‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just a quote from something. The trouble is, the past catches up with us unexpectedly and poses problems we thought we’d dealt with. It takes us unawares.’
‘I don’t even know what to call her,’ he said wretchedly.
Fliss didn’t pretend not to understand. ‘There’s nothing worse,’ she agreed. ‘In the end you try to avoid using anything at all, but it’s such a strain. I knew someone years ago whose mother-in-law insisted she called her “Mother”. And my friend simply couldn’t manage it. “She’s not my mother,” she’d say. “I’ve got a mother of my own. It’s just not right.” It was easier for me. I dropped the Aunt and kept up the Prue.’
‘It’s just so difficult to pretend that nothing’s happened,’ Jolyon said. ‘When she came down a few months ago it wasn’t too bad, because it was like she was in shock over Adam dying. Very muted, very quiet; nobody saying much at all. But now it sounds as if she wants to make a new start and I don’t see how that’s possible. Not after all the damage.’
Fliss swept all the ingredients into the dish, put it in the oven and turned to look at him.
‘I feel exactly the same,’ she said. ‘I feel just as negative and cross about it as you do.’
He stared at her, surprised but comforted. ‘Do you? Dad seems so…well, so cool with it. He makes me feel small. After all, he suffered as much as any of us.’
Fliss leaned back against the towel rail on the Aga and folded her arms. ‘Hal has a straightforward approach to life in general,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘In this instance it seems that he’s dealt with it emotionally and put it aside, and perhaps that’s why he can afford to be generous.’
‘He had you,’ Jo said rather bitterly. ‘I suppose that was the difference. Do you think it can work?’
‘Perhaps. It depends how much Maria wants it to. Even when there’s been a lot of damage it’s possible that something good can still be retrievable.’ She smiled at him. ‘Remember the ginger jar?’
He smiled too, though reluctantly, and she sat down opposite him.
‘I had an idea,’ she said cautiously. ‘When I knew that Maria was coming down I invited Cordelia over. We haven’t yet decided exactly which day but I thought that to dilute the family with an outsider might be a good idea. How about Cordelia and Henrietta coming over together? It would look quite natural – they’re old friends of ours – and it would take the heat out of it a bit for you just to begin with. We can say that Henrietta and Lizzie are old friends too. I know that Henrietta’s a few years younger than Lizzie but that needn’t matter. Do you think it would be an idea?’
Jolyon was silent, staring at his coffee mug as he turned it round and round. He shook his head. ‘I simply don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘Someone might say something embarrassing. Granny, for instance. I don’t think Henrietta wants to be rushed into anything. And neither do I.’
‘It’s a risk,’ Fliss admitted, ‘but Granny knows the score and she’s not stupid. We’re on your side, Jo. You can trust us to be tactful. It was OK last Sunday, wasn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I could ask Henrietta, I suppose. See what she thinks.’
‘You do that. After all, if Maria is going to come back into our lives then we might as well start as we mean to go on.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cordelia climbed the steps from the beach slowly, pausing to look back over her shoulder, McGregor at her heels. The horizon had vanished into soft vaporous cloud that drifted over the shining grey surface of the sea and dimmed the sun to a pale silver disc. The snaking breeze was clammy and chill, and she shivered, carefully holding in one hand her small treasure trove – a perfect blue-black mussel shell, a piece of smooth green glass – the other hand thrust deep into her pocket for warmth. At the top of the granite staircase she stood for a moment, catching her breath. A pair of walkers were striding on the higher path, with a third some way behind turning to look back over the way they’d come. She opened the little gate into the wide stone balcony and put her treasures on the weathered teak table whilst McGregor went to his bowl and drank thirstily. A stone trough stretched across one corner of the balcony and here she kept her sea-gleanings: strangely marked stones, undamaged shells, small glass bottles.
