‘No, I…’ She was pulling off her shirt now, undoing the zipper on her jeans.
‘Don't you see?’ she cried, flinging the jeans at the bedroom chair, ‘Cassie, Peter… They're here because they need our support. And Ed is picking himself up, doing what he can, and the girls, pitching up with their boyfriends, all doing their best to help. It's fantastic. Like a miracle. We thought we were falling apart but we're not. We're the strong ones, we –’
‘It's just the house,’ Charlie croaked. ‘It's a big house… There's room –’
‘No, it's not just the house, it's us – it's –’
‘Serena… darling… what are you doing?’
Serena, standing next to the bed now in just her bra and pants, went very still. ‘Say that again.’
‘What are you doing?’ Charlie repeated, swallowing to clear the thickness from his voice. ‘It wouldn't be wise to sleep here. You'll catch my germs.’
‘No, silly…’ Serena whispered, crouching next to him, and pressing her face so close that Charlie could feel the warmth of her breath on his mouth. ‘The other thing you said… the darling. Say it again.’
‘Darling…’
‘Again.’
‘Darling… Serena… I don't know what to do about any-thing… I…’ Charlie faltered, defeated by a swelling at the back of his still tender throat that had nothing to do with his tonsils. He tried to speak again but his wife was kissing him, despite the germs, and soon he was kissing her back in a way he hadn't for months, revelling in the wonderful obstinacy of her hope.
Padding along the corridor half an hour later, Theo was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Julian, clad only in boxers, balancing on the balls of his feet a few yards short of Maisie's bedroom. On seeing Theo, he raised his finger to his lips, then pointed at the floor in reference to the inconvenience of creaking floorboards.
Theo felt a momentary pang of envy. What a bloody great idea. Good luck to them. He gave Julian a smile of encouragement and headed, floorboards groaning, for the stairs. He needed a drink. Brandy or Scotch. The effects of the wine, which had helped him through the ordeal of dinner, had almost worn off. Now he needed something to allay his anger. His father… his bloody father.
Theo went to the drinks cabinet in the dining room and poured himself three inches of Cognac. Spotting a pack of Havanas at the back of a shelf, he unwrapped one and stuck it into his mouth. His poor mother… his poor mother. Theo rolled the cigar across his lips as he recalled their phone conversation that afternoon, the most difficult of his life. She didn't know what she thought, she said. She couldn't speak to his father until she did. She was sorry, she hoped Theo was okay, that he wouldn't let it get him down.
Get him down? Theo smacked his hand against the drinks cabinet, causing such an orchestra of rattling among the decanters and glasses that Poppy trotted in to investigate. Theo turned his back on her, shamed somehow by her inquisitive face, and took a swig of his drink, then topped up his glass. He didn't feel got down so much as stupid. His father annoyed him – more and more over the years – but he had always trusted his judgement. Now Theo felt as if he had been leaning against a wall that wasn't there. It made him wonder, too, about all the things he had done in pursuit of paternal approval – like not properly considering film school, like choosing to read politics and philosophy when history was much more of a passion, like…
‘Theo?’
‘Ed… I…’
‘You need a light by the look of it,’ declared his cousin. ‘Come on, I've got one in the kitchen. Clem and Jonny are there too. We've opened a bottle of wine – though you look pretty sorted on that front. Poppy got into the pantry and ate what was left of the trifle so we're waiting for her to throw it up, aren't we?’ He slapped the dog, who nuzzled him.
‘Welcome to the party,’ announced Jonny, raising his glass as the two young men entered the kitchen. He sidled closer to Clem on the big old yellow sofa while Ed produced a lighter for Theo's cigar. ‘We're on ice-cream,’ he explained, tapping the plastic tub on Clem's lap and offering Theo a spoon. ‘Raspberry ripple. Finished the chocolate fudge, I'm afraid.’
‘Nah.’ Theo held up his cigar and brandy. ‘I'm all right with these, thanks.’
‘We were discussing your family,’ continued Jonny, brightly, ‘and how exciting it is. I've only got a boring geeky sister, a cousin I barely see and a father who's never quite grown out of being a hippie – long hair, flared trousers. I can't take him anywhere.’
