‘Heavens it’s so hot! What about a walk to the Green Pool before dinner?’
‘Good idea,’ said Margaret. ‘You young people run off and enjoy yourselves for a while. You will stay for dinner won’t you Edward?’
‘Thank you Miss MacDonald, but I told my parents I’d be back. Another time, with pleasure.’
‘But you will come to the pool with us, won’t you Edward? It’s on the way back to your place.’
The Green Pool was a small clearing in the adjacent wood where a stream widened into a shallow basin of clear water. Caroline and Annabel had often bathed there as children, splashing and gasping in the cold water.
‘I’ll stay and tidy up the kitchen,’ said Caroline, jumping to her feet. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure someone would hear.
‘Why don’t we give you a hand?’ asked Edward. ‘We cleared most of it away earlier. It’ll be done in five minutes, then we can all go.’
‘What a clever thought,’ said Annabel. ‘I’ll just go and change into my swimming things and then I’ll be down to help.’
The dishwasher was stacked and the kitchen cleared by the time Annabel reappeared, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a towel slung over one shoulder.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay here,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m getting a headache, too much sun probably.’
‘Why not come? A little walk in the shade would do you good.’
Edward had moved in front of her, placing his hands on either side of the door, effectively blocking her path. He was looking down at her, she had to raise her head to reply. As soon as their eyes met she felt it again, that shocking current. Her resolve melted, the alien took over her body. She tried to look away.
‘We can get to know each other a little better. Before the holiday I mean. I know, that is, Julian’s told me a bit about your family. Your parents. What your aunt was mentioning. I hope I’m not being indiscreet.’
His voice was low, urgent. She raised her eyes to his. The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity.
Finally she nodded.
The minute they set off across the garden, Annabel grabbed Edward’s arm and pulled him into a jog. Caroline found herself walking alongside Julian. She was almost relieved. She cast around for a topic of conversation.
‘How are things at work?’
She had only a vague idea of what Julian did for a living. Something in the City, to do with the family business, wasn’t it a large electronics company?
‘We’re pretty busy at the moment. Thank God,’ he added with fervour. ‘It’s been a nervous time.’
Caroline wondered if they’d been hit by the global recession, then told herself of course they had, it was simply a question of how badly.
‘We’ve just landed an important contract in Frankfurt, as a matter of fact,’ he continued. He frowned and stared at the two figures on the path ahead.
‘Looks as if I’m going to have to spend a lot of time over there.’
‘Frankfurt? Won’t that be difficult? With you and Annabel I mean? Sorry, that’s indiscreet.’
‘No, no,’ said Julian. ‘I’ve been wanting to have a word with you about it anyway. You know, best way to handle things with your sister and all that. Though I won’t be leaving until sometime this autumn. Time to get things finally sorted out. There’ll be a luxury flat in the city centre, a maid, everything that Annabel could need.’
Caroline tried not to show her surprise.
‘You mean she’s going with you?’
The others were some way ahead, but Julian lowered his voice, his expression unsure.
‘To be honest Caroline, I’d like us to get married. At the end of summer.’
Caroline was so dumbfounded she stopped short.
‘This summer, you mean? But Julian, it’s already May!’
‘I know. It’s just that the contract is vital for the firm, and I can’t see Annabel putting up with the fact that I’m only in London on weekends. You know what she’s like.’
Caroline knew only too well. She also knew that Annabel’s idea of a wedding involved thousands of pounds, palatial marquees, fountains of champagne and a guest list of hundreds. The kind of event that needed to be organised at least two years in advance.
‘What about her job?’
Annabel was young, she loved the glitz and glamour of life in London, especially since she had a rich fiancée to subsidize most of her extravagances. But she was not without ambition. She’d been delighted to get the job with ‘Klass’ magazine, and worked quite hard, from what Caroline could make out. But so far there had been no sign of promotion. And now there was the double blow of Gloria steaming ahead with her career and Julian wanting her to give up working and live in Frankfurt.
Julian was looking troubled.
