She gave a nervous laugh. ‘No trouble. Really, Matt – you must come as often as you want. You can have your own room, your own set-up – the kids would have you here all the time—’
‘You’re a great mother. I’d forgotten that.’
‘Hardly.’
‘You are.’ His eyes shone in the gloom. The last of the light outside was almost gone. ‘You talk to them. You let them be themselves, not how you want them to be.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’ Juliet could feel the wine warming her. She felt relaxed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. God, yes. You’re so – lovely. I – I miss you, Ju.’
He put one hand on her hip, the other around her neck, and leaned in towards her. As if in a trance, Juliet mirrored him and then she inhaled, smelling him again, the hair gel, the aftershave, the rosemary. Matt.
The spell was broken: she pulled away.
‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to stay calm, not to show how this upset her, but merely to laugh it off – she knew Matt’s fragile ego of old. ‘We can’t—’ She held out her hand. ‘You know that.’
‘Sorry. Yep. I know,’ he said, neutrally, and walked back to the other end of the table and picked up his wine glass, as if none of it had happened. He gave a little frown, and stared down towards the garden. ‘Bea’s in that little studio again, is she?’
‘No, I’ve corralled her back into bed. But she loves it in there.’
‘Must be a bit lonely. How’s she getting on?’
Juliet realised her heart was thumping, hard, as she tried to answer normally, calmly. ‘Good. I’m making sure she does her cello practice. She’s very keen on Frederic, and George has been so great. There’s some play she’s in at school, too. I’m keeping her busy.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He put the glass down on the table and stared out at the sunset. ‘Has she mentioned Fin to you again? Do you know if they still see each other?’
‘Fin?’ Juliet passed a hand across her head, then realised she had foam on her hairline from the washing up. ‘Oh, him. I’ve seen some weird texts. But to be honest, he seems to have passed out of the picture since we moved away.’
‘Who?’ he said, as though he hadn’t understood her.
‘Fin. That boy I thought she was seeing. She has some friends at school here – there’s a girl called Jack, and Betty, and some twins . . .’ Juliet had been keeping track of everyone Bea mentioned down here, determined to stay on it, to make sure she knew as much as she could about her Sphinx-like teenager’s existence. ‘It’s a different set-up at this school, much smaller, and everyone knows everyone else – the parents seem nice, Matt, you should come down for her birthday, you can meet some of them. But, to be honest, Fin always seemed OK – it’s Amy and those other girls who were so vile—’ He was staring at her, with a half-smirk she couldn’t decipher. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
And then Matt started laughing. A loud, ringing laugh that rang, strange and wild, round the old house. He smiled nastily.
‘This is what I’m talking about. You ask me down here, you prattle on about some stupid window seats and how I can have a bath, like you’re lady of the bloody manor and I’m some bit of scum you accidentally had three children with. And you – you don’t even know what’s going on under your own fucking nose.’ The expletive took Juliet by surprise; she flinched, and he laughed again. ‘You drag them down here, to this pit – I mean, Juliet, have you looked at this house through anything except your ridiculous grandmother’s rose-tinted spectacles?’
‘It’s not a pit.’ She shook her head slowly, allowing her disdain for him to show itself on her face as she twisted her gaze to meet his. She knew she was breaking her pact with herself, not to antagonise him, but she didn’t care. ‘It’s our home.’
‘Oh, my God!’ He wiped his eyes. His voice was loud, almost as if he wanted the children to wake, to hear them. ‘You really have lost the plot. It’s starting to make sense now. You know I never understood why your grandmother riled you more than anyone else.’ He leaned towards her, eyes shining. ‘It’s because you’re identical. You seem all sweetness and light and you’re exactly the same as her. Single-minded, selfish, head in the sand . . .’
‘You keep forgetting this small detail, Matt. You were having an affair!’
‘You left, my dear girl.’ He laughed. ‘This is why I get to tell you what to do. You took the children and you left.’
Juliet said in biting tones, ‘You know, Matt, you’re going to have to get past that bit, otherwise you’re in for a nasty shock. You were squashing me. We were crushing each other down, the children, too. Bea especially.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You don’t understand. She wanted to come. She asked to leave.’
