The Sea Garden

by Marcia Willett

  It is clear that Johnnie is flattered by Guy’s reaction to his home and its surroundings.

  ‘We could sail tomorrow, if you like,’ he offers. ‘Take Alice out and make a day of it. The tide’s right but we’d need to get off by eight o’clock latest. How would that suit you?’

  Oliver almost laughs at Guy’s expression: he looks like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

  ‘I’d love it,’ he says at once. ‘It would be great.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ says Johnnie.

  He begins to explain that the sea garden was once a quay, how the old sailing boats and barges used to come right upriver, and Guy listens, fascinated. They wander away towards the boathouse.

  So much, thinks Oliver, for getting in touch with Gemma and trying to sort things out.

  He wonders what is in Guy’s mind: clearly he feels that one more day won’t matter; after all, Gemma doesn’t know that he’s in the country.

  ‘We email quite a lot,’ Gemma said, ‘but he’s useless with a mobile. I insist that he has one but he never switches it on. He’s a very bad communicator. Thank God Ma got on to Skype when we went out. At least I can sometimes get him on that, and the boys love it, of course.’

  He strolls behind Guy and Johnnie, across the lawn, but when Jess and Sophie come out of the house he changes direction and goes to meet them.

  ‘The boathouse is next on the agenda,’ he tells them. ‘Johnnie’s invited Guy to go sailing tomorrow.’

  ‘I wonder which boat he’s taking out,’ says Sophie, alert at once; keen. ‘We could get hold of old Fred and make a day of it.’ She raises her eyebrows at Oliver. ‘I think you said that you’re not a sailing man? You don’t fancy a day’s sailing in the Channel?’

  He shakes his head, smiling. ‘Not me, lady. But Guy will be in his element.’

  She laughs. ‘A landlubber,’ she says.

  Another look goes between them, acknowledging this thing that has happened to them, and with it an odd sense of acceptance. There is none of the anxiety or tension or fever that is often present at such moments; just this deep-down happiness. Sophie turns away to follow Guy and Johnnie; Oliver looks at Jess, sensing her relief.

  ‘Is this a good moment to show me whatever it is you want me to see?’

  He follows her up the steps and into the sail loft. Whilst he wanders through the large light room she disappears into her bedroom and presently reappears with a photograph.

  ‘Lady T showed me this,’ she says, holding it out to him. ‘It’s got Mike in it. I wondered if you’d recognize anyone else.’

  He takes the big black-and-white photograph and studies the young men.

  ‘Which is Mike?’ he asks. ‘Mike’s your grandfather, right?’

  He notices the faintest of hesitations before she answers.

  ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That’s Mike.’

  As she points at one of the young men Oliver gives a cry of recognition. ‘There’s Pa,’ he says. ‘Look, here. And that’s Johnnie beside him, surely. You can see the likeness when you really look. So that’s Mike, is it? But I don’t recognize the other three. Do you know who they are?’

  ‘That one,’ she says, pointing, ‘is Al.’

  ‘Who’s Al?’

  ‘Johnnie’s older brother. He died in a sailing accident.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember now.’ Oliver looks more closely, then shakes his head. ‘Didn’t Lady T tell you who they were?’

  ‘She’d just told me about Al and then she had a really bad angina attack. Sophie thinks she’s had a very slight stroke as well. It was really scary.’

  ‘How awful for you. But look, Johnnie will know who they are. Why not ask him?’

  Jess takes the photograph, shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to do that. Not just at the moment. It’s to do with something she said, and there’s another thing as well.’

  She stands, indecisive, as if she is wondering whether to confide in him, and then Guy and Johnnie pass by outside the window and there is a little knock at the door. Jess slips away with the photograph and Oliver opens the door.

  ‘Would Jess mind if Guy has a look?’ asks Johnnie. ‘Bit of a cheek with Jess in residence…’

  Oliver hesitates, glancing round for Jess.

  ‘Of course it isn’t,’ she says from behind him. ‘Come in. It’s the most amazing place, Guy.’

