by Minna Howard
‘Goodness knows. But I’m so pleased to be away from it and be here in this glorious place with you all.’ She felt happy to be here with him. They had always got on, but because he lived up here and she in London they did not see that much of each other.
They had been brought up in the country, and Edward had always preferred it to the town. Mandy came from round here, so he had been content to settle with her near her old home. They had a farm, and sold their meat and home-made pâtés and game pies to various prestigious shops around the country and abroad. They had just finished their busiest time of the year cooking and sending off the hams.
But as she sat with them in their large warm kitchen having tea, she was suddenly assailed by a terrible sensation of loneliness and despair. Here was the perfect picture of a contented family: dogs dreaming by the stove, the two boys cheerfully ribbing each other in the corner, Mandy and Edward happily sitting side by side pouring each other tea from the old brown teapot, with a plate of freshly baked scones and a Christmas cake on the table.
Her marriage had been like this once. If an onlooker had come upon them, they would have thought how happy and contented they were together. Had the very ordinariness of it all bored Dan rigid?
So many ads were full of attractive young people having a wonderful time because they ate a certain food or drank a certain drink. People were fed this picture day after day – on Facebook and Twitter too, with people boasting about their exciting lives. ‘Other people’ were younger, sexier, slimmer, all having a wonderful time, leaving the boring people out. No one wanted to be thought tedious and past it today. Had this happened to Dan? Had the drip-drip effect of other lives, golden fantasy lives, dazzled him from the security of his own, made him think that being part of an ordinary happy family was just too dull for words?
Edward, glancing up from buttering his scone, seemed to guess her mood. He said gently, ‘Missing the children?’
She smiled at him, she was not going to be a wet rag and spoil Christmas for them. ‘I suppose I am. This is the first Christmas I’ve had without them, but they’ve got to that age now. Next year, they might easily be off somewhere with friends.’
Mandy leant over and squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll have a great time, you’ll see. We’ve quite a few parties on while you are here. You might even meet someone lovely.’
Sarah laughed. ‘I doubt it, but I shall enjoy myself anyway,’ she said determinedly.
On Christmas Day, Polly rang at teatime.
‘Happy Christmas, Mum. Are you having a good time?’
‘Wonderful,’ Sarah said, feeling replete and sleepy with contentment. ‘We’ve just finished the most amazing lunch. As you know, both Edward and Mandy are exceptional cooks.’
‘I know,’ Polly said grumpily. ‘We’ve just had the most dreadful lunch. The turkey wasn’t even defrosted properly, so we’ll probably all die of salmonella. The chalet girl hasn’t a clue how to cook, or even how to get it all ready at the same time.’
‘I’m sorry, but is it fun otherwise? Snow good?’ Sarah hoped she did not sound smug. She wondered how much they were grumbling at Dan.
‘It’s so cold. And yesterday there was a complete white-out and we couldn’t ski at all,’ Polly went on indignantly.
‘Well, maybe tomorrow will be better. How’s Tim?’
‘He’s fine, sends his love. He’s met some girl and gone off with her. I wish Will was here.’ Polly went on to tell Sarah about the girl Tim had become enamoured with. She was obviously feeling left out with her brother chasing some girl. What was Dan doing? Why were they not having a happy-father-and-daughter relationship together?
Sarah said, ‘Are you skiing with Daddy?’
‘He can hardly ski. His back and knee hurt. He goes so slowly that we might as well walk down. He thinks he needs a new knee joint.’
‘What’s wrong with his knee?’
‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem to work as well as it used to. I expect it will be all right if he doesn’t ski or do any other vigorous sports again,’ Polly said wearily.
Perhaps very low sports cars were not good for ageing knees, Sarah thought. How would the mouse cope with helping him over such an operation – if he needed one – while looking after a new baby? When Tim and Polly were babies – there was just over a year between them – it had been dreadfully hard work. But she and Dan had been young and fit, and had got on with it. Was having babies really compatible with new knee joints and goodness knows what other repair jobs an ageing body might need?
