‘We both did,’ he said, with a smile. ‘But I’m afraid I have to leave now. Can I give you a lift to the station?’
She thanked him but declined. Having just watched Silas sink down, down, down, on the catafalque, soon to be burned to ash, she needed a chance to recover, especially as she was going on to the life class, where the mood would be joltingly different. (Felix had bought champagne for them all, to celebrate the end of term.)
Walking slowly round the Garden of Remembrance, she was glad of the serene and sunny weather. The balmy air and deep blue sky helped to lift her spirits, as did her constant memories of Cornwall; some of them blushingly inappropriate for a crematorium. Indeed, she had to repress an unseemly instinct to broadcast to the silent dead Tuesday night’s cavortings in the sea; that electrifying blend of midnight dark and moonlit bright, of fiercely cold and blazing hot. However, sexual thrills apart, what afforded the most profound relief was having come to a decision, at last. Readymoney Cove would now always be more than just a beauty spot; it had become their marriage bed and wedding chapel.
She stopped to read some of the inscriptions on the plaques, but even they had no power to upset her, as they would have done just days ago.
Love is forever …
Being loved by him has enriched my heart …
Beloved husband and devoted father …
No way could such sentiments apply to her and Silas, but at least now she could accept the fact, accept that no one was to blame – it was simply a matter of malignant Fate. And even Fate itself had become benign, as proved by Carole’s phone call last night. Her friend had rung to say that, against the odds, the stolen Treasure Box had actually been retrieved; found by a local farmer, stuffed into a hedge, all its contents miraculously intact.
And surely, Maria thought, as she sauntered towards the crematorium gates, that symbolized an important change in her fortunes, from loss and privation to abundance and fulfilment. In fact, she halted in her tracks, with a jolt of mingled pleasure and surprise, as she realized it wasn’t only Silas who was finally at peace.
Chapter 30
AS SHE ALIGHTED from the train at Charing Cross, she made a conscious effort to leave Grove Park behind. Her ties with Silas were cut now and her future lay with Felix, yet the new life they planned together wouldn’t need to exclude her daughter. After her six-month stint as nanny, Amy, Hugo and the baby could come down for frequent holidays in Cornwall, and her grandchild – maybe grandchildren – could be introduced to George’s community and imbibe a little art and culture, along with the sea air. The only thing still troubling her was how to persuade her daughter to see the plan in a positive light and not as a defection.
She was still wrestling with the problem as she descended to the underground. Probably best not to bring up the subject too soon. If she left it for a week or two, Amy would have recovered from the shock of Silas’s death – to some extent, at least. And she would certainly be more relaxed and thus more receptive to the news, yet they would still have plenty of time to make arrangements for a successor.
A train was already standing in the station. She dashed in through the closing doors and, as it rattled on its way, sat musing on the dilemma of how to find a first-class nanny without it costing a fortune. Suddenly, however, she was distracted by her reflection in the window opposite. The smart black outfit she had worn in Silas’s honour was hardly suitable for the life class, but since there wasn’t time to go home and change, she would have to rely on Felix to provide some sort of cover-up to protect her from the charcoal-dust.
She suppressed a smile of pleasure at the thought of them making love this afternoon. Although forced to be on their best behaviour during the actual class – no meeting of each other’s eyes, or exchanging meaningful glances – the minute the others had left, they instantly stripped naked and passionately embraced. And their passion was still greater now they had made a solemn commitment to each other.
The train lumbered into Oxford Circus, where a crowd of people pushed into the carriage, making the already oppressive stuffiness still worse. One man in particular, perspiring in his business suit, gave an audible sigh as he slumped into a seat, then immediately began working on his laptop. His tense, frowning face reminded her of Hugo, and she couldn’t help but feel relief that her son-in-law was in Dubai. His bad temper had increased of late, on account of the implications of the court case, which appeared, worryingly, to reach far beyond the financial. Amy had dropped further hints that he had been personally involved in some oversight or even outright negligence, which he feared would come to light.