‘She might consider the idea of giving up her job. I mean, if everything works out.’
Oh Julian, she thought, who are you kidding? Aloud, she said:
‘Has she told you that?’
‘She, well we, we’ve had a few discussions. She’s not exactly agreed to anything yet. I don’t want to rush things for her, I know she’s young, and I’m thirty-two this year. I suppose you could say I’ve had time to enjoy myself before settling down. Selfish of me really to expect her to give it all up and become Mrs Courtenay, housewife. But I’d be able to give her everything she wanted, and Frankfurt is less than two hours from London, she could fly back any time.’
Caroline had never heard Julian say so much. She felt a sudden wave of sympathy towards him. He’d always seemed so aloof, so in control. Now it was clear he was in a dilemma, torn between the demands of his job and the demands of his fiancée.
‘To be honest Julian, I think it would be a wonderful experience for anyone, going to live abroad. And when you’re in love, the most important thing is to be together, isn’t it? No matter where.’
She stopped, confused.
‘I’m probably very old-fashioned. And romantic. Blame it on Aunt Margaret and Jane Austen.’
Julian gave her one of his rare charming smiles.
‘I just wish Annabel were more like you. Her idea of romance is a bit different.’
‘Champagne, diamonds, and the freedom to do what she wants?’
‘Something like that.’ Julian laughed. ‘It’s only normal at her age. We were discussing it last night, actually. What she wants and doesn’t want, I mean.’
He stopped and gave a little grimace.
‘She...what would be great Caro, is if you could talk to her. I think she’d listen to you, she looks up to you in so many ways.’
‘Oh Julian, I’m not sure about that. Maybe in the past, but now...’
Seeing his downcast look she added
‘Listen, I’ll have a go. But what about this wedding business? There’s no time to organise anything this summer, and I’m sure that Annabel is going to want the whole ‘Hello’ experience.’
‘What I was thinking was just a simple affair, a registry office do.’ Seeing Caroline’s eyebrows shoot up, Julian hurried to explain. ‘For various reasons, that would be the best solution now, just to officialise everything, and then later, as soon as we can, she could have the wedding of her dreams. You know Caro a lot of people are doing it like that now, a quick ceremony and then a big splash later.’
‘Maybe.’ Caroline’s tone was doubtful.
She gazed at the distant figure of her sister, skipping gaily along the path, jumping in the air to catch hold of branches, for all the world like a high-spirited teenager. That was the problem. Annabel was not only young in years, she lacked maturity. It was easy to be fooled by her air of apparent self-confidence, her ‘I can do anything’ attitude. How many times had Caroline heard her say to her friends ‘Believe me darling, I’ve been there’ when in fact she hadn’t really ‘been’ anywhere at all.
She had appeared to be genuinely in love with Julian when they had first announced their engagement, but Caroline had also sensed
something else, a sort of smugness, as though she was in love with the idea of being engaged. Particularly when the catch was handsome, from a good family, and rich enough to buy the three carat diamond ring that sparkled on Annabel’s finger. She sighed, unable to push aside a feeling of unease at this latest news.
Annabel turned round.
‘What are you two talking about?’
‘Caroline, not a word about it all yet, please?’ Julian’s face was anxious. ‘When we are on holiday, there’ll be plenty of time then, she’ll be more relaxed, I’m sure she’ll be ready to listen.’
He squeezed her hand.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you agreed to come with us. Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I don’t mean just to talk to Annabel. I mean because, well, you’re such a thoughtful person. You’ve always made me feel so welcome. Thanks Caro.’
Caroline could only manage an answering squeeze and a brief smile. Now she felt even more confused. She was more than touched by what Julian had said, but the idea of playing peace-keeper was less than enchanting. This holiday was getting more and more complicated by the minute. Annabel, and Edward Rayburn. As though he’d read her thoughts he turned and gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing.
By the time they caught up with them, Annabel had already slipped off her sandals and was testing the water with little shrieks.