Matt turned and shut the door on to the hallway. ‘You don’t know the first thing about your own daughter,’ he said, softly, walking back towards her, only now he seemed menacing, and she remembered with cold horror the chameleon-like way he could utterly change himself.
Juliet’s jaw was clenched so tight she realised it was actually hurting. ‘Bea was like a hunted animal back in London. Don’t tell me I don’t know her.’
Matt looked down at her, picked up one lock of her red hair. It caught in the light. ‘Fin is a girl,’ he said, and dropped the hair again.
‘What?’
‘Fin. Is. A. Girl. She was Bea’s girlfriend. She came out to me a few months ago.’ He laughed again, shortly, and stepped back from her, arms outspread, like a magician, concluding his final trick of the show.
Juliet put her hand on the back of the chair. ‘A girl. She—’ She exhaled. ‘Of course.’ The pit of her stomach felt hollow. ‘Little one—’ She put the other hand over her mouth. ‘Of course. How could I have been so stupid!’
He was watching her. ‘This is what I mean.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? How could you—’ She let her hands drop to her sides, and said blankly, ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘She asked me not to tell anyone. So I didn’t and, besides, you live in a fantasy world. You never talk to your parents. What’s that about? Your grandmother was completely mad when she died. You don’t even know your own children. You shouldn’t be in charge of them. So don’t threaten me. Robert’s got me a solicitor.’
‘Robert who?’
‘Tess’s husband.’
‘Tess’s husband has found you a solicitor?’
‘Yeah, OK? And – and by the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll have sold this house, and the children will be back in London, nearby, where I can see them. It’s happening, Juliet.’ He started to say something else, then stopped. ‘I don’t know what you’re up to down here, what little plans you’ve got, but this is happening. And I’ll make you so sorry you made a fool of me, taking them away like that.’
‘I want to talk about Bea—’ she began, but he had turned. ‘I’m tired. I drove for three hours to get here. I’m going to bed.’
She watched as he climbed the curving staircase at the centre of the house, a slim figure in navy-black, looking ahead of him. And I can’t ask him to leave. There’s nothing I can do. He has to stay here.
She dreamed vividly, of Bea in the Dovecote, playing with the doll’s house, and woke upright in bed, arms gesticulating as she talked to her. Of Frederic’s face, staring at her and smiling. Juliet lay awake blinking in the dark, almost until the first, grey light, the last day before the clocks went back. Then she got up, as she had done so many times lately, and went out to the garden again. To rake up the leaves that had fallen in the night. To pick more apples and quinces, plant the bulbs she’d bought.
Chapter Eighteen
‘What do you guys want to do today, then? You should show Daddy some of the local sights.’
‘Here?’ said Isla, in surprise, pushing away her Sugar Puffs. ‘Dad, there’s nothing to do here.’
Matt smiled into his black coffee.
‘Oh,’ said Juliet, ‘I know it’s nothing compar
ed to London. You could take him round the garden, show him the Dovecote—’
‘Bea doesn’t like people going in there.’
‘Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind Daddy seeing it. Where is she, do you know?’
Isla turned to her father. ‘She is literally so unpredictable lately, Dad. If you go in there, you might get it in the head.’ She looked momentarily confused, and whispered, ‘Is that right?’
‘Sure, honey,’ said Matt, not looking up from his phone.
‘Sort of,’ said Juliet. ‘Get it in the neck.’
‘Oh. Well, that makes no sense. I think you should write to the people who make the dictionary.’
‘Yes, OK—’ Juliet said. A creaking floorboard behind her made her spin her head around, hoping for the flash of a smooth black head, but there was no one there, just the house, settling, sighing. ‘You can take him for a walk down the lane, to pick some damsons, they’re still everywhere—’
Isla looked at her with pity. ‘A walk down the lane.’
‘Mum’s very good at all that country stuff, isn’t she?’ said Matt to the children. He put his phone down on the table. ‘Listen, kids, do you both have swimming costumes?’
‘My like swimming,’ said Sandy intently to his father.
Isla nodded, cautiously. ‘We do, Dad. But why?’