She was exhilarated by her climb and by a new and wonderful sense of relief. Yesterday she’d had such a good day with Henrietta – a delicious lunch at Pulhams Mill and a bit of retail therapy in the Barn Shop afterwards – and she’d talked lightly and easily about Angus and the party, and Henrietta hadn’t once been sarcastic or cold or judgemental. She’d listened, asked a few questions in a very casual way, and said that she’d love to see Julia and Pete again. It was clear that a tiny miracle had happened and that Henrietta’s blossoming love for Jolyon was making her more human. In fact, she’d seemed much more concerned about Maria staying at The Keep and how Jo would manage than about Cordelia’s relationship with Angus. There were still dangerous areas concerning infidelity, betrayal and divorce, where Cordelia had feared to go: Susan – and by extension, Maggie and Roger – was one of the minefields around which she’d found it wise to tread carefully.
Nevertheless, it was a beginning. That evening she’d spoken to Angus. She was so happy that she felt really guilty for snapping at him on the night of the party, but he’d made no mention of it, merely sounding delighted that Henrietta had accepted the fact that he was around and that Cordelia had taken the first vital step in re-establishing the relationship.
‘It’s early days,’ she’d warned, ‘and I want to be very careful not to rush her. Anyway, it’s a good start. I was right. Falling in love with Jo is softening her heart.’
They were so relieved, so happy – and they’d arranged that he should come for supper on Monday – yet she was still thinking over those unexpected sensations of hurt and resentment that had resurfaced after the party, and part of her was secretly pleased that there was still a very good reason to continue to go warily for a while.
Cordelia opened the French door and went into the kitchen; she was very hungry, it was later than she’d realized, and she wondered what she might have for lunch. On the deep, stone windowsill the red eye of the answerphone was winking at her and, as she began to take off her jacket, she bent to see if a message had been left. The little screen was flashing; she pressed the buttons and Fliss’s clear voice filled the room.
‘Hi, Cordelia, it’s Fliss. Could you give me a buzz when you get a moment? Thanks.’
Turning away from the window, Cordelia hesitated, puzzled: something was wrong. She couldn’t immediately place the cause of her unease but as she looked around she became aware of odd discrepancies. For instance, a photograph of Henrietta and a pot of geraniums had changed places on the small shelf, and the heavy Windsor chair stood sideways to the table and in its wide lap was a faded gingham-covered cushion from one of the other chairs. The small wooden lectern that was kept on the table so as to enable reading whilst eating now held two books, neither of which she’d read for years. The books were closed and standing side by side; both were Georgette Heyer paperbacks: one was Simon the Coldheart, the other was The Reluctant Widow.
One arm still in her jacket, Cordelia stared at them. Panic shivered up her spine and she shuddered, taking a deep breath and willing herself to be calm. It was possible that someone had come in – foolishly she’d left the back door unlocked again – but why move her belongings around? The sudden realization that the intruder might still be in the house filled her with terror. She called to McGregor and then stood quite still, listening intently, but there was no noise other than the usual sea-sounds. McGregor padded in and went to sniff at the Windsor chair but he gave no sign of wariness. Moving quietly Cordelia opened the door into the hall, listened again, but all was silent, and some strong instinct told her that the house was empty of any presence but her own. Her fear quite suddenly evaporated. She went into her study and looked quickly around. Everything seemed to be in its place, the c
omputer screen blank, her laptop just as she’d left it on the desk.
She ran across the hall and into the little parlour. Nothing here was out of place either; no paintings missing from the walls, no objects taken from the small glass-topped table. Upstairs all was just as she’d left it: no jewellery or trinkets taken, and her bag was lying on the dressing table with her purse and its contents intact. Back in the kitchen she checked the small Wedgwood bowl into which she put her small change ready for parking machines. It was more than half full with one-and two-pound coins and fifty-and twenty-pence pieces, and the ten-pound note put out in readiness for the window cleaner was still stuck under the corner of the cheese dish.
Cordelia sat down at the table, baffled and uneasy. Surely an opportunistic thief would hardly waste time moving the furniture and books around whilst ignoring an expensive laptop and ready cash? It was crazy. She’d been gazing almost unseeingly for some seconds at the intricately worked wrought-iron candlestick before she saw the koala bear. It had been carefully placed on one of its branches so as to look as if he were climbing amongst the pretty, painted metal flowers. His black leather paws clung to the delicate black stem and its black beady eyes stared out at her from amongst the foliage. She stared back at it fearfully, disbelievingly.