  Oliver watches as Guy walks the length of the sail loft, exclaiming in delight while Johnnie explains why his grandfather had his sails specially made, and they all go out on to the balcony. Jess glances back at Oliver, gives him a little smiling nod as if to say: ‘All’s well, don’t worry.’ He hesitates but she nods again, more firmly this time, and he turns and goes out; across the lawn to the house, to Sophie.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve taken Popps up to keep Rowena company while she has her lunch,’ says Sophie.

  Her fine fair hair swings forward as she leans to stir the soup and she tucks it behind her ears. She puts a tray of rolls into the oven and some bowls to warm. A bottle of claret stands warming by the Aga.

  ‘Is Guy a wine or a beer man?’ she asks. ‘I’ve got some Jail Ale.’

  ‘Definitely an ale man,’ answers Oliver. He pulls out a chair and sits down at the table. ‘I’m driving but I think a glass of wine wouldn’t be out of order. This is very kind of you, taking us all in. First Jess and now me and Guy. Especially when you’ve never met any of us before.’

  ‘Oh, Johnnie loves having visitors. He’s never happier than when the house is bulging at the seams. Rowena’s the same, though she can’t handle it like she used to.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Me? Oh, I love it too. And Jess is no trouble at all. It’s such a shame that Rowena’s been taken ill but she’s very anxious that Jess should stay.’

  She pours wine into two glasses and passes one to Oliver. He lifts his glass, looking at her, and she looks back at him. Her eyes are the colour of warm clear amber.

  ‘It seems that Jess has something on her mind,’ he says.

  ‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘I thought that it was you.’

  ‘Me?’ he says, startled.

  Sophie’s mouth quirks into a little smile. ‘She talks about you rather a lot. And when we were planning the reunion supper she asked if you could be invited.’

  He is silent, thinking quickly: it is crucial that there should be no misunderstandings here.

  ‘She’s Kate’s protégée. You know, winning the David Porteous Award and so on. I think Jess was rather taken by the idea of coming down to the West Country to find her roots but a bit daunted by the age gap when she arrived. I’m quite a bit older than she is, but even so I think she was relieved to meet someone who was younger than her old granny. More like an uncle, wouldn’t you say? I felt it was my duty to rescue her.’

  Sophie laughs. ‘How noble of you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m all heart that isn’t armpit.’

  ‘And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that she’s extremely attractive.’

  ‘That was a bonus,’ he says blandly. ‘Do we have to keep talking about Jess?’

  ‘You started it,’ she reminds him. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

  ‘Your mobile telephone number, for a start, before everyone comes back,’ he says, ‘and then about a good place to have dinner.’

  * * *

  ‘I’ll drive myself over tomorrow morning,’ says Guy. ‘Johnnie’s invited me to breakfast so that we can go down with the tide.’

  Driving carefully in the narrow lanes, Oliver thinks about this. It’s been discussed at lunch and finally decided that Jess will join Guy and Johnnie whilst Sophie stays to keep an eye on Lady T.

  ‘I can go sailing any time,’ Sophie said. ‘You’d like to go, wouldn’t you, Jess?’ And Jess nodded and said that she’d like to go with Guy and Johnnie if Sophie really didn’t mind.

  Thinking about it, Oliver suspects that Jess doesn’t want to be left alone with Lady T and that it has s
omething to do with the photograph, but he can’t think what it might be. He wasn’t able to talk to her again except for a few words after lunch.

  ‘You can come back to Chapel Street any time you like,’ he told her quietly. ‘Don’t be put off because Guy’s here for a few days.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really. I want to be here for a bit longer.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  She sensed his anxiety and smiled at him. ‘Really, I’m OK. And don’t mention the photograph to anyone, will you? It’s just a private thing.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Honestly. I promise I’ll phone you if I have a problem or need to talk.’

  ‘OK then,’ he said.

  Later, Sophie said, ‘Why not come and have lunch with me since they’ll be away all day? Come early,’ and he agreed with deep secret pleasure.

  Now, he glances sideways briefly at Guy. ‘So are you planning to see Gemma at all?’ he asks lightly.

  ‘Of course I am,’ answers Guy irritably. ‘What d’you think I am? I’m picking her up from Debbie’s tomorrow evening. They’re off to the theatre tonight. Debbie’s booked tickets and Gemma doesn’t want to cancel.’

  Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You’ve spoken to her?’

  He feels rather than sees Guy’s withering look. ‘Of course I’ve spoken to her. What did you expect?’

  Oliver finds that he has no answer to this and remains silent.

  ‘I was a bit worried when Johnnie said we’d have to come back in on the tide but he thinks we’ll be in by about seven. Plenty of time to drive over to Brent.’

  ‘And then…?’ Oliver hesitates. ‘Shall you both go back to the Rectory? Or will you bring her to Chapel Street?’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Guy gives an explosive snort of amused contempt. ‘Are you kidding! Gemma’s booking us into a little hotel we both like near Dartmouth.’

  Oliver laughs. ‘I think I’ve underestimated you.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Guy drily. ‘I expect you have.’

  ‘And don’t tell me: you’ve also arranged to go to Mount House to see the twins.’

  ‘Gemma was going to sort something out for the weekend. It’s a Sunday out. But Jess was saying that there’s a home rugby match on Saturday afternoon. Will – is his name, Will? – is playing so she and Sophie and Johnnie are going to support him. I thought we’d make up a little party. I’d like Gemma to meet them all.’ He pauses. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come, too,’ he says offhandedly. ‘Since you’re the great benefactor, so to speak.’

  ‘Thank you,’ says Oliver humbly. ‘I should love to.’

  * * *

  When Oliver arrives the next day he knocks on the back door, which is open, and goes in. He calls ‘Hello’ and finds Sophie in the kitchen with a very good-looking man. They are sharing a joke, very much at ease, and Oliver is surprised at his instinctively hostile reaction.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘You didn’t hear me knock.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Oliver,’ says Sophie, still laughing at the joke. ‘Come on in. This is Freddy. Freddy Grenvile. He lives across the river in Cargreen. This is Oliver Wivenhoe, Fred.’

  ‘I’m sure we must have met,’ Freddy says, taking Oliver’s outstretched hand. ‘Tom and I are old oppos. How’s your gorgeous mother?’

  And now, shaking his hand, Oliver can see that indeed this fellow is much older than he first thought. His hostility vanishes though he remains aware of Freddy’s vitality and charm.

  ‘I came over to see why I’d been left out of the boating party,’ he’s saying. ‘I just happened to see Alice going downriver while I was having breakfast and I wondered who her crew was.’

  ‘What he means is,’ says Sophie, ‘he was peering through his binoculars as usual and he didn’t recognize Guy. He’s a terribly nosy man, I warn you.’

  Freddy laughs. ‘I admit I was curious.’

  ‘I’ve been telling him about Jess,’ says Sophie, pouring coffee for Oliver. ‘One way and another he keeps missing meeting her so I’ve been satisfying his insatiable curiosity. And then I was explaining about Guy.’

  ‘I remember Kate, of course,’ says Freddy. ‘But I’d rather lost the plot with the next generation. It’s getting to be a real blast from the past, isn’t it?’

  ‘You could come to lunch tomorrow and meet Jess properly,’ Sophie suggests.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you I’m off to the States?’ he asks, finishing off his coffee, putting down his mug. ‘I’m going to catch up with a very old friend. I thought you knew. I told Johnnie ages ago.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me. And Johnnie didn’t say anything about it. Perhaps he’s just been taken up a bit with Jess.’

  She looks very slightly put out and Oliver sees that Freddy feels uncomfortable.

  ‘Come with me,’ he says dramatically. He puts his hand to his heart. ‘Fly with me, Sophes.’

  She begins to laugh. ‘And wouldn’t you be horrified if I said “Yes”? You’d better get going before the tide drops any more or you really will be up the creek without a paddle.’

  Freddy grins at Oliver. ‘She’s such a prosaic woman,’ he says. ‘No sense of romance. We shall meet again, Oliver. I gather there’s going to be a reunion supper for young Jess. Tell Tom and Cass I’m looking forward to seeing them. It’s been too long.’

  They follow him into the passage and he goes out, raising a hand, closing the back door behind him, and Sophie and Oliver look at each other.

  ‘You’d never want to leave this place, would you?’ he asks softly. ‘You are so much a part of it; of all these people.’

