon. I was going crazy in there. Would have shot them all with a tommy gun if I’d had one.’
‘Just as well you didn’t, then.’ It was so wonderful to see him back to his old impish self.
He handed over the magnificent red flowers. ‘There you go. Last of the season. Our neighbour Ted grows them, sells them from a jug at the bottom of his garden, a pound the lot.’
Claudia remembered from her childhood how many old men did exactly this, growing and selling flowers and the surplus produce from their cottage gardens, and she was delighted it still happened. She would make a point of buying as much from them as she could next year.
‘Where’s Mum, by the way?’ It had just struck her as odd that her mother hadn’t come too.
‘Oh, she’s never around. Always off on some jaunt.’ He sighed, looking momentarily troubled. ‘Hardly see her these days.’
Claudia sighed inwardly. Still, that was part of the reason she’d come, she’d face up to that tomorrow.
‘Dad,’ Claudia suddenly cheered up, ‘come and see what Gaby’s given me.’ She led the way into the sitting room.
Vito raced towards them and launched himself at Len’s tweedy trouser legs.
‘So what’s that when it’s at home?’
Claudia couldn’t face telling everyone in Minsley her dog was called a Bolognese. ‘He’s cocker spaniel mixed with some kind of Italian breed. That’s why we call him Vito. Like the Godfather.’
‘Italian, is he? We’ll have to teach him to chase English rabbits. Here, boy.’ Len slumped down into an armchair and the little dog instantly leapt into his lap. ‘It’s the country for you now, lad. No more dolce vita in London.’
It warmed her heart to see her father’s face take on its old jovial lines, and it struck her how long it had been since she’d seen the larger-than-life father she was used to. A hip fracture was bad enough at his age, and the loss of independence that went with it, but she suspected the real cause lay with her mother. Tomorrow she would ask her father directly, but she knew his protectiveness of Olivia, as well as his reliance on her, would mean that he didn’t tell the whole truth. She needed to see for herself. If only she could pin her mother down in this whirlwind of activity she wrapped herself in.
‘Tell you what, Dad, why don’t I drive you home? I can walk back. Vito needs the exercise.’
Claudia helped her father swing his still-painful hip into the car and tucked the little dog by his feet. She waited a moment till he was comfortable.
‘So, how’s Mum been?’
His face took on a strained quality. ‘Claudia, I worry about her. She’s never admitted to her age, always been such a live wire, but she’s like one of those spinning tops that go careering all over the place. I’m afraid one of these days she’ll spin right off the edge.’
They were approaching her parents’ house.
‘Dad.’ Claudia pulled the car in for a moment.
‘Why are we stopping here?’
‘Because there’s something we need to talk about.’
Her lovely father, always full of jokes, the life and soul of the golf course, looked almost fearful, as if whatever it was she had to say, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear it.
‘When you were in hospital, the doctor called me in. They were worried about Mum. They thought her behaviour was odd.’
‘Odd? Why?’
‘She was going around the beds in the wards signing people up to all sorts of unsuitable activities.’
‘She’s always doing that. She wanted me to do tenpin bowling – and I can’t even walk.’
‘Exactly. The doctor thought she might be driven by some kind of mania.’
‘Mania?’
‘Yes, as in what they used to call manic depression.’
‘But your mother’s never depressed. Far from it.’ He looked as if a little depression might come as a peaceful change.
‘Not yet. They wanted Don and me to keep a bit of an eye on her.’ She reached over and took his hand. ‘That’s partly why we’ve come to live nearby. Though for goodness’ sake don’t tell Mum that.’
‘I did wonder. It was all so sudden.’
‘Don’s in seventh heaven moving here.’
‘Manic depression! That sounds so serious.’
‘There are degrees of it, apparently. It can respond well to therapy and they have very good medication nowadays.’
Len shook his head. ‘Therapy! Can you imagine your mother having therapy? She’s always despised that kind of thing. And she’d never take medicine, your mum. She won’t even take pills for her rheumatism.’
‘Then we may have to persuade her. The tricky bit will be getting her to see she needs to.’
‘You’re telling me,’ her father underlined the job ahead of them. ‘I’m glad it’s you rather than me.’
Claudia repressed a sigh. Still, wasn’t this the reason she’d left London and moved to Little Minsley?
The phone in her bag rang and Claudia jumped. They’d been here such a short time she wasn’t expecting any calls.
‘Claudia, Ella here. We need an urgent meeting. Simon the Shit wants Laura to divorce him and I think we should all be there for her to discuss it. Any chance you could make it up to town next Tue
sday?’
Claudia felt as if Ella had offered her some cool spring water after a long walk to a destination she didn’t want to reach anyway. ‘London! Ella, I’d love to!’
‘Seven-thirty at The Grove, then?’
‘I’ll be there. Don’t worry.’
Ella then rang Sal to make sure she could come as well.
‘Ella,’ Sal hesitated, not at all convinced she could carry off an evening with her best friends and keep her news to herself, ‘I’m not sure I can come . . .’
‘Sally Grainger!’ Ella commanded. ‘How often do I issue a three-line whip? Laura needs us.’
Sal bit her lip. If only her friends knew how much she might need their support as well. But she had come to the decision she could only get through this if she kept it to herself, and there was no way she could weaken so soon. Besides, the doctor might be summoning her in for good news. The worrying mass of tissue might not be cancer at all.
‘Of course I’ll be there. Seven-thirty at The Grecian Grove?’
As she watched her daughter helping Wenceslaus out of the car Ella could guess the explanation for her behaviour. Julia was the kind of person who wanted, needed even, to look after people. Her sons had been sent off to boarding school and her husband required very little from her except clean shirts and his meals on the table.
It struck Ella what a curious mix her daughter was. Strong, forceful even, in some ways and yet frighteningly fragile in others. Julia, she was sure, had been furious when Wenceslaus moved in, seeing him as a cuckoo in the family nest, devouring advantages which should be hers. But then she’d got to know him. As well as his extraordinary looks, Wenceslaus had an innocent charm and an open and appealing nature. To Julia’s horror she’d clearly found he evoked her sympathy. But sympathy had metamorphosed into attraction and now, Ella feared, even obsession.
‘Are you all right?’ Julia fussed, trying to help him up the garden path.
‘I fine. Thank you.’ Wenceslaus disentangled himself from her grip.
Ella caught the bereft look on Julia’s face.
Oh dear God, this wasn’t good news. What the hell should she do?