But, she told herself, you put the bear in the dresser drawer.
She stood up and went quickly to the dresser, dragging open the middle drawer, staring down. The soft, grey toy lay on its side, its empty black leather paws reaching forward, curling and grasping. Cordelia slammed the drawer shut: now she was really scared. This was something worse than some light-fingered stealing, more frightening than being the victim of a sneak thief.
She felt in her jacket pocket for her mobile phone, unlocked the keypad – and then hesitated. She knew that Angus would insist that the police were called, and what could she tell them? That nothing of value was missing; that some furniture and objects had been moved and that someone had put a toy koala bear amongst the foliage of her candlestick. Cordelia shook her head. They’d think she was potty. Angus would be cross too. He’d often bawled her out for being so casual about locking the kitchen door.
‘I was only out for ten minutes,’ she’d say. ‘I’d just pottered down to the beach with McGregor. Good grief, we only get ramblers up here and no cars are allowed up the track except for residents’ use. Anyway, the back gate isn’t visible from the path. Stop fussing.’
All the same, she wished that he was with her, angry or not; she’d feel safe with Angus there. She moved to the table and stared at the two paperbacks. She’d recognized the covers at once but why should these two books be selected from her extensive library? An idea occurred to her and she went into her study. Her books were kept in alphabetical order and it took only a few moments to find her own copies of the books were missing.
Her mobile phone began to ring and she ran into the kitchen and seized it: it was Henrietta.
‘Hello, darling.’ Cordelia forced her voice to a bright tone; Henrietta mustn’t suspect that anything was wrong. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Listen, Jo just phoned. You know his mother is due at The Keep any minute and you said you might be going over this weekend?’
‘Yes.’ Cordelia struggled to concentrate. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? And there was a message from Fliss when I got in a few minutes ago so that’s probably to arrange something.’
‘Well, Jo’s wondering whether you and I might go together. We don’t want his mum to think there’s any big deal and this might be a kind of casual way of doing it. Old friends of the family sort of thing. What d’you think?’
What did she think? An hour earlier she’d have been delighted; pleased that Henrietta felt that she could trust her with something that was so crucial to her. At the moment she felt confused, frightened, and quite incapable of rational thought.
‘Are you there, Mum? Are you OK?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I am. I was just thinking. It sounds a very good idea and I’m sure we can carry it off. Shall I speak to Fliss and find out when she thinks would be a good time? Or did Jo discuss that with you?’
‘No, he didn’t. We were just talking about whether we’d be able to manage it without giving anything away.’
‘Fine. Well, I’ll phone Fliss and then I’ll come back to you. Is that OK?’
‘Great. Thanks, Mum.’
Cordelia gave a great gasp; tried to slow the beating of her heart. She could barely breathe. She was afraid to move either of the books, or to hide the koala bear, or put the photograph and the geranium and the Windsor chair back in their original places. Partly this was because she simply didn’t want to touch any of the things that had been moved; partly she was afraid that she ought not to, in case it destroyed some kind of evidence: fingerprints, for instance.
She stood for some moments in silence and then she heard the sound of a car coming up the track. Quickly slipping into her study, standing well back from the window, she saw the car stop outside the furthest of the three garages and the young couple who were staying at Number One climb out. Cordelia relaxed; she watched them take the bags and the baby from the car and walk together to their gate. Her confidence returned and, without stopping to think about it, she went into the hall, took some gloves from her coat pocket and went back into the kitchen. Quickly she returned all the things that had been moved to their original places: the chair and its cushion, the photograph and the geraniums. Carefully she edged the koala bear out of its hiding place amongst the leaves and flowers and put it in the dresser drawer with the other one.
Whilst she was staring at the two novels on the lectern her mobile rang: it was Henrietta again.
‘Mum, Jo and I have had another idea. How would it be if I came to stay with you for the weekend? It would make it all a bit easier and a bit more…well, genuine.’
