The Prodigal Wife

by Marcia Willett

  ‘It’s unusual,’ he’d agreed, ‘and it might not work once the old people have gone. It’s an ideal that we could all pull together, share the place and stay close as a family.’

  ‘It sounds like something out of Walt Disney,’ she’d answered scornfully. And then Ed had woken and begun to cry and she’d stormed out. She’d been so upset that she’d persuaded her mother to talk to Hal about it but he’d remained intransigent.

  ‘Do you really want to live there?’ her mother had asked her, later. ‘If The Keep is to be left under those conditions perhaps we should have a rethink. Hal tells me that even if he managed to overturn the trust it wouldn’t help you. Fliss’s father was the eldest and she would inherit.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you one thing,’ she’d said angrily, ‘I’m not being a hotel-keeper. If Hal thinks I’m going to move in and be an unpaid housekeeper to his family he can think again.’

  ‘We don’t want your inheritance disappearing into some melting pot for the benefit of the Chadwicks, do we?’ her mother had said thoughtfully. ‘Why should you run a family hotel?’

  And she’d gone on to talk rather regretfully about how Hal had changed, and then she’d mentioned Adam and how well he was doing and that his marriage wasn’t a happy one…

  The thin end of the wedge thrust into her own marriage.

  Maria pushed the memories aside: it was all too uncomfortable to think about just how ready she’d been to pick up the threads of her old relationship with Adam and seduce him away from his tiresome wife. No, it was much more sensible to concentrate on her visit to The Keep; much more positive to think about the future rather than the past. She glanced at her watch; it was getting on for five o’clock. A little bit early for a drink but she needed one; just a very small one to celebrate her next trip to Devon.

  On Sunday morning, with three changes of clothes flung on her bed and her hair in a mess, Henrietta grabbed her mobile, pressed the keys and waited. There was a little delay before her mother answered, her voice a little preoccupied.

  ‘Hello, darling. You’re bright and early.’

  Henrietta immediately felt guilty. ‘Did I get you out of bed? Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am. And no, I’m up and having breakfast.’

  Henrietta pushed aside a suspicion that there was something wrong, that her mother’s voice lacked the usual cheerfulness, the eagerness, with which she usually responded to her calls.

  ‘I’m just wondering. Should I be dressing up for this lunch or is it OK to be casual, d’you think?’

  ‘Perfectly fine to be casual, I should think. Not scruffy, but not over the top. The Keep isn’t a stately home, you know. It’s shabby and comfortable, and Hal and Fliss are very laid-back.’

  ‘It’s just, you know, Sunday lunch. People don’t really do that much any more, do they?’

  ‘I think a lot of people still have lunch on Sundays, but that doesn’t mean that they dress up for it. It’s just the family and you, isn’t it? Nobody else? Well, see what Jo’s wearing when he arrives. You can change if you feel you’re not in sync. He’ll understand that.’

  ‘OK. Thanks…Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Of course I am. Just brooding on a new article. And my agent’s suggested another short story for the Mail on Sunday. They rather liked the last one, which is very good news.’

  ‘That’s great. OK. Well, I’ll let you know how it goes.’

  ‘You do that. ’Bye, darling.’

  Henrietta stared at the selection of clothes on the bed. Perhaps the moleskin trousers with the pretty linen shirt and her treasured cashmere jersey slung casually round her shoulders? She glanced at her watch, swore under her breath, and began to get dressed.

  Jolyon arrived ten minutes later. He was wearing cord jeans and a rugby shirt and looked very relaxed. She hurried to open the door and noted his look of appreciation with relief. He refused her offer of coffee and asked if she were ready to go.

  ‘Won’t we be a bit early?’ Nervousness made her voice sharp. ‘For lunch, I mean?’

  ‘I could show you around a bit before everyone gets back from church,’ he said. ‘Just the two of us. Would that be a plan? I thought it might be fun.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said gratefully, trying to be calm. ‘Yes, it would.’

  Jo began to round up the dogs, encouraging old Juno to her feet. ‘Up you get, old girl. Come on, Pan. Good fellow. We’ll get Tacker in last. I know a good place to stop on the way to let them have a run.’