Despite her deep concern about the matter, she was enjoying the fact that she and Amy had the house to themselves. And, of course, they would have more mother-and-daughter time throughout the whole of Amy’s maternity leave. She intended to make that period as special as she could, as a tiny compensation for the fact she planned to leave in February. Although, actually, for all she knew, Hugo might prefer a proper professional nanny; someone he could treat as a subordinate, rather than feel a need to relate to, purely for his wife’s sake. Sometimes, she suspected he had never wanted her to live with them in the first place, but simply gone along with Amy to avoid the risk of argument. So, when she left for Cornwall, he, at least, might be secretly relieved.
But she had spent long enough on the problem. The rest of today was devoted to pleasure and, as the train pulled into Maida Vale and she emerged into brilliant daylight from the tube, she felt something of the sun’s own skittish exuberance as it flung its golden beams on pavements, houses, shop-fronts. She might be wearing black but, strolling the short distance to the studio, her mood changed to rainbow-coloured.
She was surprised to see a woman standing right outside the house – not one of the students, but someone considerably younger than most of those in the class, and much more stylishly dressed.
All at once, the girl stepped out in front of her; deliberately barring her way. ‘Are you Maria Brown?’ she demanded.
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘Right, we have to talk.’
Maria stared at her, astonished. How did this stranger know her name? Or was she a stranger? The woman’s features and face-shape did seem vaguely familiar. ‘Do I know you?’ she asked, mystified.
‘No, and I’m not exactly keen to further the acquaintance. But I do need to speak to you – now!’ The voice was harsh, peremptory; the whole manner overbearing.
‘I’m sorry, I’m due at a class and—’
‘Oh, yeah, I know all about your classes. That’s just the half of it, of course, but—’
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Maria interrupted, ‘but I’ve no idea who you are and I don’t intend to be late for my class unless you can give me some explanation, or at least introduce yourself.’
‘My name’s Felicia Fullerton. Does that mean anything?’
It took a moment to register. Felix’s name … Felix’s name twice over, the feminine equivalent.
‘I’m Felix Fullerton’s daughter,’ the girl said, in confirmation.
Maria felt a shiver of unease, and also felt somewhat disconcerted, having assumed his daughter would be a woman in her forties, not a girl of twenty-five or so. But she could see the likeness now: the same grey-blue eyes and square-jawed face.
‘I know full well what’s going on between you two. There’s just one tiny problem. My father happens to be married.’
Maria was unable to suppress a gasp. ‘Divorced,’ she corrected, almost pleadingly.
‘No, married,’ the girl insisted. ‘But we can’t talk here, in public. There’s a recreation ground just round the corner, so I suggest we go there, OK?’
Maria made no move, torn between shock and disbelief. ‘I … I thought you lived in America,’ was all she managed to blurt out.
‘I do. And I’m thoroughly pissed off at having to keep flying back and forth. If it wasn’t for my father …’
Felicia broke off as Barry and Rosie arrive
d arm in arm, for the class, stopping when they saw Maria.
‘Are you coming in?’ Barry asked.
‘Er, yes … In a sec.’ No way must any of the students overhear some compromising discussion, so she allowed Felicia to steer her along the road, in the opposite direction from the studio. Once they reached the recreation ground, it looked even less private than the street, being crowded with boisterous children on holiday from school. But Felicia walked purposefully towards the furthest end, found an empty bench, some distance from the swings and slides, and, with barely suppressed resentment, pulled Maria down beside her on the bench.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘you need to know the situation. But we haven’t time to waste, because I’m flying up to Scotland early this afternoon.’
‘Scotland? But I thought you said—’
‘My mother lives in Scotland,’ Felicia cut in. ‘Dad moved her up there, ages ago, because he was keen to join some damn-fool artists’ community. The place was completely wrong for Mum, but Dad’s twenty-one years older, so he always makes the decisions. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he buggered off when I was nine – shacked up with another woman, an older one this time.’
Maria gripped the arm of the bench. Felix had never divulged the fact that he had deserted his own daughter when she was still so young and vulnerable.