Cordelia was silent for a moment, torn between fear and joy. ‘It’s a great idea,’ she said. ‘But what will you do about the dogs? Or will you bring them, too? That wouldn’t be a problem. But what about the ponies? I couldn’t manage them, I’m afraid.’
‘There’s a girl in the village, Jackie, who is happy to do weekends. She often helps out and Maggie cleared it with her just in case I needed a break. She’s quite happy to come in later on today until Sunday evening. If you’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ answered Cordelia, heart pounding. ‘I haven’t spoken to Fliss yet. I thought they’d probably be finishing lunch. So, shall I come and get you?’
‘No, no. I’ll drive over. I’m insured to drive both the cars so I’ll take Maggie’s Polo. That’ll be OK. I’m not quite sure what time I’ll get to you but I’ll text you as I come along. Great, Mum. Thanks. See you later. ’Bye.’
Cordelia said goodbye and put her mobile on the table. ‘And what do I do,’ she asked herself silently, ‘if this nutter comes around while Henrietta is here? What then?’
She looked again at the titles of the two paperbacks and a fragment of an idea edged into her brain. She remembered the tall figure with the binoculars up on the cliff the day Fliss had come over for tea and how, later, she’d lost part of her work from the computer. She remembered the sharp tap on her shoulder in the deli and the man hurrying out of the shop as she’d turned round; the photo tucked beneath the windscreen wiper.
The telephone rang and Cordelia jumped: it was Fliss.
‘They’re on their way from the station as we speak,’ she said. ‘Has Henrietta told you our cunning plan?’
‘I think it’s a very good plan,’ Cordelia said, ‘and Henrietta is driving over this afternoon. When shall we come to you?’
‘We were thinking late morning tomorrow, ready for lunch? How would that be?’
‘That’s fine. I agree that it will look much more natural this way.’ Cordelia briefly wondered whether to tell Fliss about her strange experience but decided that it wouldn’t be fair; not now, with Maria due to arrive at any minute. ‘See you tomorrow
then,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Good luck.’
She checked that both doors were locked, and the windows firmly fastened, and went upstairs to make up a bed for Henrietta.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Maria dropped her bag on the bed and looked about her with a sigh of satisfaction; all was well. First, dear Hal striding along the platform to meet her and the relief of being able to give herself unreservedly to his great bear hug without the awareness of Fliss’s quizzical gaze to spoil it. And then Prue, waiting out in the car; actually Prue had come as a bit of a shock, because it had been rather nice imagining the drive back to The Keep, just her and Hal, without anybody else around. And, of course, old Prue was firmly ensconced in the passenger seat, which made conversation much more difficult. But still, it was kind of her to come along; after all, as a mother-in-law – especially an ex-mother-in-law – Prue could be forgiven for harbouring a pretty strong grievance if you came to think about it.
And then, when they’d arrived at The Keep, Fliss had come out to meet her and she’d managed to quell that little instinctive flicker of anxiety and antagonism, hurried forward and given Fliss a hug. Well, it wasn’t quite a hug – Fliss wasn’t the sort you could really hug. She was rather too formal, and thin, much too thin. It was always more difficult to embrace angular people. Anyway, Fliss had been welcoming, that was the great thing. She’d made a delicious lunch which she said was all ready for them and that she hoped Maria was hungry. And then Jolyon had come through into the hall, just as they’d all got inside, and he’d looked so handsome and so fit and strong that she’d been quite overwhelmed. He really was ridiculously like Hal at that age; and he’d been very sweet, if a trifle cool and reserved.
Maria touched the pretty white cotton embroidered quilt cover, glanced approvingly at the pile of fluffy white towels and snapped open the locks on her case. It was too much to hope for an en-suite bedroom at the dear old Keep but at least the water would be hot. She began to put her clothes into the drawers of an ancient bow-fronted chest and hung two skirts and her coat in the cavernous cedar-smelling mahogany wardrobe: no built-in cupboards either. The Keep simply didn’t do modern, but somehow it didn’t matter; and oh! how pleased she was to be here and to see how little had changed.
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