by Jen Silver
“Must be all the fresh air and exercise.” Rosemary beamed at her and helped herself to another slice of toast.
They had been told to assemble at the clubhouse at nine twenty and it was just going on a quarter past when Sam and Rosemary arrived. Most of the others were already there, including Beth.
After Jeff made his announcement and disappeared off to the first tee with his group, Jordan came over to them.
“Right, these are your bags here. The trolleys are easy to operate. They are electric, so you don’t need to push them, just make sure they don’t run away on you.” She demonstrated on the trolley closest to her. “You’ve all got the same clubs. Oh, except for Beth because she’s left-handed.”
Sam looked at the trolley next to her and twizzled the knob. The trolley shot off and banged into the clubhouse wall. Jordan lunged after it and got it under control.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect it to do that.”
“Bit more practice required, I see. Good thing we’re last out.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was a pleasant morning for a drive. Making good time once past Plymouth, Andi pushed on instead of stopping, as originally planned, in Ivybridge. And once the estuary came into sight she knew she had made the right decision. Negotiating the last tortuous section of the route to avoid the middle of the town, Andi reached the Cliff Road and her father’s house tucked away on the hillside with a commanding view of the entrance to Salcombe Harbour.
It appeared to be a small stone-built dwelling but the outside was deceptive. Andi parked on the steep drive, putting the gearstick into first and making sure the handbrake was securely positioned. She walked around the side of the house and down the steps to the patio at the back. This was where she knew she would find the occupant, sitting on the wooden deck with a cup of coffee and a book or a newspaper. She paused to take in the view, a vista of blue water between the cliffs on the Salcombe side to the wooded hills on the other. Small boats were dotted about, moving in and out of the estuary. On the few times she had stayed overnight, she recalled being woken in the early hours by the screeching of the seagulls following the fishing boats as they returned with their catch from the night.
“Professor Green, I presume.” She addressed the seated figure with its back to her, sun gleaming off his bald patch.
He turned and squinted up at her. “You’re late.”
“Roadworks on the A38.” She wasn’t going to admit to having stayed in bed longer than planned, wanting to savour every waking moment with Freya.
“Make yourself a coffee and bring me another one.” He handed a well-worn pottery mug up to her.
“What did your last slave die of?” she muttered as she walked into the house.
“I heard that.”
She set up the filter cone and spooned coffee into it. Putting the kettle on, Andi headed into the bathroom for the necessary pit-stop after the two hour journey. Checking herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, Andi reflected on the nature of her relationship with her father. He had met her mother during the year he spent at the University of British Columbia. Part of his PhD thesis was based around indigenous populations and he had chosen a northwest Canadian tribe to study. He hadn’t expected to meet and fall in love with someone who had links to that tribe. Somewhat tenuous, Andi thought. Her mother’s First Nations status was based on a great-great grandmother from the Haida. Nadine was proud of her heritage and it was her work as a curator at the Museum of Anthropology that initially brought them together. And that was what came between them. Andi was five when her father left to take up a professorship at Exeter University. Her mother didn’t want to move to England. Negotiating the acquisitions of artworks from Haida artists was a job she loved and felt a deep connection with.
Andi didn’t see her father often while she was growing up. He became immersed in his work and the contact diminished over time. It was Nadine who worked long hours and still managed to drive her around to various golf tournaments in her years as a junior golfer. She also encouraged Andi to apply for a golf scholarship at an American university. So when it came time to choose which country she would represent as a professional, Andi chose her mother’s even though that meant she wouldn’t be eligible to play in the Solheim Cup, the bi-annual match play tournament between the United States and Europe.
Once the water finished dripping through the filter, Andi poured the hot beverage into two mugs and carried them out to the deck. She sat down in the chair next to her father.
“So, what’s the story? I always thought there was something odd about that Goran.”
“You only met him once.”
“Once was enough. I’m an anthropologist.”
“You didn’t figure it out though, did you? You thought, like the rest of the world, that we were a happily married couple.”
“I wanted to believe that was the case.” He reached over and took her hand, stroking it gently. “I only want you to be happy.”
Andi looked at him, surprised to see his eyes glistening. She had never known him to be emotional. He embodied, in her mind, the quintessential image of an Englishman. Stiff upper lip and all that. In a previous era he would have gone to work wearing a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat, always carrying an umbrella.
He took his hand away and gazed out at the view. “So, where does this leave you? I guess this has been going on for some time as Goran’s announced he’s marrying this chap.”
“We got married because we thought it was best for our respective careers. Neither of us was prepared to come out at the time.”
If her father was shocked by this admission he didn’t show it. After a brief silence he said, “Your mother knows, I guess. About you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t much use to you growing up.”
Andi experienced a flash of anger at the man. “You think if you’d been there I wouldn’t have turned out gay? Do you think this is a phase I’m going through?”