‘How about we go . . .’ Matt slid the phone across to them. ‘How about we go here! The Walbrook Wild Waterpark and Pirate Ship! It’s got a 4.8 rating on TripAdvisor!’ They looked blank. ‘You can jump off a pirate ship into the water and they’ve got a wave machine!’
‘Yay!’ screamed Isla, knocking over her bowl and rushing round to her father. ‘Yay, Daddy, the waterpark! Everyone at school has been and I am the only one who hasn’t!’ Tears shone in her large blue eyes. ‘Sandy, we’re going to the Pirate Waterpark!’
‘Yay!’ shouted Sandy. ‘My love Pirates!’
‘He can’t swim,’ said Juliet, pointedly, her arms folded. ‘You’ll have to watch out for him all the time—’
‘I know he can’t swim.’ Matt had picked Sandy up and was jiggling him about. ‘We’ll go in the little rascals pool, won’t we, mate? We can watch Isla on the ship. And we can have an ice cream afterwards!’
‘Yay!’ said Isla.
‘Apples?’ Sandy looked at his mother, questioningly, but Juliet beamed at him.
‘Yes, you can take an apple. Guys, you’ll have such a brilliant time. Let me find your swimmers.’
‘Hurrah!’ Isla started dancing around the kitchen, as Matt said, ‘What about Bea? I’ll go and ask her.’
Isla stopped dancing in the doorway to the kitchen. She turned around. ‘She said she told you she was going out.’
‘No,’ said Juliet, looking at Matt who shook his head. ‘She didn’t tell us. Do you know where she was going, Isla?’
Isla shrugged. ‘On her bike to see a friend. Her bike with the blue handles.’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t actually pull off the rubber coating, I just wanted to play with the handlebars to see how it works and she was really mean. She said I was a baby and she pushed me away . . .’ She gave a big, dramatic sniff, looking around to gauge sympathy, but her parents looked on unmoved. ‘I bet she’s gone to see George.’
‘George?’ said Matt.
‘That skarkastick man who lives with Frederic. She loves him.’
‘When did she go?’
Isla shrugged. ‘I can’t tell the time. This year some time.’
Juliet stood up. ‘I have to go into Godstow anyway to thank Frederic for the furniture.’ She felt if she didn’t see another adult other than Matt soon she’d scream. ‘I’ll bring her home if she needs a lift. You guys go without her. Right, I’ll get the swimming costumes and pack an apple, and Sandy, you have to promise you’ll wear the armbands all the time. And afterwards you can have as much ice cream as you want, Daddy wants to treat you both to the biggest one there is,’ she said, maliciously and, carrying her breakfast things, she glided out of the door.
He caught up with her, as the children resumed eating, their spoons clattering on the china. He put his hand on her arm.
‘We didn’t properly finish our conversation last night,’ he said, under his breath, the pressure of his fingers increasing. ‘I just wanted to make sure you understand I’m on to you, Juliet.’
Juliet shook her arm free. ‘Oh good grief.’ She pushed her hair away from her eyes, and went into the kitchen, dropping the bowls into the sink with a clatter. ‘Look, I know I’m the worst person imaginable to be in charge of your children and it’s a wonder they’re not all crack addicts or in jail, but stop muttering threats like some third-rate villain, and stop speaking in riddles. You are a total dick not to have told me about Bea and you know it.’
‘Don’t call me names—’
‘Matt! You deliberately withheld information from me. She’s our daughter, and she’s been being horribly bullied because she was in a relationship with a girl, and she was trying to come out to us and couldn’t face telling me and you found out and instead of sharing it with me so we could be there for her you. . . you didn’t tell me so you could have the power. I mean, have a word with yourself.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ But he was staring at the floor.
‘Mate!’ She shook her head. ‘You know how shitty that was. You know it.’ She paused, looking at his blank face, and breathed in. ‘It’s great you’re taking them to the Waterpark. They’ve been nagging me about it since we moved here.’ She dried her hands on a teatowel. ‘OK? Do we understand each other?’
Matt wiped his face with his arm, collecting himself. He fiddled with his phone. ‘Sorry – just doing this,’ he said, then put the phone in his pocket and cleared his throat. ‘OK, I’ll stop speaking in riddles. But I’ve been thinking. I don’t understand how you got this house. Something doesn’t make sense. How did you afford it?’