  ‘Good.’ Henrietta began to gather up rugs and toys. ‘I’m terrified Tacker will misbehave. I’m bringing lots of things for him to chew.’

  ‘He’ll be with us in the kitchen. Stop worrying.’

  She paused, staring at him. ‘In the kitchen?’

  Jo shrugged. ‘I’m afraid so. The banqueting hall is closed for repairs and the ballroom has dry rot. We’ve even had to pay off the minstrels.’

  She laughed reluctantly. ‘It’s just that The Keep does sound rather grand; and your father being Sir Henry Chadwick and all that…’

  ‘Stop panicking and wait until you see it. I’m afraid we eat in the kitchen unless it’s a formal dinner party.’

  ‘What a relief. I feel better already.’

  He put his arm round her shoulder and gave her a brief hug. ‘You’re a twit.’

  She watched him getting the dogs into the back of the estate car, lifting Tacker in: he was right, she was a twit. After all, she told herself, this was just a perfectly ordinary visit to friends for lunch. But when Jo straightened up and smiled at her she knew that it was much, much more than that.

  They drove into the courtyard, skirting the central square of grass, parking by the garage built into the old walls of the gatehouse. Henrietta stared up at the grey stone house. The austere, castellated tower was impressive; odd but striking.

  ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘I mean, really wow!’

  Jo looked pleased. ‘I want to show you inside first, and we’ll have some coffee. Then we’ll take all the dogs out on the hill so that they can get to know each other.’

  Leaving the dogs in the car, watching anxiously from the window, Henrietta followed Jolyon up the steps and into the hall.

  ‘Fliss lit the fire yesterday,’ Jolyon said. ‘She wanted it to feel welcoming. We spend a lot of the time in here in the winter.’

  ‘I can see why.’ Henrietta looked around her. ‘It’s beautiful. I love it. Goodness, if this is the hall, what’s the rest of it like?’

  ‘Come and see,’ he said. ‘Just a quick guided tour to get the feel of it.’

  She went with him, glancing through doors, trying to take it all in: an elegantly shabby drawing room, a rather formal dining room, a comfortably untidy garden room. There was a study, rather dark and piled with books, with a computer on a table in the corner, and a large, warm kitchen with flagged floors and tall windows. Two large, rusty-coloured dogs climbed out of their baskets by the Aga and came to meet her, and she went down on one knee to stroke their heads and soft coats.

  ‘Aren’t they pretty?’ she said. ‘Whatever are they?’

  Jo shrugged as he made coffee. ‘We’ve never quite known. Border collie crossed with some sort of spaniel is the general idea. Pooter is the bigger one, and don’t be deceived, she’s a wily, greedy old bitch. Perks is much more civilized, aren’t you, Perks? Come on. We’ll take the coffee through to the hall.’

  They sat together on one of the long sofas, with the dogs lying contentedly in front of the fire. Henrietta leaned against Jolyon’s shoulder, clasping her mug of coffee.

  ‘It’s an amazing house,’ she said softly. ‘But I want to see your gatehouse too.’

  ‘We’ll do that later,’ he said comfortably. ‘Once you’ve met the family. They’ll be back from church soon. And don’t be deceived by Granny, either. She’s just as wily as Pooter; she’s just more subtle with it.’

  Henrietta sipped her coffee. She felt relaxed, at ease with herself and
with Jo. It was odd how confident she felt with him, how sure; it was once she was alone again that all her fears and doubts would resurface. At the sound of a car driving into the courtyard, followed by the slamming of doors, however, she was gripped afresh with nervousness. Pooter and Perks were already up and hurrying to the door, tails wagging, and Henrietta set her coffee down on the table, waiting.

  Prue was in first, talking as she came, stopping briefly to greet the dogs before she advanced upon Henrietta, who rose quickly to her feet.

  ‘I’ve been looking at your fellows through the car window,’ Prue told her. ‘Just a quick peep. I simply couldn’t resist the puppy. He’s so sweet.’

  Henrietta smiled, murmured something about giving them all a walk, liking this sweet-faced woman with her pretty, feathery ash-coloured hair and her warmth and friendliness.

  ‘This is Henrietta, Granny,’ Jolyon was saying.