“No, no. I didn’t mean that. I just wish I had been there for you. I’m sure it’s not been easy.”
“Mum did all right.”
More silence. Andi watched the boats. They looked pretty from a distance. Although she had grown up in a place surrounded by water, she had never been attracted to sailing.
“Is there someone in your life?”
“What do you mean?”
“Simple question. Goran’s found a mate. I’m guessing you haven’t been celibate for twenty years.”
“Yes, there is someone.” Andi could feel her cheeks reddening. She hadn’t expected to be having this conversation with her father.
“So, are you going to marry this person, once you’re divorced from Goran?”
“It’s complicated.”
“If you love each other, what’s complicated about it?”
Andi remembered now how uncomfortable her father could make her feel with his direct questioning, as if she were a student being probed to find out how much she had learned under his tutelage.
“She’s married.”
“Oh.”
“Her marriage is like mine and Goran’s. But she isn’t going to divorce him.”
Her father sat forward in his chair. “You know, I almost wish I wasn’t retired. This would make a fascinating study on today’s society.”
“I expect you’re writing a book.”
He shook his head. “Only a mishmash of notes so far.”
“Where’s your lady-love today anyway?” Andi really couldn’t remember the name of her father’s current partner. If that annoyed him he didn’t let it show.
“Charmaine’s at work.”
Charmaine, of course. Andi remembered Nadine’s caustic comment when she told her. “Hope she’s legal.” Her father did seem to have a penchant for younger women but as far Andi knew they were all out of their teens.
“What does Charmaine do?” Andi ran through her mother’s list in her mind—hairdresser, nail technician, perfum
e dispenser at Selfridges.
“She’s a senior lecturer in bioscience at the university.”
So, not the fluff-head her mother had conjured up. “What’s her specialism?”
“DNA sequencing. Fascinating stuff.”
An anthropologist and a scientist, Andi couldn’t imagine being able to keep up with their idea of small talk. Her major at university, as she’d had to choose something to study other than golf, was American Literature in the Twentieth Century. She was heartily sick of The Grapes of Wrath by the end of the first semester.
“So, where are we having lunch?”
He squinted up at the sky. “Sun’s over the yard-arm. I thought we would head down to the club.”
†
Freya timed her arrival perfectly. Jordan’s group was assembled at the first tee, watching the previous group set off. They all turned towards her as she approached. It looked like Jordan hadn’t told them she was coming.
“Oh, good. At least I’m not too late. No doubt Jordan’s told you it’s proper protocol to turn up at your allotted tee time at least ten minutes before. So, apologies for not setting a good example.”
The three students were doing good impressions of Koi carp at feeding time. Jordan jumped in to explain. “Lady Temperley is joining us to make up a four.”
“Please, my name is Freya. We don’t need to stand on ceremony here.”
“Okay. Thanks. I was just going to explain the card marking system.” Jordan handed each of them a scorecard and a pencil. “You write your names on the top…”
Freya followed the instructions along with the others.
“Now you exchange cards. Pass them to the person on your left.”
Freya passed hers to a nervous looking Sam and received one from Beth.
Jordan watched the exchange and then said, “So, this means that you’re each marking someone else’s card. This is how you do it when you’re playing in a competition.”
“Do we always pass the cards to the left?” Rosemary asked.
“No, you can do it however you want. There’s no set rule.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I don’t think I can remember any more rules.”
They all laughed and it helped to break the tension.
“Normally, the person with the lowest handicap tees off first.” Jordan looked at Freya.
“That’s true. But on this occasion, I’ll go last.” She didn’t want to make the newbies feel any more nervous than they already were. It would be a miracle if they all managed to make a decent first shot and they wouldn’t likely be helped by seeing her send her ball a good distance down the fairway. It did put the pressure on her, though, to not make a hash of it.
“Okay. We’ll do it alphabetically. Too bad, Beth. You’re up first.”
They were all ready for a large glass of Pimm’s when they arrived at the halfway house. Freya was impressed with the standard of play of the three students, particularly when it came to putting. Rosemary was beating them all in putting statistics, rarely needing more than two putts when she was on the green. Freya mentioned this to Jordan.
“Oh, I think that’s down to Andi. She stood in for me on their first putting lesson last week when I had to sort something out. She had Sam and Rosemary playing for money.”
“That explains it.” Freya smiled. She had managed to play the first nine holes without thinking about her lover and how she might be getting on with her father.
†
Salcombe Harbour Hotel was evidently her father’s home away from home. He was greeted by name by a number of people as they made their way to the Terrace Restaurant. Andi thought he must have phoned ahead since they were shown to a reserved table at the front of the balcony with an unrestricted picturesque view of sailboats gliding gracefully around the calm waters of the estuary.
She left her sunglasses on, removing her hat to enjoy the warm breeze ruffling her hair. Her father knew the menu by heart and didn’t even glance at it. He’d told her on the walk down the road from his house that he would be having the grilled sardines. She briefly considered the oysters but decided on the cracked whole crab instead.