‘The house? It was left to me. I’ve told you.’
He leaned towards her. ‘What have you found, though? Have you found the painting?’
‘The what?’
‘The original The Garden of Lost and Found,’ he said, impatiently. ‘Or the sketch. Is that why you had to leave Dawnay’s? Because it was your property? That’s how you’ve paid for all this?’ He tapped the side of his nose.
Juliet was twisting her hair up more tightly into a clip. She stared at him in astonishment. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Why are you suddenly asking all these questions?’
‘Robert’s investigating you. He’s sure you must know more than you’re letting on. Cos something about this doesn’t add up.’
‘Tess’s Robert? Oh, good grief.’ Juliet stepped back, and opened the back door, letting a fresh, sharp burst of warm October air in, along with bright sunlight and a few drifting yellow-gold leaves. ‘Not him again. The three of you want to know what you can get out of me, do you?’ She smiled – it was so cartoonish.
Matt drained his coffee. ‘I know you’re lying.’
Juliet breathed in again, drinking in the air. It was cool, with a spiced edge of woodsmoke. ‘Oh, my goodness. So he doesn’t want to have to pay maintenance, you don’t want to have to pay maintenance, and the three of you have started to wonder how you can get your hands on some money, have you?’ She laughed. ‘You’re like a sort of modern-day Lavender Hill Mob, only led by a man in a Savile Row suit with a blacked-out black Range Rover.’ Sandy appeared in the doorway, and stared at his father curiously. ‘Look, I’m sorry to disappoint you but Grandi left me the house. You’re welcome to see the roof and the guttering, but if not let me assure you it is in a terrible state and will probably bankrupt me. The sketch was bought by a soulless billionaire who hates publicity and it won’t ever be seen again in public.’
‘He’s an old friend of Robert’s actually.’
‘Who? Julius Irons?’ Juliet realised, were it not for worrying about Bea, she would almost be enjoying herself. ‘Of course he is!’
‘R
obert’s a fascinating guy when you get to know him, Juliet. You’re such an inverted snob, I’d forgotten.’
‘Matt, are you in love with Tess, or with her husband?’ She shut the back door and walked through the dining room to the hall, Sandy following them at a distance. Morning sunshine flooded the light well above them.
‘You’re so juvenile. You expect me to believe she just left you a house fifteen years after her death and there’s nothing more to it than that? Come on, Juliet.’
Juliet lowered her voice so Sandy couldn’t hear.
‘No,’ she said, with a big, cat-like grin. ‘I expect you to believe I left you because I don’t want to be with you any more. Because you’re an idiot. Other than that, you and friend to billionaires Robert can think what you want.’
She picked an apple out of the crate, and went upstairs, taking a bite out of it as she went.
‘Juliet? Hi!’
‘Hi – hi there.’ Juliet paused outside Pascale & Co, and smiled, trying to remember the name of the woman in front of her. ‘I’m Juliet,’ she said, pointlessly, after a few seconds.
The other woman laughed. ‘Yes. Yes, I know. I’m Jo. Emily’s mum.’
‘Oh. Hi,’ said Juliet. She held out her hand, knowing this wasn’t the correct next step, but lately her ability to read social cues seemed to have totally vanished. She pumped Jo’s hand up and down, enthusiastically. ‘Isla goes on about Emily all the time. She saw her the other day, near the almshouses.’
‘Yes, we’re just opposite the church in one of the newbuilds on Mill Lane actually.’ Jo shifted her cloth bag over her arm. She had a heart-shaped face and a big smile. ‘How are you settling in, then? You’re at the old Walker house, aren’t you? Sounds like an amazing place.’
‘Yes,’ said Juliet, and she hesitated. ‘It’s my family’s house, actually. My grandmother died about fifteen years ago and her . . . it was . . . well, I’m just trying to sort it all out.’ How did you explain it all? You didn’t. This woman was simply being polite. She didn’t want to know about burned paintings and divorces. Just be normal. ‘Anyway, can we get Emily over some time?’
The Garden of Lost and Found Page 21