‘Mum just fell to pieces and I was pretty shell-shocked, too, but I did my best to help, even at that age. And I resolved to stick around until I’d finished university, so she wouldn’t be alone. But once I’d graduated, I was offered my dream job, at one of New York’s top advertising agencies. Fortunately, Mum was OK with that, especially as I paid for her flights over, so she could visit quite a lot. Anyway, it was all going pretty well until, three years ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Dad just didn’t want to know – especially once he’d heard she was having a mastectomy. Damaged goods, I suppose he thought.’
The malicious remark only caused Maria to spring to his defence, despite her perturbation and reeling sense of shock. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t think that and, anyway, if he’d left your mother all those years ago and was living with someone else, then—’
‘He wasn’t. The woman he ran off with didn’t last that long, and neither did the next two. He’s not exactly marvellous at commitment.’
‘I’m sorry, but I still don’t follow. He told me, several times, that he’s divorced.’
‘He was divorced when he met Mum, but that was thirty years ago. I reckon he was simply trying to fool you; deliberately hiding the fact that he married again and is still married to this day. That’s typical of Dad! In fact, I think it actually suits him to stay married, because it gives him the perfect let-out if any girl he meets wants him to settle down, or – worse – make babies with him. He’s not the world’s best father. He gave me his name, but not much else.’
Maria’s overwhelming instinct was to take to her heels and run, to prevent her having to hear another word. Yet the insistent, rancorous voice kept her there, a prisoner.
‘In fact, after he’d walked out on us, we very rarely saw him and even when he did visit he’d sometimes have a woman in tow. I mean, how cruel was that to Mum? My loyalty’s to her, and always has been, so when she had the cancer, it was me that held the fort, even though it meant giving up my job and my snazzy apartment in Manhattan. I spent eighteen months as her carer, and I can tell you, Maria, it wasn’t exactly a picnic, so when the doctors said she was in remission I felt I’d done my bit and was free to leave. My firm agreed to take me back, thank God, so things were pretty good until just this month, when Mum found another tumour. Of course, I’m absolutely gutted, but, however rotten I might feel, I simply can’t be there for her this time. I’ve already flown over twice this month, but if I stay in Scotland for the whole course of her treatment that’s the end of my job. I can’t expect any more favours from my boss, especially in a recession. It’s Dad’s turn now to help. He doesn’t even have a job, for Christ’s sake – apart from his so-called art. He put that first in 2008, so he needs to get his finger out and put Mum first this time. I mean, what about those vows he made – “in sickness and in health”, and all that stuff?’
Maria sat in silence, her outward stillness concealing a fierce inner agitation. Felicia’s phrases were stinging in her mind: keen to join some damn-fool artists’ community … shacked up with yet another woman … not exactly marvellous at commitment … deliberately hiding the fact he married again. Could this be the Felix she knew; the one who seemed so decent and supportive? Yet, although appalled to have her idyll shattered, she was still not sure if Felicia could be trusted. It did seem peculiar that, having travelled all the way from the States, the girl had made no attempt to see her father; had actually stood outside the house where he was teaching, yet failed to go in and find him.
‘I have to say—’ Maria adopted a cool and distant tone ‘—I dislike the way you’ve sneaked behind your father’s back and tried to blacken him in my eyes. And I still don’t understand why you’re talking to me, instead of him. Can’t you have this out with him directly?’
Felicia all but snorted. ‘Anything I say is worse than useless. Once he’s involved with a woman, he’s like a man possessed. Frankly, I find it disgusting, at his age. But I suppose he’s desperate to prove his virility; brag to his mates that he’s still capable of pulling girls, even though he’s ancient. Admittedly, you’re not a girl, Maria. In fact, if you don’t mind me saying, you look years older than most of his other women. But, as far as I’m concerned, that gives me a bit of hope. Because I want you to break it off with him, and you’re more likely to listen to reason than some ditzy babe who’s too selfish to think of anyone but herself. My mother needs help – and badly – so his duty is to her now, not to you. And I’m in a fix, because I have to be back at work by next Monday at the latest. Which means Dad must get himself to Scotland at least a day or two before that, so I can be absolutely sure there’s somebody around when Mum comes home from hospital.’