“That’s not going to put any meat on your bones,” he commented after they had ordered. He scoffed at her choice of drink as well. She was sticking to mineral water while he had his regular cocktail, a gin fizz. Driving Freya’s car, Andi wasn’t going to risk getting stopped and breathalysed.
She thought they had covered the topic of Goran’s coming out, but just as he finished clearing his plate, he looked up and said, “I don’t understand why he didn’t just tell everyone he’s bisexual. People usually find that easier to accept.”
“Straight people might.”
“And you would get a lot of sympathy as the injured wife.”
“I don’t think that would hold off the sharks for long. Anyway, he’s made it clear he’s marrying for love this time. Even the dimmest of reporters will be able to work out our marriage was based on something else.”
“So, who is your mystery lover?”
Andi hesitated a moment too long.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Her father put a reassuring hand on her arm. “I’m not going to blab to the press.”
“Her name’s Freya. She’s married to Lord Temperley. And they’ve just opened a golf resort at their estate in Cornwall. He spends most of his time in London and she runs the golf business.”
“Is she a golfer too?”
“Yes, but not a professional. We met at a pro-am. She’s a good player, though.”
“Would you like to marry her, if you could?”
Andi stared out at the view again, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “Yes, but…”
“But what?” His tone was gentle.
“But I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.” Andi surprised herself with how easily the word slipped out.
It was her father’s turn to look away before saying softly, “Don’t make the mistake I made with your mother. A career isn’t everything.”
They finished their meals in silence, both caught up in their own thoughts.
A waiter appeared to clear their plates and ask if they would like to see the dessert menu. Andi shook her head. “Just a coffee for me.”
“Make that two.”
When the waiter left, Andi decided to move the conversation away from her personal life. “How often do you go sailing?”
“Most days if there’s a fair wind.”
“Not much good today then?”
“It’s breezier once you’re out of the harbour.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a voice saying, “Well, well. This is an unexpected bonus. Thought you’d done a Lord Lucan and disappeared off the face of the earth. Can you smile for the camera, Mrs Mihajlovic? Though not ‘Missus’ for much longer, I guess.”
The camera flashed as Andi looked up to a professional photographer’s camera. The person who had spoken was taking a large microphone out of her bag.
The waiter came back with their coffees and her father said calmly, “These people are bothering us. Can you see that they are removed?”
“Certainly, sir.” He placed the coffee tray on the table and addressed the woman. The photographer was still taking pictures. “Could you come inside, please?”
“I just want to ask a few questions. No harm in that.”
“And we don’t want to create a scene. If you won’t leave now, I’ll go and get the manager.”
“Okay, okay. We’re going.”
The waiter followed them inside.
“Thanks, Dad. I guess it pays sometimes to be well known.”
“I help to keep them in business.”
“So, how am I going to get out of here? They’ll just follow us back to your place.”
“Any reason why they shouldn’t know where you are?”
“I can just about handle myself being interrogated by the press, but I
don’t want Freya dragged into it.”
“Right, okay.” He looked out over the water. “We’ll go with Plan B.”
“You have a Plan B?”
He smiled and pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket. “I think something can be arranged.”
Andi only heard his side of the conversation and wasn’t any the wiser when he ended the call a few minutes later.
“Drink your coffee. We’ve got about ten minutes before we can make a move.”
“This plan doesn’t involve swimming, does it?”
“Can’t you swim?”
“I had some lessons but then golf took over.”
“You won’t need to swim, but you may have to get your feet wet.”
That was all he would say while they finished their coffees, but his eyes were alight with a heightened excitement, most likely relishing the thought of the daring escape route he had planned. Not for the first time, Andi wondered what she had missed by not having him in her life during her formative years.
†
When they added up their scores at the end of the round, Beth was surprised to find she had beaten the other two. Lady Temperley had the best score, but that didn’t count because she wasn’t really in competition with them. Rosemary was only one shot behind, but Sam was six.
Beth regretted now that she wasn’t still in the chalet. She felt a nice long bath would have been welcome. She guessed there would be a queue for the bathroom in the house as all the other groups had finished already. After sitting down for the short time it took to check their scores, she felt her muscles stiffening up.
“It’s a long walk,” Lady Temperley commented, noticing her jerky movements.
Even after spending five hours in her company, Beth couldn’t get used to thinking of her as Freya. They had chatted during the round, walking between holes, and the woman was pleasant company. Beth had been happy to talk about teaching and where she lived—a part of the country Lady Temperley had heard of and thought she might like to visit.
“Are there any golf courses nearby?” she had asked at one point. Sam was within hearing and laughed, telling Lady Temperley that the two nearest courses were on the top of the moorland. Great views, but she’d heard people say you needed to be part mountain goat to enjoy playing on them.