  Prue held out her hand. ‘I’m Prue,’ she said simply. ‘And here’s Hal and this is Fliss.’

  Henrietta took Prue’s hand gratefully, her difficulties about how she should address Admiral Sir Henry and Lady Chadwick solved in one neat stroke.

  ‘It’s so nice to meet you at last,’ said Hal. ‘Isn’t it silly that we’ve known Cordelia for such a long time and never met you?’

  Fliss said, ‘Well, we’ve met you now, which is the important thing. I must change and then look at the lunch. Why don’t you bring those dogs in, Jo? I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

  ‘We thought we’d take them all out together on the hill. Let them meet on neutral territory first. Here’s Lizzie, Henrietta.’

  A fair, pretty girl had come into the hall. She looked strong and capable and good-humoured, and, Henrietta guessed, was probably in her early thirties.

  ‘I was putting the car away,’ she said. ‘Hello, Henrietta. Are you always called Henrietta? Never Hetty or Hattie or Henry?’

  Henrietta laughed at this unexpected opening. ‘Sometimes, but not generally. There was another Henrietta in my year at school, you see, and she’d always been called Hetty so I was stuck with Henrietta. Because I was at school with Susan, she got used to it too, so there’s never been much inclination to shorten it at work either.’

  There was a short, slightly uncomfortable silence whilst everyone wondered whether to talk about Susan. It was broken by Hal announcing that he was going to have a drink and was anyone going to join him, and Prue saying that a sherry might be very pleasant.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Fliss, ‘but I’ll stick with wine. I simply must get changed,’ and Jo said that he and Henrietta ought to get the dogs out first. Henrietta wondered if it looked rather abrupt, she and Jo going out when everyone had just arrived, but Fliss was already hurrying up the stairs and Lizzie had disappeared towards the kitchen, crying, ‘See you later, then.’

  Prue sat down near the fire and beamed upon them. ‘Have a lovely time,’ she said. ‘Go along, Pooter. You’re going to meet some very nice new friends. Go on, Perks.’

  The four of them went out together and Henrietta clasped Jo’s arm and then let it go quickly lest anyone might be watching.

  ‘They’re nice,’ she said.

  ‘Of course they are,’ he answered, lifting the tail-gate. ‘I did tell you. Now, let battle commence.’

  Pan jumped out quickly, whilst Juno clambered down more carefully and, ignoring Pooter and Perks, began to explore the courtyard. The puppy sat quite still, staring with amazement at the two rusty-coloured animals that came to sniff at him.

  ‘He’s rather overwhelmed, poor fellow,’ said Henrietta sympathetically, leaning in to comfort him. ‘It’s OK, Tacker. They won’t hurt you. Out you come.’

  Jolyon began to herd the dogs towards a green wooden door set in the high wall while Henrietta followed more slowly with Tacker. Passing through the door, out on to the hill, she caught her breath in delight; warm gusts of wind sent cloud shadows racing over the green-and-gold-chequered land that lay beyond the river. A tractor moved slowly, the plough turning the rich crimson earth, a glittering cloud of silvery-white seagulls in pursuit. The hills to the west sloped gently, patched lilac and amber, climbing towards the high moor that sketched its black uneven outline sharply against the pale sky.

  On the path below, Jo was watching her; sharing her delight. Suddenly she began to run; jumping and sliding down the narrow sheep tracks, with Tacker scrabbling wildly at her heels, until she reached Jo, who caught her in his arms and held her tightly.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  This evening the sea was capricious; whipped to peaks and crests by the increasing wind, stained a fiery gold by the drowning sun, the rising tide dashed itself against the cliffs below the cottage. Cordelia stared down at yellow-eyed gulls contemptuously riding the waves, bobbing fearlessly, drenched by spume and spray.

  ‘Just phoning to tell you,’ Fliss had said earlier, ‘that the day went well. Just in case you were wondering. Henrietta is an absolute sweetie and we’re all holding our respective breaths and praying that Jolyon doesn’t mess it up.’

  ‘Poor Jo. Why should he? Henrietta’s just as likely to have an attack of cold feet. That’s what generally happens.’