‘It’s absolutely freezing! The Antarctic!’ She beckoned to Julian. ‘Come over here darling. Just feel that.’
Caroline found a patch of sunlit grass and flung herself down, burying her face in its soft sweet smell. Her feigned headache was turning into a real one. The last couple of days had been too emotionally charged. Her body felt like it didn’t belong to her. Her mind seemed to be hovering somewhere above things, curiously detached. She just wanted everything to go away. Give up her job, switch off her phone and stay here forever, at Willowdale, safe and warm in the old house that smelled of log fires and lavender polish and Birdie’s cakes.
She felt a presence beside her and something tickled her neck. She turned over quickly. Edward, sleeves pushed above his elbows, shirt unbuttoned, was leaning on one arm looking guilty and impish at the same time.
‘Sorry.’
He held up a piece of grass.
‘Blame it on my cousin Claudie. She loves being tickled. Well, actually, she hates it. But sort of loves it as well.’
He ran the blade of grass down Caroline’s arm, a look of amused interrogation on his face. Her treacherous body sprang to life. You stay at Willowdale, it told her. I want to live! I want to be tickled!
Screams and giggles were coming from the pool.
‘Not tempted to join your sister for a swim?’
Her skin was covered in goose bumps. She sat up, looked towards the pool.
‘I’m a hopeless swimmer. Terrified of the water. Annabel’s always been the one who was good at water sports.’
Her sister had slipped off her jeans and T-shirt and waded further into the water. She was wearing a white bikini that showed off the slender grace of her figure. The sunlight falling through the leaves dappled her golden skin. One leg flexed, the other reaching out to test the temperature, she clung to Julian for support. A goddess, thought Caroline. Aphrodite in her seashell.
‘She’s very beautiful.’
Edward’s voice was low, his blue eyes troubled. Suddenly he turned to her as if waking from a dream.
‘You’re so different.’
The words struck her like a physical blow. Edward saw the blood leave her face and realised what he had said.
‘Oh my God Caroline, I didn’t mean—Christ, what an idiot, you must think I’m bloody rude! I wasn’t talking about—’
Caroline cut him short.
‘That’s quite alright. Please don’t apologise.’
She scrambled up, made a show of looking at her watch
‘Sorry, just remembered, I have to go. Phone call. My mobile’s at the house.’
She turned, blood pounding in her ears, hoping her legs would not give way. By the time Edward had got to his feet, she was disappearing down the path, back straight and head high, blinking back the sudden tears.
What a fool I am, she thought, what a stupid silly fool. Cupid’s arrow indeed.
CHAPTER EIGHT. SUNDAY 30 MAY
‘But Aunt Margaret I don’t need any new things!’
Caroline’s voice hovered between exasperation and amusement.
In the enormous bed with its walnut headboard and dark red counterpane Margaret MacDonald lay propped up on a mound of pillows. In answer to her niece’s protestations she rapped her knuckles against the marble-topped table piled with books and pill boxes. She was scowling and her eyes gleamed with irritation and impatience. Caroline sighed. She knew that look. Margaret may be not well enough to get out of bed but she had more authority lying down than most people had standing on a podium. She looked, thought her niece, like some Russian Czarina giving orders to shoot any peasant who dared raise a finger in revolt.
‘Caroline, sometimes I wonder what you see when you look in the mirror! Birdie and I are, for once in our lives, in total agreement. You simply cannot go off to France, to Biarritz, for heaven’s sake, with a suitcase packed full of—’ she gesticulated dramatically, then finished up triumphantly ‘overalls!’
Caroline was speechless. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror of the big old wardrobe on the other side of the room. Jeans again. She had to admit that, apart from Margaret’s birthday dinner, she hadn’t made much of an effort to look her best over the weekend. But when she’d been packing to come down to Willowdale on the spur of the moment, clothes had been the last thing on her mind. Still, she had plenty of respectable outfits in her wardrobe back at the flat, hadn’t she?