On Boxing Day, they were all invited to a party given by some friends of Edward and Mandy’s who lived a good hour’s drive away. No one round here thought anything of driving miles for a party.
‘The McNairs give these marvellous parties,’ Mandy explained. ‘They always invite masses of people on Boxing Day, and again at New Year. I don’t know how they do it.’
‘They just love entertaining,’ Edward said, ‘and this is their big time.’
They arrived at the McNairs at about 7.30, having dropped the boys off at their friends’ house on the way.
A vast Christmas tree, smothered in tartan silk bows, and gold and silver decorations, stood in the hall. There was an enticing scent of pine needles, wood-smoke and mulled wine. The babble of voices heralded a good evening ahead.
Sarah was introduced and made welcome. She remembered one or two friends of Edward and Mandy’s from other times she’d stayed with them, and so she did not feel too much of a stranger. She suspected that Edward had told them about her and Dan’s split, and for that she was grateful, as no one mentioned him. That was one of the worst things about socialising, having to explain her new position and endure the sympathetic or intrusive remarks.
She was busy talking to a local artist she knew, when she glanced across the room – and there was Robert Maynard watching her. She was so surprised to see him there that she stopped mid-sentence. The woman she was talking to followed her gaze, but as Robert was standing in a group she did not know whom Sarah was looking at. Sarah stared at him again, to make sure that it really was him and she wasn’t experiencing some dreadful hallucination.
‘Sarah,’ he said, leaving the group and coming over to her, ‘how strange to see you here.’
She stared at him in disbelief, managed to gulp, ‘Even stranger to see you.’
He said, ‘I have a business up here now. Besides, I like to have Christmas in Scotland. Why are you here?’ He was dressed in a dark-green velvet smoking jacket. His skin glowed as if he had been spending time in the fresh air. His brown hair, flashed with silver, was thick and gleaming.
‘My brother and sister-in-law live here. I am staying with them.’ Another couple came up who obviously knew Robert, and for a few moments the three of them were engaged in a lively conversation about a new hotel and health club that had opened locally.
Then she remembered Freya. She did not like to say anything in front of his friends. He might not even know that his daughter was pregnant, and it would surely be better to break such news to him in private.
The other couple, perhaps thinking she was with Robert, asked if she would join them for dinner; a huge buffet laid out in the other room.
‘Margaret’s food is not to be missed,’ the round-faced man informed her with a merry smile, moving towards the other room.
Sarah hung back and eyed Robert. She must tell him about Freya as soon as possible. She said, ‘I’d love to, but… I just need to say something to Robert in private first, if you don’t mind.’
‘Ah-ha, so it’s like that, is it?’ The man guffawed and slapped Robert on the back. ‘Lucky chap, come on Liz,’ he took his partner’s arm, ‘let’s make ourselves scarce.’
She saw the irritation in Robert’s eyes, saw it increase as the couple laughingly said something to another couple who looked their way. Too late she remembered how Mandy had told her that nice as their neighbours were, they were dreadful gossips, and one had to be very careful abo
ut what one said and what one got up to. This couple – who knew Robert -obviously thought that she and Robert were romantically involved and for some reason found it amusing though nothing could be further from the truth.
Robert’s mouth was now set in a hard line. He said, ‘Look, we are away from the problems of London now, can’t we enjoy this party without talking about our differences?’
‘Certainly we can,’ she said. ‘I just thought I ought to tell you that…’
‘Listen.’ He put his hand on her arm, as if he was warding off her words. ‘Perhaps you misunderstood that letter from my solicitor, but it’s not so very threatening. When we get back, I’ll happily come over and we can discuss it, but not here, not now.’
He made to move away, but two men came up and started to talk to him about some shooting. At the same time, Mandy and a man came up to Sarah and spirited her away to the dining-room.
‘Mandy, that is Robert, you know, whose daughter I had to break in to his house for,’ Sarah whispered, fearful of being overheard lest the news be passed round quicker than the huge plates of cold ham and beef that were being carved by their host.