‘We sort of knew,’ ventured Clem meekly, ‘about your dad and his… friend. Jonny saw them that day we were shooting in the park. I told him not to say anything but now I wish I had.’
Theo shrugged. ‘Don't worry about it. I probably wouldn't have believed you anyway.’
‘Are they going to split up, do you think?’
‘God knows. It's up to Mum, I suppose. Dad…’ Theo paused, momentarily reliving the horror in his aunt's studio that afternoon, the sun shining in squares on the desk, the winded feeling in his stomach, as if a heavy boot had landed under his ribcage. ‘Dad said time would sort it out. He said…’ Theo scowled ‘… he fell in love.’ There was a silence, while they all absorbed the implications of this. Theo got up from the sofa, ran the tip of his cigar under the tap, then dropped it into the bin, almost regretful that, even in a state of such extremity, he couldn't enjoy it enough to smoke it. He took another swig of brandy by way of consolation, noting with some disappointment that his glass was almost empty.
‘Did he say he was sorry?’ ventured Ed.
‘I don't think so, although I suppose he must be.’ Theo walked back to the sofa, draining his glass and filling it with wine on the way. ‘He seems to be planning on staying down here for the time being, commuting to work. He said there was some sort of new arrangement about this place, anyway, that your father asked him to move in and take over.’ Theo was aware that the alcohol had loosened his tongue to the point at which consonants were slipping out of reach. ‘He seemed to think,’ he continued carefully, ‘that the idea would give me some sort of pleasure.’
Ed glanced at Clem. During the evening he had told both his sisters every sad twist of what had been going on at home. He hadn't planned to. Not long ago he would have avoided telling them, especially Clem, what time it was. But Clem had apologized several times now for her behaviour earlier in the year, and both his sisters had been so open and concerned, so aware of what a vile time he was having, that as they all bustled round with cutlery and crockery, chopping vegetables and stirring saucepans, the confidences couldn't slip out fast enough. They were on his side, he had realized, not just about the bloody baby but all the other stuff he had been trying to deal with as well.
‘And does it give you pleasure?’ asked Ed, now, watching Theo, remembering what Roland had said about his cousin's resentment and wondering whether to mention it. The wine had left little pink stains on his cousin's lips, he noticed, like smudges of lipstick.
‘No,’ Theo snapped. ‘It fucking doesn't. Maybe once… but now it doesn't seem important. You guys… you're good here. It's your place now. I just want things back as they were,’ he finished, slamming his glass down and standing up. ‘Good chat… thanks.’ He took a step and fell against the table. ‘In a way, all that's happened is good,’ he mumbled, studying their concerned faces through bleary eyes. ‘Bloody parents off the fucking pedestal at last. Lets me – lets us – off too, doesn't it? Freedom.’ He flung out his hands to emphasize the point only to fall back against the table.
‘My hippie dad is happier without my mum,’ said Jonny, quietly. A good divorce is better than a bad marriage and all that.’
‘Yeah… whatever.’ Theo tried again to stand alone, to be caught this time by Ed.
‘I'll take you upstairs, mate, shall I? I'm going anyway.’ He put an arm round his cousin's back.
‘Most grateful. Thanks,’ muttered Theo, too tired and loose-limbed to resist. At the stairs he gripped Ed's arm more tightly,
whispering with sudden urgency, ‘You run into any more problems and I'm your man, okay? The Jessica thing… I should have kept my word. Next time I won't tell a soul. Do you read me, Ed?’
He continued to tug hard at Ed's arm, refusing to move until his cousin had agreed to consult him about any more unplanned pregnancies or crises that might require discretion.
The next morning Charlie woke to find he was alone. Disappointed, he hugged one of the pillows Serena had used, wishing he could detect a trace of her scent through his blocked nose.
He had almost fallen asleep again when the door opened and his twin daughters processed into the room, Maisie carrying a tray and Clem the newspaper.
‘Mum said she thought you'd be up to a little breakfast.’
‘Did she now?’
‘She said you'd be feeling better,’ announced Maisie, setting down the tray and pulling back the curtains to reveal another sparkling day, ‘but that we probably shouldn't kiss you because she doesn't want me getting ill before uni.’