‘Auntie M, I’m sorry, I do look a bit scruffy. But come on, overalls? I don’t possess a single pair of overalls, not even for painting and decorating. I just feel more comfortable in a pair of jeans when I’m not at work. I get so fed up with skirts and jumpers or so-called business suits, it’s like wearing a uniform. And you know the sort of place I work in, you can’t just turn up wearing three inch heels and a chiffon mini-skirt!’
‘My dear that’s exactly what I mean! You have a wardrobe full of work clothes so uninspiring they might as well be overalls, and the rest of your attire consists of faded old leftovers from your student days.’
She waved dismissively at her niece’s T-shirt. It bore the emblem of The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds and featured an extremely cute robin with its head on one side.
‘Dear child, you are going on holiday! You are going to the Villa Julia! With its views over the bay, and even a glimpse of the Grand Palais itself, you saw the photographs. You need something light, summery, modern. I’m talking about daytime wear, of course, and then for the evening, something chic, tasteful, but with a hint of daring. To show off your figure, you know you have such a graceful figure, when one actually gets a chance to see it. I can’t remember how much money I poured into ballet lessons for you and Annabel, you used to walk about like a prima ballerina, such lovely posture, and now you’re all scrunched up and huddled over in...those things. I might just as well not have bothered.’
Oops. Get ready for ‘when I think of all the sacrifices I made for you...’ Caroline went for a cunning flanking manoeuvre, hoping to head Margaret off.
‘Darling Auntie M, I know how much you’ve done for me, and for Annabel, I do really, and I know you’re having financial problems now, so listen, I’d really like to help, I’ve been thinking—’
‘Don’t try to change the subject Caroline. We both know where you do your shopping, Marks and Spencer’s, a good honest British store, I won’t hear a word against it. But my dear, you can’t wear a Marks and Spencer’s frock for an evening at the Casino!’
Caroline’s eyes widened. The Grand Palais, whatever that was, and now the Casino? Nobody had mentioned a Casino. There was nothing, absol
utely nothing, in her wardrobe that remotely resembled a Bond girl outfit. And in any case the way she’d been feeling all weekend she still hadn’t decided if she would do the cowardly thing and pull out of the holiday at the last moment, inventing a sudden case of swine flu. Every time she thought of her sister she had to fight back a flood of murderous impulses, every time she thought of Edward she felt weepy and dithery and hot and cold, and every time she thought of Julian, poor Julian, she felt racked by pity and guilt.
She tuned in to her Aunt’s relentless tirade.
‘...and I have let you have your own way long enough. When it comes to clothes, a girl needs someone to advise her. Very few people know instinctively just what suits them best. Now my dear I know this will be a bitter pill to swallow, you’re a very proud person, but quite frankly when it comes to choosing clothes—you have Very Poor Taste.’
Margaret rolled out the last few words like Dame Judi Dench in full flow. Before Caroline could protest she held up a hand like a traffic policeman.
‘No, don’t interrupt, I know what you’re going to say. If your poor mother had lived, things would have been different. Now there was a woman with taste. Not at all like your father and me, the MacDonalds have always felt that a good Scottish tweed was the epitome of glamour. With a dash of colour at the neck of course. But I have always admitted it. And now you must admit it too, Caroline. As far as clothes sense goes, you’re a MacDonald through and through. Annabel on the other hand, she’s just like your mother, knows what suits her instinctively, knows how to make the best of herself without having to be told. And the way she walks, like a model! In her case the ballet lessons paid off. But you!’
Caroline winced.
‘When I look at that pretty face, when I think how many girls would envy your slim figure, and all you do is scrape your hair back with an elastic band and slump about in overalls.’
Margaret fell back against the pillows with a theatrical sigh. Caroline folded her arms and gazed at her aunt in resignation. She was having one of her difficult days. And, when she got into this mood, there was nothing to do except humour her. Ever since the departure of Annabel and Julian on Saturday afternoon, earlier than expected, much to Caroline’s relief, she had been particularly intractable. This morning she had flatly refused to leave her bed, insisting that her arthritis was killing her inch by inch.
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