‘Oh, him.’ Mandy glanced his way. ‘He’s very popular. He’s fast turning the Kettlewell Glassworks away from bankruptcy. Tell him later. This is Philip Macpherson. He has recently come to work up here, and is dying to meet you and catch up on what’s happening in London.’
She nodded to Philip, who said cheerfully, ‘I moved up here six months ago when I inherited my parents’ house and I love it, but I miss London. I want to hear all about what art exhibitions are on and what’s on at the theatre. I went to all the shows when I lived there.’
He had a plain but kindly face, and looked good in his kilt. He took her arm and said confidentially, ‘Let’s go and sit over there. This house can be awfully draughty.’
Other people joined them and the evening passed pleasantly. She only glimpsed Robert from time to time. Each time, he was surrounded by people, often attractive women, and she remembered that Freya had said that she thought he had a girlfriend up here. By the look of him, he had quite a few girlfriends up here.
It got late and people began to leave on their long journeys home. She had to tell Robert about Freya before he disappeared. She had drunk a few glasses of wine throughout the evening, so she felt braver than she might have done if she’d been cold sober. She went over to him where he sat by the fire in its huge grate with his group of friends, and said, ‘Robert, I simply must talk to you before we go. I’ve something really important to tell you.’
She was aware of the interest, and in some cases resentment, of the others in the group.
Robert eyed her carefully, said firmly, ‘Let it go, Sarah. I’ll be back home next week; you can talk to me all you want then.’ Someone asked if they knew each other from London, and Robert explained that they lived side by side. All the time he explained this, he watched her defiantly and she could read his mind. Why was she bothering him now, when she barely spoke to him in London? She wondered if she should just leave it and let him return to London to find Freya and possibly a new baby ensconced in his house. She turned to go, but he seemed to have changed his mind. He got up from his chair and came over to her.
‘Is it really that important, Sarah? Has the house fallen down or something? I haven’t heard any dire news from Sheila or Diana.’ By his expression, she could see he was irritated. Irritated, no doubt, by her being here, appearing from his other life like the ghost at a feast. Perhaps he was afraid she would tell tales that would tarnish the reputation he was building up here.
He stood over her, his eyes skimming her face in a way that made her feel he was assessing her, waiting to slap her down should she let out one word against him.
She said coldly, ‘I don’t know how important it is to you, but I had to break in to your house to let in your daughter.’
Nineteen
‘Freya.’ He dropped his hand on her arm as if for support. The annoyed arrogance she’d seen in his eyes was replaced by panic, quickly followed by pain.
Sarah saw both emotions and said more sympathetically, ‘I don’t know how many daughters you have.’
‘Only one, only Freya.’ His fingers tightened on her arm, his eyes implored her. ‘Is she all right? Tell me what happened, tell me everything.’
‘Robert, it’s time we went, or we’ll be swept out with the dust.’ A slim woman with brilliant-blue eyes and pale hair came up to them, smiling. She threw Sarah a hard suspicious look, while keeping the smile locked on her subtly made-up face. When she saw Robert’s hand on Sarah’s arm, she linked her hand through his other arm and gave him a little playful tug.
‘Bedtime,’ she crooned in an intimate way, throwing Sarah a triumphant look of possession.
‘Just a minute, Helen.’ He barely looked at her, almost shook her off. ‘I’ll come in a minute, but this is very important.’
‘I’m sure it can wait until the morning,’ Helen said, her voice still soft and gentle, but Sarah saw her dislike for her in those wide blue eyes.
‘It can’t, I’m sorry, Helen. Give me five minutes.’ He sounded impatient for her to be gone, and she knew it.
She threw one last look of dislike in Sarah’s direction before she left them, calling out brightly to some people who stood by the door, ‘He’ll be with us in a minute. It seems he has some business here. Some people never miss a chance to muscle in, do they?’