‘Or me before my job interview,’ put in Clem, ‘to be a junior press officer.’
‘A press officer!’ exclaimed Charlie, hunting for a clean spot on his handkerchief. ‘I didn't even know you were looking for a job.’
‘There are a lot of things you don't know, Dad,’ declared Maisie, stepping away from the window, arms folded.
‘Indeed?’ Charlie murmured, too pleased at the sight of his boiled egg and toast to mind the archness in his daughter's tone. And what would they be?’
‘Ed should be allowed to get a job instead of going to uni, if that's what he wants to do.’
‘You let me,’ Clem pointed out, ‘and I didn't even have a baby to worry about.’ She had gone to stand next to her sister. Charlie was struck afresh by how different they were for twins, yet how united – defiant too, standing there, feet planted, arms crossed, like two buddies squaring up for a fight. ‘Or do boys get different treatment in this family?’
‘And,’ continued Maisie, before he could respond, ‘we all think it's totally unfair that you should decide we leave Ashley House.’ She looked at her sister. ‘We think it should be a family decision. And if it's because Ed's baby is going to cost so much money it's totally unreasonable not to let Ed try to do something about it.’
‘And Theo doesn't want to live here anyway,’ added Clem. ‘We talked to him about it last night. He wants his mum and dad to patch things up and stay in London.’
Charlie, too, had folded his arms in an attempt to seem resilient rather than disarmed. ‘I see. Anything else?’
The girls exchanged a glance, then shook their heads. ‘No, that's about it. Oh, except Mum asked us to tell you that Aunt Cassie has left to see Stephen's parents in Hull, but not to worry as Aunt Elizabeth has gone with her.’
They were sidling towards the door now, their composure gone. Maisie lunged for the handle first and there was a tangle of elbows before they got themselves out on to the landing. In their haste, they failed to close the door properly, allowing their father, gazing in some bewilderment now at the freckled crown of his egg, to hear their excited whispers as they retreated to the stairs.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I was chuffed to bits… er…’ Keith frowned at himself in the bathroom mirror and tried again. ‘I was very honoured…’ A lot better. ‘I was very honoured when Stephen asked me to be his best man because he and I go back a long way and, well, that means there are things I know about him that I probably ought to keep to myself.’ Pause for laughter. Or maybe they wouldn't laugh. Maybe there would be one of those awkward silences while Stephen looked at him in open horror as to what he might reveal of their ugly childhood alliance, driven as it had often been by a mutual desire to survive rather than pleasure. ‘Our lives were pretty tough but we saw each other through – looked out for each other.’ No, he couldn't say that. He needed a different tack altogether. One about the Harrisons maybe – yes, that would do. ‘It's all thanks to Steve that I got to know –’
Keith was interrupted by a loud rap, followed by his sister's strident voice asking who the hell he was talking to. ‘No one.’ He unlocked the door and blushed as she scoured her small bathroom for evidence of another occupant. ‘I was… practising for the best-man speech.’
‘But that's months away, you berk.’
‘Well, I need months, don't I?’ Keith muttered unhappily.
‘You'd be better off getting down that job agency.’
‘Don't start, Irene, okay? Just don't start. I'm doing what I can. I so nearly got that last one – down to the final three, they said.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ His sister sighed. ‘You'll find something soon, I'm sure, just don't give up, okay? Anyway,’ she continued, straightening the bathroom mat with her foot, ‘there's someone downstairs to see you. A woman. I showed her into the lounge. I'm off out now so I'll leave you to it,’ she added, giving him a sly look before she skipped down the stairs.
‘Is this where you sleep?’ asked Elizabeth, nodding at the pillow and sleeping-bag folded at one end of the sofa. She had her hair in a high ponytail that tightened her features, and was wearing a long dark overcoat and heavy-soled brown boots that looked ungainly but soft as weathered slippers.
Keith nodded. He had known somehow that it was her, not just because of the funny look on his sister's face but because of the unsteadiness in his legs as he hurried downstairs. ‘How are you?’