  She looks startled; almost alarmed. ‘They’re my family,’ she begins, uncertainly – and then, suddenly, a bell begins ringing insistently from somewhere in the house. Sophie gives a little exclamation that is partly exasperation, partly relief.

  ‘Rowena,’ she says, resigned. She pauses for a moment, and then says, ‘Come and meet her.’

  It is Oliver’s turn to look startled and alarmed. ‘Won’t she be a bit surprised?’ he asks. ‘I mean, she doesn’t know me.’

  ‘She can recall Tom and she’s heard that you’re coming to the reunion supper. Come on. It’ll cheer her up. But remember she’s very weak and her brain wanders a bit at the moment. She’s sharp for a while and then she completely loses it. She’s on a lot of medication.’

  They go together up the wide curving staircase and along the landing. The bell has stopped ringing now. Outside one of the doors, Sophie pauses.

  ‘Wait,’ she says quietly. ‘I’ll call you.’

  Oliver stands at the landing window, looking across the river to the hills opposite, where a tractor is ploughing, followed by a cloud of seagulls who swoop and turn above the fresh-turned earth. A small dinghy glides out from Johnnie’s slip, a figure at the oars pulling strongly across the river: Freddy rowing home.

  ‘She’d like to see you,’ says Sophie from behind him, and Oliver turns and follows her into the room. ‘I’m afraid she’s just a tad confused but never mind. Go with the flow.’

  The old woman is propped about with pillows; her small face turned eagerly towards the door. Beside her, under the quilt, Popps stirs about and growls softly. Rowena shushes her, smoothing the rough head, and Popps subsides again.

  ‘This is Oliver,’ Sophie says. ‘Tom’s son. You remember Tom, Rowena? Johnnie’s friend.’

  Rowena’s gaze is keen and fierce and she holds his hand tightly in her little claw; her rings dig into his fingers.

  ‘Sit down,’ she mutters. ‘Do you know Al?’

  He shakes his head and sits down on the chair pulled up close to the bed, still holding her hand. ‘My father, Tom,’ he says carefully, ‘is Johnnie’s friend.’

  ‘Johnnie?’ She frowns, closes her eyes, but she still holds tightly to his hand. ‘Juliet has come back,’ she says clearly. ‘Juliet.’ Her eyes are open again, watching him. ‘Do you know Juliet?’

  He hesitates and looks at Sophie, who m
akes a little face then shrugs and nods.

  ‘Juliet,’ he says, as if agreeing with Rowena. ‘And Jess,’ he adds, unwilling to lie outright. He remembers his conversation with Jess and feels uncomfortable. These are not just the woolly wanderings of a confused mind; there is something very important here though he cannot guess what it is.

  ‘Freddy’s just been to see us,’ Sophie says cheerfully, coming closer, bending over the bed. ‘He was sorry not to go out sailing with Johnnie and Jess.’

  ‘Freddy and John,’ says Rowena. Unexpectedly she laughs and Oliver has a glimpse of what an attractive woman she must have been. ‘Johnnie and Fred. Freddy and John. They were inseparable, you see. But they weren’t naughty. Not like Al and Mike.’ She lets go of his hand suddenly and her head turns towards the door; she is listening intently, as if she is expecting someone. ‘Juliet has come back,’ she says softly; she puts a finger to her withered, shrunken lips. ‘Is Al coming too?’

  Oliver’s eyes slide round to meet Sophie’s and she bites her lip and very slightly shakes her head.

  ‘Not yet,’ she answers. ‘Come now, Rowena. It’s time for your medicine. Oliver has to go.’

  He stands up thankfully, and the old woman stares up at him.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he says. He doesn’t quite know how to leave her but Sophie gently pushes him away and he goes out onto the landing, standing at the window and taking a deep breath of relief. Rowena’s confused intensity and her frailty and vulnerability have shaken him. He remembers how she laughed and how, suddenly, he saw a glimpse of a young, vitally attractive woman. How terrible for such a personality to be old; reliant and helpless.

  Sophie comes out of the room, shuts the door and crosses the landing to stand beside him at the window. He draws her to him, puts his arms round her and kisses her. She responds readily, warmly, but when they draw apart she looks up at him questioningly, eyebrows quirked.