Maria was struggling with a maelstrom of contradictory emotions: compassion and resentment for the mother; a tangled snarl of pity, guilt and anger towards Felicia herself; splenetic rage with Felix – rage tinged with shaming lust. ‘Look,’ she said, trying to control her voice, ‘I do understand how worried you must feel, but if your parents have lived apart for so long, it does seem a bit unreasonable to expect Felix to return now and pick up where he left off. Doesn’t your mother have any relatives?’
‘None that could actually help.’
‘Well, friends, then?’
‘Of course she has friends, but that’s not the point. Dad’s her legal husband, so he bloody well should be there!’
‘Well, I doubt if he’ll agree. I happen to know he’s just put in an offer for a property in Cornwall.’
Felicia gave a derisive laugh. ‘Oh, Cornwall is it now? Yeah, great – that figures! He chooses the furthest possible point from Edinburgh and imagines he can hide away and no one will track him down.’
Maria could feel the broken slats of the bench, uncomfortable and hard beneath her silky skirt. Everything was broken; splintering and fraying; smashed beyond repair. Yet suppose Felicia was vilifying her father simply out of spite? She certainly sounded bitter and vindictive. And there were several things in her account that didn’t quite add up. If Scotland was so wrong for the mother, why had she remained up there for years, and wouldn’t she herself, the abandoned wife, have sued for a divorce once Felix had upped and left? There was also the issue as to how she managed financially. As a cancer patient, she was hardly likely to work, so perhaps Felix still paid her maintenance. Most baffling of all, however, was Felicia’s claim that he had deliberately stayed married, to excuse himself from subsequent relationships, since he had shown no hesitation in inviting her to share his life.
A hundred questions churned and seethed in her mind, but she was so overwrought she couldn’t seem to put them into words. ‘How did you
find out about me?’ she asked, at last, and lamely, ‘Or know I’d be at the class?’
‘The father of one of my friends is a close mate of Leo McCann – you know, the guy who loans Dad his studio on Fridays.’
‘But Leo hasn’t the faintest idea that—’
‘You’d be surprised who knows. The art world’s quite a small one. But we’re going off the point. I’m appealing to you, Maria, for my mother’s sake. She’s only forty-six. Dad met her when she was barely out of school – took advantage of her, I wouldn’t be surprised. But that’s another story. What I’m trying to say is you’ve had your life – she hasn’t – and if you get out of my father’s hair, there’s just a chance he may come to his senses. I mean, he’s not likely to meet any more women – not at sixty-seven. So if you break it off with him now, he may finally realize he’s past it and—’
Felicia interrupted herself by glancing at her watch. ‘Shit! Is that the time? I’ll be late for my plane if I don’t get off this instant.’ Rummaging in her bag, she withdrew a business card and scribbled something on the back. ‘That’s my number in Scotland,’ she said, springing up from the bench. ‘I’m relying on you to phone me, once you’ve discussed this with my father, so you can tell me what he says.’
‘Felicia, it’s your responsibility to speak to him, not mine. I’ve no wish to be involved in all this private stuff.’
‘But you are involved. When I spoke to Leo, he said Dad’s besotted with you. You’re just his type, you see – OK, maybe not as young as he’d like, but dark and arty and curvaceous. All his women were like that. Mind you, it’s only the sex he’s after. Sex is a sort of obsession for Dad, so unless you break that obsession by removing yourself from his bed, there isn’t a hope in hell he’ll ever see sense.’
‘Look here, Felicia, I do seriously object to—’
‘Sorry – gotta go! If I miss that flight, Mum will be—’ And, breaking off in mid-sentence, Felicia strode off across the grass, dodging dogs and children as she dashed towards the gate.
An Enormous Yes Page 32