Elizabeth laughed, throwing back her head so that her hair swung across her shoulder. ‘Fucking awful, thank you.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘And how are you?’
‘Awful.’
They grinned at each other.
‘I came up by train with Cassie. She's gone to see – Oh dear, there's a lot I need to tell you and I hardly know where to start.’
‘Would a cup of tea help? Or something stronger?’ ‘Shall we settle for strong tea? You'll need it, I warn you.’ ‘Oh, blimey… I might have known. Have I done something wrong?’
‘Yes, but so have I, and we're going to put it right.’ Keith let out a low whistle. ‘Now you've got me really worried. Hey, you look different.’
Elizabeth scowled. ‘You mean thinner?’ ‘I suppose… but not just that. You look well.’ ‘Maybe I am.’ She wondered when on earth he was going to touch her, then issued a warning to herself: maybe things had changed, maybe the female equivalent of Bill Jackson had got her hooks into him.
‘Strong tea it is, then,’ Keith said, nodding at her to follow him into the kitchen. When she didn't move he crossed the room and took her hand. He studied it as he led her round the sofa and out of the room, as if the course of both their lives might be legible in the faint lines crossing her palm.
After the taxi had gone Cassie walked down the road away from the house. She felt hollow with fear but calm too. Talking to Elizabeth on the train had helped enormously. She was touched by how her elder sister seemed to think she had been neglecting her. ‘It's my fault,’ Cassie had insisted. ‘When you're unhappy you lock it away, especially if everyone is busily assuming you're euphoric.’ Elizabeth had nodded eagerly, and went on to explain in more detail than she ever had before what it had been like living with Colin while her marriage slowly disintegrated, how an engagement unhinging had to be exactly the same, but with even more pressure. They had shared a packet of sandwiches and drunk several cups of coffee, letting the conversation spill out at its own rhythm, soothed by the rumble of the train and the changing landscape zipping past the window.
‘If Stephen has died,’ Elizabeth said, ‘in whatever way, it's not your fault. You've done everything you can – telling the police, deciding to see his parents. There is nothing more you can do. Your only crime, Cass,’ she added, reaching between the Styrofoam cups and stroking her sister's hand, ‘was to tell a man you no longer wanted to marry him. That's hard, but not illegal. Frankly, Helen has more reason to go storming off than Stephen. You were honest, which I'm beginning to recognize is about t
he only thing in this world that matters.’
It was only as the train was crawling into the station, and Cassie insisted apologetically that she wished to make her difficult visit alone, that Elizabeth revealed she, too, had someone to see.
‘Keith?’ Cassie exclaimed, so loudly that the elderly gentleman occupying the seat across the aisle peered over his book of crosswords. ‘I thought you'd go shopping or something. Keith? Whatever for?’
‘We… for a time… while he was at Ashley House…’
‘Bloody hell, you kept that quiet.’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘Oh, I think one or two people guessed… I'm pretty sure Roland did.’
‘Well, Stephen didn't – or he would have told me. That is, I think he would.’ Cassie frowned, all her surprise shrinking at the recollection of the confusingly layered personality of the man she had once loved, how she had ended up believing she knew almost nothing about him. She thought, too, how odd it was that two such old friends, from such different backgrounds, should have become ensnared in her and her sister's lives without either side knowing about it. ‘So you two fell out, too, did you?’
‘Oh, no, not at all.’ The train had come to a stop and was hissing loudly. Elizabeth was busy buttoning her coat and tightening her ponytail. ‘It was all too… complicated. But,’ she continued, ‘since you're determined to manage alone, I'm sure he won't mind giving me a cup of tea.’
Hovering outside the gate that led to a brown front door, Cassie wished very much that her sister was at her side, if only to push her physically in the right direction. Then, when she had plucked up courage to open the gate, the latch was stuck. She was tugging at it with both hands when the front door opened and a heavy-figured woman with short white hair and a large mole on one cheek said that if she was Jehovah's the answer was no.
‘I'm not. I – I'm a friend of Stephen's,’ Cassie faltered, moving rather faster than she had intended towards the door as the gate finally let her through.
‘Are you now?’ The woman narrowed her eyes and folded her arms.
The Simple Rules of Love Page 45