  ‘All I can say is that she seemed to like us and nobody said anything embarrassing – though I could see Prue biting her tongue on a couple of occasions. Luckily Henrietta didn’t seem to notice. She behaved very well. Prue, I mean. Hal threatened her beforehand that she mustn’t put Jo on the spot by unconsidered or tactless remarks. We had a lovely time and I think it was a pity that you couldn’t have been here too.’

  ‘I’m just so glad that you liked her. And they looked happy together?’

  ‘They looked utterly right together. What a pretty girl she is! And I think she and Lizzie are going to be good friends. Let’s just pray that Maria doesn’t put her oar in.’

  ‘Could she? Could she spoil things?’

  ‘I don’t know. Jo’s been a bit quiet the last few days, and I’m praying that the prospect of Maria’s visit isn’t stirring up the past too much, that’s all. Memory’s a funny thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is. But surely Maria has no real power, does she? You said that she’s hardly seen Jo or any of you for the last fifteen years.’

  ‘That’s true. I know it sounds idiotic but I just don’t want her around. Not now when things are going well for Jo.’

  ‘Of course, it might be exactly the right time. The fact that he’s in a strong position and feeling confident means that she’ll have no power over him.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Come and see us soon.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  She’d gone back outside to watch the sea; the highest tides of the year and gales forecast. Fliss’s call had comforted her; Fliss was worrying too, anxious that Jolyon should be happy. How wonderful it would be if Henrietta were to phone now and tell her all about the day and really talk to her, as she might talk to Susan or one of her other friends…

  Cordelia caught herself up quickly. There it was again: that need to be friends with our children. She wondered if her own mother – that quiet, reserved woman – deep down had seethed with a desire to share in her, Cordelia’s, life. Perhaps she too had longed to know what her daughter was thinking and feeling, had been hurt by being shut out from confidences, not allowed to share in the most personal, private joys.

  Cordelia thought: But how could I have told her how I really felt about Angus? Or Simon?

  And, anyhow, her mother had kept her distance, ready to advise Cordelia on matters like cooking or babies but implying that she was an adult now and should be able to manage. There had been a gentle but firm withdrawal, a kind of dignity that was quite missing in her own relationship with Henrietta. On the other hand, her mother hadn’t been riddled with guilt; tormented by the knowledge that with a single act she’d destroyed her marriage and her daughter’s confidence. It was difficult to be dignified when you felt guilty all the time.

  Perhaps An
gus was right: she longed for Henrietta to fall madly in love so that she, Cordelia, might at last be let off the hook. Henrietta would be happy, her confidence in love restored and – but this would be a bonus – she might be able to understand why her mother had behaved as she had.

  ‘Surely,’ Angus had said, ‘the fact that we’re back together after all this time must say something about constancy, if nothing else.’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ she’d said. ‘She’d want to know how you’d felt about Anne all those years. She couldn’t understand why I married Simon when I was in love with you and she used to ask me why you married Anne if you were in love with me. Oh, I know you were never unfaithful to her, but it complicates our relationship in Henrietta’s eyes, you must see that.’

  ‘If it were a Shakespeare play or a Jane Austen novel she’d think it was wonderfully romantic,’ he’d said.

  ‘It’s different when it’s your parents,’ she’d answered.

  And that was the point, she decided; perhaps it was impossible to be real friends with your children. There were too many taboos.

  It was getting dark, the sunset glow was fading, and her earlier despondency returned. She’d wakened with a sense of isolation. The prospect of the gathering at The Keep had made her feel very much an outsider and, when Henrietta had telephoned to ask about which clothes she should wear, she’d longed to be one of the party. She’d reminded herself that it was neither Fliss nor Hal but Jo who had invited Henrietta to lunch and that there was no reason why he should include her mother in the invitation. Nevertheless, she’d been unable to fight the childish sense of exclusion – and the knowledge that Angus was happily engaged with his son and his family had only pointed up her own loneliness.

  She’d wondered if there was someone she could invite to lunch but all of her chums would have been with their husbands or families. It reminded her of those early days as a naval wife, with Simon at sea and Henrietta a small child. How she’d hated weekends. They’d been the most deadly times, normal family life taking place all around and Henrietta enviously watching the other children whose fathers were with them in the park or on the beach.