If Robert heard Helen’s remark – intended, Sarah knew, for herself – he showed no interest. He slipped his hand under Sarah’s elbow and led her firmly away from the crowd that lingered by the door to the end of the room by the dying fire and the debris of the party.
‘Tell me everything,’ he commanded, leaning against the mantelpiece, his eyes never leaving her face.
‘I’ll just tell you what happened. It may come as a shock, but—’
‘Just tell it, Sarah. Don’t go round the houses first.’ His panic was making him angry. He took hold of her again, both his hands gripping her arms. Any moment she was expecting him to shake the story out of her.
She took a step back from him and he loosened his hold. ‘I came home the other night and saw a woman outside your house. She told me she was your daughter and that she had hoped you or Diana would be there to let her in.’
‘Why didn’t she ring or send a text?’ he demanded. ‘I have my mobile, she can get me anywhere.’
‘She’s left all her contact numbers and things behind in France though I think she said she tried your mobile but it didn’t work.’
‘Damn, no… I had it stolen a couple of months ago and I had to change the number. I’m sure I gave it to her, though.’ He looked uncertain, raking his fingers through his hair.
Sarah said impatiently, ‘Anyway, I had to put her up for the night. Diana’s gone away until Boxing Day, and I couldn’t wait to see if your cleaner turned up – not that she would at night – though, according to a neighbour, she’d already been that day and wouldn’t be back until after Christmas.’
‘So how did she get into my house if she didn’t have a key?’
‘I was coming up here and had to leave the following day, so Freya suggested that…’ Sarah paused, prepared herself for his anger, ‘well, that we break in.’
‘Break in?’ His expression changed to horror. ‘You broke in? Couldn’t you call the police or a locksmith?’
‘I suggested that, but she didn’t want to.’ It was surely not the time to mention what Freya had told her about her teenage romance with a burglar.
‘How did you get in?’ His eyes drilled into her, as if he was a policeman interrogating her for some major crime.
It was just as she had thought. He was going to be furious with her when it was really his daughter’s fault. Or perhaps it was his fault for not having a closer relationship with Freya.
She said defiantly, ‘I had to cut the trellis – it’s so high – to enable me to climb over the wall. She t
old me how to wiggle the catch on the window. I got in, turned off the alarm, and opened the front door to her. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Which side of the trellis did you cut?’ She could see he was fighting to hold his temper. Little tight muscles worked like drawstrings beside his mouth. His eyes were cold as he studied her face.
‘The one furthest away from the house, where the creeper was less thick.’ Really, what did it matter? It was winter, and the plants were virtually dormant. They’d be resurrected in the spring, and a good pruning would probably do them good.
‘The trellis was rotten. You could do with a new piece.’
‘But it has to be done carefully. Did you hurt my Epipremnum aureum?’
‘Your what?’
He had his hand on his chest now, as if she had cut a major artery.
‘My Epipremnum. That creeper is very tricky to grow. It’s taken me years of careful nurturing. It hates to be disturbed or cut savagely.’
She had cut it savagely, and some of the stems had split and broken when she’d climbed over. Then she remembered that shrouded plant in the green pot. She’d broken off the side of the pot when she’d stood on it, exposing some of the roots. No doubt that was a valuable, sensitive plant too. It was now left wide open for some insect to eat it or the frost to freeze its delicate root system.
‘Look, Robert,’ she said firmly, ‘I don’t know that much about the specialist sort of gardening you go in for, but it had to be done.’
‘But why did you do it, climb over my wall, break into my house.?’ His look suggested that she had done it on purpose, determined to inflict the most damage she could. ‘Freya knows about plants. She would have been careful.’
His anger annoyed her further. ‘Your daughter is pregnant. In fact, she may have had the baby already. I had no alternative; she could hardly get over the wall in her condition.’
His face went white. ‘What did you say?’
Sarah was aware that more people, her brother among them, were coming towards them. The party was obviously over. The room, which had a few moments before been so alive with dancing and chatting, now seemed as tired and dishevelled as the guests.